There was a moment of ear-splitting silence, in which his swallow echoed around the hall.
“I must say, I am impressed. I have never been able to travel with fewer than three trunks,” said Charlotte with a smile. “Whenever I consider what to take with me…”
That was not what he was here for, he told himself as he tried to follow Charlotte’s conversation. He was here for patronage. It was time he put his acquaintance, friendship, whatever you wanted to call it, with the house of Mercia to good use.
After all, he needed to gain more coin if he was to–
“Enough talk in this cold hall.” John strode over to them with a smile. “Do you always leave your guests standing here, Will?”
Alexander almost grinned at the nickname. Some things had not changed, then. It took him straight back to when they had been children, running through the fields outside the town, whooping and shouting with sheer delight at being alive.
“No, of course not,” Charlotte said immediately. “I do apologize, Michaels, we quite forgot ourselves in delightful conversation with you! Come, let us go into the drawing room.”
It was only then Alexander felt the soreness of his back and the twinges in his legs. Traveling by the cheapest means possible certainly had drawbacks.
“Lead on,” he said with a nod. At least then, Pru would leave them to do something else. The Prudence he knew would not want to sit and listen to inane chatter.
But apparently, she did. Turning on the spot in a way most elegant–and best showing off her figure–she walked with John down the corridor and into the sumptuous drawing room. Tapestries lined the walls, plush carpets softened their steps, and when Alexander allowed himself to sit down, he sank a few inches into the plush comfort of the seat he had chosen.
This was heavenly, he thought, and then immediately chastised himself. Was that the thought of a clergyman? Was he to be so easily taken in by worldly pleasures?
But after the privations of home, it was indeed a luxury to sit here with old friends beside a warm fire.
If only Pru had not taken the seat opposite him, he was sure his mind would not have stopped working.
“I am glad you are able to join us again this year,” said Charlotte, filling the silence. “I did wonder if another family would wish to enjoy your company during this festive time.”
Alexander realized his mouth was open as he stared at Pru. John looked between them as he attempted to regain his equilibrium, and Pru smiled.
“Y-Yes,” he managed. “I mean, no. There is no other household I would wish to spend Christmas with, and I am glad to see the House of Mercia do so well. I have heard your investments continue to grow, Your Grace.”
The moment the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. John smirked, and William glanced at his wife without speaking.
Alexander swallowed. It was not right, he knew, to mention money before a duke and a marquis. It was in bad taste, not to be borne.
He shifted in his seat and averted his face from the now unwelcome heat of the fire. It was ludicrous, really. They had all grown up together! Money had not been a forbidden topic when none of them had any.
They had been equal. And that had all changed.
Who could have predicted, all those years ago, that he would be seated with not Will and John Lennox, but the Duke of Mercia and the Marquis of Gloucester?
Money was no longer their concern. If only he could say the same for himself.
Alexander cleared his throat, fully aware it was now his turn to spark conversation. It was a challenge, however, not to allow bitterness to seep into his words. It was not seemly of a vicar to be so envious of another’s riches.
“I-I must congratulate you, Charlotte, on your beautiful Christmas decorations,” he said, hoping this at least would be a neutral topic.
There was a laugh. Alexander did not need to turn to know it was Pru.
“You think Charlotte was the only one to decorate?” she said. “In her condition? I can’t see her up ladders.”
There were appreciative chuckles around the room, and Alexander took advantage of the excuse to look at her.
She was leaning back, effortlessly at ease with a teasing smile on her face. He had never seen her look so comfortable in company.
And yet, she was. She had always spoken openly with him. It was crowds she feared, notice by others, but that fear seemed to have disappeared.
“No, I am afraid we had to rope in the least festive and merry one of us all,” she continued, her eyes dancing. “Poor old John!”
“I, the least festive, the least merry!” John protested as the others laughed. “Why, I think you will find ’tis I who suggested we decorate outside each and every window in this palace! Is that not festive enough for you?”
“And who did it with such bad grace?” teased his sister. “Who complained the entire time, said no one would notice nor appreciate it, and then delegated most of the actual work to myself and Chalmesbury?”
Alexander joined the laughter of William and Charlotte as they watched John shake his head in mock outrage.
“Ruining my good name and character, you are, and I will thank you for desisting!”
The two of them chattered on, but Alexander barely paid any attention to the actual words. He was too captivated by Prudence.
She was…well. A delight. He had always considered her a child, four years younger than him, and a wonderful companion when they had both been young.
They had exchanged letters this year, to be sure, and he had longed for the post to bring another almost every week. Something strange had changed in him, and he had not known the words for how he had felt about her.
The last few years, since the family fortunes had been so wildly changed, he had–and he bristled to think of it now, with this vision of womanhood before him–gifted her with a kiss under mistletoe. Nothing inappropriate, of course. The same kiss on the cheek he would have bestowed on a sister.
Now his feelings were very unbrotherly.
“Ah, Chalmesbury.”
Alexander jumped, lost in his thoughts. He had barely noticed the growing darkness, and now the butler had arrived to light the lamps.
“Your Grace,” bowed the servant as he moved about the room, bringing additional light into the place.
The conversation continued, but Alexander did not join it. He was too busy spending all his energies in not looking at one of them.
Pru. Pru drew him in like no other woman ever had. It was disorientating, this sensation he at once knew her well, and at the same time, hardly knew her at all.
But there was no point in indulging these feelings, he told himself. He would have to force down the instincts to reach out and touch her, to pull her closer, to lower his lips down onto hers, and take what would surely be the first true kiss from her…
Alexander shifted in his seat. His body had been doing the thinking for him, and now he was in the rather uncomfortable position of needing to hide the effect she was having on him.
Besides, it was Pru. She would never see him that way. He was more a brother to her than anything else, and there was nothing quite like a clergyman’s robes to dissuade a lady’s affections.
What did he have to offer her? Nothing, nothing but hardness and miserliness. If he ever were to marry, an unlikely possibility in his circumstances, he would need a woman who could accept his penny-pinching ways.
“Well, I think you have done magnificently to keep this rascal in order,” William was saying as he punched his brother lightly on the arm. “You are to be commended, Pru, and if you are not careful, I shall make it your responsibility to decorate the old place every year.”
“I may not be here next year,” she said lightly. “You never know, I could have a home of my own.”
“I do find it strange not decorating Stonehaven Lacey,” said Charlotte with a sigh, her hand on her belly. “But then, when one marries…”
Alexander stared at Pru, attempting to un
derstand her last remark. May not be here? She…she surely was not on the brink of making a match?
“Dinner, Your Grace.”
He jumped as the butler once again entered the room.
William glanced at the grandfather clock. “By Jove, you are right! I had hardly noticed the time–thank you, Chalmesbury, we will come through now.”
“I am starving,” declared Charlotte as she allowed herself to be pulled up by her husband. “I have been counting down the minutes before it is acceptable to eat again.”
William chuckled as he offered his arm to escort her through. “I know, my love. But in a few weeks, it will all be worth it. Your dedication and sacrifice will be worth it.”
He led her out of the room, and Alexander waited for John to lead out his sister–but he had already disappeared. He was alone in the drawing room with Pru.
And she was smiling. “Are you going to offer me your arm, Alexander?”
Hearing his name in her mouth made his stomach lurch as he stammered, “Of–of course.”
Why was her hand on his arm more intimate than their last kiss under the mistletoe? Why did his body cry out for her? Why did he look for any hint she felt the same way, his gaze roving over her form as he almost tripped, turning the corner in the corridor?
It was with relief that he deposited her in a chair. At least now he could step away, put some distance between them.
Only then did he realize his seat was opposite her.
“You know, this meal reminds me of the fare in the Golden Hind,” said John with a grin, poking at his roast beef with a fork. “Do you remember, Michaels, the roast dinner they would do on a Sunday?”
With perhaps his first natural smile since his arrival, Alexander nodded. “The gravy there was like nothing I had ever tasted.”
“Oh, and the pudding!” William said with a sigh. “I have been attempting to persuade Mrs. Rose, our cook here, you know, that sticky toffee pudding is a suitable dish for a duke, but to no avail.”
Charlotte laughed. “And to think, I should have some sort of control over my own kitchen! But Mrs. Rose has been here thirty years, and she knows the palate of a duke best.”
They all laughed, and Alexander found himself, finally, relaxing. Perhaps they were not so different, after all. The Lennox brothers had only ascended to their titles what–three, four years ago? Perhaps a little longer, and yet it had seemed to wipe away all their good-naturedness from before. But it was still there if you knew where to look.
Where he was determined not to look was at Pru.
“And how is your congregation in Bath, Michaels?” Charlotte asked as they tucked into their delicious meal. “I have heard good things about your sermons, I must say.”
“My word,” said Pru with a small smile. “Are you saving souls, Alexander?”
Why was it only Prudence who called him by his name–and why didn’t he mind?
“I do my best to serve my congregation,” he said, attempting a little humor himself. “Though I must admit, at times I wonder whether they are the ones saving me! They are particularly good to me.”
“If anyone has saved you, ’tis I,” said Pru with an arched eyebrow that made his heart thump wildly. “I am your true savior.”
“Prudence!” William hissed with a scandalized look. “You cannot say such a thing, not to a clergyman–and at Christmas, too!”
John was laughing, and Charlotte was trying to hide a smile behind her napkin. Alexander hardly knew what to think. True savior?
“I refer only to that time when I had to help pull Alexander from that ditch, do you remember?” Pru protested with a look of mischief. “He had fallen right in, and you two had left. I was the one who helped him out, covered in ditchwater and mud from head to toe!”
The table echoed with laughter, but Alexander did not join them. Was it not enough that he was now on a much lower station than his old friends–but he had to be reminded of that shameful incident?
He was a man now, a gentleman, and due some respect. Why was it so difficult for others to see?
“I do remember, now you come to mention it,” John laughed. “Goodness, but we were wild then. You would not believe it, Charlotte–we used to go swimming in the lake, utterly naked!”
William chuckled as Alexander felt the flush creep over his face.
“You must excuse us, Charlotte, Your Grace,” he said hurriedly. “We were but children, and–”
“Children? I think I was seventeen when I ceased swimming nude in that lake,” interrupted William. “So you and John must have been…what, fifteen?”
“I have come to expect nothing less from my husband and his family,” said Charlotte reassuringly to Alexander.
“You know, ’tis a shame Honora and Prudence could not enjoy the waters,” William continued. “A real shame.”
“Ah, but who is to say,” said Pru archly, as Alexander took a sip from his wine glass, “I was not watching?”
Alexander spluttered, wine slopping from his glass into his roast dinner, and the table once again resounded with laughter.
Placing his wine glass carefully back onto the table, he looked up to see Pru smiling with a frighteningly knowing look.
No, surely not. Surely she was jesting–she could not have been hiding behind one of the trees around the lake. Because if she had, that would mean she would have seen…well, everything. All of him.
It was enough to drive a man wild. If only the favor could be repaid, and he could see all of her…
Alexander pushed the thought away firmly as the conversation continued. He was here for Christmas, five whole days, and so he needed to get a grip on himself. He could not be having these…these fantasies about one of his hosts!
Pru winked and then joined in with the conversation as though she had been paying attention the whole time. “I disagree. If we are to have snow for just a few days…”
Alexander swallowed. Pru was a beautiful woman, and she had evidently lost that naïveté he had known so well last year. But she was still an innocent, and though she may tease him, there was no possibility she would see him as a potential suitor.
This Christmas, he would put aside all thoughts of the delectable Lady Prudence Lennox and concentrate instead on the reason why he had come here.
If he met her under the mistletoe, by chance? Well, who was he to ignore chance?
Chapter Three
Two days. Had it really been two whole days?
Prudence closed her eyes. She was not taking in a single word of her novel in any case, and the slow hours drifting by were dull. Christmas Eve, two whole days with Alexander Michaels in the house, and absolutely nothing had happened.
It was starting to make her skin itch. The more she saw him, the more she wanted to touch him, be touched by him, kiss him…and yet he seemed utterly oblivious of her presence.
She opened her eyes again and tried to read the paragraph on the page.
“And of course, I always knew it was you! I have loved you from the moment I saw you, all those years ago, at the King’s ball. When I saw you wearing…
Prudence allowed the book to fall into her lap. Alexander had been at Pendle Hall for forty-eight hours, and for not a single one of those had she been open with him, confessed her feelings.
It was starting to drive her wild.
But then, there had been so few opportunities. The dinner that evening he had arrived, she had been sure he understood her. She had been as forward as she could manage, knowing she was being reckless, sure William or John would immediately chastise her–or worse, send her to her room like a child.
She had been sure her behavior would have pushed him over the edge, and she had waited that evening underneath the mistletoe after everyone else had retired to bed. Her heart had fluttered painfully, her shoulders were tight, her breath quick–
And he had walked straight past her without saying a word. It was as though she had not even been there for all the notice Alexander had give
n her.
Perhaps he had been tired. That was how she had managed to console herself that evening, and so the next day when a ride was suggested by John–he hated staying indoors for too long, even in the winter–Prudence had jumped at it. An opportunity for Alexander to see her in a different light.
When they had all stomped back into the hall after several hours of hard riding, shivering and laughing, their riding boots coated with snow and dropping mud everywhere, William had disappeared quickly to check on Charlotte, and John had vanished, too.
It had just been the two of them, her and Alexander. They had been slightly out of breath from running from the stables, laughing about a joke John had made, and she had looked up and smiled, and he had returned her smile.
She had been sure that would be the moment.
Alexander had glanced up and seen the mistletoe, dangling above them on that golden ribbon, and disappeared.
Prudence sighed, alone in the drawing room. And now it was another day later, Christmas Eve, and in another two days, he would be gone. Alexander would return to Bath, to his parishioners, and her chances to make this year’s festive season so much more than just a kiss under the mistletoe…they would be over for another twelvemonth.
The door to the drawing room opened, and John stepped in with a clatter. “A book? Dear Lord, old girl, do not tell me you are about to become a bluestocking and run away to Oxford!”
Prudence smiled as she sat up a little straighter. “Fear not, I haven’t even managed to get past the first chapter. You look smart.”
He did. John was not one to put much thought into his attire, a habit from his days as a younger son and a soldier. A man on the march needed to put little thought into his clothing. It was weaponry that really mattered.
He made a face. “William’s damn valet made me put a clean shirt on for church. Are you coming?”
Prudence blinked. “Church?”
“Don’t tell me you have forgotten! Pru, ’tis Christmas Eve–the afternoon service?” John tutted. “William, Charlotte, and some of the servants are all going, and I thought I had better go, too, in case the newest member of our family decides to arrive early, and William needs someone to catch.”
O Night Divine: A Holiday Collection of Spirited Christmas Tales Page 63