“Is this another trick?” she tilted her head to the side as he led her around the room, the scents of the evergreen and holly — and jasmine that had teased his senses as he had helped dress her — floating up to him, causing him to become quite heady with it all.
“Not a trick.” He shook his head. “I promised no more tricks.”
She quirked an eyebrow. “What was that then, a few minutes ago, with your brother?”
“No more tricks against you,” he amended. “Only to those who deserve them. Besides, you were intrigued.”
She dipped her head. “I know. But I was wrong. It went too far.”
“You’re right.” He sighed, for she was. He had thought it would be a bit of fun, but when he had seen the embarrassment on Baxter’s face, it hadn’t been worth it any longer.
“And I don’t know if I would call that much in line with the Christmas spirit.”
He snorted. “Christmas spirit. What is that even supposed to mean?”
He hadn’t meant for anything to come across with the remark, but he could tell that she sensed his unease all the same.
“Christmas spirit? Why, it’s… it’s the entire feeling of Christmas. The love that surrounds it, the sense that all is right in the world, the gifts, the fact that it was on this day a savior was born into the world.”
He searched her face, sensing the sincerity in her words.
“How can you say that, when you have lost so much yourself?”
She smiled somewhat self-consciously. “I haven’t lost much at all. My grandmother, yes, and I miss her nearly every day. But I was so fortunate to spend as much time with her as I did to learn from her about love and life and everything it holds. My parents were who they were, and the fact that my father didn’t want me, well, that says more about him than it does about me. I was but a child.”
The thought of someone rejecting her, no matter her age, caused a stirring deep within Elijah — a stirring to show her that she didn’t deserve such rejection at all, and that she should never feel it again by another.
“That’s more reasonable than most would consider.”
“I am more reasonable than most.”
He chuckled wryly. “Especially me,” he said, reading into her words.
“Especially you,” she agreed, and now his laugh was much louder, enough to draw the attention of a few of the couples around them.
The stares continued, and suddenly he realized that Lady Oxford — right, Oxford, that was her name — had finished her song but they were still stepping and swaying in time to the music that was but an echo around them.
Elijah cleared his throat and stepped back away from Joanna. “Thank you for the dance.”
“Thank you.”
“Oh, and Joanna?”
“Yes?”
“Your hair is beautiful tonight.”
Before she could respond, Alex was there, claiming her hand for the next set.
Elijah could do nothing but sigh and turn away.
He was going to have to take things one step further if he wanted to win her hand.
And win her hand he would.
Chapter 8
Every Christmas morning, Joanna woke with the same wonder and excitement as she had when she was a child, when her grandmother would have presents awaiting her, left there by the enigma that was Saint Nicholas.
When she had been old enough to understand that Saint Nicholas was, in fact, someone much dearer to her, she had only become more appreciative of what her grandmother had done for her.
But she had been telling the truth when she had shared with Elijah of how much she missed her. Even the Christmases she was entirely alone, doing nothing but reading a good book by the fire, going to the church service, and dining with friends, she still looked forward to all that the day held.
She grinned today when she opened the wardrobe, as the dress that had held the place of honor in the very middle was finally her selection. It wasn’t one she would normally wear in the morning, but after breakfast they would go into the village for the Christmas church service before returning for the feast.
And a feast it would be. Joanna recalled the few Christmases she had spent here in the past, and they always required her to loosen her stays.
She bit her lip, remembering the teasing that had followed. She had been quite plump in her youth, and it had only been over the past few years that she had grown into her curves.
Besides her grandmother, she had exchanged Christmas gifts with but one other person — Caroline. She couldn’t wait until the day she would be able to choose or create something for her own children. If that day ever came.
But no matter. Today was Christmas, and it was a day to celebrate.
“Joanna!”
Joanna turned to see that Caroline had her door open a crack, and was waving her in.
“Were you watching for me?” she asked as she opened the door and entered Caroline’s room. It was sumptuous, romantic, just like Caroline herself. The walls were delicate rose pink, the canopies a darker shade somewhere between pink and red, with tiny rosebuds embroidered on them.
“I was,” Caroline said, shutting the door behind her. She wore a silk emerald dress with tiny red flowers tucked into her chignon, a look that would have made Joanna look childlike, but was charmingly elegant on Caroline. “Happy Christmas, Joanna.”
“Happy Christmas, Caroline.”
Caroline reached out and Joanna embraced her, grateful that, if nothing else, this long friendship had already stood the test of many trials that had come their way.
The daughter of a marquess typically did not invite a seamstress for a Christmas party. But Caroline didn’t see people by their station or profession. She saw them for who they truly were, and Joanna loved her for it.
And she would support Caroline in whatever she chose to do with her life.
Caroline squeezed her hands as she released her, before walking over to the wardrobe in the corner, opening the door and searching within, emerging with a small package.
“This is for you.”
She held it out to her, and Joanna smiled at her before opening it, trying not to allow herself too much excitement.
But she couldn’t help it. She did not receive many gifts, and she looked forward to Caroline’s gift to her every year — even when they had been apart.
“Oh, Caroline,” she said, as she lifted the necklace out of the paper it was wrapped in. “It’s beautiful.”
“I saw it and thought of you,” Caroline said, reaching for it and bringing the ends around Joanna’s neck before fastening the clasp. “Red is so beautiful on you.”
Joanna beamed at her as she walked over to the long oval mirror in the corner of Caroline’s room, admiring herself in the glass.
“Thank you, Caroline,” she said. “I’ve never had anything like it before. It’s too much, but I shall accept it all the same for it’s too beautiful to refuse.”
It truly was. It was a small ruby, inlaid into a gold square, laced onto a gold chain. She could hardly stop from touching it and looking at how it lay perfectly on her chest. She tore herself away to walk over to the bed, upon which she had laid the paper-wrapped package she had brought with her.
She picked it up and passed it to Caroline. “This is for you.”
“Oh, Joanna,” she said, “you didn’t have to.”
She always said that.
“I wanted to.”
“Well, thank you,” she said, before unwrapping the paper, allowing creamy fabric to fall out of it.
“It’s gorgeous,” Caroline breathed, allowing the fabric to float over her fingers. “Did you make this?”
“I did.”
Joanna could never afford to buy anything that would be worthy of a gift for Caroline, but she could create something for her instead.
“I can hardly wait to don it,” she said, before her eyes flickered up to Joanna with a gleam. “I actually have the perfect place to wear it.”
“Oh?”
“Joanna, I need to tell you something, but you must promise that you won’t say anything to anyone.”
Joanna hesitated, having an idea of what Caroline might want to tell her, unsure if she should make such a promise.
“Caro, I’m not sure—”
“Please, Joanna?”
“Of course.” She softened, unable to deny her request.
“Samuel gave me my Christmas gift last night.”
“Samuel?”
“Thatcher,” she said, her face dissolving into a smile. “Samuel is his given name.”
“Oh, that’s right,” she said, before offering an encouraging expression. “What did he give you?”
She walked back to the wardrobe, this time emerging with a small pouch. She fit two fingers inside, before slipping something onto her finger.
“Look,” she breathed.
It was a small, gold band, thin but beautiful in its own way. She looked up, meeting Caroline’s eager, hopeful grin.
“Did he…” Joanna began, not wanting to ask anything that might cause Caroline to become upset if he hadn’t, but needing to know.
“Yes!” Caroline squealed. “He asked me to marry him. The ring was his mother’s.”
“Oh, Caroline,” Joanna said, her voice infused with awe. “I’m so happy for you.”
She gave Caroline another hug, even as a bit of trepidation filled her — not at Caroline’s choice in life, for she knew better than anyone that happiness had many different forms, and it did not always include marrying the highest title or into the greatest wealth. No, what worried her was what Caroline’s family’s reaction would be, and what they might do when they learned of her plans. She could envision them crushing Caroline’s happiness, and she didn’t want to see it in action.
“Thank you, Jo,” Caroline said as she released her. “Now I have to ask you another favor.”
“Of course.”
“We haven’t yet planned exactly when or how we will be married, but we are aware that my family will likely not be thrilled with the idea.”
Joanna bit her lip. That was something of an understatement.
“We may decide to try to marry without their knowledge.”
“Oh, Caroline,” she said, “how would you do so?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Caroline replied. “But if I need any help… would you be there for me?”
“Absolutely,” Joanna said without resolve. “Anything you need.”
As they made their way downstairs for breakfast, she couldn’t help but wonder, however, what Elijah would think of the plan, and why it mattered to her what he might think or do. His opinion shouldn’t mean anything — it was Caroline’s father and Baxter who could cause the most discord.
But she couldn’t help how troubled she was that it was Elijah’s reaction that would matter the most to her.
* * *
Elijah was excited.
It was a state of being that he had not experienced in quite some time.
But it was Christmas morning, Joanna was here, and he was going to win her affections. He was sure of it. She was currently somewhere down the long table, although he wasn’t entirely sure where. He had been relegated to sit near the children, which he supposed was somewhat appropriate, although he wasn’t entirely pleased to admit it.
“Christopher,” he said to one of Baxter’s children, who was sitting on his left. Admiral Cuthbert’s wife was on the other side, continuously leaning in toward him. “Are you going to eat your eggs?”
“No,” Christopher said with a sigh as he stirred them around his plate. “They are disgusting.”
He enunciated each syllable so completely that Elijah nearly laughed, but he knew that it would only embarrass the boy.
“Here,” Elijah said, reaching over, beginning to move things around the boy’s plate. “The egg is like the lake. Then,” he moved the tomatoes, “the pieces of toast are the islands. The tomatoes you can break apart and they are volcanoes. The middle part — the part with the seeds — that’s the lava that is coming out.”
Christopher was looking at him with rapt admiration, and Elijah began warming to the game.
“Now this — this green stuff, this food for rabbits that has no business being on any of our plates — that is quite obviously the vegetation. The trees nearby. And this—”
Suddenly he realized that Christopher was no longer looking at him. Instead, he was peering down the table. Elijah lifted his gaze and followed where he was looking. Almost the entire table was watching them now, listening to his imaginings.
“Err—” he cleared his throat.
“Elijah,” Baxter said, lifting one of his eyebrows, his expression so completely identical to their father’s that Elijah would have laughed at any other time, “just what do you think you are teaching my son?”
“Just having a little fun, Baxter,” Elijah said with a shrug and a smile. “It’s Christmas.”
“So when it is not Christmas, do you belong in the nursery with the children, then?”
Elijah knew that Baxter was still smarting from the prank they had pulled on him earlier. But even so, his words still tugged deep in his stomach, reminding him of how he had always lacked the approval of both his father and his eldest brother.
Elijah, always the child. The prankster. The one who couldn’t take anything seriously, nor focus on any one responsibility.
Alex hadn’t been any different. And yet, somehow, he had always managed to come away from each situation without a blemish on his name.
He looked out of the corner of his eye.
Christopher was eating his island oasis.
Elijah smiled triumphantly. So what if his methods were slightly juvenile? They worked.
He winked at Christopher, who smiled back.
He could only hope that Joanna wouldn’t think any less of him.
Elijah had the entire breakfast to wait until he was able to find out.
“Joanna,” he called lightly to her as the rest of the party filtered out of the dining room, where they were eating for the occasion instead of in the much smaller breakfast room.
She paused as though unsure of whether or not she should turn around, but finally she looked over her shoulder. She was too good of a person to even pretend to ignore him.
“Yes?”
When she turned to face him, he was nearly speechless. She wore a dress that would have been stunning on its own. Much different from her usual wear, which only served to show the stark difference between her beauty and her garments’ drabness, the dress today would have been eye catching standing on a mannequin. The crimson silk was intricately embroidered with tiny diamonds of a crystal blue around the hem and the bodice, drawing his eye down.
For that was the true beauty of the dress — how it looked upon its wearer. It hugged Joanna’s every curve until her waist, causing his fingers to twitch with their desire to reach out and follow the silk, to touch where the dress did. From the waist, it flowed out to the ground, but it shifted and stirred with her, accentuating her every movement.
After he was finally able to focus, he noticed that she was looking at him quite strangely — which made complete sense.
“Can I speak to you for a moment?” he finally managed.
She bit her lip in what he hoped was naught but a moment’s hesitation, before she nodded and he led her through the dining room and into the drawing room. It was still an open room that would ensure they were not ensconced anywhere that might be deemed inappropriate, yet there was a window seat in an alcove that allowed for more private moments, as he hoped this one would be.
“Is everything all right?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.
“Yes,” he said, nodding his head, realizing he was making a mess of all of this. He reached out a hand to the shelf beside him to shift his weight, but encountered pine needles and pulled back his fingers with a wince.
He cursed under his breath and Joa
nna laughed slightly, lightening the moment and helping him feel much more at ease.
“Joanna…” he began, and she looked at him somewhat questioningly, “I have something for you,” he finally blurted out, and her eyes widened.
“For me?”
“Yes,” he said, reaching into his inner coat pocket. “I know I shouldn’t have and yet… I felt I owed you this.”
She reached out and took the small package he offered, the touch of their fingers, even through her soft gloves, causing his to burn. When she dipped her head to open it, he was afforded a view of her beautiful chocolatey silk strands, caught up in their pins, and he longed to release one and allow that silk to flow through his fingers.
But instead, he had to be comfortable with simply taking in his fill.
She opened the package, taking its contents in her hand, staring at it for a moment.
“Do you like it?” he finally had to ask.
“It’s… a pocket watch,” was all she said, and his heart hurt a bit that she was not overly excited.
“Yes,” he said, “to replace the one I caused you to lose so many years ago.”
“Thank you,” she said, finally looking up to meet his eyes, but he didn’t miss the tear in hers. Was it a tear of happiness? Of sadness?
“Did I do something wrong?” he finally had to ask, and she dipped her head once more.
“Yes. No. Oh, Elijah, I know this is coming from a place of care, and I do so appreciate the sentiment.”
“But…”
“Well, the pocket watch meant something not because it was a pocket watch but because it belonged to my grandmother. It was one of the only things I had of hers.”
“I know, Joanna,” he said, remorse filling him anew. “And I’m sorry again. I don’t know what to do now, but—”
“Is that a pocket watch?”
Elijah closed his eyes for a moment. Cecily. Wonderful. She was the last person he desired to be here at the moment.
“Yes,” Joanna said, setting her chin as she looked up to her. “Lord Elijah is replacing one that I… lost long ago.”
“Oh yes,” Cecily gushed. “He is quite the giver of pocket watches, is he not? Why, he gave me one once as well!”
Merry Misrule Page 6