Chapter Fifteen

December 14, 1818

Christmas Eve rout

Harding House

Manchester Square, Mayfair

London

God, why am I so nervous?

Cornelius paced the space between the window in his bedchamber and the door to the corridor. Burton had helped to finish his toilette nearly a half hour past. Any moment his mother’s rout would begin. Even now, she was probably meeting and receiving guests by his Aunt Beatrice’s side. Tamping the urge to shove a hand through his hair, he continued to pace.

The two women had spent the bulk of the day trying to outshine each other on how many tasks they’d completed, and from the snatches of conversation he’d heard in the corridor from the servants, they were competing against each other on who had the most stunning gown for this evening’s event. They’d make him insane soon if they didn’t find something else to occupy their attention.

When the valet came back into the room, he frowned. “Why are you still here? I thought you would have gone downstairs to help with reception?”

“That is exactly why I don’t want to go down.”

“I can understand that. Mrs. Harding is in quite the mood,” Burton said with a laugh. “On the other hand, both your mother and your aunt look lovely tonight. It has been a while for both of them since they probably felt vital within the ton .”

“True.” Cornelius wandered over to the small round looking glass that hung over the wash basin in one corner of the room. He checked the knot of his cravat, smoothed gloved fingers over a lapel of his evening tailcoat, adjusted a ruby stick pin in the folds of his cravat. That jewel matched the crimson satin waistcoat that was embroidered with swirls of golden embroidery. Everything was as it should be.

“Yet you still linger here.” Burton’s frown deepened. “What are you afraid of? Have you had another day terror?”

“I haven’t, thank God, but…” How could he explain to his friend what he was only beginning to realize? “I, uh… I’m trying to avoid going down to postpone seeing Miss Marchington.”

“Why?” The valet’s bafflement was genuine. “Have the two of you argued?”

“No, of course not. Things between us are going extremely well.” When he remembered what had happened between them last night at the musicale evening, interest shivered through his shaft. He would have done just about anything to have coupled with her in that library, but he had been afraid of declaring himself prematurely as well as being found out by their host. And so that moment of connection had passed. “I just don’t know…”

What? If what he was beginning to feel for her was real? Or was he fearful of what might happen if he threw caution to the wind and let himself fall the rest of the way?

“Well, none of your questions will be answered if you hide yourself up here.” Burton peered at him with narrowed eyes. “Can I guess at the source of your unease? Do you suddenly wish your false engagement were real?”

Did he?

Ignoring the heat rising on the back of his neck, Cornelius shrugged. “I don’t know.” Except, that wasn’t far from the truth. Each time he found himself in her company, her bravery inspired his own, and why shouldn’t he attempt to court her within the engagement?

“Well, allow me to add this in the event it helps you.” Burton grabbed a rejected length of silk that had been the first attempt at a cravat this evening. “I have been in your employ since you returned to England when you retired from the military. And in that time, I have seen you devastated by a broken engagement, laid low by nightmares, treated less than honorably from various people in the ton due to you being a former solider, beaten down mentally by your mother for being less than what she wanted.”

“What is your point, man?” But he could guess.

“At no time in the past four years or so have I ever seen you actually happy, and what is more, you have laughed more this month than you have in a string of months. Miss Marchington did that.” The valet pinned him with a look. “The woman has certainly made an impression on you, and if you’re honest with yourself, she has also changed your outlook.”

There was nothing to deny in that statement.

Slowly, Cornelius nodded. “I’ll admit, I have hope again where that hasn’t been evident since Angelica’s betrayal.” It was mind-boggling that the woman made the difference, and Samantha was loads different from his previous fiancé. Now he understood why a certain vibrancy had been lacking in that old relationship. Ever since Sam had come into his life, everything had gone upside down. “I almost hesitate to look forward to what comes next for fear everything will collapse.”

“Of course, but consider this. If you don’t have a serious conversation with her that comes from your heart, nothing will move forward.” Burton laid a hand on his shoulder. “If you truly fancy this woman, if you can see a life with her, then you owe it to yourself to do something about it.”

“And if she isn’t thinking along the same line as me?”

“Then at least you’ll know.” He gave Cornelius’ shoulder a shove. “Go down. Do the pretty with your mother and aunt. Flirt madly with your fiancée. Enjoy yourself. Lord knows you’ve done precious little of that these days.”

“Perhaps you’re right. Thank you, Burton.” With a nod, he left the room and then wandered downstairs. Already, people were milling about the drawing room doors, but he continued to the ground floor where his mother and aunt were just greeting the stragglers.

“I’d begun to wonder if you would show your face,” his mother said by way of greeting as she looked him up and down. “However, you are quite handsome tonight, so I’ll forgive your tardiness.”

“Oh, well thank you for that.” It was difficult to keep the sarcasm from his voice, but he took one of her hands and kissed the back. “You are quite striking yourself tonight, Mama. That color suits you.” The copper taffeta gown she’d chosen was perfect for her and had been set off by a golden necklace that featured large oval-shaped emeralds. “Be careful or you might attract a second husband tonight.”

“Perish the thought, boy.” But she smiled, and he stared. When was the last time he’d seen his mother happy or amused?

“Do hush, Cornelius, and leave your mother alone. She’s worked hard on this rout.” His aunt bussed his cheek. “Such a handsome boy.”

She was such a dear, and he kissed her hand as he’d done for his mother. “Thank you, Aunt Beatrice. And you are absolutely gorgeous in silver.” It didn’t escape his notice that both ladies had chosen metallic colors for the evening. In everything, they were truly competing.

“Thank you, dear.” His aunt brushed her fingertips over her necklace in silver with small, square-shaped rubies. “I’ve always found colors of moonlight to be flattering.”

“You two should go upstairs since everyone is gathering. Hartley can manage in showing late arriving guest upstairs.”

His mother harrumphed. “Your sister hasn’t come yet.”

Oh, dear. “I’m sure Annabelle and the earl will be here shortly.” No doubt his mother wished to show off to her friends that her daughter had snagged an earl for a husband.

Though, if he were his sister with a new husband on her first Christmas Eve together with him, he’d find something naughty to entertain himself with before arriving.

Aunt Beatrice smiled. “I’m going upstairs. Can’t have our guests thinking we’ve abandoned them, and Cornelius, perhaps you can regale the men later with war stories.”

Why the devil would he want that? Remembering anything about the war was dreadful enough without having the general public thinking everyone who served was a bloody hero on a lark.

His mother’s lips formed a tight line. “I’d rather Cornelius mingle with some of the eligible ladies we have invited.”

Aunt Beatrice snorted. “Enough of that. Your son has a perfectly lovely fiancée already. Best make your peace with that.” As she moved up the staircase, his mother followed at a more docile pace, for of course she couldn’t have Aunt Beatrice gaining more popularity with the guest than she garnered.

Once the guests lingering on the lower level saw the two hostesses heading up to the drawing room, they eventually made their way upstairs as well. He was about to follow them but then he was hailed by a soft, dulcet voice, and he slowly turned around to find Samantha coming toward him.

“You can strike me dead with a feather; you are simply a beautiful vision in red tonight.”

Damn, but she was lovely. The gown in scarlet satin demanded anyone close to pay attention to her. The low bodice was lined with two inches of white rabbit fur. It also trimmed the bottom hem and swept along the floor with the elegance of a queen’s wardrobe. Clear beads sparkled on the skirting as if a merry elf had scattered stars over the fabric. A small cluster of red rosebuds had been pinned into her upswept hair. Tiny curls clung to her neck and nape, and he couldn’t wait to kiss those rogue curls. White opera-length satin gloves covered most of her arms while red satin slippers peeked from beneath the hem of her gown.

The only thing missing was jewels, and why shouldn’t she have sparkling gemstones around her neck, wrists, and hanging at her ears? If anyone deserved them, it was her. Was it too late to procure a parure to gift her with on the morrow? Quite possibly it was, so that would need to wait a bit. Drat his eyes for not properly preparing.

“That is quite the best reaction a woman can garner, I think.” But it was the pleasure in her blue eyes that made him stare even longer, for there was no doubt she looked forward to the evening. When she closed the distance between them and stood at the foot of the stairs, she offered a hand, which he took with alacrity. “You are by far the most handsome man I’ve seen in ages.” As she swept her gaze up and down his form, he swore he felt as if she’d caressed him. “I do adore a man dressed for evening activities.” Then she lifted a hand and brushed a shock of his hair away from his brow. “You will command feminine interest tonight, so your mother will be pleased.”

“A pox on my mother,” he said in a low voice then placed a kiss on the back of her hand. “I am your fiancée and quite off the market.” Would that give her a hint on how he was feeling? Had he put enough possession into his voice so that she would know?

A pretty blush stained her cheeks. “Well, if you meet someone better than me, you may consider yourself free to pursue her.”

He frowned. Did that mean she didn’t want him like he wanted her? Too much a coward to ask, he took her hand. “I am content with what I have now. Come upstairs. I wish to introduce you to everyone I can.”

Except the moment they gained the second floor, he whisked her into the butler’s pantry which was across from the dining room and cattycorner to the drawing room.

“What are you about this time?” she asked with a grin curving her lips.

“I suddenly realized I can’t go another moment tonight without stealing a kiss.” Then he swept her into his arms and claimed her lips in a kiss meant to convey what was being etched into his heart that he was too fearful to put into words. Moments went by as he willfully lost himself in the glory of her, and when he finally pulled away, his world went tip over tail as she smiled. “After dinner tonight, I would very much like to usher in Christmas with you.” He lowered his voice and put his lips to the delicate shell of her ear. “Preferably in bed with that gown pooled on the floor.”

When she gasped, he chuckled. “I think that would be a fine way to ring in Christmas day. My father will be blissfully in dreamland, probably is there already if you want the truth.” She laid a palm against the side of his face. “It is good to see you so wonderfully playful and confident.”

“I’ll wager that is largely due to you.” Why couldn’t they both just sneak upstairs to his bedchamber and pass the remainder of the night? In her arms perhaps he’d find the words that had evaded him thus far.

“Stop. Such gammon. You always had it inside you.”

“Hmm.” And he kissed her again.

Seconds later, the sound of fabric tearing reached his ears.

“Oh no!” Samantha glanced down, and in the candlelight coming from the sconces in the corridor beyond, she frowned. “My hem is torn. You must have accidentally stepped on it.”

“Can you mend it? It’s a beautiful gown. I’d hate for you to lose part of that rabbit fur trim.”

She laid a hand on his arm as she inspected the hem. “I should be able to.” As she released the skirting, she peered up at him. “Let me find the ladies retiring room and a sewing box. Your mother probably has it set up in the downstairs parlor.” When she smiled, he thought he might go mad if he couldn’t possess her right then. “Go mingle and keep your mother company. I’ll join you in perhaps a quarter of an hour. By then all the guests should be here.”

“And if there is dancing? Will you save me one?”

“You know why I can’t dance.”

“I didn’t say it would be with the party, now did I?” he asked with a wink. Then he kissed her and moved out of the butler’s pantry. “See you soon.”

She nodded and moved toward the stairs.

A few moments after he entered the drawing room, he was immediately beset by two of the men from the Rogue’s Arcade. Both the Duke of Strathfield and the Earl of Hedgecomb wore the requisite dark evening clothing demanded by society, but they were as different from each other as night and day. Where the duke was broad of shoulder with a solid form, dark hair, and walked with the help of a cane, the earl was tall, blond, was thinner which had landed him the nickname of scarecrow. They were also some of the only members that hadn’t yet been matched and married over the years.

“It’s good to see a couple of friendly faces,” he said as he shook their hands. “Thank you for coming.”

Strathfield nodded. “Twinsfield and Aldren said they might come out if they can sneak away from their own familial celebrations.”

“That would make the evening festive.” And might delay the plans he’d just made with Samantha.

The earl glanced around the immediate area. “Where is your fiancée? I’m keen to meet her, for I’m not sure she’s real.”

Heat crept up the back of Cornelius’ neck. “She’s real and just repairing a hem. No doubt she’ll come in soon.” Around them conversation and laughter filled the air. There was quite a crush of people, and from all accounts it seemed his mother’s rout was a success.

“Say, Timelbury, you have the look of a man supremely satisfied with his life.” The duke grinned and there was a cunning twinkle in his eyes. “Never say your false engagement is becoming all too wanted?”

“Perhaps.” There was no use in denying it. “However, just now my mind is confused. I just don’t want to make the wrong decision a second time.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know your full history,” the earl said, “but if an engagement didn’t come to fruition before, there was something wrong with the match. The fact you are fretting about this one bodes well, don’t think?”

“Let us hope so.” As they talked, Cornelius kept his focus on the doors, but Samantha never arrived. Surely it wouldn’t take this long to mend a slight tear on a hem. After another quarter of an hour of conversation, his nerves started to crawl, and knots of worry pulled in his gut. “I’m going to look for her. Something doesn’t feel right.”

The duke nodded. “We shall come with you. I’m not interested in doing the pretty with anyone tonight, and perhaps we can find some brandy afterward.”

When she wasn’t located anywhere on the lower level, his worry grew into a full-blown panic. Surely, she hadn’t left. She’d seemed enthusiastic for his plans to usher in Christmas. Hartley was nowhere to be found either, but that wasn’t a surprise since he was probably directing the staff in food and drink, but when he and his friend wandered toward the entry hall, he cursed beneath his breath, for stuffed into the narrow closet was a footman. His legs and feet stuck out across the floor and in the shadows, he had been easily missed. What was more, the front door to the house gaped open, admitting blasts of cold air.

“What the hell?” Dashing over to the man, he yanked him out of the closet. Then finding the man unconscious, he kneeled at his side, tapping the younger man’s cheeks. “Wake up!”

“Easy, Timelbury,” the duke warned. “Something dire must have happened.”

Again, he tapped the footman’s cheeks. When the man came to, he immediately demanded to know what occurred to see him stowed in a closet.

“A large man dressed in evening clothing came to the door. There was a closed carriage waiting at the curb. I thought he was a guest so let him into the house.” The footman put a hand to his head. “He apparently recognized Miss Marchington, but she wasn’t happy to see him.”

Cornelius frowned. “How so?”

The footman shrugged. “She argued with him when he demanded that she go with him.”

“What?” All three men exclaimed at the same time.

“Who was this man?” Hedgecomb questioned as he went to the door and wrenched the wooden panel open.

“She referred to him as a Mr. Arbuthnot. They argued again and she kicked him in the shin when he tried to take her arm.”

At least she’d gotten in a bit of hurt to the other man. “Why did she ultimately go with him? Samantha doesn’t care for the man.”

The footman nodded. “He said if she didn’t then she would never see her father again, that they had him and were holding him hostage. Miss Marchington argued again; she was quite incensed. Got off a good punch to his cheek.”

“What happened then?” the duke wished to know.

Slowly, the footman scrambled to his feet. “Well, by this time, she was getting mouthy. Before I could intervene, another man came to the door. A friend of Mr. Arbuthnot’s I’ll wager. The first man dared to lay a hand on Miss Marchington, gave her a right proper hook. Said they had to hurry and meet a countess in Hyde Park. Next thing I know, she’s slumped in his arms, not moving. I tried to get to her, but the other man slammed the butt of a pistol into the back of my head. Don’t remember anything after that until I woke up here on the floor.”

“Dear God.” The urge to cast up his accounts assailed him, and when Cornelius nearly collapsed from fear, the earl stuck a hand beneath his arm and yanked him to his feet. “She’s been kidnapped.” Ice cold fingers of horror gripped his insides.

The duke took immediate command. “Let us think about this in a logical manner, for nothing will be gained with hysteria.” He bounced his gaze between Cornelius and the earl. “Someone needs to send a footman over to Miss Marchington’s home. See if her father has truly been taken. Somehow, I don’t believe it. If he is there, I’ll send one of the men from the club over to stand guard. And someone summon the butler. This footman needs a lie down in the case he has suffered concussion.”

Having something to occupy his mind was a good thing. “Right.” Cornelius nodded. “John can lie down in the library. I’ll summon Harley from there.” Then he looked at the duke. “I can’t lose her, Strathfield.” In that moment, everything narrowed, and he knew one thing with unshakeable certainty—he was in love with Samantha.

Quite desperately, in fact.

Strathfield huffed. “We go after her, of course.” He guided Cornelius along the corridor toward the library while the earl escorted the footman, John. “After all the times you’ve helped your fellow rogues do the same, it’s time for you to chase after your own happy ending.”

It made sense, but his mind was spinning with horrible scenarios and worry gnawed at his gut. “She must be so frightened.”

“From everything I’ve gleaned about your fiancée, she’ll hold her own for a bit and allow us to find her, and perhaps if we’re fortunate, we will come one step closer to stopping that damned Lady Stover. I’m beginning to be quite annoyed with her antics.”

Keep strong, Sam. We’re coming after you. And once he found her, he would confess everything to her, declare himself over and over again until she believed him and agreed to accept a real engagement from him. He was a better man for having known her, and now he wanted the right to be her husband.