His Mistletoe Marchioness

by Georgie Lee

  After the play, convention had forced them apart and the demands of preparing for tonight had left them without another chance to speak, but the unspoken promises that had passed between them in the hallway, and again when he’d taken her hand, had been enough to carry her through the rest of the day. All the doubt that Lord Westbook and others had tried to sow in her, and all the second guessing she’d done since the beginning of the party, were over. Whoever Hugh had been in London, he was no longer that man, he never had been, but like her he’d been lost and hurting. Except when they were together the pain could not touch them. She’d leaned in to him today without thinking and he’d offered her the support of his body and his experiences to comfort and hold her. She couldn’t throw that away out of fear of what people might think or out of her own worries that the past might repeat itself. Neither of those things was important any more. Hugh had reminded her that what had happened before was gone and only the present and the future mattered, and she wanted him to be a part of both and for that life to begin tonight. She could love him again and she felt certain that his heart was hers already.

  The shifting forward of the receiving line forced Clara to stop searching the room and greet Lord and Lady Elmswood, the owners of Holyfield. The arrival of guests from Stonedown had been slowed by the snow that had begun to fall at sunset and the many carriages needed to convey everyone to the ball. Thankfully, the snow had not come down hard enough to block the roads and prevent anyone from reaching this Tudor wood and plaster house with the magnificent wood-beamed great room. The numerous rafters were decorated with garlands of evergreens that infused the air with the scent of pine. Clara did her best to concentrate on Lady Elmswood while they spoke, careful not to keep looking about in search of Hugh. She didn’t know which carriage he’d ridden in or if he was here already or waiting to arrive. He might be in the card room, watching the play or enjoying refreshment from the Elmwoods’ generous outlay.

  No, if he was here, he would be waiting for me.

  Clara flexed her hand where a few hours before Hugh had touched his bare skin to hers. The impression of it had lingered long after the parents leaving the sitting room had forced them apart. She wanted to see him again, to dance and be with him and experience once more the optimism and hope of his presence. When he was near, she felt as if anything was possible and it was a feeling she was loath to lose.

  ‘Searching for someone?’ Anne nudged Clara with her elbow as they made their way along the edge of the dance floor after leaving Lady Elmswood.

  ‘Perhaps I am?’ Clara answered in a sing-song voice, not irritated by Anne’s continued interest in Clara and Hugh. Soon everyone would be aware of it and it didn’t matter. She didn’t care what they thought of her or Hugh or what they said about them being together. From here on out, no one’s opinion but her own would guide her or hold so much importance.

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’ Anne snapped open her fan and waved in front of her face, making the ruby earrings dangling from her small ears swing with the slight breeze. ‘I wouldn’t mind if you two renewed your former friendship.’

  ‘Is friendship all you’re interested in seeing between us?’ Clara enjoyed torturing Anne as Anne had enjoyed doing it with her.

  Except Anne suddenly turned serious. ‘I want to see you well settled again, Clara, and despite what happened before, I do believe that Lord Delaware could make you happy if you gave him a chance.’

  Clara clasped her fan in front of her, tempted to tell Anne that the chance had already been taken, but she didn’t. This was no place to explain to her that she had changed her mind or why. She wasn’t sure she could explain it in a manner that anyone, even Anne, could understand. She barely understood it herself.

  ‘You needn’t make any decisions yet,’ Anne assured, pointing over Clara’s shoulder. ‘For look who’s coming to join us.’

  Clara’s heart began to race and she stood up straight, careful to maintain the grace and confidence that she’d carried with her into Holyfield. Slowly she turned around, waiting for the moment when Hugh saw her and she could bask in his attention.

  Lord Stanhope approached her with the stealth of a tiger. All Clara’s excitement vanished at the sight of him and she struggled to maintain her smile and her manners. ‘Lady Kingston, I’m so glad you’ve arrived for I haven’t forgotten your promise.’

  ‘My promise?’ She could barely remember having spoken to the man today much less making him any promises. It was Hugh who had commanded her attention when present and who continued to do so even while they were apart.

  ‘To give me your first dance.’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ She had promised this and with Hugh having yet to arrive, she had no choice but to place her hand in Lord Stanhope’s and allow him to lead her out on to the dance floor.

  While they walked, there was no fluttering in her chest like there was whenever she touched Hugh. She marvelled at this for Lord Stanhope was very handsome with manners to charm the teeth out of a snake. The two of them walking together garnered a number of looks. They weren’t the looks of amazed curiosity that had startled so many at the Holyfield ball six years ago when people must have wondered what it was that the Marquess of Delamare had seen in the quiet and shy Exton girl, but genuine awe at a bejewelled marchioness being escorted by a handsome lord to her rightful place on the dance floor. Clara should have revelled in the moment, but everyone’s admiration paled against her desire to be beside Hugh.

  The musicians struck the first notes and she and Lord Stanhope began the dance, hands touching and raised in the air between to make the required turns.

  ‘You are quite stunning tonight,’ Lord Stanhope complimented, this one, like all his others, too exuberant and almost studied for Clara to take seriously.

  ‘Thank you, but as we have not met before, how do you know I’m not this stunning every night?’ Clara enjoyed this flirting and the power she felt in it—it was a prelude to everything she hoped to enjoy with Hugh.

  ‘I’m sure you are this stunning every night, as I’m certain to discover during the rest of my time at Stonedown.’

  He was very much overestimating how much time the two of them would spend together if he thought so.

  ‘What brings you to Stonedown, Lord Stanhope?’ Clara searched the people watching them, but still did not see Hugh. She wondered if he’d decided at the last minute not to come. No, he had to be here, to want to see and be with her as much as she longed to be with him. The snow must have delayed his arrival. All would be well, just like he’d promised. She was certain of it.

  ‘The promise of charming company is the reason I’m here.’ Lord Stanhope made the turn around her this time, his eyes never leaving hers, their intensity almost laughable if it weren’t for the seriousness of his look. ‘What other reason could there be?’

  ‘There must be plenty of charming company in London.’ Most of whom would enjoy his constant flattery and charm more than her.

  ‘I find the company of the country far more lively and refreshing than what’s available in town. Unless you decide to venture there next spring?’

  ‘I have not decided.’ She had no desire to make him any more promises.

  He raised her hand again and held it while she made a turn. As she came around him, facing out to the audience, she finally spied Hugh across the room standing with Sir Nathaniel and Adam. A small muscle along the side of his jaw twitched while he watched Lord Stanhope place his arm around her to promenade. She didn’t feel Lord Stanhope’s touch, but longed instead to be in Hugh’s arms.

  She endured many more of these turns and promenades, catching Hugh’s eye during each one. It took all her strength to remain beside Lord Stanhope and not dart off to join Hugh, for the dance lasted much longer than she remembered. During it all, she was polite and cordial as expected of a woman of her rank, but her heart was across the room with Hugh.

  F
inally, the musicians brought the piece to an end and Lord Stanhope offered her the most gallant of bows before escorting her off the dance floor. Once they were back in the crowd, he turned to her as if he was about to ask for another dance when Hugh appeared beside him.

  ‘Lady Kingston.’ Hugh held out his hand for her to take, ignoring Lord Stanhope and making clear to him, and Clara, that he was not to expect any more dances for Hugh would be her partner.

  She pressed her gloved palm to his and he closed his fingers over hers, claiming her as she wished to be claimed.

  At the far end of the room, the musicians began the slow melody of a waltz. A murmur of excitement raced through the room with everyone amazed that Lady Elmswood would sanction such a dubious dance. It didn’t stop them from choosing their partners and hurrying out to the dance floor to delight in this near-scandalous endeavour.

  ‘Shall we?’ Hugh asked, his voice as husky as if he were leading her into his bedroom.

  ‘Yes, please.’ She was eager for him to place his hand at her waist and to clasp his other around hers. As much as she needed a good country dance with a great deal of sashaying to help quell the energy building inside her at being this close to Hugh, she was glad for the intimacy of the waltz. She could be alone with him in this small way, free to speak and enjoy the strong lines of his face, his deep voice and pleasant smile without censure.

  He led her to the centre of the dance floor and turned her to face him, laying his strong hand on her waist and taking her hand with the other. Then he stepped close, towering over her with his wide shoulders and solid chest, his heady cologne mixing with the pine fragrance filling the room. She took a deep breath as much to savour the nearness of him as to steady herself. Then he set them both into motion in time to the slow melody. Her skirt whispered against his legs with each sure step and his fingers tightened against her middle as he led her in the dance. Clara held tight to his shoulder, wishing she could stretch out her fingers and caress the smooth skin of his neck. Once in a while, his thigh brushed against hers, the tease of it almost making her knees buckle, but he held her in the sturdy circle of his arms and she didn’t falter. With his gaze riveted to hers, the ballroom and everyone in it seemed to fade away until it was just the two of them and the music. She surrendered to his lead, allowing him to sweep her along and deeper in to him.

  ‘You look stunning tonight, Clara.’ Hugh’s compliment was unstudied in a way that Lord Stanhope’s had not been. It’d been too long since she’d received such sincere praise, especially from someone who mattered.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘What were you and Lord Stanhope discussing?’

  ‘London and whether I will venture there for the Season.’

  ‘And will you?’

  She tilted her head to gaze up at him through her eyelashes. ‘Is there a reason for me to go there beyond trying to catch a napping lord?’

  ‘I will be there.’ He pulled her a touch closer, his coat brushing her waist when they moved.

  She shifted her hand on his shoulder a bit closer to his neck and allowed one finger to brush his skin. ‘Then that is a good reason for me to go.’

  He turned his head enough to make his chin graze the back of her hand, his lips so close to her skin, he could almost kiss her. Her entire body tingled with anticipation, but they couldn’t be so intimate, not here in front of everyone. Someone might be watching, but if they were Clara didn’t notice. She could only see Hugh and all the possibility for their future in his eyes.

  At the end of the room, the musicians brought the dance to a close. Hugh stopped, but didn’t let go of her until holding on made them stand out and he at last removed his hand from her back, but not his hold on her hand. He raised it to his lips as he bowed to her, viewing her from beneath his brow with a look to take her breath away. ‘I think we have a spectacular new year to look forward to.’

  ‘I think we do.’

  With the couples around them shifting off the floor and quickly being replaced by new dancers, Hugh tucked her arm into the crook of his elbow and escorted her into the crowd. They didn’t stop, but continued towards the back of the room and to a hallway leading off the ballroom. It was quiet here and far from the glare of the chandeliers illuminating the beam-ceilinged great room. Paintings of horses and dogs sprinting across the landscape dotted the hallway along with a generous sprig of mistletoe that hung from the small chandelier in the centre. Hugh guided her beneath the sprig and together they stared up at the single berry clinging to the stem. The kiss it conferred on them could be theirs if Hugh leaned forward and touched his lips to hers. Clara very much hoped that he would, defying the small voice in the back of her mind that said she shouldn’t be standing here with him where anyone who wandered by would see them together. That voice was blotted out by the longing to be free and to not care. She was a widow and for all the heartache it’d foisted on her, Lady Pariston was right, it also gave her more leniency to do as she pleased in a way she never could have enjoyed as an unmarried woman. She would use it to be brave with Hugh and to not doubt herself or him or this Christmas. It would be the first of what was sure to be many happy ones to come.

  ‘It seems a pity to leave it hanging there, all alone.’ He flicked a glance up to the mistletoe and the single berry still clinging to its stem. ‘To think of it being burned with the rest of the greenery when the Christmas season is over and never fulfilling its duty to those standing beneath it.’

  Clara’s heart began to race and she tilted her head back a touch to flash him an amused and inviting look, enjoying this rush of boldness. ‘We can’t have that, now can we?’

  ‘Not at all.’ He stepped forward and took Clara’s hands, towering over her in strength, but with a tenderness to touch her heart. He leaned forward, his gaze never leaving hers until she closed her eyes, waiting for their lips to meet.

  When they did, every part of her came alive. She inhaled his breath and the subtle scent of his sandalwood shaving soap made more potent by the sweat from their last dance. Raising her hands, she laid them on his shoulders, holding on tight to him to steady herself against the thrill making her tremble. She revelled in the press of his lips and the soft weight of her in his arms around her waist and his breath caressing his face. There were a hundred reasons why she shouldn’t be here alone with his mouth claiming hers and his tongue drawing out hers to savour the taste of him, but none of them mattered. This was no mere groping or illicit stolen moment, but something more. It was there in the light way he held her, in the restraint in his lips and the promise she’d seen in his eyes before they’d kissed.

  * * *

  Hugh savoured the sweet taste of Clara as the lively notes of the musicians’ stringed instruments accompanied by the steady murmur and laughter of voices carrying out of the ballroom swirled around them. When he’d stepped into the ballroom and seen her dancing with Lord Stanhope, smiling and laughing at the gentleman as if he were the most charming man in the room, every fear he’d had about losing her by holding back had seized him. Then he’d approached her and the widening of her smile that had made her beam like the mirrors reflecting the candlelight told him that he couldn’t lose her for she was already his. All he need do was pick up where they had left off six years ago, before duty and responsibilities had forced him away from her. Those things might still be with him, but so was Clara, as free to be his as he was to be hers. With her by his side, he would strive to finally secure Everburgh and make it everything he and his family had wanted it to be, and to make her his Marchioness.

  The tempting rise and fall of her chest against his made his pulse pound in his ears. Beneath the fine fabric of her dress he could feel the subtle boning of her stays and the curve of her hips below a small waist. With her firm body beneath his palms he longed for the freedom to be with her, the one denied to him six years ago and the one he would deny himself again until she could be truly and l
egally his.

  He slid one hand up the curve of her waist and along the length of her bare arm above her glove to cup her cheek. She willingly fell deeper into his embrace and opened her lips to take in the gentle sweep of his tongue against hers. In the air between them, her rosewater perfume blotted out the fresh fragrances of the pines and evergreens heralding the approach of Christmas. All too soon the kiss was over and he leaned back, leaving his arms around her to steady himself against the rush of feeling making him want to clasp her to him again. He brushed a wisp off hair off of her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. Her skin was warm and soft against his palm and she looked up at him, her eyes sparkling like the jewels adorning her neck. ‘I’ll be sorry to see the party end.’

  ‘Me, too, but there are still a few days left.’

  And many more chances to speak and be with Clara, to slip into dark corners and enjoy more of her kisses and her touch until the Christmas house party ended and they parted for the remainder of winter. Spring and the opening of Parliament couldn’t come soon enough. He wouldn’t avoid London this year, but join Clara for the Season and make it her last as an unmarried widow. The end of the Christmas season would not be the end of things between them, but the beginning of many wonderful years to come and all of them spent with Clara.

  Hugh bent down, ready to claim her mouth once more when an all-too-familiar female voice purred in disgust, making Hugh freeze.

  ‘Hugh, it’s good to see you haven’t changed.’

  * * *