The Christmas Countess

by Adrienne Basso

  Daniel‘s kiss had been the most wondrous event in her dull, staid life. It had been enchanting, intoxicating and far more spectacular than anything she had ever experienced. Or hoped to experience.

  For one brief, enchanting moment, it felt as if anything were possible. For the first time in her life, Charlotte dared to believe that she could indeed achieve the secrets of her heart. She could somehow miraculously find the love she had always craved, but had long ago ceased dreaming she would be lucky enough to share.

  Fluttering with a sudden dash of nerves, Charlotte cleared her throat. Too much thinking, too much wishing and too much hoping was dangerous. Her heart, so fragile and innocent, was vulnerable. It would take very little for it to shatter.

  She shook her head sternly, telling herself that she had to be mistaken, had to be reading too much into the kiss. Leaning forward, Charlotte studied herself more closely in the mirror, then released another sigh of confusion. She saw nothing in her reflection that would inspire passion, nothing that would entice a man as handsome and accomplished as Daniel Tremaine to kiss her.

  Charlotte made an impatient sound, annoyed with herself for being so fanciful and impractical. It was just a kiss! One of many for him, no doubt. Determining her only course of survival lay in being practical, she pulled her gaze from the mirror.

  Joining the guests gathered in the drawing room before the evening meal, Charlotte reminded herself that she needed to be casual, to forget that the kiss was anything of importance or significance.

  Yet the moment she entered the room, her eyes deliberately sought out Daniel. He was engaged in conversation with several gentlemen, no doubt talking of business. The thought made her feel proud. She sensed he was uncomfortable with his extensive involvement in business, for he believed it marked him as less of a gentleman, but she thought his accomplishments were admirable, a clear example of his good character and intelligence. In her eyes, they made him more attractive, not less.

  She suspected he worried that living too long among the Americans had left him with some of their uncouth manners, but Charlotte could not have disagreed more. She thought his manners impeccable and felt his forthright manner was honest and refreshing.

  He might misguidedly think that earning his own way and making his own fortune somehow made him less of a gentleman, but she believed it made him more of a man.

  “You seem preoccupied lately, Charlotte. Is everything all right?”

  Startled, Charlotte pulled her gaze away from Daniel and looked up at her brother. Cameron was smiling pleasantly at her, but the corners of his eyes were wrinkled with puzzled concern.

  “I‘m fine, Cameron. Just feeling a little tired from today‘s outing, that‘s all.”

  “If you are tired, then you should rest. I will call for your maid to help you to your bedchamber. It‘s not necessary for you to be in attendance for every event.”

  “You shall do nothing of the kind,” she replied sharply. “I wish to stay. ‘Tis only dinner, for goodness sake. I‘m not so frail and fragile that I am unable to sit at the table and eat my meal without exhausting myself.”

  She flushed slightly as Cameron‘s brow rose in surprise. Her unaccustomedly strong reaction startled her brother, but she was pleased she had made her opinions known. Though it might have been wiser to express them more serenely. Fearing he might begin to suspect there was another reason she was so insistent on being at dinner, Charlotte turned to walk away.

  “We seem to have a lively group this year,” Cameron said, clearly not wanting her to leave.

  The opening was simply too good to miss. Charlotte slowly pivoted to face her brother, who was now smiling again. “It is a nice mix of old friends and relations and new faces,” she said. “Though I was curious about Mr. Tremaine and his sister. How precisely are you acquainted with them?”

  The smile remained in Cameron‘s face, but his body went taut at the question. “Tremaine and I are exploring various business ventures.”

  “Over the holidays? That cannot be the only reason you invited them. I understand that the focus of Mr. Tremaine‘s life is his work, but that is not true in your case.”

  “My hands may not reek of trade, but I do have various business interests,” Cameron said vaguely. “Some of them involve Mr. Tremaine.”

  Charlotte‘s brows lowered. Somehow this did not seem quite right. At her encouragement, Daniel had spoken with her about several of his current projects. He had mentioned that Lord Bailey and Mr. Selby were significant investors, but never said anything about her brother.

  “I‘m surprised to hear this,” she said. “On the few occasions I have been in company with the two of you, I sensed an undercurrent of animosity.”

  “We are exploring business ventures,” he repeated. “Various business ventures.”

  Was that true? He spoke too forcefully and one too many times to be so easily believed, she thought. There was more to this than Cameron was going to say, of that Charlotte felt certain.

  She studied her brother closely, noting his increasing discomfort. His agitation stirred her own. What was he hiding?

  The sound of laughter reached her ears. She turned away from her brother and saw Marion had insinuated herself in the middle of Daniel‘s group of the gentlemen. In her customary style, Marion had them all joking and smiling, but Daniel had averted his attention elsewhere.

  To Charlotte.

  He was looking at her in open admiration. Charlotte felt a flash of joy followed immediately by a jolt of suspicion. Was Daniel‘s interest in her a sham? Was he using her in hopes of gaining greater access to her brother for these various business ventures?

  Or even more humiliating, had Cameron arranged for Daniel to pay attention to her? As a favor, or a condition, of investing in one of his projects.

  How horrifying if that were true? Yet Charlotte knew her brother would not consider Daniel a proper suitor for a woman of her rank. But he was certainly acceptable as a holiday flirtation. The very idea was almost too humiliating to consider, but it might explain his interest in her.

  “How lovely to see you, Lady Charlotte.” Daniel had broken away from the group and come to her side. Cameron had also disappeared. They were alone together.

  He brought her trembling hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss against the back of her glove. All the while his gaze remained on her face and a serious, intent expression favored his features.

  Charlotte‘s heart fairly tripped over itself. She knew it would be best to ask him directly about his relationship with her brother, to discover if there was some ulterior motive for his interest in her. She opened her mouth to ask the questions, but could not get the words to come out.

  “Is something wrong, Lady Charlotte?” he asked.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, dinner is served,” the butler announced.

  Oh, bother. More than anything, Charlotte wished she could take Daniel‘s arm and be escorted into the dining room, but he was not her partner for the meal. Reluctantly, she accepted Sir Reynolds‘s escort, vowing to have a hand in the seating arrangements for tomorrow night‘s supper so she would be seated near Daniel.

  She noted that Marion was his dinner companion and the stab of jealousy she felt at her cousin‘s good fortune to be near him was staggering. Embarrassed at her uncharitable thoughts, Charlotte made a special effort to engage her dinner companions in conversation, yet time and again her gaze strayed to the opposite end of the table.

  She had just lifted a fork full of creamed peas into her mouth when Daniel looked back and his gaze met hers. Instantly Charlotte felt as if all the air had been pulled from the room. The buzzing conversation and merry laughter faded away and for a moment, a splendid, glorious moment, it seemed as if they were the only two people in the room.

  She struggled to keep her features composed, but she realized he would be able to see his effect on her. Daniel knew everything.

  It got even worse when the meal ended. Music and dancing was abandone
d for the evening in favor of cards and backgammon. Charlotte hesitated, waiting too long to join a table, then found that she and Daniel were left as the odd couple without partners. They made their way to a comfortable couch secluded in the corner of the room.

  “Shall we play Beggar My Neighbor?” he asked with a smile.

  “I haven‘t played that since I was nine.”

  “Excellent. I am assured of a win.”

  Charlotte laughed. “Hardly.”

  He produced a deck of cards and expertly shuffled. Her eyes stayed on his hands, which were large, yet elegant, with strong, tapered fingers. She thought them beautiful.

  “So, what shall our opening wager be?” he asked.

  “Though I have not played since I was a little girl, in all fairness, I must warn you. I am very good at this game.”

  “Ah, I appreciate your honesty. I fear my fortune is in grave peril. We must therefore find something else of value to wager. I confess, I can think of only one thing, but ‘tis most improper.”

  Charlotte‘s face heated at the innuendo. Daniel gave her a rakish grin and began to deal.

  She adjusted her position on the couch, reached over and began absentmindedly rubbing her left calf. It had begun to cramp and the pain was intensifying. She pressed her fingers into the knotted muscle for a few moments, until she suddenly realized where she was and what she was doing. Mortified, she pulled her hand away and sat up straight. But it was too late. Daniel had seen.

  She had long ago accepted her disfigurement as something she could not ever change. Railing against the unfairness of fate, crying about it, wishing and hoping for it to be different was simply a waste of time and energy. Though he professed not to notice, she could not help but feel embarrassed by her limitations, by her imperfections. In front of Daniel she did not want to appear less of a woman.

  He said nothing about her odd behavior and she was grateful. But then he set the remaining cards he had not yet dealt down and moved to sit in the padded footstool in front of her. Curious, Charlotte watched, then nearly jumped out of her seat when he put his hand on her calf.

  “My goodness, Mr Tremaine…Daniel. Whatever are you doing?” she asked, attempting to push his hand away.

  “I know this is inappropriate, but please forgive me. I cannot bear to see you suffer,” he replied. Carefully keeping her foot and leg covered, he held her knee with one hand and began rubbing her calf with the other. “Is this where it hurts?”

  It was precisely the spot. Charlotte could feel the muscle tighten and spasm and her embarrassment grew. No one, except a doctor or physician, had ever touched her feeble leg.

  “This is highly improper,” she hissed.

  “Everyone else is involved with their gaming,” he said. “No one is taking any notice of us.”

  Unsuccessful in pushing him away, she instead tried to pull her leg back, but his grip was too strong. Not wanting to create a scene, and draw attention to what they were doing, Charlotte sat very still. His fingers continued to massage and she gradually began to relax.

  “The cramp is easing,” she said, sitting up higher against the cushions. “Thank you.”

  He patted the top of her knee, then gently placed her foot on the floor. “I want you to tell me if it begins to tighten again.”

  “Oh, yes.” She agreed only to shift his attention away from her leg, knowing she would sooner hack off the limb than say anything.

  “I mean it.” Daniel put his index finger beneath her chin and turned her head with the barest touch. Unmistakable warmth flickered in his eyes. Charlotte felt herself suddenly quiver with expectation. Kiss me. Oh, please, kiss me.

  He seemed tempted, yet he did not lean any closer. He removed his hand and Charlotte nearly screamed in vexation, her disappointment keen. If she moved just slightly in his direction, perhaps then he might…?

  The kiss in the woods had been so glorious. She had thought of little else, except an opportunity to have another. And this seemed like the perfect chance.

  Her eyes darted toward the ceiling, wishing there was a sprig of mistletoe near, but the greenery collected this afternoon had not yet been hung. Discomforted, she lowered her chin and narrowed her gaze. Daniel continued to smile pleasantly at her, seeming not to understand her wishes. Or perhaps he did not want to kiss her?

  More than anything she wanted to lean forward and touch her lips to his, but her inhibition and fear of rejection held her back. Ladies did not throw themselves at handsome, virile gentlemen. Especially spinsters with ungainly limps.

  A sense of emptiness suddenly filled her, along with a deep, painful ache for the things she might never have in her life. A wonderful romance, an enduring love, a grand passion. A husband and children to love and share the joys and trials of life.

  With a sigh of real regret, she leaned back against the cushions. At her movement, the indecision in Daniel‘s eyes vanished and without further warning, he leaned forward and kissed her.

  By necessity it was quick, since they could easily be seen by others in the room. Yet it was deep and passionate and full of exquisite promise.

  Charlotte was quite breathless when it was over. A quick scan at the gaming tables verified that no one had seen. She flicked up the fan that dangled from her wrist, opened it and fanned away the sudden rush of warmth from her face.

  He gave her a roguish smile when he noticed the gesture and she felt a blush starting anew. But along with the blush, a niggling sense of doubt bloomed at the true reason for the kiss. Dare she believe he wanted her for herself?

  ———

  “Excellent play, Miss Tremaine,” the earl said as she put down the final card. Their opponents groaned and she tried not to gloat at another victory. It was rather bad manners to continually trounce one‘s opponents at cards, but the earl seemed to be having a grand time and Rebecca was enjoying it as well.

  After observing the quiet, steady determination the earl had displayed during the past few hands, she understood why he was such a formidable man. Though they played as a team, she acknowledged that she mostly followed his lead. Their constant wins were due to him.

  It was not just the earl‘s experience at the card game that set him apart. It was the way he played. True, this was but a friendly game, with no real wagering. Nevertheless, the earl‘s quiet, confident demeanor rattled Lord Bailey, forcing him to make foolish errors and costly mistakes.

  If not for the ladies present, the amiable atmosphere might have deteriorated to a cold tension. As it was, it seemed prudent to end the competition before it moved beyond a friendly evening of cards.

  Congratulating the opposing couple on a well-played match, Rebecca excused herself and pushed her chair back. The earl did the same and somehow their knees bumped beneath the table. A heated spark rushed through her limbs.

  Rebecca‘s head turned. Amusement mixed with a hint of challenge gleamed in the earl‘s eyes. She opened her mouth, preparing to give him a royal set-down. But then he shifted, increasing the contact between his leg and hers.

  “Do you have a moment?” he asked. “I need to speak with you.”

  Rebecca offered him a smile she prayed did not appear as tight as it felt. “I am listening.”

  The earl shook his head. “Not here. Meet me in my private study in ten minutes. Do you know where it is located?”

  She nodded. It was hardly proper, or prudent, to be alone with him, but she assumed the conversation would involve Lily. For that, privacy was needed.

  It seemed that several of the other tables of card players were also shifting partners. The dowager countess was insisting Lady Marion team with her for the next set, while Viscount Cranborne joked with Mr. Halloway about wanting to face a far less clever opponent than his wife. Seizing the moment, Rebecca slipped away unobserved and made her way to the earl‘s study.

  A fire burned in the hearth, but no candles had been lit. Rebecca quickly remedied that and the room was soon bathed in the soft glow of candlelight. She star
ted toward the grouping of chairs near the fireplace, but did not sit down. Instead, she gazed up at the portrait of a young woman hanging above the marble mantel.

  She was gorgeous. A blond angel with huge, expressive eyes of an unusual shade of violet that matched the color of her stylish gown. Her eyes twinkled, her face glowed with a vibrancy that went beyond an artist‘s skill. Even on the flat surface she was embodied with beauty and vigor.

  She was smiling, confident and happy. And achingly young. There was no name placard, but Rebecca knew it had to be the earl‘s late wife. How sad and tragic to be cut down in the prime of one‘s life. And how true that life, as usual, was seldom fair.

  “The portrait was painted the year before Christina fell ill,” the earl explained, as he came into the room to stand beside her. “It was only recently taken out of storage. For a long time I could not bear the sight of it, but now I am very glad I have this memory of her at a time when she was happy and healthy. It brings some measure of comfort.”

  Clearly, he had loved her deeply. The remnants of pain were still evident in his voice.

  “I am sorry,” Rebecca said softly.

  He accepted her sympathy with a nod. “Even with the passing of time, it is still difficult.”

  “Yes.”

  He drew a deep breath. “For a while, after she died, the grief unmanned me, nearly paralyzed me, really. Through necessity, I learned to live with it.” He regarded her through serious eyes. “I imagine it has been the same for you.”

  A deep pain seared through Rebecca‘s heart. Though she thought of Philip nearly every day, she rarely spoke of him. “One does learn how to go on, but it‘s a pain that never completely heals.”

  “There are those who say it makes you stronger.”

  “Rubbish.”

  A ghost of a grin appeared on his face and Rebecca was glad he agreed. Dare she believe that she and the earl had more in common than either of them wished to acknowledge?

  “Would you care for a drink?” he asked.

  Rebecca knew she should decline. She was nervous enough in his company and needed to keep her wits about her. Yet without waiting for her reply, the earl poured wine into a glass and took it to her.