“He is a business acquaintance,” Cameron said, deciding if this kept up he really was going to have to make an investment in one of Tremaine‘s projects in order to give validity to that claim.
“I see.” The dowager countess paused to make sure she had her son‘s complete attention. “You know I never bother my head with that sort of thing, so perhaps that is why I have never heard of him until recently. However, I still do not understand exactly how he and his sister came to be part of our holiday guest list. You rarely entertain your business contacts at home and certainly never over the holiday season.”
“Are you questioning who I may invite to share our holidays, Mother?” he asked, scowling.
“I assure you there is no need to take that tone with me, Cameron.” His mother looked offended for a full heartbeat before continuing. “I only ask because I am concerned. About your sister. I cannot help but think if she is forming an attachment to Mr. Tremaine, as I am beginning to suspect, it will most assuredly lead to heartache for Charlotte.”
Cameron shook his head. “Tremaine is a businessman. I am hoping to finalize an important deal with him over mining rights to some property I own in Cornwall. Selby and Lord Bailey are also partners in this venture and they like him very much. They have repeatedly told me he is an honorable man. A wealthy one, too.”
“Then why is he so interested in Charlotte? If he has money, he can‘t be a fortune hunter.”
Cameron looked down, suffering a sharp pain of guilty concern. How had he missed all of this drama? True, he had been wrapped up in his concerns over Rebecca Tremaine and Lily, but that was no excuse for being so oblivious to his surroundings.
Or perhaps his mother was exaggerating? Perhaps there was nothing at all between Charlotte and Daniel Tremaine except his mother‘s imagination? “Are you saying Tremaine is courting Charlotte?”
The words, spoken aloud, sounded ridiculous. Cameron almost smiled with relief, but then he caught the expression of genuine concern on his mother‘s face.
“Well, I don‘t know exactly what Mr. Tremaine is doing with Charlotte,” the dowager countess mused. “One would assume if his intentions are honorable then he would be planning to court her properly, within all bounds of propriety.”
“He damn well better stay within the bounds of propriety!”
“Cameron please, language.”
“Pardon.”
“I do not mean to imply that Mr. Tremaine has a nefarious purpose.” The dowager countess wrinkled her nose. “Though the improvements in her appearance are impressive, no one will ever call Charlotte beautiful or even pretty. At her best, she is passable.”
“Men do not only consider a woman‘s looks.”
“Precisely. Which is why I am even more confused. Charlotte is shy and retiring. She does not have the sparkling wit or impish charm men find so irresistible. With neither good looks nor an effervescent personality there is very little to recommend her. I do not mean to be cruel, but what would a man with Mr. Tremaine‘s looks and wealth want with Charlotte?”
“I hardly think it has reached that stage.”
“I‘m not certain. For a moment during our card game, I thought I saw…” the dowager countess hesitated.
“What, Mother?” Cameron prompted. “What did you see?”
“I thought I saw Mr. Tremaine and Charlotte kissing!” She cleared her throat nervously, her face flushed with astonishment.
“Surely you are mistaken?”
“I know that sounds rather ridiculous, but I do believe it happened.” His mother looked aghast. “And yet ‘tis such impulsive and improper behavior, two things that one would never associate with Charlotte.” She shook her head, then began muttering. “Every time I think about it, I tell myself I must have been mistaken. Though a social inferior, Mr. Tremaine does have a handsome countenance and a fortune. He has no need to accept a crippled wife.”
“There is much more to Charlotte than her infirmity. You do her a great disservice not to look beyond it.”
“I know, dear. She is my daughter and I love her with all my heart. Naturally we, as her family, know what a treasure she is, what a sweet, caring and wonderful woman.” The dowager countess‘s eyes narrowed. “However, as her mother it is my duty to be suspicious, given these circumstances. You must not forget that Charlotte is also innocent of society and naive of men, despite her years, which we both know is well beyond the age when she could be expected to make a favorable match.”
“She is hardly an old woman,” Cameron mused.
“But she is not a young woman either. I worry that she might be dallying with a man who has mischief in mind. Or worse, will attempt to trick her into accepting an unfavorable match. I will not see her hurt by a social climber.”
“I am fairly certain that Mr. Tremaine has no specific interest in Charlotte. Romantic or otherwise,” Cameron replied, wishing he was at liberty to tell his mother the real reason the Tremaines were here. It would alleviate her worries and give him the opportunity to unburden his own distress by revealing the truth.
Yet, what had Rebecca said to him earlier? Some secrets were harder to keep than others. “I will keep an eye on things, Mother.”
“Thank you, dear. I know I can always depend on you.”
Seeing the emotion in his mother‘s eyes made Cameron feel guilty. In addition to keeping secrets from his family, he had been neglecting his duties to them.
Six more days until Christmas. Less than two weeks beyond that, the guests would start leaving. Then gradually things would begin to return to normal.
Or would they? With an inward grimace, Cameron admitted that was highly unlikely.
———
The next morning Rebecca dressed carefully, anticipating her outing to the vicarage. She had promised Mrs. Hargrave she would help with this year‘s nativity play, never realizing what a welcome distraction it would be. The commitment would take her from the house for the entire morning, thus eliminating the possibility of having to spend any significant time in the earl‘s company.
She splashed the warm water her maid had brought on her face, her lips tingling with the memory of the earl‘s kisses. It seemed to almost burn through her, but Rebecca gulped back the storm of emotions. It had truly happened, she mused. They had kissed. And it meant…?
“That nothing will change,” she said firmly, her voice echoing throughout the room. “Nothing at all.”
Unwilling to examine the events of last night too closely, Rebecca made up her mind. She was going to do what any well-bred woman of character was taught to do when faced with confusing, overstimulated emotions. Firmly ignore them.
Bolstered by her decision, Rebecca finished dressing. Her plan remained in place through breakfast, where she ate her toast and sipped her hot chocolate and engaged in a lively conversation with Lord Bailey and his wife. They joked and laughed and it made her feel better knowing there were no hard feelings over last evening‘s card game.
She had not realized how tense she was until Cameron…no, the earl, entered the room, Lady Charlotte at his side. He spoke a general greeting to all, then resumed his conversation with his sister. His gaze did not so much as flicker in Rebecca‘s direction.
Feeling his presence acutely, Rebecca‘s hand trembled as she lifted her cup of hot chocolate to her lips and took a small sip. Oddly, the fact that he was acting perfectly at ease, as if nothing at all had happened, as if nothing had changed between them, pricked at her pride. Or else maybe he was a more accomplished actor than she, better skilled at hiding his true feelings?
Rebecca stared straight ahead, afraid her face would give away her inner turmoil. Telling herself she was going to ignore any strong emotions brewing inside her and actually doing it were quite different, but she was determined. The kisses between them last night might have awakened a hunger deep within her, but that hunger could be contained and controlled.
Understanding what she faced was important. She knew now to be on her guard,
to be careful not to place herself in a position where she would need to fight the temptation of desire she felt for the earl.
For she was honest enough to acknowledge she could all too easily surrender to it.
———
“Are you sure I should not have brought my angel costume with me?” Lily asked for the third time. “I bet Mrs. Hargrave would like to see it. And Reverend Hargrave, too. It is ever so pretty.”
“I know Mrs. Hargrave will indeed be very pleased to see you dressed as an angel, but it is not necessary today. The players are all going to practice their lines and learn where they need to stand. You don‘t have to wear a costume to do that correctly,” Rebecca replied.
Lily hesitated for a moment, clearly wanting to debate the point, but a stern glare from Mrs. James silenced the girl.
The morning was fair, the sun bright, the grass lightly browned from the freezing temperatures of the past few days. As they arrived at the vicarage, Mrs. Hargrave stood at the door to bid them welcome. Rebecca fixed a smile on her face and looked at the young woman with what she hoped would be interpreted as enthusiasm and not the apprehension she really felt. Despite a long lecture on proper behavior, Rebecca knew Lily could turn ugly with the slightest provocation. Real or imagined.
“Good afternoon, Miss Tremaine. Lady Lily. And Mrs. James. How nice to see you all again.”
Rebecca smiled back at the vicar‘s pretty wife. Mrs. Hargrave looked anything but pleased, managing only a closed lipped smile as they drew near. As she had been told, Lily curtsied to Mrs. Hargrave. She seemed touched by the respectful gesture, but her eyes remained wary. Nervous and fluttery, her eyes darted toward the little girl as if waiting for another explosion to erupt at any moment. Given the tantrum displayed at their last visit, Rebecca could hardly blame the woman.
They retreated to the schoolhouse. A bevy of children, boys and girls of various sizes, awaited their arrival. All were at least five years or more older than Lily and considerably taller.
Mrs. James retreated to the back of the room. Rebecca removed Lily‘s cloak and bonnet. The little girl‘s eyes were bright with excitement as they kept glancing toward the other children.
The rehearsal began promisingly. The children had been well coached and knew their lines. Still, it was difficult to keep everyone standing in their proper place and fidgeting was inevitable. Rebecca curiously noted Lily‘s interaction with the other children. Though by far the youngest, and a stranger to them, Lily was the center of attention.
The older girls treated her like a prized doll, cosseting and spoiling her, vying for her favor. The boys mostly ignored her, though Rebecca could see a smile or two emerge when they caught a glimpse of Lily‘s antics.
It was good to see Lily laughing and giggling with the others, her face flushed and happy. The one sticky moment came when the final placement of the angels was decided. Rebecca had served as Mrs. Hargrave‘s assistant throughout the entire rehearsal, allowing the other woman to make the decisions. After all, this was her production and she was doing an admirable job.
“You shall stand here, Amanda, with Julie beside you and Lady Lily in front,” Mrs. Hargrave instructed.
Dutifully the girls complied and Rebecca grew nervous. Lily was standing directly behind the cradle laid with straw. She continually glanced down at the spot where the newborn babe would be placed. Rebecca could almost see the wheels turning in the little girl‘s head.
Chewing thoughtfully on her bottom lip, Lily left her position and headed toward Mrs. Hargrave, who was organizing the three wise men. Rebecca sprang forward to intercept her.
“Is anything wrong?” Rebecca asked, fearing the renewed demand to play the part of the baby Jesus was forthcoming.
“Will everyone be able to see me if I stand behind the cradle?” Lily asked. “I am much smaller than all the other angels.”
“That is why Mrs. Hargrave has placed you there, at the center. All eyes will be drawn to that very spot,” Rebecca answered.
“Good.” Content with the response, Lily skipped back to her assigned position and the rehearsal concluded without incident.
During the carriage ride back to the manor, Lily chattered merrily about the play and the other children, prompting an impulsive thought to enter Rebecca‘s head.
“Do you have any special plans for Lady Lily this afternoon, Mrs. James?”
The governess, who had been lightly dozing, blinked rapidly as she brought herself to full alertness. “Why no, Miss Tremaine.”
“Excellent.” Turning to face the child, Rebecca asked, “Would you like to help me this afternoon? I am going to bake Christmas cookies to put in the holiday baskets, but I thought it might be nice to bring some cookies to the school on the evening of the performance. I‘m sure all the children would enjoy a special treat.”
“What kind of cookies?” Lily asked.
“Gingerbread. Do you like gingerbread?”
“Yes, very much.” Lily smiled with enthusiasm, but then her lips curved down into a frown. “But I cannot eat any dessert for the rest of the week. Papa said so.”
“We are not going to be eating the cookies. We shall be baking them,” Rebecca clarified. “Though I suppose we will be forced to eat one or two, just to be certain they are good. After all, the majority of them will be given away and it would be dreadfully embarrassing if they were inferior-tasting.”
“Can I taste them too?”
“I believe your father will allow it.”
Lily‘s smile returned, brighter than ever. “Can we start the moment we get home?”
Rebecca replied with a nod and an enthusiastic smile of her own.
———
“I like the kitchen,” Lily said when she arrived. “I can see the cat.”
Rebecca, in the process of organizing her baking supplies, turned and noticed a large calico cat sprawled on top of a tall closed cupboard, its legs and tail drooping over the edge.
“That will be Horace,” Cook informed Rebecca. “He likes to stay in here on cold days where it‘s warm and cozy.”
Rebecca nodded. “Cats are very smart creatures. No matter where they are, they always seem to be able to find a snug spot to curl up.”
“Aunt Charlotte‘s favorite cat is Misty, but I like Horace better,” Lily said. “I can‘t ever catch Misty when I chase after her and she only has three legs.”
Three legs? That could not possibly be true. Rebecca glanced over, intending to lecture Lily on how it was best not to exaggerate the truth, when she caught Cook‘s eye.
“Aye, that Misty is one fast critter on her three legs,” Cook agreed. “Even the dogs can‘t catch her.”
Rebecca muffled her surprise. She found a clean white apron and wrapped it several times around Lily‘s waist. Then she gathered together the rest of the ingredients needed for the cookies while Lily watched. Not wanting to deplete any of the household stores and disrupt the menu that Cook had planned for the holidays, Rebecca had arranged for extra flour, butter, eggs, sugar and molasses to be delivered, along with cinnamon and ginger.
In her experience, cooks tended to be territorial. It was odd enough to have one of the earl‘s guests using the kitchen. She did not want to further disrupt Cook‘s domain by pilfering her larder.
As it was, she thought the earl‘s cook was being more than tolerant of her presence. The older woman was polite, helpfully bringing out the mixing bowls, wooden spoons, cookie cutters and other baking utensils as asked, yet her gaze was openly curious.
Rebecca understood. Society women did not cook. Most ladies consulted on menus and brought a few prized recipes from their mother‘s homes, but had no idea the proper way to prepare even the most simple foods.
It was yet another facet that set her apart and reminded Rebecca that she was not a society woman. She had been raised in a genteel household, where a servant did the majority of the cooking, but Rebecca had learned a few basics.
From an early age she had developed a p
articular interest in baking. As she grew older, she found it relaxing and enjoyable and had the added bonus of producing something one could eat.
This knowledge and skill was something she was eager to share with Lily. Another Christmas memory to create and cherish in the years ahead. She explained what all the ingredients were and how they were going to be mixed together while Lily listened patiently.
Rebecca was soon grinding lumps of sugar into a fine powder while Lily, under Cook‘s watchful eye, was counting out scoops of flour. She unceremoniously dumped them in a large bowl, stirring up a white cloud. Within minutes, the little girl had herself, and Rebecca, covered in a fine dusting of flour, and poor Cook was continually sneezing.
“Maybe I should put in the rest of the flour?” Cook volunteered, no doubt out of self-preservation.
“Then what will I do?” Lily asked, the question soon forgotten when her eyes saw the pile of eggs neatly stacked in another bowl. “Oh, may I break the eggs?”
Cook blanched. Rebecca hesitated, but knowing the best way to learn was by doing, she demonstrated the proper technique, cracking the egg carefully on the side of the bowl and adding it to the dry ingredients.
With great concentration, Lily copied the movements. When she eagerly reached for another egg, Rebecca slid her fingers into the batter, removing the majority of egg shell Lily had also managed to put in the bowl.
Once properly mixed, the dough was kneaded and rolled out. Rebecca cut off a section for Lily to work with and showed her how to use the cutters. As soon as a tray was filled, Rebecca placed it in the oven. The enticing smell of warm ginger and spices soon filled the air.
Unfortunately, Rebecca left the cookies too long in the oven. The delicious smell vanished, replaced with an unpleasant, burnt aroma. Lily held her nose as Rebecca lifted the cookies off the tray, their bottoms a solid black.
“You can feed those to the dogs,” Cook suggested.
“Apollo eats anything,” Lily concurred cheerfully.
Disheartened, Rebecca piled the cookies on the edge of the wooden table, wondering if the dogs would even bother to eat them. They looked awful and smelled worse. Reaching for the flour, she began mixing a second batch of dough, telling herself the constant glimpses from Cook were sympathy and not smirks of superiority.
The Christmas Countess Page 18