His Mistletoe Marchioness

by Georgie Lee

  Clara giggled, trying not to draw attention to them. She’d quite forgotten about that prank and was surprised he’d remembered it. Adam and Hugh had been so young, then, and she even smaller. It was a delight to have someone besides Adam to remember what it had been like at Winsome when her parents had been alive and she’d been a child. ‘It was your first visit with us. I was certain Father would never allow Adam to ask you back, but I was wrong. Do you remember when the three of us stole into the kitchen to sneak slices of the plum pudding, the special one our cook had made for the vicar’s visit?’

  ‘I do, especially the stern lecture about stealing we got from the vicar after dinner. The man could talk up a storm, couldn’t he?’

  ‘He still can. I once caught him warning James and Lillie and a few of their friends with that tale. We are legends in the parish.’

  Hugh stifled a large laugh with the back of his hand and Clara was sorry he did. She wanted to hear him laugh like he used to and not appear so trodden on by the world but light and full of hope as he’d been six Christmases ago.

  ‘Do you think your niece and nephew will be able to accomplish such legendary mischief?’

  ‘They try every day to outdo us. One of these days I’m sure they will succeed.’

  ‘I hope not in too many regards, but something worthy of giving your vicar a new story to tell.’

  ‘You will have to help them devise something the next time you come to visit.’

  He set down his knife and fork and turned to her. ‘Do you think I will be invited to Winsome again?’

  There was no mistaking the hope in his question, one she felt deep inside herself. ‘Adam likes you, I’m sure you can expect an invitation.’

  He straightened one of the forks beside his plate so it matched the other one. ‘And would you welcome me to your home?’

  Clara took up her wine and indulged in a bracing sip. He cared about whether or not she wanted him at Winsome and, at this moment, she did want him there. It would be like old times with her, Hugh and Adam and it would bring a touch of gaiety to what were sometimes much too serious days. ‘I would be happy to have you visit again.’

  * * *

  If Hugh could have taken her hand and pressed his lips to it to convey his gratitude in the most potent way possible he would have, but in the presence of the others he showed restraint. In Clara’s words there hadn’t been the all-encompassing forgiveness Hugh had been searching for since leaving London, but it was a start. If Clara could absolve him enough to imagine spending more time with him at Winsome, especially after his great mistake with her the last time they were here, there was hope in a complete transformation of himself and his reputation.

  ‘And what will you do now that you’ve officially returned to society?’ Hugh asked, eager for the light conversation they’d enjoyed before, the one that had lifted his spirits. He was also curious about Clara. At one time he’d known her so well, but they’d since become strangers and he no longer wanted it to be like that. He’d experienced and collected enough of those types of people in his life in London. He wanted another real and true friend.

  ‘I don’t know.’ She cut her meat, her interest in the food fading as she pondered how to answer. ‘That’s a question I’ve both considered and avoided for some time. I’ve never cared much for London.’

  ‘You’re right not to.’

  ‘But it’s where people are and I need to be around more people, not alone in the country. Perhaps then I might find someone like Alfred, a good decent man and with him my own place in the world again. I’m too young to be a dowager.’

  Hugh tightened his hand on his fork, the jealousy rising up in him at the mention of this unnamed man she sought taking him by surprise. The confidence she’d gained in the last six years added to her beauty more than the inherited jewels or her fine London attire. With such a striking combination, it would only be a matter of time before some man took notice of her and won her hand. Hugh didn’t look forward to that day any more than he’d enjoyed hearing of her engagement to Lord Kingston in the months before his own wedding. Back then there’d been the slightest hope of things not working out with Hermione. He’d imagined returning to Clara to try to win her back, but her marriage had put paid to that fantasy. It could happen again and this troubled him more than it should have. ‘You won’t find a man like him in London.’

  ‘Surely a few gentlemen of quality must venture to town to take up their places in the House of Lords. Perhaps if I haunt those halls I might find one.’

  ‘Or find yourself installed in a seat and voting for a bill,’ he teased, releasing his grip on the silverware. At present there was no other man, simply her and him together at this table. ‘If you’re especially talented at haunting, no one will even notice that you’re there.’

  Clara laughed. ‘I think my choice of clothing might give me away.’

  ‘Not if you sit high up in the back benches where the less civic-minded lords sleep and simply call out “yea” or “nay” when required. Of course you will have to deepen your voice a touch to make it convincing and not call out too loudly and wake the snoring lord beside you. If you do, smile prettily at him and tell him that you’ve lost your way to the ladies’ gallery.’

  ‘If I startle a lord awake and dazzle him with a look or two, maybe I’ll catch a husband.’

  He leaned even closer to her, wishing he’d taken his duties in the House of Lord a touch more seriously. ‘You wouldn’t be the first to do so.’

  ‘Are you saying you’ve woken up in the House of Lords beside a charming woman before?’

  ‘Not me, but Lord Missington.’ He nodded down the table to where the baron and his wife sat together. Lord Missington was a good many years older than the pretty young Lady Missington, but judging by the way they spoke to one another while they ate, appearing quite content in one another’s presence, it was obviously a happy marriage.

  ‘Really?’ Clara didn’t bother to hide her interest in this harmless bit of gossip.

  ‘Yes, except it wasn’t in the House of Lords, but at the theatre. He fell asleep in his box and she happened in and sat down, thinking it the box of a friend. When he woke she introduced herself and they have not been parted since.’

  She took a sip of her wine, smiling around the edges of the glass at this charming story. ‘Then I will definitely keep my eye out for a napping lord or two.’

  ‘In your presence he would have to be napping to miss your beauty.’

  She froze halfway to placing the glass back on the table and Hugh braced himself, waiting for a silent or vocal rebuke for being so forward, but she recovered her mirth and set down her wine. ‘Then I shall have no trouble succeeding in London.’

  He didn’t doubt she would. Any man who couldn’t see her charm or who didn’t pursue her for more reasons than his pocket wasn’t worthy of her. If he hadn’t taken himself out of the running with all his past mistakes he might be the man to win her, but while he believed in second chances he knew better than to expect too many. At present, her friendship and good regard would have to be enough.

  ‘The next time you return to London, you must be certain to stay awake so some crafty lady doesn’t ensnare you.’ She nodded past him to Lady Pariston who watched him with interest, then winked at him when he turned to her.

  He took Lady Pariston’s small, frail hand in his and raised it to his lips. ‘She has already enchanted me.’

  ‘Liar.’ Lady Pariston batted her other hand at him, but there was no mistaking the twinkle in her aged blue eyes. ‘But you may continue to kiss my hand.’

  Clara, Hugh and Lady Pariston laughed, drawing the attention of the entire table.

  ‘What is so amusing, Lord Delamare? You must tell us,’ Lady Tillman insisted.

  Carla stiffened in her chair, waiting with the others to hear what Hugh had to say and curious about how much
he would reveal. Certainly Hugh would have the decency to keep their conversation about her sneaking up on a sleeping lord to ensnare him to himself. She didn’t wish to appear so desperate for a second husband as to resort to such ridiculous antics.

  ‘I was telling Lady Pariston how taken I am with her.’ He raised the older woman’s hand in the air between them with a graciousness that made the ladies at the table sigh.

  ‘But I told him he’s too old for me and I’ve decided on a much younger husband instead.’ Lady Pariston flashed doe eyes across the table at Lord Wortley, who turned as red as his wine.

  To his credit, the young man, despite his embarrassment, recovered himself quickly. ‘When I reach my majority, Lady Pariston, I shall be yours.’

  The table erupted in laughter and Clara relaxed, joining in the gaiety and marvelling at how easily Hugh did the same, turning a roguish smile on all the ladies as they called back and forth across the table, claiming their future intendeds. Clara didn’t join in, but watched until Lord Tillman noticed that no one was claiming Clara and called across the table to her.

  ‘What do you say, Lady Kingston? Would you be willing to move down the line of precedence for an old man like me?’

  She could think of nothing as witty as Lady Pariston had offered, but raised her glass to her host. ‘It would be an honour, my lord.’

  ‘No, I think I’ll keep her by my side,’ Hugh announced. Clara stiffened at the bold declaration that made the entire table go quiet. He’d dared to compliment her beauty before with a sincerity that had touched Clara to the core. She was sure this announcement was only him teasing her like he used to do when he came for visits with Adam, but suddenly she wasn’t so sure. Seeming to sense he’d become too serious, he turned back to Lady Pariston. ‘But only if Lady Pariston allows it.’

  ‘She can be the wife. I’ll be the mistress.’ Lady Pariston threw back her head and laughed.

  Everyone laughed, too, but there was a noticeable hesitancy to it this time and Clara wasn’t certain if it was for the mention of her as Hugh’s wife or Lady Pariston’s blatant acknowledgement that some men kept mistresses. It was one thing to know about it and quite another to say it out loud at dinner when people might be planning to slip down the corridors tonight. It was a practice Clara didn’t approve of for it left a woman open to ruin while the man risked almost nothing. However, given Lady Pariston’s age and experience, she was allowed to be bold and daring with her words.

  When the awkward laughter died down, Lady Tillman gently shifted the conversation away from matrimony and adultery and to the ball at Holyfield taking place tomorrow night. They would all attend, just as the Holyfield guests would come to Stonedown on Christmas Eve to enjoy the Tillmans’ annual ball. While the ladies eagerly discussed what they would wear and the men surmised what refreshment might be served, Hugh leaned close to Clara once again.

  ‘I hope I didn’t offend you with my jokes, but I enjoy us being at the top of the stairs. It gives Lady Fulton a much better view of your diamonds.’

  ‘I agree.’ She accepted his kind words the way Lady Pariston had accepted his teasing, doing her best to take it for nothing more than good fun despite the way it made her heart flutter. She’d intended to be friendly with him, but she hadn’t imagined sharing more confidences, laughing so easily or enjoying herself this much with him. She could kid herself all night about not caring about him, but she did. It was difficult not to after everything he’d told her and all that they’d shared.

  ‘Good, because you deserve to be at the head of the line where everyone can see you instead of hidden in the middle where you used to be. Don’t allow anyone to make you feel inferior.’

  Clara sobered and studied his intense brown eyes. There was nothing dishonest about the comment, but a genuine willingness to build her up as she’d tried to do with him at the sundial. It was the same way he’d spoken to her six years ago, helping her to feel more like the daughter and sister of a viscount instead of the country mouse Lady Fulton wanted her to be. She wasn’t that woman any more, nor was he the heartless rogue she’d believed him to be. He was Hugh Almstead, Marquess of Delamare, her and her brother’s friend. ‘Thank you for your appreciation of my place.’

  The seriousness between them passed as quickly as it had come and his expression changed to one of delightful enjoyment tinged with humbleness. ‘And thank you for putting up with my jokes and for being my partner. I realise I probably wasn’t your first choice.’

  ‘If I’d known you were going to give away the brandy, you wouldn’t have been.’

  He smiled even wider, increasing the quick pace of her heart. Yes, she regretted being paired with him not because of the past and what had happened, but because of the real risk to her heart and her wits. If she reacted so easily to his smiles and tender words, then she was very much in danger of offering Hugh more than her friendship in another moment of honesty between them. Surprisingly, she didn’t care. At present, she wanted to be bold like Lady Pariston and less like the reserved Lady Clara Kingston, to laugh and enjoy herself, especially with Hugh.

  * * *

  The men didn’t linger long after dinner over their brandy, choosing instead to join the women much sooner. Hugh was glad, for his mood was buoyant after his time with Clara at dinner. He craved more of her fresh humour, the lilting notes of her voice and the optimism in her manner. It was something that had been sorely lacking in the ladies of London, especially with Lady Frances and the hours he’d wiled away with her more out of boredom than desire.

  The moment he entered the sitting room, he spied Clara on the sofa near the fireplace. Unlike many of the other women who were at the tables playing cards, she sat alone, watching the logs burn, the warm firelight caressing her face. She’d chosen to stay up tonight instead of retreating to her room as she had last night and he knew that she was waiting for him.

  Hugh fought the urge to rush over and sit beside her, choking on the formality required by all the people gathered here. While he made his way slowly around the room, he remained as aware of Clara’s presence as he was certain she was of his. Many of the men took places at the card tables, but Hugh didn’t despite the numerous invitations to join various games. Instead, he stopped here and there to watch others play and to help poor Lord Wortley to win a hand by pointing out that he had four eights.

  Finally, when he reached the table closest to hers, he extricated himself from Lady Fulton’s desire to hear some news of London and sat beside Clara.

  ‘I thought for sure Lady Fulton would trap you at the table and make you tell her every detail of the last theatre performance you attended.’ Clara peered up at him through her lashes, the gesture as beguiling as her unashamed confession that she’d followed his progress around the room. With her rich eyes fixed on his and the rainbows from her gems splashing over her neck and cheeks, his reservation and reasons against pursuing her began to vanish. Could they start over?

  Hugh shifted on the sofa, the question pricking him like an errant feather from the down cushions. At one time he’d wanted nothing more than to win her back, but that time had passed after her marriage and his. Yet here they were, choosing to sit together and speak the same way they’d done six years ago, as easy with one another as they’d been during all his visits to Winsome. ‘She isn’t charming enough to trap me and the last play I saw wasn’t good enough to relate in detail to anyone, including the audience.’

  ‘Do you intend to give up the temping delights of London for good?’ Clara asked, her pretty voice as warming as the fire in the grate.

  ‘I had planned to avoid town for a couple of Seasons, but with this new matter facing Everburgh, I’ll have to return with the opening of Parliament in the spring. It will stop me from fulfilling my vow to give up less reputable establishments.’

  Her smile faltered a touch. ‘You mean clubs and other places?’

  He tilted towar
ds her, her full lips slightly parted as enticing as her sweet perfume. ‘I mean the House of Lords and most government offices.’

  She laughed, the sound as charming as the sight of Lord and Lady Missington together in the window seat, still smitten with each other after a number of years of marriage. ‘Adam never makes sitting in the House of Lords sound so delicious.’

  ‘Then press him to tell you better stories than whatever he’s telling you now.’

  ‘I must. It also gives me even more reason to return to London with him and Anne in the spring. I want to see all of these things you’ve described tonight.’

  ‘I only hope I haven’t built them up so much that you find them disappointing.’

  ‘After the quiet of the country, any spectacle in London, no matter how disappointing, will be a nice change.’

  Hugh tapped his knee, considering his words before he spoke. ‘Perhaps I can join you on a few of these excursions? I imagine this Season’s theatre bill must be better than last Season’s and I’d hate to disappoint the next person who asks me to describe a performance.’

  ‘I think, given your and Adam’s friendship, it’s very likely you will accompany us,’ she answered, as non-committal as he was hesitant. ‘You must tell me what other dens of vice to visit, such as the Royal Academy and the British Museum.’

  ‘The British Museum is the worse. You shouldn’t go there. More people meet scandalously in the Greek Gallery than at the theatre. It’s awful.’ He shook his head in mock disapproval, this chance to deride London as pleasurable as strolling beside her and listening to the silk of her dress rustle against her legs. She was lovely here beside him, back straight, shoulders firm, and her gems adding to her beauty instead of making up for a lack of it. She didn’t need them or any fancy airs to be stunning, but he enjoyed them all the same.