Chapter Ten

A lady should never kiss anyone in a public place

December 22, 1817

By mid-morning, the wind had died, and the snow had stopped. By midday, the sun decided to peek out for a bit. Jackson’s daughter had actually squealed when she apparently saw the turn in the weather. Now, she and Lydia were outside, waiting for him, because they’d decided the cottage simply needed decorating, so they wanted him to bring the axe and cut down pine boughs and other holiday greenery.

He watched them from the window in the bedchamber he’d chosen as he shoved his arms into the sleeves of a jacket of sapphire superfine. Elsbeth’s scarlet cloak was brilliant against the blanket of fresh white snow while Lydia’s black and muddied cloak was no less of a contrast, but it didn’t draw the eye like his daughter’s.

Yet his attention kept returning to the headmistress. Though she wore a bonnet that didn’t have much ornamentation, but he knew it hid black hair that had wave and curl to it. Even now, he could feel the soft thickness of the tresses on his fingers. Then his thoughts jogged to how her body had responded to his caresses, how he’d chased the heat of her skin with his fingertips, how the sounds of pleasure she’d made had fired his own need.

What the devil was he playing at continuing to be scandalous with a woman he’d only met a handful of days ago?

He couldn’t say; hell, he’d never been put in such a position before, and neither had his head been so turned by such an interesting woman. Yes, he’d loved his wife with everything that he was, but Lydia was so different, so vibrant, so… mysterious.

By the time he’d made his way outside, blinking against the sunlight, he rested the axe over his shoulder, and he joked about with the drivers, who’d decided to come along on the outing in an effort to stave off boredom.

At some point, Lydia glanced over her shoulder at him. Her ruby lips curved into a grin to match the red stain on her cheeks from the cold. “Hurry, and don’t dally, Your Lordship. The snow isn’t that deep.”

True, it wasn’t. Perhaps six inches of sparkling snow covered the landscape. With the sunlight glittering all over the surface, it had the look of a wonderland or something straight out of a fairy story. “I’m doing my best!” He chuckled and sent Robert a speaking glance.

The other man indulged in a laugh of his own, for there was a festive spirit in the air.

Inside the wooded area, the snow hadn’t penetrated that deeply due to the trees, especially the oaks that still had dead, brown leaves clinging to the branches, and the evergreen shrubs and trees which kept the snow from parts of the forest floor. It was easier going here, and his toes didn’t feel quite so frozen.

“All right, ladies. We three are at your disposal. If you find greenery that is especially toothsome, just let us know and we will procure it for you.”

Elsbeth ran back to join him. She latched onto his arm and pulled him with her. “Come. I saw the most glorious pine tree that will give over the most beautiful boughs. They will look so lovely on the mantel.”

“Lead on.” It was amusing to see his daughter so enthusiastic about decorating a cottage that didn’t belong to her for a holiday she hadn’t shown an interest in since losing her mother. Had the presence of Lydia made the difference?

She certainly has in my life.

“When Lydia and I were in the attics yesterday, we found some ribbons and things that we’ll use to decorate the swags before putting them around the cottage.” As she continued to chatter on about dried oranges and a few trunks with old clothing in them, Jackson couldn’t help but smile. Whatever had happened during the past several days, it had brought his daughter out of her petulant mood. Perhaps it was a temporary aberration, but he would enjoy it while such a thing lasted.

“Are you planning to spend Christmas here? After all, why bother decorating a place we will leave as soon as the roads are passable?” The thought of continuing onto Scotland without Lydia in their midst left his chest tight with worry and imminent loss.

“Well, I…” Some of Elsbeth’s good humor faded. “I suppose I assumed we would linger here a bit. And Lydia is here. If we go and leave her behind, she will spend the holiday alone, and without a horse or vehicle, how will she get to the village for supplies? How will she come back to London when the term continues in January?”

“You are worried about her.” It wasn’t a question.

“Of course I am.” Elsbeth dropped her voice as they winded their way through the trees. “She has no one, Papa. Whether she stays here or goes back to London, there is no one for her to talk with, no one will welcome her home.” When she blew out a breath, the exhalation clouded about her head. “I don’t know what happened in her life before you and I met her, but sometimes I can feel sadness about her, as if she lived a thousand lives she doesn’t talk about. I don’t want her to go through any more of that.”

His heart squeezed, for his daughter was maturing right before his eyes. “I agree with your sentiment. Perhaps we should put forth the idea that she should travel on to Scotland with us when we leave. She can celebrate the holidays with us, and then return to London as well.” Then he wouldn’t worry about her on her own. Lydia didn’t deserve to be left to the wolves and be prey for her bounder brother-in-law. “No one should be alone for the Christmastide season.”

Especially when that someone grew far too close to not only him but his daughter.

“I will be sure to mention it to her a few times, but you must as well.” Elsbeth’s eyes were filled with mischief as she peered up at him. “It might have a greater impact from you.”

That caught him by surprise. “Why would you say that?”

“Don’t be coy, Papa. I’m not blind and neither am I a small child any longer.” Her giggle didn’t bode well for him. “I can see how you look at Lydia; I even saw you hold her yesterday, so that indicates you are either trying to fix her brokenness or you feel something for her.”

“What?” Shock plowed through his chest. “You saw us?” Dear God, how much had she witnessed? Then he focused on her words. “Yes, I was comforting her after she told me of an especially hard bit from her past, a season of grief where she doubted herself.”

“That’s what I thought, and it was a sweet moment.” Elsbeth patted his arm. “When I realized neither of you were cognizant I was there, I went back upstairs and resumed letter writing.” She shrugged as her gaze trained to where Lydia had paused by a long hedgerow. Included within the shrubbery was what looked like holly bushes. “If you were to choose, don’t you think she might prove a lovely candidate for a second wife?”

“What?” When had he been reduced to one-word utterances? Quickly, he lowered his voice as he stared at his daughter and brought her to a halt. “You truly believe I want to marry again, let alone ask Lydia such a question?”

“As I said before, you are the type of man who lives to fix broken things or help broken people heal. I suspect Lydia is broken far more than she’s let on, but the two of you are well-matched, she’s familiar with London, is quite respectable due to being a headmistress, and from all I’ve seen, she’s a good influence and an even better listener.”

“Perhaps, but I have known her a week.” Did that matter? “I’m not certain how I feel. With your mother, we enjoyed a six-month engagement period.”

Elsbeth gave him a faux frown. “Have you told her how gutted you were when Mama died? How lost you’ve been without a woman in your life?”

“Uh, somewhat, but you believe I should go deeper?” What had happened in his life that he was now seeking the counsel of his daughter?

“Papa.” She regarded him as if he hadn’t a brain in his head. “How can anyone learn about anyone if they don’t talk? Besides, she has made a big shepherd’s pie for supper, and that was quite a feat. I wonder where she learned how to cook?” Again, she heaved a sigh. “Thank her by speaking from the heart. When you release those feelings, you’ll have room for new ones.”

“You are growing into a fine young lady; did you know that?” Pride swelled his chest when he looked at her. “I’m glad to be your father.” Would she benefit by spending more time in Lydia’s company? It was one of the plethora of questions bouncing through his head.

“Sometimes you are so silly, Papa.” Again, she tugged at his arm. “Come. We have pine boughs to collect.” She lowered her voice further. “And if you find mistletoe, you should definitely try to steal a kiss.”

He ignored the heat creeping up the back of his neck. “Thank you for the advice. I’ll take it under consideration.”

For the next hour or so, he followed Elsbeth and Lydia around, sawing boughs and fir limbs each time they pointed them out. The drivers were kept busy with the requests, and among the three of them, they gathered quite a bit. Then they moved on for some branches of holly, including the scarlet berries, and finally, the group went on the hunt for mistletoe.

The drivers laughed and joked with both Lydia and Elsbeth until the area rang with joviality and a spirit of camaraderie. Jackson stood back at one point while they threw snowballs at each other, and he couldn’t help but grin. Yes, it had been quite odd being stranded in the cottage with Lydia and her obvious demons, but being here made them all into a cohesive unit, almost like a family, and he was rather keen on that.

God, I’ve missed this so much.

It felt good and right, almost as if he’d slipped on a favorite glove, as if he were always meant to be here.

Until a snowball came sailing his way and smacked him right in the head, knocking off his beaver felt top hat.

“Come on, Papa! Fight back!” The taunt by his daughter was followed by a giggle.

He chuckled. “Well, then. War has just been declared.” Trading his axe for a snowball of his own, he hurled the cold wad in his daughter’s direction.

When it found its mark on her left shoulder, he laughed outright.

A rousing game ensued, and no one was immune to being tagged with snow with the exception of one of the drivers, who’d volunteered to climb a nearby oak tree, for he’d spied a sprig of mistletoe. By the time he gave a shout of acknowledgement in finding the parasitic plant, the snowball fight had died down enough that the novelty of it had worn off.

Lydia drifted close to the tree and tipped her head back to peer at the driver. “Be careful. I rather doubt we have enough supplies, or me enough skill, to patch up a broken limb.”

“I’ll wager we all believe you to have magical powers,” Jackson said as he came abreast of her while dusting snow from his shoulders and the front of his greatcoat. “You have that ability, you see.”

“Such gammon.” But a blush stained her cheeks, over and above the redness already there from the cold. “I simply know how to talk with people.”

“No, it’s much more than that.” He would have reached for her hand if they’d been alone, but as it was, Elsbeth had joined them, and Robert was waiting to help if his friend needed assistance in coming down from the tree. “There is something about you that makes folks want to know you better.”

She snorted. “I’m sure I don’t know what that is, and I certainly don’t feel that back here, where my adult life began,” she said in such a low voice, he doubted anyone except for himself heard it.

John sat atop a stout branch about fifteen feet up from the ground. “I found mistletoe, Your Lordship.”

“I can see that. Thank you.” He gazed up at the man with a bemused grin. “Perhaps you can buss Robert’s cheek when you climb down.”

Before the driver could respond, Elsbeth jumped up and down as if she were a small child. “Don’t be silly, Papa! You should kiss me and Lydia. That’s the tradition. Kissing unmatched ladies beneath the mistletoe.”

Through it all, John dangled the sprig of mistletoe while wearing a huge grin.

Both Lydia and his daughter rested their gazes on Jackson.

With a sigh, he nodded. “I guess I don’t have a choice. Can’t buck tradition, hmm?” Then he positioned Elsbeth beneath the plant and bussed both of her cheeks. After that, he turned to Lydia. “Fancy a kiss, my dear?”

“I…”

Elsbeth jostled his arm. “Not on the cheek, Papa. That’s bad form.”

Both drivers chuckled.

Heat went up the back of Jackson’s neck. “All right.” Once more, he glanced at Lydia, who gave him a shy nod. “Since you are all instigators, I suppose you’ll want to bear witness to this.”

The three of them stared back with matching expressions of expectation.

Seeing no other choice, Jackson gently tugged Lydia into his arms. Her eyes sparkled with amusement, but there was an air of anticipation in her expression he couldn’t help but feel as well. Slowly, he lowered his head to hers and claimed her lips. As always, those soft pillows of flesh welcomed his, and when she laid a palm on his chest, he had every intention to deepen the embrace, but at the last second remembered their audience. Stifling a groan of disappointment, he pulled away from her and released her.

“Does that satisfy the mistletoe requirements, Elsbeth?” he asked, but desire graveled his voice, and he rather hoped she didn’t notice.

“Yes!” His daughter clasped her hands together and grinned. “It was festive and romantic.” Then she took Lydia’s hand and tugged her away from the scene. “Come. I want to show you the pinecones I found, and a bit of dried leaves we might incorporate into a centerpiece for tonight’s supper.”

He glanced into the tree as John dropped the plant down to him. “So much for that kiss, hmm?”

The driver laughed. “Women are mysterious creatures, Your Lordship.”

“That they are.” And Lydia definitely fit that description. “Best gather the greenery, men. The ladies don’t appear to be waiting for us.”

“Of course not.” Robert chuckled. “Since the snow is fine and fluffy, if we have another day of sun, the roads shouldn’t be too bad to resume travel.”

“Yes, we’ll need to go when we can, for we’re two days out from our destination.” Yet a large part of him didn’t wish to leave, and much of that had to do with Lydia’s presence.

Once he tucked the mistletoe into a pocket of his greatcoat, he took up a load of the pine branches and began the trek back to the cottage. Ahead of him, his daughter and Lydia were pouring over the collection of forest treasures Elsbeth had found.

A breeze blew the light, fluffy snow from the branches of the trees, and when Lydia glanced upward at it, she grinned. The gesture completely transformed her face and for a moment, she looked years younger. The perpetual worry she carried vanished.

“Oh, Elsbeth, look. It is sort of snowing. Do you think you should perhaps try to catch the flakes on your tongue while you can?”

Jackson paused as the words cycled through his brain. How had she known that is what his daughter used to do with her mother? Perhaps the girl had told her.

“You’re right.” Elsbeth tipped up her head and stuck out her pink tongue. “Oh! I got one. You try it.”

As Lydia stuck out her own tongue, Jackson couldn’t help but smile. “I think I caught one too. Perhaps that means we’ll have good luck throughout the rest of the day.”

“I think so too.” Then the ladies continued.

Some distance behind them, he took in a shuddering breath and let it out as his heart trembled. In that moment, he lost a piece of it to Lydia, and it started a crumbling of the wall he’d subconsciously built around that organ. The fact that his daughter was apparently bonding with Lydia set him at ease. Was it a sign that he should seriously consider thinking of her as a potential second wife? As a new mother for his daughter, who could help guide her through the next few years as well as support her through her Come Out?

He didn’t know, but it was uppermost in his mind. The only way to know was to spend more time with her, and to do that, she would need to travel with them to his property in Scotland.

Briefly, he glanced into the skies. Send me a sign. Let me know that you would support me perhaps marrying again and moving forward in this life.