The Christmas Heiress Read online

  "I think the cards are festive and practical." Edward sat in the chair opposite his mother and sucked air into his lungs. "They also save a great deal of time."

  "The easy, modern way of doing things will never replace good manners and proper etiquette," the countess declared. "At least for some people."

  Edward met his mother's daunting gaze and experienced a momentary pang of sadness. It seemed no matter what the topic, he could not find an agreement of opinion between them. Why did he even bother to try and reason with her when she was so determined to be contrary?

  "I enjoy sending and receiving Christmas cards," he said defensively.

  "Is that why you are here? To discuss Christmas cards?"

  "Of course not." Edward shifted slightly, edging forward in his chair. "I wanted to talk with you about a few ideas I had for making improvements on the estate."

  The countess eyed him suspiciously. "As you very well know, you should speak with Willowby, the estate agent. He manages those sorts of things."

  "Willowby and I have already discussed various ways to improve the production and profit on the tenant farms. This particular improvement concerns the manor house."

  The countess shrugged and continued to stare at him. "I am sure my opinion counts for little. If you have set your mind toward making changes, I am sure I have no choice but to endure them."

  "I am trying to discuss the matter and solicit your opinion, Madame," Edward said, struggling not to lose his temper. "Even though you are acting disinterested and peevish."

  The lines in his mother's face grew deep and dark. Edward concentrated on ignoring the ominous cloud of disapproval she was beginning to exude. He tried leveling a look at her that almost dared her to have a tantrum, but that did not work.

  His mother was obvious in her disapproval, but never overly emotional. Perhaps that was the problem. Maybe if she started shouting at him and smashing things, she would release some of her anger and frustration.

  He wished he could just tell her what he planned to have done to the manor and demand that she accept it, graciously no less. But the need within him to try and establish a bond between them, no matter how fragile, was too strong.

  "Well, out with it," the countess demanded. "What are you going to do?"

  "I want to put gas lighting in the mansion."

  "Why? It is not needed."

  "It would be an improvement."

  "Candlelight and oil lamps are perfectly adequate for all of our needs. Gas lights are a very unnecessary and costly suggestion."

  "I have installed them in my London home and find they are quiet efficient." Edward warmed to the subject, hoping to convey his genuine wish to make life easier for all who lived at Farmington Manor, including his mother. "As for the cost, I have been reviewing the household accounts and have discovered that a great deal of coin is being spent on beeswax candles."

  His mother shot him a look. "I had no idea you would object to my having quality candles in my home. I suppose I could economize and put tallow ones in the servants' quarters, though I am told they give off a faint odor that is sheeplike in nature. And the wicks have to be regularly snuffed."

  Edward shook his head. "You misunderstand. I do not object to the cost of beeswax candles. I am merely suggesting an alternative that would be an improvement for everyone. Including you."

  "I do not believe for a moment that you are interested in improvements. You want to exercise your authority, and make these unnecessary, ridiculous changes just to vex me."

  "What purpose would that possible serve?"

  "Revenge."

  Edward felt a flash of cold travel through him, but it was not the type of chill that could be warmed by a fire. "A harsh condemnation. Do you believe that you have given me a reason to seek revenge?"

  The countess eased stiffly up in her chair. "I do not presume to understand anything about you, Edward, but there is no denying that we have had our differences over the years."

  Differences! Edward could barely contain his snort of stunned amazement. "I would like all that to end, Mother."

  "As if it all never occurred?"

  "No, as if it were all part of a forgotten past."

  She managed a melancholy smile. "Are you trying to be humorous?"

  "My mood is hardly one of amusement."

  "Nor is mine."

  Edward could see the censure in his mother's expression. For a long moment he stared at her, trying to figure out a way to make her open her mind to accepting the sincerity of his desire to make things better between them.

  An uncomfortable silence settled over the room. Edward continued to stare at his mother until a wave of disappointment overcame him. She would not relent.

  "What is your opinion of the gas lights for the manor house?" he finally asked, needing to say something.

  "They would be an abomination. Please leave your experimenting to your factories and your London home. At Farmington Manor we prefer living with the traditional, time-honored conveniences." A breath puffed out of her chest, an odd sound resembling a brief, bitter laugh. "Though I know all too well that I cannot force you to consider my wishes. That approach will only result in your rebellion."

  The countess would not meet his gaze. She was breathing hard, and they both knew her displeasure had nothing to do with the gas lighting.

  "You judge me most unfairly, Madame. But alas, that is a long-standing problem between us. There will be no gas lights installed unless you change your opinion on the matter." He turned toward the door. "I will send Miss Montgomery to you straight away so you may finish your letters."

  As he walked away, Edward silently fumed and struggled with the pain in his heart that had existed since that fateful day he had defied his parents, all those years ago. He laid his hand on his chest and tried to soothe the aching need he felt for forgiveness, for approval, for affection from his mother.

  And he wondered gloomily if that need would ever go away.

  CHAPTER 10

  The predicted snow had not yet begun to fall several days later, but all the signs were present. The thick cover of grey clouds, the biting cold air, the smell of moisture permeating everything.

  A hearty group of the younger houseguests gathered on the south terrace, wisps of breath visible in the air as they chatted with each other. All expressed their desire to complete the chore of finding a suitable Christmas tree before the snow began in earnest, though a few said they hoped it would begin snowing while they were out in the woods.

  Charlotte stood among the jovial group, her hands placed firmly inside her new fur muff. Every now and then her fingers would curl around the edges of the heavy envelope that Jonathan had passed to her beneath the breakfast table. The letter was intended for Miss Montgomery, but as she anxiously searched the faces of the crowd, Charlotte decided that since the countess was not in attendance it would be unlikely that her companion would join them.

  Charlotte discreetly transferred the precious letter to the pocket of her cloak, concluding it would be safer stored inside her pocket. Hoping no one noticed, she kept a pleasant smile on her face and watched the earl work his way through the crowd, kissing the gloved feminine hands held out to him and greeting the gentlemen with a hearty slap on the back. He moved with masculine grace and authority, completely at ease among his peers, confident and in control.

  It was a marked contrast to his mood last night. During dinner and especially afterward he had been cordial, though distinctly remote, as if he were preoccupied with other, far more important matters. The only time he seemed to exhibit any sort of emotion was when he was near his mother; then his eyes seemed to shoot daggers in the older woman's direction.

  Not that Charlotte could blame him. The countess had been in a particularly grating mood, loudly soliciting the earl's opinion and asking for his approval on any number of inconsequential issues. Did he like the wines that had been chosen for the various courses of the meal? Did her choice of musical selections that wer
e played after dinner meet with his approval? Was he pleased with the number of desserts that were served with late-evening tea?

  The countess's odd behavior had to be noticed by the guests, but they all took their cue from the earl, who gave no outward indication of his feelings and tried to ignore it. Charlotte decided it must have taken a great deal of self-control on his part. She doubted very much she could have kept her feelings and composure in check under the same circumstances.

  Perhaps it was better that the countess did not accompany them today as they searched for a tree, even though it meant that Miss Montgomery would miss all the fun.

  "Are we ready to begin?" the earl asked.

  Everyone gathered around him and the men immediately began a discussion about whether or not they should load into carriages that would bring them on a very indirect route to the edge of the woods or if they should simply walk. Lord Haddon cast a dubious eye at Lady Anne and Miss Dunaway, both of whom were wearing dainty slippers, far more suited to a drawing room than the woods, and suggested they use the carriages.

  Lady Haddon joined the discussion, suggesting instead that the two women change into boots and once that was accomplished they all set out on foot, with the earl and his brother leading the way.

  A few couples paired off, but for the most part the men and women remained grouped within their gender. It was then that Charlotte realized the majority of the group was married or engaged. Jonathan, Miss Dunaway, the earl and herself were the only unattached members of the party.

  They entered the woods two abreast and Charlotte was pleased to find herself walking beside Lady Haddon. They chatted amicably, yet Charlotte's gaze kept drifting toward the men in front of them, specifically the earl.

  Lady Haddon followed her gaze. -f he earl is a remarkable man," Lady Haddon said under her breath. "Everyone is constantly singing his praises. If you will forgive my inquisitiveness, do you think there is any hope that the two of you might make a match?"

  Charlotte's mouth fell open with shock and she shut it quickly. "'Tis highly unlikely."

  "Pity," Lady Haddon said. "I always thought you would make a good pair."

  "Really?" Charlotte felt like sighing. If only it were so simple.

  "Oh, yes. You have similar interests and backgrounds, but more importantly, you have excellent balance of temperament between you. Rather like myself and Lord Haddon."

  Charlotte's mouth curved into a crooked little smile. "Why is it that all married people wish that others would join them in their matrimonial state?"

  "To share the joy?" Lady Haddon grinned. "I've heard it said that there is someone for everyone, and the older I have gotten the more I realized the truth of that statement. I do so hope you will not completely disregard the possibility of a future match between yourself and the earl."

  Charlotte merely answered with a vague smile, neatly sidestepping the issue of her feelings on the matter. But Lady Haddon's remarks had brought the possibility out in the open, and once released, it was difficult to ignore.

  The desperate anger Charlotte had felt toward him had long disappeared, replaced by a feeling of respect and understanding. And despite all her best efforts to ignore him, she had been unable to sustain a distant indifference. Quite simply, she liked him.

  Charlotte's eyes again drifted to the men leading the way. She could see Jonathan waving his arms as he talked, could hear the other male voices chime into the conversation. Then she heard the earl's distinctive laugh and the sound caught at her heart.

  Was Lady Haddon right? Did her true fate, the future she was meant to have, lie with the earl? It was an intriguing notion that deserved consideration.

  If she dared to think upon it.

  "The best fir trees lie off in this direction," the earl announced as he tucked a silver flagon into his inside coat pocket. "Hopefully it won't take too long to find several that we all agree are satisfactory."

  "How many trees will we need, my lord?" Miss Dunaway asked.

  "There are always two small trees placed on linencovered tables flanking the entrance to the ballroom," the earl answered. "The children enjoy decorating those with flowers and sweets and garlands of ribbon."

  "The adults like doing that too," Lady Haddon added, and everyone laughed.

  There was much discussion and good-natured arguing as people began selecting different trees, each person insisting that they had located the best choice. The earl began systematically narrowing down the choices until only Lord Haddon's and Miss Dunaway's trees remained.

  "Christmas-tree hunting is hard work," Jonathan declared. "I am very hungry. We must return to the house posthaste and feast on the special delicacies that Cook has prepared."

  "Wait!" The earl lifted his arm. "We are not yet done with our work for the morning. We still need to find a tree for the drawing room. It will be the centerpiece of our Christmas decorations this year and I have decided we shall try something a little more daring."

  "What are you saying, Edward?"Jonathan asked.

  The earl had placed himself in front of an aged evergreen. It stood at least fifteen feet high with full lush deep green branches that cascaded in a symmetrical pyramid. "Now, this is the perfect Christmas tree."

  "'Tis far too large," Lady Haddon said. "It will collapse the table."

  "Or tip it over," her husband added.

  "Or knock into the ceiling and damage the chandelier when it is brought into the house," Lady Haddon said.

  The earl shrugged.

  "If you place the traditional small candles on the branches and light them on Christmas Eve after services, you will likely set the manor house aflame," Miss Dunaway said with concern.

  Jonathan circled the tree slowly, his necked craning skyward, a dubious expression on his face. "It is far too large to be brought indoors, yet 'tis shaped very prettily. Perhaps we can use the top section of it for the drawing room?"

  "No," the earl declared, waving his hand impatiently. "We shall use the entire tree. However, Lady Haddon is correct. It is too large to sit atop a table. Instead it shall stand on the floor."

  "And promptly topple over," Lord Haddon said with a laugh.

  "Not if it is secured properly," the earl said stubbornly.

  "The countess will have a fit when she sees it," Lady Tredmont remarked in a loud voice. "I know that I would certainly object to having such a messy, inappropriate item indoors, dropping its needles all over my priceless carpet."

  The earl's eyes darkened. "'Tis my house, and if I choose to have a forest set up in the main ballroom to celebrate the holiday, that is my choice."

  There was an edge to his voice that made Charlotte uneasy. Was this large tree a deliberate choice to agitate his mother?

  "It will require an entire hothouse of flowers and miles of ribbon to decorate,"Jonathan pointed out. "And how will we ever place any ornamentation on the upper branches?"

  "We will use a ladder," the earl declared, his voice darkening to a timber that let everyone know he would not be dissuaded. "I have had special glass blown ornaments imported from Germany shipped to the manor house along with a menagerie of wood-carved animals. They will do very nicely as decorations."

  There were still -rumblings of disagreement, but the earl ignored them all. He signaled for the two burly male servants who had discreetly accompanied them to come forward. After a brief discussion with the servants, the men first cut down the two smaller trees. That chore took less than twenty minutes. When they were finished, they dragged the trees from the woods and loaded them into a waiting cart. Most of the houseguests followed.

  The earl elected to stay behind. Charlotte joined him.

  "We need to move away so we are not in the sight line of the tree when it is felled," he said.

  Charlotte followed his instructions, standing beside him as she stared straight ahead at the enormous tree. It took far longer to cut through this thick trunk. The servants grunted and groaned as they pulled and pushed the heavy saw, the odd com
bination of sounds echoing through the quiet woods.

  Finally the magnificent fir sank to the ground with a graceful whoosh. Charlotte felt a pang of sadness to see it lying lifelessly on its side, the branches spread out on the forest floor.

  She glanced sideways at the earl, wondering if he was experiencing a similar emotion. But the line of his jaw remained firm and his eyes were shadowed.

  The servants secured ropes to various sections of the trunk. Then with a simultaneous effort they began pulling the giant tree through the woods. Charlotte and the earl stood silently until it disappeared from view.

  The quiet settled around them. It took a few moments for Charlotte to realize they were alone.

  The earl removed his silver flask from his coat pocket and held it out to her.

  "Care for a taste?"

  She shook her head. He shrugged, lifted the flask to his lips and took a long swallow.

  Charlotte's eyes narrowed. Sips of brandy to ward off the chill of the outdoors. Is that not what had started those kisses she had shared with him those many Christmases ago? Clearly, it was time for her to leave.

  Yet her feet never took a step. She watched the earl's throat move as he drank. When he finished, he lowered the flask to his side. She could not help but notice how his lips glistened with a drop of the liquid still upon them.

  Charlotte's stomach fluttered oddly, her pulse quickened, her heart began to thunder. All thoughts deserted her as she continued to stare at his mouth.

  "Don't do that," he said quietly.

  She blinked. "What?"

  "Bloody hell," he whispered, moving closer.

  And before she knew what was happening or could do anything to prevent it, he grasped her by the shoulders and pulled her against him. It was a shock to feel his firmly muscled body against her own, but even more of a surprise was his mouth on hers, warm and firm, his lips slightly parted.

  Charlotte instinctively pushed against him, but he refused to release her. His mouth was demanding, insistent, plundering. She fought just a moment longer and then she surrendered, letting herself sink into the moment, letting his lips shape hers, his body heat hers. With a cry of pure passion, Charlotte's lips parted and her tongue met his.