“Come,” Caroline called to Joanna, a gleam in her eye, and Joanna wondered now whether her plan had perhaps been too malicious, if she was bringing out the worst in her friend.
But Caroline was on a mission now, and there would be no stopping her. All Joanna could do was go along.
They left the path and the skaters behind as they began to make their way through the deeper snow, lifting one boot after the other, leaving footprints in their wake.
“Are you sure this will work?” Caroline asked, looking back to Joanna.
“No,” Joanna said with a laugh and a shake of her head, “but we can do our best.”
They hunkered down behind a row of bushes, and quickly went to work packing the snow into hard balls. They had just finished stockpiling their ammunition when voices came from the other side.
“She said Caro was through here,” Lord Elijah was saying, and Joanna looked to Caroline, trying to signal with the widening of her eyes and a shrug that she had no idea who might be with him. There was a huff of breath and the crack of a branch through the still of the air. “She said she was in trouble — that she fell. Perhaps—”
Just as he crested the top of the hill, Caroline picked up a ball of snow, stepped back, and heaved it in the air toward him.
And missed.
“What in the—” Lord Elijah’s head whipped toward them, but Joanna was there to correct Caroline’s mistake.
She leaned back, put everything she had into it, and chucked the ball toward him. She hit him square in the face.
Lord Elijah stood there for a moment in shock as the snow dripped off his handsome, sculpted cheekbones.
Joanna remained immobile for a moment, suddenly completely unsure of this plan, for she had no idea how he was going to react.
“Eli?” Lord Alexander was there next to him, his own mouth open, aghast at what he had just witnessed. He craned his neck to try to see who was there through the trees, and Joanna was reminded of how like Lord Elijah he looked, yet how different as well. Same dark skin tone, same chocolate eyes, same slight curl to his hair — and yet he was slimmer, taller, carried himself with more sleekness than Elijah did, reminding Joanna of a cat.
Then her focus returned to Lord Elijah, and she was struck by the confusion that crossed his face. He looked from one side to the next, taking in his surroundings, before his focus zeroed in on where the assault had come from.
Then just as suddenly he was charging toward them, his gaze fixed, his eyes narrowed, and Caroline let out a squeak before she grabbed Joanna’s hand and began pulling her deeper into the trees.
“This was a bad idea!” she called over her shoulder as Lord Elijah thundered through the brush behind them, Lord Alexander calling his name as he must have been in chase.
“I think we should have held our ground,” Joanna said, her breath coming in huffs. “We had all of our snowballs back there.”
“Yes, but he’s much stronger. And faster. And used to fighting.”
Joanna stopped so suddenly that her grip freed from Caroline’s and the two of them nearly went flying into the snow together.
“That’s it,” Joanna said, “he thinks he’s back at war.”
“What?” Caroline said, turning to her.
“I think the snowball in the face must have brought back some kind of war memory.”
Which made sense. If one was used to being targeted with bullets, then it would be difficult to suddenly realize the difference in ammunition.
“Lord Elijah!” she said, holding up her hands in front of her as he came running through the brush. “Elijah!”
He nearly ran her over, but came to an abrupt halt just in time.
“Miss Merryton?” he said, his brow furrowed. “What are you doing here?”
“We’re at your home,” she said, biting her lip, worried now that there was more wrong than a simple recollection. “Where do you think we are?”
“We’re… that is, I’m—”
He looked around helplessly, his eyes wild before they finally settled upon her, and Joanna could tell the moment they recognized her and settled into more peacefulness.
“What’s happening?” he asked, his voice nearly breaking with the words, as though it hurt him to have to ask.
“We are part of a Christmas party,” she said softly, so that no one else could hear, lest it embarrass him to have to be so explained to. “We are walking and skating, and Caroline and I lured you away so that we could hit you with snowballs.”
It sounded so immature, so ridiculous now that she said it aloud, the prank as bad as any that he had played on her.
“We thought it would be a bit of fun, a way to get back at you for your own pranks — and the trouble you got poor Thatcher into last night. But it appears we were wrong.”
“No,” he said, a guard coming over his face as his jaw tightened, “it’s fine. Of course I know where we are. And as for your scheme…” he paused, then reached down and began packing snow into a ball of his own. He grinned wolfishly, as though there had been no issue, as though all was right and fine in the world.
“You’d better run.”
* * *
Elijah crashed through the bush, chasing his sister and Miss Merryton, his arms full of the pack of snowballs they had so conveniently created for him. He told his brother to pick up the rest he hadn’t been able to carry. Alex had paused for a moment, as though uncertain of whether he should take part in this, but Elijah knew the moment he had relented, when that smile of old had crossed his face, the smile that told him he was interested and willing to join in whatever scheme had arisen.
Now it seemed like Elijah was soaring, even as his boots broke through the deep snow, which began to fill them and melt around his toes. It had been so long since he had done anything fun like this, since he had felt like himself.
He was back to the Elijah of old.
Yes, there had been a moment there where he had been taken back to the battlefield, when he had completely forgotten where he was and who he was with.
He had been hoping for so long that it would all go away, that he would return to the man he was before, but he kept finding memories vanished, moments blurred.
Right now, however, he let that all fall away as he chased after the women, who he was slowly catching up to, hampered as they were by their long skirts and pelisses.
“Catch Caroline!” he yelled to his brother as he took off after Miss Merryton. He lifted a snowball and threw it toward her — not hard enough to cause any hurt, but enough to make it across the expanse toward her. It hit her square in the back, with just enough force to knock her off balance and she went flying into the snow with a yelp.
“Oh, bollocks,” he muttered as he ran over to make sure she was not harmed. For a moment, he had forgotten his own strength. “Miss Merryton?” he called out. “I’m sorry, are you all right? I didn’t mean—”
But just as he reached her, placing a hand on her back to turn her over and check that all was fine, she whipped around, mitts full of snow, and crushed it into his face.
Elijah stood, clapping his hands to his cheeks at the shock of the frozen wetness, and Miss Merryton jumped in the air, a fist raised in triumph.
“Got you!” she crowed, and from his prone position he looked up at her celebration and acted before he could even think of whether or not he should. In one motion he stood and stepped over, bringing his arms around her and tackling her to the ground.
She gave a little scream as she wiggled around to get out of his grip, and the two of them wrestled in the snow for a moment, each with hands full of snow.
Then her backside snuggled right into the very place where he had been longing for her since that attempted kiss last night, and he stopped fighting altogether as he closed his eyes and tried to will away all temptation.
Which was when she threw an entire handful of snow right down his spine.
It was enough to release her, as the snow began to melt and trickle do
wn his back, rivulets that quite literally cooled his ardor and yet, at the same time, made him want her all the more.
Her hands were on her hips as she stared at him, her eyes glowing in triumph still, a warrior woman who had, he must admit, bested him.
Despite his promise to stay as far away from her as possible after his attempted-kiss-gone-wrong last night, he wanted nothing more than to step over and caress that smug smile right off her face.
He likely would have tried, had Caroline and Alex not appeared seconds before he did so.
“Did you catch her?” Alex asked, and from the absence of his hat and the wetness on his face, it looked his brother hadn’t had any more luck than he had.
“Sort of,” Elijah said, and Miss Merryton rolled her eyes.
“How does it feel?” she asked.
“Pardon me?”
“How does it feel to be the one on the other end of such a scheme?” She pointed a finger at him. “I do hope you have learned your lesson.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Do you now?”
“I do.”
“Would you like me to show you exactly what I have learned?”
He stepped toward her and he saw her eyes widen, just as Alex cleared his throat from behind him.
“Eli?”
“Yes?” he said, whipping around, finding his siblings both staring at him disapprovingly. He swallowed his next words. “Right. We should return then, shouldn’t we?”
“We should,” Caroline responded wryly, then looked back and forth between her brothers. “But first, I have something to ask of the two of you.”
“Right now?” Elijah said, suddenly quite aware of the need to change both his boots, his shirt, and his companions.
“Yes, right now,” Caroline said, looking furtively from side to side as though someone might be listening to them. “It is one of the only times we will find ourselves alone.”
“Very well.”
“Leave Thatcher alone,” she said, looking at them imploringly. “He’s done nothing wrong, I promise you, and I would hate for him to lose his position because of me.”
“I talked to Father,” Elijah said gruffly, aware that the discontent was his own doing.
“Yes, but that has only led to him and Mother being more watchful of Thatcher. And of me,” she said, dipping her head slightly. “Did you not notice that he didn’t accompany us this afternoon?’
“Is there something to be watchful of, Caro?” Alex asked, lifting an eyebrow as he studied his sister carefully.
Elijah shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other — and it wasn’t because of his soggy boots. “You have to be careful, Caroline,” he said, trying to choose his words carefully so she wouldn’t become upset with him. “If anyone outside of the family was to find out about the two of you… you could be ruined.”
She whipped her head toward him, her chin held high. “I don’t care. For I love him.”
Elijah felt his jaw go slack upon hearing her words, but he didn’t overly care.
“You what?”
“I love him,” she said stoically. “And we are going to find a way to be together.”
Elijah looked over at Miss Merryton for her reaction, but it seemed that she was already well aware of the news.
Alex was already shaking his head.
“Caroline…” Elijah began, uncomfortable already for this was not something he would typically speak to his sister about, but knew that he had to, for he couldn’t let their parents — or Baxter — know more of this. “How do you see that working? He’s a servant in our house. Are you going to be married to the man who serves our family dinner?”
“We would leave,” Caroline said, strength in her voice, and Elijah didn’t doubt that she meant every word she said. “We will look after ourselves.”
“What are you going to do, Caro,” Alex asked slightly snidely, “become a maid yourself?”
“I don’t know yet,” she said, her defiance cracking slightly at the question. “I haven’t thought it all through yet. Perhaps…” she looked to her friend, “perhaps I will become a seamstress like Joanna.”
Alex snorted but turned it into a cough. Elijah wasn’t quite so circumspect.
“Caroline,” he said with a sigh, “you cannot sew.”
“I can!”
Even Joanna was biting her lip, her eyes incredulous.
“Caro,” she said gently, stepping toward her, “I didn’t realize quite how serious this was.”
“It is,” she said, blinking, and at the sign of tears, Elijah knew they needed to end this conversation and return to the others — quickly.
“We promise not to do anything to get Thatcher fired,” he said. “Is that fair?”
She nodded, clearing her throat.
“Yes. For now, at least. Thank you.”
“Now come,” he said. “We’ve some skating to do.”
Chapter 6
Joanna stared at herself in the oval mirror of the vanity, tilting her head to better study her appearance, wondering what Elijah thought when he looked at her now.
And wishing that she didn’t care.
She had grown into her pudginess, most of it having become curves instead, thank goodness. Her cheeks were reddened from today’s exertions in the snow — exertions that made her further blush just thinking of them.
She wished that her tussle with Elijah hadn’t caused her to be so affected. It really shouldn’t — not at all. She despised him, she reminded herself. He had caused her such ridicule in their youth, and it didn’t seem like he had changed much. He still apparently took great joy in causing trouble, even if it came at the expense of another.
And he hadn’t exactly been overly supportive of Caroline and her affections for Thatcher.
The worst of it was, Joanna’s own upbringing wasn’t that much different from what a footman’s likely would be. Yes, she had some noble blood, and had been fortunate enough to be raised in some comfort, but she worked for her living now as much as any servant of this house did. In fact, if it wasn’t for her friendship with Caroline, she would have more in common with the housemaids than she did with the ladies.
As evidenced by the dresses she now had to choose from.
She moved away from the image of herself in her chemise and unlaced stays, as she attempted to decide which dress in her dwindling wardrobe she would choose for this evening.
She was saving the one dress for Christmas, of course, which was in just a couple of days, but for tonight, she selected a cream dress with red netting overtop of it. She could re-wear it another day with a red dress beneath, or a spencer overtop, and maybe no one would notice the repeated garment.
There was a knock on the door, and she crossed over to it, opening it with a smile as she expected Caroline’s lady’s maid, Mary, who helped her dress as Joanna didn’t have a maid of her own.
She was wrong.
“Lord Elijah!” she exclaimed, swinging the door half-shut to step behind it so that he couldn’t see her in her state of undress, the clasps at the back of the bodice hanging open, as were the laces of her stays. “What are you doing? You can’t be here right now!”
“Why not? Do you have company?” he asked with a wink, peering around the doorway to look within.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I think you are well aware of what the answers are to both of those questions,” she said. “I am waiting for a lady’s maid, and I’m certainly not in any state of dress to entertain a male guest. Not that he should be here in the first place.”
He shrugged, unaffected at her response, and stepped in past her, leaving her staring at him, aghast. Did the man have no qualms whatsoever?
“This is not one of the rooms in this house in which you can come and go as you please!”
He ignored her once more, and she could do nothing more than sigh in frustration as she studied him, hands on her hips. If only he didn’t cut such a dashing figure. If only she wasn’t secretly stirred by that hint
of mischievousness that always followed him around. If only he didn’t make her laugh, despite how equally often he angered her.
She crossed her arms over her chest in an attempt to cover the skin over her bodice. “What can I do for you?”
“I needed to talk to you about Caroline,” he said, rubbing his forehead. “I know I am supposed to stay away from you, and I will, I promise, but no one else knows about Thatcher except for Alex, and his only suggestion is to force Caro to make a choice, one way or another, by letting all find out about the two of them. I figured you would be far more sensible.”
“I can attempt to help,” she said cautiously, careful not to commit to anything that might hurt her friend. “What are you thinking?”
“I am thinking that Caroline is being blinded by some unknown infatuation for the man,” he said, and then, apparently sensing her discontent, waved a hand around in a spinning motion. “Here, let me help you dress.”
“Absolutely not!”
“At least if someone does come in, you will be fastened.”
Joanna knew he was making sense, for once, but that didn’t mean she enjoyed the idea any more than she should.
“Fine,” she said, turning around.
“Hold your hair up,” he said, and she brushed it to the side. She had been waiting for the lady’s maid to see if she could do something with it to make it look somewhat presentable — or better than its usual limp, straight strands at any rate.
She clenched her teeth together as she tried to push away the tremor that came from the softest brush of his fingers upon the skin of her back as he laced up her stays, from the whisper of his breath upon the back of her neck as he began to slowly push each hook through its eye on the cream dress she would wear beneath the netting.
“Now,” he said, and she couldn’t help but close her eyes at his voice, so close to her ear. Why did it have to be so deep, so vibrant, so spine-tingling? “Caroline says she is in love. Do you believe it?”
“I can’t say that I’m entirely sure,” she said with all honesty. “I’ve hardly seen the two of them together but for the supper when you brought the attention of all to them.”
Merry Misrule Page 4