He had hoped to speak to her this evening, to find some quiet moment, to ascertain her feelings on the matter, and to admit his own. Now, worry filled him – worry which he had no remedy for. Then, as the house sank into the silence of night around him, there came a tap at his door. Curious, he rose, and went to open it, rather than simply bid whoever it was enter.
“Please, allow me in.”
Startled, he stepped back, and two cloaked women entered the room. He shut the door, and turned the lock, quite sure that privacy was of the utmost importance – for he knew the voice which had spoken.
Lady Charity pushed her hood back, and met his eyes, hers full of a strange mixture of fear and defiance.
“This is my maid, Maggie.” She gestured to the other woman, who dipped a curtsey. “She will wait in your dressing room if she may, to allow us privacy whilst still providing at least the veneer of propriety.”
He nodded, completely puzzled, and a little alarmed by this late-night visit, but he waved to the door on the other side of the room.
“You will find it there. My valet has his own rooms, upstairs, so you will discover it to be unoccupied.”
The maid turned, without a word, and went into his dressing room. He returned his gaze to Lady Charity.
“My Lady…”
“Please, Your Grace, let me speak, before I lose my courage entirely. I know that this must seem utterly outrageous of me, to appear in your rooms in the dead of night.”
“As you wish, my Lady.”
“I am about to be beyond forward, and ask you some questions which I pray you will be as honest in answering as you have ever been with me. I will not tell you the reason that I ask these questions, until after I hear your answers. Rest assured, I have very good reason for asking.”
“I promise you my honesty, as I did that day on the cliffs.”
Rafe found himself beyond curious, and completely puzzled. He was almost certain, now, that his fears of earlier were unfounded – these were not the actions of a woman who wished to avoid him. But still, he did not understand her purpose in being here – if she did not despise him, after that kiss, could it be that she cared for him? Was there cause for hope?
“Thank you. My first question is – is it true that you have committed to choosing a bride by Christmas Day?”
“It is – a year ago, I vowed to my mother that I would choose a woman to marry, by this coming Christmas Day. I am a man of my word – although I will admit that I did not expect it to be as difficult a challenge as it has been.”
She inclined her head, her deep violet eyes examining him, as if they might learn some deep truth from his appearance.
“It had seemed rather arbitrary to me, but that explains it. Now, leaving that matter aside for a moment, my next question. Have you… or could you… come to care for me, at least a little?”
Rafe studied her face – she was absolutely in earnest, it appeared. He could, at that point, have burst into laughter – for there he had been agonising about how he might get a chance to admit his feelings to her, and here she was, demanding that admission. He swallowed the urge – laughter would create entirely the wrong impression.
“Lady Charity, before I answer you, let me say that I have spent today considering how I might get the chance to be alone with you, so that I might tell you of my feelings. The fact that you have appeared here, now, asking this question, has rather simplified that issue. Thank you. I wanted you to know, before I say this, that it is what I had hoped to say to you, had planned to say to you – this is not a statement born of this moment, but one I have come to, slowly, over the days since your arrival here. To put it baldly, yet with the greatest feeling I have within me – I love you Lady Charity.”
She gasped, and wavered on her feet, yet a smile crept onto her face.
“I… Your Grace… I am beyond glad to hear you say that! For I have come to love you, too. But… I must ask you one further question, coming back to where I started, so to speak. As love is often not a consideration in society marriages, and as it has been rather dramatically proven that I have a large number of flaws in the eyes of society, I must know this. Is love enough for you to choose me as your bride, or will you choose another who is better suited, in society’s eyes, for the role of your Duchess?”
Her voice shook a little as she spoke those last words, but she stood firm before him, her eyes never leaving his. He took the three steps which brought him to stand before her.
“I told you, that first day, that I hoped to marry someone I at least liked, preferably loved – I meant it. Nothing outweighs love.”
“Then, before you say any more, I will tell you why I took the extreme measure of coming here, tonight. I spoke the truth, when I said that I love you – never doubt it – but I am here, now, because other circumstances made it critical that we knew each other’s minds on this matter, as soon as possible.”
“That sounds rather mysterious, and dramatic.”
“It does, doesn’t it? It is, in a way. This afternoon, I received a note – it was slipped under the door to my rooms. The note bore no signature, but the likely author was not hard to imagine. It threatened me, and my family, with the utter ruination of our reputations. And the price for which the writer would be so kind as to not carry out that threat – was for me to go nowhere near you.”
Rafe gasped, shocked.
“That is unforgiveable! And you suspect…?”
“I am almost certain that the author of the note is Lady Anne. I am not willing to allow my own foolishness to destroy my mother’s reputation in society, as well as my own – but I was faced with the question – what could I do to prevent it?”
“And, obviously, you came to an answer to that question?”
“I did. My thoughts were as follows – even if I stayed away from you, she might still, just out of spite, choose to spread the gossip – indeed, it is already circulating amongst the servants, so stopping it is unlikely at this point. Therefore, complying with the demand was pointless. But… I still needed a solution which would stop the gossip, or at least mean that it did as little damage as possible. And the only one that Maggie, or I, could imagine would work, was if you married me. Then, gossip could not change what you did, and Lady Anne could no longer hope that you would choose her. In addition, your influence is far greater than her family’s, and that would, to a large extent, protect my family, as they would be, by marriage, associated with you. So… I came to ask, to discover if marrying me was something which you could, in any way, countenance – for though I love you, I would not wish you to marry me, if you did not feel that you might at least come to care for me.”
Rafe could wait no longer – he took her hands, and pulled her into his arms, bringing his lips down on hers as she gasped in surprise. This time, he kissed her without reservation, all of the desire which had been growing within him expressed in that moment. She melted against him, returning the kiss.
When, eventually, they drew apart, they were both flushed, and breathing hard.
“Lady Charity – I would have you know that, even before I realised that I had come to love you, I had concluded that, of all of the women here, you were the only one whom I could countenance marrying.”
“But… all of the ways in which I am unsuitable….”
“Are all of the things that I love about you. Society’s opinion is irrelevant – if we are to live with each other for the rest of our lives, then what we want, and like, is far more important.”
“Your Grace… did you… do you mean…”
“Yes – marry me, Lady Charity Pemberton, and let us be defiantly happy together.”
She clung to him for a moment, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, then rose on her toes and brought her lips to his.
“Yes.”
The word was a soft exhalation, before their lips met in another deep kiss.
*****
When the kiss ended, Charity stepped back, feeling weak-kneed.
This was better than she had dared to imagine – that he loved her was the stuff of dreams, and she felt positively giddy. He smiled at her, a smile full of promise for the future, then he turned, and she wondered where he was going. She watched as he went to a small escritoire, and opened its drawer to take something out. He came back to her, and held out his hand.
“Charity… if I may be so bold as to call you so… I make you a gift – something between us, with meaning only for us. I have collected these, from that very first morning when I saw you in the lane – it just seemed the right thing to do. And then, when I had no way to gift them to you directly, I began leaving them in places where I hoped that you would find them. Since that day, a bundle of feathers has been on my person at all times. Now, I gift you these – the remaining part of that bundle, and I ask that you make something with them – something to wear for our wedding.”
Charity felt as if her heart might explode with happiness. It was, without doubt, the best gift that she had ever been given. She took them from his hand, their colours glowing even in the dim light of the candle lit room, and smiled.
“Thank you. And – thank you for caring – every feather you left for me made a difference to how I felt, on that day. I will be delighted to make something beautiful from these. But… what happens next? Will you… will you announce our betrothal on the morrow?”
“I will. And I will take great delight, unchristian of me though that is, in watching Lady Anne’s face as I do so. I will, of course, warn my mother first, and I ask that you warn yours – I gather that there will be no objection from your family, to this match?”
“Mother and Father will be delighted – indeed, Mother hoped for this outcome, even though I doubted.”
“Then your mother is a wise woman. As is mine – I suspect that she realised I loved you, even before I did. Come, much though I would hold you in my arms forever, you must return to your rooms – you will need sleep to face the day ahead.”
His words filled her with warmth – she would be very happy to be held in his arms all night!
“Indeed, I will.” She went to the door of the dressing room, and tapped. “Maggie, you can come out now.”
The door opened, and Maggie came out. She paused, studying Charity’s face for a moment, then turned to the Duke.
“Forgive me for my impudence, Your Grace, but may I ask – might it be the case that I can be the first to congratulate you?”
He laughed – a sound of joy, and genuine amusement.
“You may, Maggie – and yes, congratulations are in order. You must make your mistress look beautiful tomorrow – and fill her with confidence – she is a far better person than those who sought to harm her.” Charity blushed at his words of praise. He came to her, and bent to press a kiss to her cheek. “Good night, Charity.”
“Good night… oh! I don’t know your forename, Your Grace.”
“Rafael – but please, call me Rafe.”
“Good night, Rafe.”
With that, he opened the door and cautiously looked out, as Charity waited. He waved them forward and Charity and Maggie pulled the hoods up over their heads. The hallway was completely empty as they slipped through the shadows, back to Charity’s room.
Sleep came to her surprisingly fast, and was filled with dreams of Rafe, of kisses, and more.
*****
“Mother, I have good news for you.”
“I see – so, you’ve finally come to your senses, and realised the truth of what was right in front of you all the time, have you?”
“Ah… I…”
“You are about to tell me that you’ve chosen Lady Charity, aren’t you? And that she has accepted?”
Chagrin filled Rafe – he had been right, his mother had known all along.
“Yes, and Yes. I intend to make an announcement now, in the parlour, once everyone has gathered. Do watch Lady Anne closely – she attempted something deeply unforgiveable yesterday, something well beyond just the gossip, and if Lady Charity was not as courageous as she is, things might have ended very differently.”
“Oh? Well, you can tell me the details later. Let us go to the parlour, and get this announcement done. This year has been wearing for both of us – but I am pleased that you have kept your vow – you have always been a man of your word, as was your father.”
*****
Charity had not thought it possible to be more afraid than she had been, as she stepped into Rafe’s rooms last night – but, apparently, it was.
Now, as she sat in the parlour, under Lady Anne’s venomous glare, terror filled her. What if she had dreamed it all? What if Rafe did not make the announcement she expected?
She forced herself to sip her tea, and listen to what Miss Penelope Woodfield was saying to the older ladies – something about the activities which the Duchess had arranged for tomorrow. For Christmas. Tomorrow was Christmas Day, today was Christmas Eve. Somehow, the time had passed to bring them to this moment, all whilst she was distracted by falling in love with the Duke… Rafe…
The parlour was full, with everyone except Rafe and his mother present, almost as if they all expected an announcement. Perhaps they did, for, after all, every rumour had said that he was to pick a bride by Christmas Day. The door clicked open. Every head in the room, including hers, turned in that direction.
Rafe walked in, and went to stand near the fireplace, not far from where Charity sat. His mother quietly settled into her favourite chair. The room was silent, and Charity watched as Rafe looked around, making sure that everyone was present. That done, he gave a small nod, and smiled.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I believe that you are all expecting an announcement from me. It has been a poorly kept secret indeed that I have intended, from the start, to choose a bride before Christmas Day.”
A whisper ran around the room, and all of the young women looked at each other with annoyed expressions, as if believing that one of their number had been chosen, and had kept that information from the others. Charity stifled a laugh. Lady Anne looked positively thunderous, and Miss Woodfield mournful. Rafe was toying with them, repaying them, a little, for the manner in which they had hounded him.
Silence fell again, and he continued.
“I have made my choice. I have asked the lady in question to marry me, and she has accepted my offer. I hereby announce my betrothal.”
Lady Anne emitted a gasp, then clenched her jaw, her eyes finally finding Charity, filled with disbelief and anger. The Duke turned towards Charity and held out his hand. She rose, gathering every ounce of her courage about her, and went to stand beside him. He entwined his fingers with hers, and spoke again.
“Lady Charity Pemberton has done me the honour of agreeing to become my wife.”
There were seconds of utter silence, then a scatter of applause. Applause which almost, but not quite, covered the fact that Lady Anne uttered a stifled sob as she left the room. Then people came to them, offering congratulations, and Charity allowed all thought of Lady Anne to slip from her mind, so that she could concentrate on maintaining the dignity required of a Duchess to be.
*****
That evening, what had already been planned as a Ball, where people from neighbouring estates would attend as well, became a betrothal Ball. The Yule log was lit in the large fireplace of the main parlour, and the walls opened up between the three parlours to make one ballroom, large enough for this relatively small gathering. The Christmas decorations of holly, pine and ribbons made it beautiful.
But, truthfully, Charity would not have cared if she had been standing in a bare cold room, so long as Rafe was by her side.
Lady Anne and Lady Chilwinth had quietly departed Oakmoor Chase within the hour after the announcement – which Charity thought rather rude of them. Still, she was glad that they were gone, for now, nothing dimmed her happiness.
Epilogue
They had risen before dawn, and met each other in the stables, riding out to gallop across the fie
lds to the cliffs. There, they had sat ahorse, close beside each other, with their hands entwined, and watched the sun rise over the sea. Gulls wheeled above them, and, as they finally turned to go back, a feather floated down from the sky, so close to them that Rafe reached out and caught it, passing it to Charity.
“Even the birds approve.” She laughed, delighted. He looked at her, then raised her hand to his lips, turned it over and pressed a kiss to her palm. “I know that we will speak our formal vows in the church soon, but here, now, I choose to make a vow to you. I will always be honest with you, no matter what comes, for it was our ability to trust each other’s honesty which saved us in the face of Lady Anne’s threats and deception. I love you, Charity Pemberton.”
“I return that vow – I will always be honest with you, no matter what comes. I love you, Rafe Livingstone.”
They set off again, back to Oakmoor Chase, hands still entwined as they rode – for that morning, they were to be married, in the centuries old church in Oakmoor village.
*****
Rafe stood in the church, where he had so often listened to sermons, and yet, somehow, it seemed different, new, more beautiful. Ribbons and winter roses decorated everything, and the stained glass rose window cast a perfect rainbow rondel of light on the floor immediately inside the door.
Charity stepped into that pool of coloured light, and Rafe ceased to breathe. She was stunningly beautiful, her deep red hair glowing, and the tiny gems twisted into it sparking fire from the light. Her gown was a deep burgundy, the same colour as that riding habit, and absolutely perfect, with a glittering trail of gems in a design which looked like a cascade of falling feathers all down one side of it. Some of those feathers were real, pinned to the gown by the gems, others were only the illusion of feathers, in gold and silver thread, and sparkling gems.
It was, he thought, the best possible way in which she might have used the feathers he had given her – and the best possible statement of defiance of the ton’s judgement which he could ever conceive of. A susurrus of whispers ran through the church as people realised what they were seeing – but it sounded, to him at least, to be composed of admiration, more than negativity.
The Duke's Christmas Vow: Regency Romance Page 11