CHAPTER TEN

As the afternoon arrived, the guests gathered for tea.

Emilia entered with Charlotte only to be confronted by the duke’s daughters assembled in a line as though they had planned it in advance.

They all looked her over in their usual manner, and Emilia felt Charlotte’s hand tighten on her arm. They were standing just beyond the door, and it would be rude for her not to address them. She knew she could expect only a rebuke in return, but nevertheless, she had been brought up to be a polite young lady.

“Good afternoon,” Emilia said to Sophia.

“Oh, good afternoon, Lady Emilia,” she said in an ingratiating tone. “Your mother has truly outdone herself with this room. Caroline and I were just remarking upon it.”

“Thank you.”

“It is quite like a small box room in our home at the estate. Very quaint.”

Sophia kept her voice just low enough for the rest of the company not to hear it. But Charlotte heard it, and Emilia quickly pulled her away before she could respond.

“She is utterly insufferable,” Charlotte exclaimed as Emilia pushed her gently into a chair.

“Pray, do not create a stir,” Emilia pleaded. “That would be the last thing we need after everything.”

“Of course, I shan't cause a stir,” Charlotte replied, narrowing her eyes at the three women who sat down not too far from them. “Though perhaps I shall put salt in her tea, instead.”

Their conversation was cut short as Emilia’s mother sailed into the room, greeting her guests happily. The Pinkertons had gone for a walk with Lady Seraphina’s parents, but the remaining occupants of the room were lively and eager for the activity of the afternoon.

“I thought it might be good fun to share your stories of Christmas traditions today!” Lady Sternwood proclaimed.

Adam, who had just taken his seat behind those already settled, held back a groan, his worst nightmare becoming a reality.

Everyone who cared for traditions in my life is dead, he thought miserably. Unless sitting alone in my study, drinking whisky is a tradition.

“I would happily begin the game,” the duke piped up, and Adam watched him pompously plump up his chest.

On second thoughts, maybe I shall invent a few, he thought with determination.

“As you know, my late wife was a lover of Christmas,” the duke said loudly as his daughters nodded enthusiastically. “I have many traditions I could choose from.”

He pretended to think, stroking his beard dramatically, and Emilia heard Charlotte tut beside her as he clicked his fingers as though in remembrance.

“The Yule Log!” he cried suddenly, and Penelope clapped her hands.

“Oh Mama, always brought in the largest yule log in the country,” she exclaimed. “She decked it with the most beautiful greenery. It would burn for days.”

“Quite right,” the duke added testily, giving his daughter a warning glare. Penelope was silenced by it immediately. “The yule log was Hilary’s favourite part of Christmas,” his eyes shifted to Emilia’s, “the hearths in the estate are so vast she could afford to have two burning at once.” He nodded at the company. “She was a very charitable woman and always would invite members of the church congregation to tea to sit about and admire it.”

“How wonderful!” Lady Sternwood said. To Emilia’s mind, her enthusiasm was entirely misplaced, but her mother was looking at the duke as though he could spin gold. Emilia had to be careful to keep the irritation from her expression.

“I am told,” the duke continued, “that Lady Emilia is a great lover of Christmas and has often made some quite beautiful decorations in this very house!”

Emilia shrank away as many eyes turned to her, and several people clapped even as Sophia Easton scoffed loudly.

“Oh, my daughter is talented at many things,” Lady Sternwood added, looking proudly down at Emilia.

Adam observed the mother and daughter from the back of the room, conscious that Lady Sternwood’s gaze appeared overly affectionate, even false, as though affected for the duke’s benefit. His fists clenched in his lap, and he glanced warily at Emilia, watching the flush rise up her neck.

“Why, Emilia, you should play for us all,” Lady Sternwood said swiftly.

There was much enthusiasm for that idea, and, given no choice, Emilia rose and walked slowly to the piano.

If my mother gets her way, I will be married to him before Christmas Eve, she thought bitterly.

Adam took the opportunity to examine the duke. He was not unattractive, with a square jawline and amicable expression, but his eyes were shrewd. Adam had barely had a chance to get to know Lady Emilia, but even he could see that they were total opposites. She was creative and gifted, whereas Adam had met enough businessmen to understand that the duke had a fortune for a reason—he likely kept his money close; many men like him were known to be spendthrifts.

Adam looked at the Elderbridge girls. They were all pretty enough but haughty and sneering. He had seen how they had treated Emilia at the ball and had overheard more than one unkind comment from them—not to mention their behaviour at the breakfast table.

No, that was not a family he would want to get to know in more intimate terms. A wave of protectiveness engulfed him again as he looked back at Emilia. She was all soft linesand intelligence. The Elderbridge’s seemed tightly wound, like a spring ready to burst. He could not think of a worse match and looked over at Lord and Lady Sternwood, his teeth grinding together that they would allow it.

Emilia was now seated at the piano, and Adam felt a burst of anticipation as he waited for what she would play. It was clear that she had memorised more music than he had ever heard in his life, and his hands rubbed absently at the edges of his chair, waiting for the first notes. He caught Lionel’s eye, who was watching him curiously, and Adam affected a more relaxed air, leaning back in his chair.

As the music began, however, his eyes closed as if guided by some unseen force. It was Handel’s Passacaglia in G Minor. Recognising the piece she had chosen sent a wave of pride through him. He listened to it and let the music wrap around him, quite conscious that the rest of the company was not as enthralled as he. Some of them were even talking over the music, and he gripped the handle of his chair to prevent him from telling them to be quiet.

After about half a minute, however, the entire room fell silent. The music swelled through them like a tide, touching each person as it progressed.

In Adam’s breast, something stirred. It was a feeling of unique ecstasy, a lightness that stretched from his sternum to the top of his head and fluttered there happily like a bird. If he could have described it, it felt like a straight line of shimmering gold that gently unfurled within him and expanded through his entire being.

His heart beat in tandem with the music, his back against the chair felt more vivid, his breath easier. Everything that was painful in his mind seemed to float away as though it had never been there, and for the longest moment, there was only Emilia and the music.

Emilia.

The piece ended, and Adam snapped back to the room as the applause began. He opened his eyes without any real understanding of where he was for a few seconds, but instantly, as though guided by a magnet, they found Emilia’s.

She was watching him as though assessing what he might have thought of the piece. Adam quickly began clapping along with the rest of the room. When he should have looked away, however, he did not, and neither did she.

Their gazes locked, suspended like the final note of a high soprano, lingering in the air, gentle and soon to break. It faded and she looked away, but as the hubbub of the room returned, Adam could not hear it.

All he could hear was that single suspended chord, scattered with gold and diving inexorably down into his chest, straight to his heart.

***

The following day was grey and cold. The snow had continued to fall, and there were some grumblings in the house about how deep it was becoming. Many were concerned about the state of the roads, and the Marquess and Marchioness were not the only members of the party to speak of how grateful they were that they would not have to make a long journey until after Christmas.

The party had gathered to make Christmas baskets for the poor. Emilia, who had been asked to help her mother, carried the empty baskets into the room and handed them out to everyone.

Lionel Spencer and Lord Bellebrook were seated at one table, and Charlotte was close by, waiting for Emilia to sit beside her.

“It is rather hot beside the fire, is it not?” Lord Spencer commented as Emilia handed him a basket.

“Are you uncomfortable, my Lord?” she asked. “Perhaps we could move the table a little further away.”

“Lionel, whatever are you about? We are a full five feet from it,” Adam said, his eyes sparkling with amusement. However, the amusement quickly died when Lionel rolled his eyes at him.

“You never feel the heat, my friend, and are always chilled to the bone. I run hot and I cannot sit here another minute. Lady Emilia, would you be very cross if I moved to Miss Fairfax’s table if you will permit me, Miss Fairfax.”

Emilia held back a laugh at the artless way Lord Spencer was inserting himself into Charlotte’s life, but a part of her rejoiced at the sight of it, too.

“As long as Lord Bellebrook does not mind a change in partners, I would not mind you doing so,” she said. As she handed out the last of the baskets to Lady Pinkerton—who had no such qualms about the fire as was almost sitting inside the hearth—Emilia took her seat beside Adam, her hands trembling.

Upon the table were an array of various items, all of which warmed Emilia’s heart. Her parents were by no means troubled by money, but her mother had been very generous, considering how many boxes they would make with almost twenty guests.

The items that were scattered before her were delicate tartan fabrics curled into rolls and tied with sprigs of holly. There were small fabric sacks that contained woollen socks and some finer strips of cloth dotted amongst them. Their cook had prepared several dozen pots of jam and preserves that had been laid out across the tables—they were Emilia’s father’s favourite, and she was touched that he would wish to use them in this way.

Adam was surveying the table with a look of confusion.

“I do not believe I would know where to begin. All of the ladies have made everything look so beautiful. I am afraid I am not good at creative pursuits,” he said, fingering one of the candles that was laid at the side of the table and almost knocking it to the floor.

Emilia struggled to settle her nerves being so close to him again and was conscious that she had been staring at his face for far too long for it to be natural. She looked hurriedly back at the table and nodded.

“I felt the same when I began making the baskets, but there is no right way to do it. Everything in them will be of some use to a family in need and they will not care how they are presented, just that they are received.”

Adam visibly relaxed at her words, and a little smile played over his lips as he leaned forward. He stretched his long legs beneath the table, and Emilia felt a little thrill as they brushed against the edge of her skirts.

“You did not speak of your traditions, Lady Emilia. Is this one, perhaps?” Adam asked.

“Oh yes,” Emilia replied, thinking of the Cartwright family in the village. Their father had been badly injured in a farming accident, and her parents had been helping him manage the tenancy of his property in the hopes that he would recover. “I have given the baskets to the poor every holiday. Easter is my favourite, as they are so bright to look at. We paint eggs each year, and they are always well received.”

“But Christmas, I suppose, has its charm too,” Adam conceded, but his face did something strange that Emilia could not read. Something about the expression reminded her of the first time she had seen him, the vulnerability that seemed to be shared between them.

She was not sure what made her admit what she did next, but she expected it was that strange, unknown look at the back of his eyes.

“I have not enjoyed Christmas for many years,” she confessed.

Adam, who was trying to place a candle in his basket and finding it too large, looked up at that and frowned at her.

“Really?” he asked, looking astonished. And then, more quietly. “I am the same.”

Emilia breathed out, realising how grateful she was that he had not asked her why she did not like the festive season; he had just empathised with her feelings.

“I loved Christmas when I was a child,” she added, “and it is usually a joyful time, but lately it has felt a little…”

“Hollow,” he finished for her, and Emilia felt something loosen in her chest.

“Yes. Exactly. I think this year is the first where I have felt the seasonal joys I once did. It is, I am sure, having so many guests in the house and everything looking so festive.”

“Do you know that Lord Spencer said the same to me before I came here? I confessthatI was not sure if I should attend. I am not always the most jovial company at this time of year. But he was right. He told me I might feel Christmas cheer simply by being around others.”

Those blue-green eyes found hers and there was such intensity within them that she was unable to look away.

“I have never been so grateful that he encouraged me to come.”

Emilia pulled in a shallow breath as they both reached across the table to retrieve their items. Their fingers alighted upon the same object and an electric charge seemed to snap where their skin touched. Adam cleared his throat, moving his own hand away and giving her a nod as she took the item in question.

Emilia fought to conceal the fact that her hands were shaking violently.

Across the room, Lionel was watching his cousin with excitement bubbling in his chest. He had not seen Adam speak to anyone so intimately since Anastasia’s death, and he had great hopes for the match.

“Miss Fairfax, you are quite outdoing yourself with your basket. You are making me look quite inept.”

Charlotte looked at his rather forlorn offering and cocked her head to one side. “Isn’t it dreadful?” he said with false melancholy. Charlotte’s basket was beautifulandperfectly ordered. Even the colors were exactly as they should be, an array of reds, golds, and greens. It positively exuded Christmas. Somehow, Lionel had managed to make his own basket look entirely brown.

“It just needs some ribbon around the edges. Here, we shall swap, and I shall do a little tinkering with your basket if you allow me.”

“Pray, take it away from me. I should sooner give it to a dog than to the poor. None of them would want it.”

She laughed and began to wind a gold ribbon around the wicker at the edges without comment.

Charlotte was enjoying herself enormously. Lionel was already halfway through the book of poems and confessed to her that he had not been able to put it down until late into the night. His reaction had been similar to her own. He read the poems several times through and found new meaning in them every time he did.

Something about him reading the book she had suggested in his bed into the early hours sent a thrill of forbidden pleasure through her.

His basket was not so very bad, just a little haphazard in its style, and as she rectified it, she glanced at Emilia. Her friend and Lord Bellebrook were still talking in low voices with one another, Emilia no doubt conscious of keeping herself distant from him at all times.

Charlotte was very pleased to see her making a connection away from the influence of the duke. She wondered if she might devise an insult so appalling that the duke would leave the house in disgust. Smiling at the thought, she allowed herself to hope that something might blossom between Lord Bellebrook and Emilia.

“I have not seen Adam so open for many months,” Lionel commented, surprising her as she turned to him. She raised her eyebrows as though she did not understand to what he referred, and he gave her a knowing smile that made him look even more handsome than he already was. “Christmas can be a trying time. I am simply glad he has ventured out of his study and found someone with whom he can converse who is not me or his aunt. We were growing very tired of him.”

Charlotte really did laugh then, and as she presented his basket back to him, Lord Spencer exclaimed to no limited degree that she was a ‘marvellous creature,’ and she felt herself blush up to her hairline at the praise.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” came Lord Sternwood’s voice from the back of the room. “Spillikins!”

There were many exclamations from the group as the baskets were moved to the side in their completed state. Many seemed relieved that they would not have to make any more, and Lionel was very much among their number.

Emilia and Adam preceded them into the drawing room where Spillikins had been set up for them all to play. Lionel enjoyed the game but had not played it for some time.

A number of sticks had been poured onto a table where the guests all gathered. Lionel felt anticipation run through him as he brushed against Miss Fairfax, who was already looking at the game with an analytical eye.

“Shall we be a pair?” he asked innocently.

Lionel was many things, but he was not a coward. He had had some dalliances with women in the past, but he had never met anyone like Charlotte Fairfax. Increasingly he was beginning to think that he should make his intentions known. Life was too short, as his father would say, to let the chances slip by without grabbing them with both hands.

“Why yes!” Miss Fairfax replied and bent over the tableas they strategised on the best stick to choose. The game was simple in its construction—each pair would try to remove a stick without jostling or dislodging any of the others. It was fiendishly difficult towards the end when the majority of the sticks were placed in the centre.

Emilia watched Charlotte and Lord Spencer work together, and although she was happy for her friend, she also felt a longing for simpler connections. She had greatly enjoyed her time with Lord Bellebrook, but there was no guarantee that anything more would exist between them once the party ended.

Perhaps it is enough that I should befriend him, she thought.

But the reality of her life loomed large beside her as the duke stepped up and took his turn. There would be nothing whatsoever between her and the earl if her parents got their way.

“Where would you suggest?” the duke asked her, and Emilia noticed many eyes turning to them.

“Why, your Grace, we are not a pair,” she protested gently, terrified that simply pointing out the truth would begin a scandal of some kind. To her relief, however, the duke laughed.

“Quite right, quite right, I shall forge on alone.”

The game became more and more competitive as it continued, and there was much laughter and enjoyment by all. Several of the party were eliminated, but to Frederick’s irritation, as he stepped up as one of the final few, the lovebirds remained unbeaten. Adam was fawning over Emilia as though they were already engaged.

Frederick’s hand shook as he removed his stick and there were shouts of dismay as he pulled it free holding it up in triumph. He watched Emilia and Adam lower their heads together and decide on which they would choose. His ire rising all the while Frederick wondered if he should simply jolt the table and end the game.

He was uncomfortable with how closely they were standing and the way Adam’s eyes lingered on her for the longest time.

When Anastasia died, it should have guaranteed his ascendency, particularly with Adam barely leaving his rooms. Frederick had been sure the man would die of grief, and yet here he was, larger than life and making a new alliance.

Frederick glanced at the duke, who had clearly noticed the growing bond between them. The man’s face was puce as he flicked his gaze back and forth between Emilia and Adam. There was nothing improper in how they behaved—Emilia would be far too careful for that.

But he could see the duke’s displeasure—and that meant there was a way for his plan to begin.