He gave Belle a side-glance. “Once one catches her attention, she is most assuredly generous with her bounty. How to keep her attention is another matter.”
Mrs. Parker glanced with concern from him to Belle.
“The reason I am here is that she had promised to have dinner with us tonight and entertain us with a song.”
Belle’s eyes widened, but he ignored her silent accusation.
“Then I discovered she had made plans to come here.”
“If you must leave us, we understand,” Mrs. Parker said to Belle. “We never expected you to really dine with us.”
Rufus’s gaze settled on the two extra place settings.
Mrs. Parker, her face shifting from shocked to mortified, snatched up the plates and utensils and put them away.
He suppressed a frustrated sigh. He wanted this farm wife to invite him to stay, not throw all her uninvited guests out. Where would be the fun in that?
“Where is the good Mr. Parker?” he asked, for a change in subject. “Still in the village pub?”
“Mr. Parker has gone to London.” Belle finally moved away from the door. “He seeks work, as the farm did not do as well as they had hoped this summer.”
Mrs. Parker’s face, which a moment ago had been beet red with embarrassment, now turned as pale as the fish soup on the table. “He will make the payments this year, my lord.” She touched a chair, and her hand shook until she gripped its edge. “He is working very hard and hopes to cover our debt by springtime.”
Rufus raised his hand. “I have no wish to discuss business tonight.”
He glanced about the room to give Mrs. Parker time to compose herself. Then he waved a careless hand as Phillip often did, minus the handkerchief. “Your husband may see my agent about that issue.”
“But I heard you planned to discharge him,” Belle said.
He did not trust the light of battle in her eyes. “Business must wait another day.” He was keenly aware of the rules of their engagement. Time for a frontal assault. “Since I am denied your entertainment at the manor, Lady Belle, I shall settle for Mrs. Parker’s and her family’s company.”
The mother’s mouth hung open, as if he had asked to permanently move in with the family instead of merely for one evening’s meal. He folded his arms and waited with a polite smile.
“Oh,” Mrs. Parker said. “My lord, er, would you care to join us for dinner?”
He bowed deeply. “Why, thank you for your gracious invitation, Mrs. Parker. I would be delighted to join you.”
Mrs. Parker looked as if she would faint, and Belle squeezed her shoulders as if in a reminder that the woman and her family would not be facing their greatest terror over the dinner table alone.
He hid a sudden spurt of enjoyment that bubbled in his chest behind a bland smile. This might prove to be an amusing evening after all, instead of the awkward punishment that Belle had intended.
Chapter Ten
Mrs. Parker set out extra plates, and then Rufus held out a chair for her at one end of the table. Once she was seated, he held out one for Belle, and then another beside her for her maid, before he took his place at the head of the table.
The eldest boy then gestured to his brother to emulate Rufus’s action. Together, they pulled the bench out on the other side of the table and waited for their sisters to sit. The girls gave the boys a surprised look, and then, skirts held in one hand, they sat quite prettily, no doubt mimicking Belle.
Once all were seated, Belle said a quick prayer. Rufus was surprised at how much he enjoyed the formality of the proceedings. Though everyone in his family sat for supper together, they rarely said grace. That blessing brought a surprising touch of peace to the meal.
“You missed the pudding stirrings, my lord,” Steven said, then glanced at him with obvious apprehension.
Anger replaced his enjoyment. What had he done to produce such fear in a child so young?
His expression must have reflected his temper because Steven ducked his head.
“He meant no harm in his words, my lord,” Mrs. Parker said.
Rufus’s gaze fell with equal astonishment on his hostess, who appeared as terrified as her offspring. His chest tightened, and he frowned with a fierce effort to control himself. What could he say in his defense, and why should he say anything? He had been everything polite since he entered their home. He had doffed his hat and smiled benevolently and even complimented Mrs. Parker on the decorations. He had done nothing to warrant this reaction.
“His lordship is not angry with you, Steven,” Belle said. All turned toward her in surprise, including Rufus. “He merely enjoys making funny faces sometimes.”
Little Margaret giggled. “Like this?” She scrunched her face into a mighty angry pose.
“Margaret, no!” her mother said in a panicked voice.
Rufus could not take his eyes off Margaret. Do I really look like that?
Suddenly conscious of his countenance, he schooled his features into a bland mask. “Thank you, Miss Margaret. That is a good impression. You deserve a reward for such a brilliant display. Name your price, and it is yours.”
Mrs. Parker gasped. All the children looked at Margaret, who gazed at him with a sweet smile as she filled her mouth with a piece of meat pie.
Her brothers and sister whispered suggestions. Margaret chewed her food as she listened, but at the end, she shook her head. “I want a doll with red hair and yellow ribbons.”
Her mother gave a nervous sputter. “I am sorry, my lord. Ever since the Benson’s child was given a doll like that, my Margaret has had her heart set on getting one. I have explained that in life you cannot always have what you most desire. Once she is older, she will understand better how life truly is.”
“I am in complete sympathy with both of you, Margaret and Mrs. Parker,” Rufus said. “Although I have held your view on life for many years, recently I, too, have had a difficult time releasing what my heart desires.”
He looked at Belle, and she switched her surprised gaze to her plate.
Her maid spoke, spearing him with a hard stare. “Mrs. Parker is correct. It is best to learn early that not all one wishes can or should come true.”
Rufus reeled mentally as if slapped for overstepping. Had Belle confessed about their kissing game to her maid? No, but the woman was intelligent, and if she had seen her mistress when she descended from the upper floor of Clearview, she might have guessed what had taken place. The light of battle in her gaze suggested getting physically close to Belle again would now be impossible.
He stared at his dinner, a leaded weight in his chest.
“How long are you staying in Clearview, my lady?” Mrs. Parker asked.
“Not long,” Belle said.
Rufus’s head snapped up. “After the New Year breaks, she comes with us to London for the Season.”
“That may not be possible,” Belle said. “My grandpapa ails, and I am not comfortable being away that long.”
“I did not know,” he said. Why had not she mentioned this before? “I will send word for my physician to attend him.”
“He has a good doctor. I saw to that before I left.”
“Then there is no reason to rush back.”
“Is it time for the Christmas pudding?” Steven asked, obviously having lost interest in the adult conversation.
Rufus was grateful for the change in subject. If she hoped to use her grandfather as an excuse to leave him, she was mistaken.
As Mrs. Parker brought the pudding, which had a piece of holly on top for decoration, Rufus made a mental note to send someone to London to check on Belle’s grandfather, the marquess.
The Christmas pudding acted like a signal, and the children’s excitement level shot up. Upon receiving their serving, each child immediately demolished their portio
n and then sat back with a sigh of disappointment.
What a queer custom.
Belle passed him his serving. Their fingers touched, and sparks ran up his arm. She snatched her hand away, as if a similar bolt had struck her. She hid her hand on her lap, and Rufus hid his exultant grin. She was as affected by him as ever. And he intended to ensure Belle never forgot that—or found reason to avoid him.
His cheer returned, he gaily sliced into a piece of his pie. Clunk! He had hit metal.
“You have found it,” Margaret said. “He has got the silver coin. You will be rich and happy. Now you can get my doll.”
“Margaret, shush,” her mother said.
“The coin is good luck, my lord,” Steven said. “That is what I meant when I said you had missed the pudding stirring.”
Everyone watched as Rufus fished out his good luck charm and used his handkerchief to clean it.
“Make a wish, my lord,” Margaret said.
“And it will come true,” her sister finished. “It is tradition. Lady Belle said so.”
He held the coin out for all to see. “I believe Lady Belle missed the best part of this tradition.”
“What part?” Steven asked.
“Everyone knows that whoever gets a wish must hold the coin, make his or her wish, and then toss it into the air. Whoever catches it also gets their wish.”
He closed his eyes and then flipped. The coin sailed high and landed accurately on Mrs. Parker’s lap.
“Oohh, Mummy, you get a wish now!” Margaret said.
Mrs. Parker retrieved the silver coin, and in a trice her children’s suggestions erupted.
“A doll.”
“A pony.”
“New dresses.”
“Shoes.”
“More pudding.”
“A pot full of silver coins.”
“I only have one wish.” Mrs. Parker’s grave voice silenced her offspring. “For Mr. Parker to come home safe and soon.”
Rufus raised his mug of cider. “To Mr. Parker’s return.”
The toast broke the solemn silence and brought cheer back to the table. The conversation ventured into livelier channels.
Rufus looked over at Belle, saw the merriment in her eyes, and he had a startling vision of her looking at him like that over the breakfast table, toasting him over a cup of hot chocolate. There was a ring on her finger—his ring—and a warm flush colored her cheeks a delightful rose. The result of his kiss. He gulped, his throat suddenly dry. What if this was just a dream, one that would never come true if he was convicted of murder?
BELLE SET HER cup of cider on the table, observing the sudden flash of sadness in Lord Terrance’s eyes. He hid it quickly as he turned to speak to young Steven, but Belle had seen that change in expression. Up until a moment ago, he had looked happy to be here. What had begun as a test of wills between them, and then an awkward encounter with Mrs. Parker, had transformed into a gathering of happy friends for an evening’s entertainment. What had changed?
With a frown, she glanced around the table at their other companions, trying to gauge what might have upset him. Somewhere along the way, Steven had lost his fear of his lordship. He now spoke to Lord Terrance, man-to-man, about a cricket match he and the village boys played last summer, as if the two were bucks in a London club chatting about a fisticuffs event at Gentleman Jackson’s.
Even Mrs. Parker appeared relaxed, and her plate, which had remained untouched through most of dinner, now sat half empty.
Belle pushed aside her worry about his lordship’s shifting moods and allowed the children to entertain his lordship in the front parlor while she and Mendal helped Mrs. Parker clear the table and wash the dishes. It was a most companionable time. When they rejoined the company, little Margaret was asleep in Lord Terrance’s arms, Earnest snored by his lordship’s feet, while the other children listened avidly to one of his stories.
A pang squeezed her heart. If they did not leave soon, she might do something foolish, like fall in love. There must not be any more such cozy evenings. Even with Mendal present, this evening felt as dangerous as his kisses.
“It is late, my lord,” she said. “Time to allow the children to find their beds. And Mrs. Parker still recovers from an illness. She, too, must rest.”
He agreed and stood, still holding Margaret. He carried the child, who never stirred, to her cot where her mother settled her for the night. They then trucked outdoors and wished each other good-night with genuine regret.
Lord Terrance said he would fetch his mount and the carthorse. Mrs. Parker stood with a lantern to light the night as the boys packed the empty baskets back into Belle’s cart and hugged Earnest goodbye. The children tore a promise from her to bring the hound to the farm soon to play.
On his return, Lord Terrance strapped on the carthorse and then mounted his gelding.
He rode ahead, guiding the way along the dark, snow-laden pathway to ensure Belle and Mendal took the safest course.
Belle could barely keep her gaze from his lordship’s proud back instead of the road. After the second time the horse stopped and looked back in confusion because Belle had directed it off the roadway, Mendal took the reins.
“I believe we should leave for home soon,” Belle said, unable to stand the quiet.
“That may not be the wisest course,” her maid replied.
“Why ever not?”
“I watched you tonight, my lady. You are afraid of how Lord Terrance makes you feel. So I wonder if going home is the right action to take.”
Belle wanted to snap that she was not afraid, but then realized that Mendal was right. She was terrified of how Lord Terrance affected her with a simple touch, even accidentally.
“You should be pleased by my decision to cut short our visit, Mendal, instead of calling me a coward.”
“I did no such thing, my lady. It is wise to be afraid of being alone with his lordship. That must not happen again.”
“Then you agree we should leave Clearview.”
“Not at all. I believe we should stay, at least until after Christmas.”
“But you said . . .”
“That you should not be alone with Lord Terrance. I am happy to act as your chaperone.”
“Why stay if he is dangerous?”
“Because you love him.”
Belle sat still. Her hands, buried in her muff, trembled from cold as much as from Mendal’s declaration. Was it true? Had she already made the fatal mistake of falling in love with Lord Terrance? “Are my feelings so obvious?”
“Only to me, my lady.” Mendal patted Belle’s knee. “It may not be as clear to his lordship. We must stay until it is.”
Belle gave a frustrated sigh. “Mendal, there is no future for us. He thinks my ability to see ghosts are a figment of my imagination. Yes, he desires me, but my beliefs, my special senses—I do not, could never, fit into the restrictive little box he has fashioned for his future wife.”
Her voice broke on the last sentence, and she glanced at the scenery. And all the hoping and wishing and coin tossing cannot make it otherwise.
It was Mendal’s turn to sigh this time. “I admit this is a difficult situation, my lady. But it will work itself out if we but stay a little longer. There, we are almost home.”
An iron gateway loomed in the distance, while Clearview’s dark turrets demarked the starlit horizon. Belle recalled how frightened she had been the first time she approached that imposing structure. Now, Clearview was her home. More so than her grandfather’s townhouse in London. How had this come about? More importantly, how was she to deal with it?
Each turn and every house they passed imprinted on her, forming an unbreakable bond. The longer she stayed, the more brokenhearted she would be to leave, for she had done the unthinkable. She
had fallen in love with Terrance Village, its people, its countryside, and most appalling of all, with its lord of the manor.
A PERSISTENT scratching on her bedroom door woke Belle. Still half asleep, she slid out of bed, slipped on her dressing gown, and lit a candle from the dying embers in the fire. Earnest sat by the closed door, and for a moment she wondered if the dog had woken her. Did he need to go out? The scratching came again. Not Earnest. She had a visitor.
“Coming,” she called, and used her bare foot to push the sleep-warmed dog aside until she could open the door.
“Belle,” Susie said. “I thought you would never wake.”
“Susie, what is the matter?”
“Matter?” she said. “Why, we have been waiting for an age. They sent me to find you in case you had forgotten our game.” She gave Belle a stern glance. “You had!”
“Oh, dear. I am so sorry.”
“You do plan to join us? Mother and Phillip are already in the games room. It would not be the same without you.”
Belle invited Susie inside and shut the door to keep out the cool drafts. Her tired mind grappled with the unappealing concept of waking up. Exhausted after her evening out, Belle had fallen asleep without a thought to Susie or the countess.
She glanced at her bed with longing. Her body craved nothing more than to crawl back under those warm covers. She vaguely recalled dreaming about having a meal alone with Lord Terrance as he served her a lemon tart and sealed each serving with a warm kiss.
“Belle, are you still awake?”
She must have drifted into a daydream while leaning against the door. “Sorry. Yes, the billiards game.”
Bits of information made its way into her consciousness. On the ride back from Mrs. Parker’s home, despite what Mendal advised, Belle had decided to return home as soon as possible. Before she could do that, she must discharge the ghost at Clearview. Mr. Jones might know what had troubled his uncle prior to his death. And that reminded her, she had wanted to speak to him about her vision of the murdered man in the barn.
Preparations for the Parker visit had forced her to put aside such concerns. She could not afford to waste any more time. If she dawdled too long, it would give her heart too much time to irrevocably love a man who could not love her back.
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