Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

CHRISTMAS WISHES

T HE EVENING BUZZED with the pleasant hum of conversation as the guests of Needham Hall gathered in the grand drawing room after supper. The skating party had left everyone rosy-cheeked and in high spirits. Not only that but new guests had arrived, including Lord Hungerford, a friend of Alistair from his Oxford days. With the addition of the new guests, the room crackled with anticipation as I prepared to unveil this evening’s diversion.

But first, Lady Eleanor had to explain what was about to happen. She clapped to get everyone’s attention. As the room quieted down, she said with a smile. “The Duke of Steele has been gracious enough to plan a game for us. I hope you will all participate.” Turning to me, she said, “If you will, Your Grace.”

Standing near the hearth, I cast a glance over the assembled crowd. Lady Eleanor glowed with happiness, laughing softly as she settled next to Cumberforth. Rosalynd observed the gathering with her usual air of composed curiosity. Her sharp gaze, I knew by now, missed very little—a quality I had come to value in our recent efforts.

Drawing myself up, I cut through the hum of chatter. “Ladies and gentlemen,” I announced, “I have devised a little game for us this evening—a game of wit, creativity, and perhaps, a touch of mischief.”

The guests murmured in interest, leaning forward in their chairs.

“Each of you,” I continued, gesturing toward the crystal bowl on the side table, “will write a Christmas wish. Not an ordinary wish, mind you, but something outrageous, imaginative—perhaps even scandalous. You’ll sign your name, fold the card, and place it in the bowl. I shall read each wish aloud, and we’ll try to guess the author. The one who guesses correctly most often will win.”

“And what will this grand prize be, Your Grace?” Lady Eleanor asked, her cheeks flushed with the warmth of the fire and good cheer.

I allowed a smile to spread across my face. “Eternal glory, naturally. And this splendid box of chocolate truffles, direct from Belgium.” I held up the gift I’d intended to present to Lady Eleanor as a thank you for being included in her Christmas Ball festivities. Before supper, I’d revealed the game and asked for her permission to use it as a prize.

The room erupted in laughter and applause.

Moving toward the stack of cards and pens, I distributed the materials, pausing briefly beside Rosalynd. “What shall your outrageous wish be, Lady Rosalynd?” I asked quietly, my voice low enough for her ears alone.

Her lips curved into the faintest smile. “That, Your Grace, would spoil the game.”

I watched in silence as she selected a card with deliberate grace. Her composure was unshakable, but I could sense the sharpness of her mind at work. Tonight’s game was a charming distraction for the guests, but for Rosalynd and me, it was a means to an end. Somewhere in this room, the person who had written the blackmail note was watching, unaware they were under suspicion.

Once all the wishes were written and placed in the bowl, I took center stage. Drawing the first card with theatrical flair, I read aloud: I wish to own a castle in every country, each staffed with a fleet of butlers who speak only in limericks .

The room exploded with laughter.

“Who among you harbors such whimsical ambitions?” I demanded, my tone mock-serious as I surveyed the room.

“Lady Eleanor!” Cumberforth exclaimed, nodding toward his fiancée, whose complexion turned a charming shade of pink. “She is a dab hand at managing Needham Hall.”

“Not guilty!” she protested.

With a rueful grin, Lavinia raised her hand. “The butlers were my idea. I confess.”

The game continued, each wish drawing peals of laughter or playful accusations. I played my part well, keeping the mood light. But my mind never strayed far from my true purpose. I kept an eye on each guest’s reactions, noting who seemed overly amused, too guarded, or suspiciously disengaged.

Finally, after the last wish was read and the truffles triumphantly claimed by Lady Eleanor who generously offered to share them with her guests, I turned toward Lady Rosalynd, my tone dropping to a confidential murmur. “Shall we adjourn to the study?”

She nodded, her expression serene, though her eyes held the glint of determination. Laying claim to exhaustion, she wandered out of the drawing room.

As for myself, Needham asked me to join him in the study for a nightcap. Not unexpectedly, I’d previously informed him of our plans and devised this stratagem. We arrived at his study to find a servant had already delivered the crystal bowl full of wishes. Just as he was pouring generous splashes of brandy into two glasses, Rosalynd entered the room. After a brief discussion about the state of the investigation, Needham left us to it.

The study was quieter than the lively drawing room, its atmosphere subdued by the weight of our task. Without being prompted, Rosalynd carefully unfolded the blackmail note we had examined earlier in the day, smoothing the creased paper with steady hands.

“The handwriting,” she said, placing the note beside the stack of discarded wish cards. “It’s bold, hurried. Almost reckless.”

I leaned over the desk, my eyes sharply scanning the note. “A person under duress, perhaps,” I mused. “Or someone unaccustomed to such deceptions. Let us see if our game has revealed anything useful.”

One by one, we compared the cards to the blackmail note. Rosalynd’s eye for detail was unmatched, and I marveled at the precision with which she examined each flourish and stroke.

“What do you think of this one?” I asked, passing her a card that read: I wish for a Christmas pudding so large it could feed all of London .

“Lady Eleanor’s,” she said. “She has the kindest heart of all.”

I nodded, as she set the card aside. We worked through the pile systematically, discarding possibilities as the room grew quieter, the tension mounting with each eliminated suspect.

At last, only one card remained. Rosalynd’s eyes narrowed as she compared the bold, erratic handwriting to the note.

“This is it,” she said softly, her voice tinged with both triumph and unease.

I took the card and read aloud: I wish to own a castle in every country, each staffed with a fleet of butlers who speak only in limericks .

“Lavinia,” Lady Rosalynd said grimly. “She claimed it as hers during the game. She must have seen Felicity take the necklace. It’s the only explanation that makes any sense. She’s threatening to reveal all unless Felicity returns it.” She paused for a moment. “She also hinted at a scandal.”

“Wouldn’t the theft of the necklace suffice as one?”

Rosalynd shook her head. “I don’t think so. Felicity could simply say she borrowed it because she wanted to see it up close. The family would smooth over the entire thing.” She glanced up at me. “No. It’s more than that. But what could it be? I know of no scandal that pertains to Felicity.”

“There’s only one way to find out,” I said. We’ll need to confront Lavinia. But we’ll need to take care. She might perceive our intrusion as a threat, and desperation can drive even the most respectable person to extremes.” As I had good cause to know. I’d once made that fatal mistake and been paying for it ever since. A familiar darkness descended upon me as it often did when I thought of that time.

Unaware of my mood shift, Rosalynd said, “Not tonight, though. We must gather more evidence before we act. The Needhams deserve better than a scandal on their doorstep.”

Almost absentmindedly, I brushed a hand across my brow. “Yes. We must avoid that at all costs.”

She glanced toward the door. “I’ll leave first, shall I?” The same words she used before.

As I did. “Be careful you’re not seen.” And then I spoke without thinking. “It wouldn’t do to set off a scandal.”

She gazed at me, a confused look in her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Lady Rosalynd and the Duke of Steele alone in Lord Needham’s study,” I explained. “There’s no telling what they might have been up to in the dark.”

For a moment, she appeared stunned. “Why would anybody think anything of the sort?”

“They overheard Needham and I discuss a meeting in the study.”

“He’s not here!”

“But you and I are. And that makes it so much worse. It wouldn’t take more than that for a rumormonger like Lavinia to invent a lurid tale. You did say her correspondence was full of gossip, didn’t you?”

She shook her head, causing a glorious disarray of her copper curls. “It won’t wash, Steele.

“Why not?”

“Well, for one, I’m not in the market for a husband. And you don’t intend to marry again.”

How the devil did she know that? Aside from my family and Needham, I hadn’t made that intention known. I took several steps toward her until we were standing a mere foot apart. A fiery tress had fallen across her face. Giving in to temptation, I tucked it behind her ear. “How very innocent you are,” I whispered in a husky tone.

She bristled at that. “I’m not—well, I am—but that doesn’t mean?—”

I placed a finger on her mouth to shush her, to feel the softness of her lips. “A man and a woman don’t have to intend marriage to make love.”

She drew herself up to her full height which wasn’t much. She only came up to my chin. “I know. I’m not that naive,” she said, clearly offended. “But that’s not something I would ever do.”

The devil in me made me lean forward and murmur in her ear. “Even when you’re attracted to a man?”

She stiffened but held her stand. “You think I’m attracted to you?”

“Oh, my dear, I know you are.”

She hitched up her chin. “I’m not your dear, and you, sir, are no gentleman.”

Brushing my thumb across her heated cheek, I whispered. “I never said I was.”

She shot me a furious glance, turned, and stormed out.

Quietly closing the door behind her, I stood for a moment breathing in her lingering scent. A concoction of Lily of the Valley and her own bewitching brew. In desperate need of a drink, I poured a healthy splash of brandy into my glass and drank it down in one gulp. That had been rather bad of me. But somehow I couldn’t find the will to regret it.