by Sahara Kelly
There was a bustling in the room as people moved to find food, and the buzz of conversation grew louder as mulled wine and Chillendale ale washed down the delicacies offered this evening.
“Good mince pies,” mumbled Brent through a mouthful. “Just excellent. And the lemon tarts are all gone.”
“How many did you have?” Reid tried to remain calm, even though his knees threatened to knock.
“Only two, I swear.” Brent crossed his heart. “Ah, here come the Mistletoe thrones.”
“Jesus.” Reid broke out in a sweat.
There was a ringing sound as Lady Jocelyn stood on the tall hearth and tapped a glass to capture everyone’s attention. “Ladies and gentlemen, honored guests. If I may have a moment?”
The conversations subsided to a murmur.
“As you know, this is the time when we crown our Mistletoe Marquess and announce the name of the lucky woman who will become the Marchioness and future bride.”
This is it.
Reid opened his mouth, but to his surprise, his mother continued. “We will do so shortly, when everyone is back in the ballroom. However, before we begin the ceremony, Lord Southwick has asked to be allowed to address us all. I have, of course, agreed. So…Lord Southwick? The floor is yours.”
“What the hell…” Reid couldn’t help the exclamation.
“This is out of the ordinary?” whispered Prudence.
“Yes, very.” Reid watched as the man walked to the hearth and took Lady Jocelyn’s place. He looked…older tonight. But perhaps it was the light.
“Thank you, Lady Chillendale. You are a gracious hostess and this evening does credit to everyone at Chillendale Hall.”
There was a burst of applause at Lord Southwick’s first words, endorsing the event and making Lady Jocelyn smile, even as she shot Reid a worried glance.
“However, if you will forgive and indulge an old man, I have an important matter to take care of. I have to put history straight, if you will, and correct an error I made far too many years ago.”
There was a slight murmur and the crowd seemed to draw closer, as if to catch every word.
“Over twenty years ago, when I was a lot younger and even more stupid—“ a murmur of laughter rippled through the audience, “—my wife, whom I loved very much, became with child. Unfortunately, she did not survive the experience and I lost her at the very moment a daughter was born.”
Reid felt Prudence grip his hand hard.
“I was devastated, as you might imagine,” continued Lord Southwick, “devastated to the point of madness, I think. I could not look at the child without seeing my beloved’s face, and every time I tried, the agony of the loss impinged upon my heart all over again. It was a terrible, terrible time.” He looked around. “Some of you here tonight were alive back then, and may remember.”
There were a couple of quiet “aye’s”, corroborating Lord Southwick’s declarations.
“In my extreme grief, I made a foolish decision that I have always regretted. I sent the babe away. Far away. With the intention of never being reminded of my late wife again, and being able to recover and go on with my life.”
His sigh was audible in the silence.
“I did so, and in time the pain eased, as all pain must. I remarried my dear Mary and we were blessed with Emmeline, a joy and a daughter to be proud of.”
Emmeline was standing next to Brent, her arm through his, her gaze fixed on her father’s face. Reid had no clue what she must be thinking as she listened to all this ancient history.
“However, as time passed, I realized that I had done a terrible disservice to that child I abandoned. I never saw her grow up, never heard her laugh or watched her take her first footsteps. And that, my friends, was very wrong of me. It is time for me to publicly right that wrong, and acknowledge my daughter.”
He paused and took a breath. “She is here tonight. Right there.” He pointed. “Next to Reid Chillendale. Yes, Lady Prudence Eldridge is my daughter. And I hope she’ll accept this apology because I give it with all my heart.”
“Oh God.” Prudence staggered, held upright by Reid’s arm around her waist.
Lord Southwick stepped off the hearth and walked through the silent ballroom to stand before Prudence. “Can you forgive me for sending you away, Prudence? I have not been a good man, you know, nor any kind of a father to you whatsoever. But I’m hoping that here, tonight, I have managed to redeem a little of myself in your eyes.”
He held out both hands to her, a gesture of supplication.
For a long moment, nobody moved. Reid was as stunned as anybody and held on to Prudence for dear life.
Then she moved, easing herself from his arms and moving toward Lord Southwick. She took his hands in hers and stepped close to him. “Thank you, my Lord. Thank you,” she whispered, so low that Reid barely caught the words.
And then she leaned forward to kiss his cheek.
Absolute pandemonium broke out and the cheers rattled the chandeliers and set the candles to swaying.
The mistletoe wreaths were produced and Reid and Prudence were marched to the head of the ballroom and seated with great fanfare.
Lady Jocelyn was the first to rush and embrace them, followed by a manly slap on the shoulder for Reid from his father. He noted that Prudence got a paternal hug that looked like it was about to crack her ribs.
The Southwicks approached, Lady Southwick looking confused, disturbed and with a light in her eye that bode no good for her husband when they got home. But she was politeness itself in her congratulations and willingly surrendered her place to Brent and Emmeline, who were eager to talk with the two of them.
“I have a sister,” said Emmeline, her eyes wide. “And I never knew.”
“Extraordinary, isn’t it?” smiled Prudence, hugging her. “I couldn’t ask for more, or a lovelier sister. And you shall marry Brent, who will become my brother in law and we will be a rather muddled family.”
“I couldn’t have put it better,” said Brent. “We’ll talk later.” He too punched Reid on the shoulder. “Take care of her.”
“I will. But don’t hit me again, all right? That hurts.” He feigned pain.
The laughter rang out around them, the musicians struck up a jolly tune and the dance floor rapidly filled with couples ready to whirl away the rest of the night, in between discussing the extraordinary revelations made by Lord Southwick.
Prudence herself was hugged, kissed, hugged and hugged again. So many present felt that she was now one of the family, having been acknowledged as a Southwick, and betrothed to Reid all in the same night.
As for Reid, he had a million questions and couldn’t wait to find out the answers.
Chapter Sixteen
Prudence’s head was in a whirl and she had a great deal of difficulty focusing on one single thing at a time.
People were constantly congratulating her, hugging her and saying nice things, and she kept smiling and thanking them, all the while wondering why everyone was celebrating a lie.
Reid, when she had chance to look at him with that very question in her eyes, simply gave her a little shrug. He had no idea what was going on either. At last, the crowd around them faded away in favor of food and dancing, and they had chance to slip away for a bit.
Taking off the wreaths, Reid led Prudence down the hallway to the small library, where he hoped they could steal a few moments alone. But it was not to be. They opened the door and right behind them was Lord Southwick.
“Please,” he said. “Give me a few moments? Then I’ll leave you alone, I promise.”
“Very well, Sir. Please…take a seat.” Reid led them to the couch and chairs arranged around the fireplace. There was a good blaze going which warmed the room and helped Prudence relax a little.
She turned to Lord Southwick. “I have to ask, my Lord. Why did you do that? Acknowledge me as your daughter? I am aware of the truth of the matter.”
“I know, my dear.” He looked into the flames
. “I loved your mother to the edge of madness, but I was a terrible husband to her. I was in London too often, leaving her here alone. And when I returned, I found fault with her, expecting her to run Southwick as well as my mother had. Of course she couldn’t do that. She hadn’t had the years to learn how to run a household. But did I care? No. We had terrible fights and I’m ashamed to admit that I was cruel to her. The love I bore her would see no faults, no rational logic, and in hindsight I can see how my behavior drove her into Jack’s arms.”
He shuddered then, a slight tremor that helped Prudence understand the depth of his emotions. She moved to sit next to him. “Go on.”
He glanced at her. “I had hoped that the child she carried was mine. I wanted a child very much. It was all part of the duty of being Lord Southwick. One was expected to produce an heir and for the first year or so we had failed. That also angered me. I wasn’t doing well at that time, I had business pressures and loans due. I took my fears out on Isabel. And I’ve been ashamed of it ever since.” He reached over and took Prudence’s hand, but still stared at the fire.
“You, child, I also took my anger out on you. Isabel told me when she was about to give birth that you were not my child. I was in my usual vile temper and she screamed it at me, a blow that rocked my world. I had barely absorbed it when you were born—and she was gone. And just like that, my world ended.”
Now he turned and looked at her. “You are her image, you know. So very much like her. You have her beauty, her mannerisms and her charm. Even as a newborn you had the look of her. And that killed me every time I looked at you. I believed Dorothea was the only option that would save my sanity. I’m so sorry.” He paused and shook his head. “It’s not enough. It can never be enough. But by acknowledging you I hope I may have undone a little of the damage I caused all those years ago.”
“You understand that I am not actually your daughter?” Prudence’s voice was low and a little rough, her emotions clogging in her throat.
“I do,” the older man nodded. “However, you are the child of the woman I loved beyond reason. For that alone, you must be dear to me. Ane if I could wish for a second daughter, it would be you.”
Prudence felt the sting of tears and then the comforting warmth of Reid’s hand on her bare shoulder.
“We are planning to marry, my Lord. I believe you know that.”
“I do. And I am very happy for you both.” Southwick looked at Reid. “You’re a fine young man with a good future ahead of you. I believe you’ll do well together and I wish you many years of happiness.” He stood. “I cannot continue at this point. Forgive me but this is a difficult time for me.”
“I understand.” Prudence stood as well. “And I thank you again. You might not have been the best of husbands to my mother, but I believe you were a good father to Emmeline. And that’s what matters now. That you take the best of the past and use it to improve the future.”
“Wise girl.” Southwick managed a tiny smile, lifted her hand and kissed it. “Your mother would have been very proud of you.”
“Thank you.”
She and Reid watched him leave the room, his head down, his shoulders stooping more than they had all night.
“That was hard for him,” sighed Prudence. “But it has solved our problem, love.”
“Yes, I suppose it has.” Reid looked thoughtful. “Can you promise me to wait here for just a few moments?”
“What?”
“I promised my mother I would give you something. I have to go get it.” He headed for the door.
Prudence blew out a breath. “Go. I could use a respite from any further surprises today.”
“Wonderful. I’ll be back in a tick…”
“I could use a brandy as well,” she called after him, not sure if he’d heard.
Alone, she resettled herself in the chair, but then, restless, got up again and walked to the window. The snow shone softly under a half moon and there were fluffy lines of the stuff along the ledges of the windowpanes. It was so tranquil outside, an eternal kind of beauty that would last long after she and Reid and everyone there at Chillendale Hall had long gone.
And now she had two fathers, one real and dead, the other a pretense and alive. Quite a change from having no father at all. She also had their names. Both names. Jack Rowdean and Isabel Southwick. Her parents.
And that took her thoughts back to Reid. Would he want her now that he knew the truth of her parentage? He was certainly fond of Brent—but would that extend to having a Rowdean in the family? Even an illegitimate one?
Of course, Southwick’s pronouncement had cleared away any public taint of that from her heritage. But she knew the truth and so did Reid, and Brent, and probably Reid’s parents. Would it suffice?
Before she could answer her own question, the door opened and Reid came back into the room, bearing a small tray with—she was pleased to see—two glasses of brandy on it along with a small dish and a spoon.
“Oh, how wonderful. I really do need this.” She took a glass and lifted it, indulging in a healthy swallow of the warm liquor. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure. And you’re not the only one.” Reid took a gulp and swallowed it. “I don’t think I can stand too many more shocks today.”
She grinned at him, the brandy easing some of her tension. “So now instead of having no father, I have two, along with a pair of step-siblings. And yet I’m still illegitimate. I think that might be some kind of record.”
“Hah,” snorted Reid. “How about we discuss that after you have some Christmas pudding. Prepared especially for you by my mother, apparently. She does like to get her hand in when it comes to the puddings. Very particular when it comes to the ingredients, I understand.”
Prudence looked at the little dish he was holding out toward her. “It doesn’t look like the puddings I’m used to.” She took the spoon.
“It’s the Chillendale version. The best you’ll ever eat.”
“Well then, here goes…” and she dug the spoon in, blinking as it clunked on something hard. “Er…did your mother remember to shell the nuts?”
“Oh, you must have the lucky sixpenny piece…” Reid leaned forward. “Can you dig it out?”
She did…and gasped. “Reid.”
A ring lay on the spoon, gold sparking beneath raisins and sultanas, and an emerald winking in the firelight.
“Reid…” she said again.
“That’s my name, yes.” He took the ring and wiped it off with the napkin from the tray. “And this is the Chillendale ring, given to each Chillendale bride. It’s originally my grandmother’s, then my mother’s, but she never wears it, so I asked if I could give it to you and she said yes.” He grinned. “I had no idea she’d put it in the pudding, but you have to give her credit for her ingenuity. And it’s better than sixpence.” He peered at her. “Isn’t it?”
She lifted her head and looked at him. “Reid,” she repeated once more, and felt the tears trickle over her cheeks. “I love you so much. I didn’t want to have to give you up.” She launched herself into his arms, reaching for every bit of him she could hug. “It would have killed me.”
“Me too, darling. Me too.” He returned her embrace, pulling them both back onto the couch. “So will you marry me, Lady Prudence? Will you give up the title and become plain Mrs. Chillendale?” He held out the ring, whisking away the last bit of raisin. Clean and brilliant, it dazzled her.
“Yes please.” She held out her hand. “I want to be Mrs. Chillendale more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.”
“In that case,” he slid the ring onto her finger where it fit perfectly, “I am very happy to grant your wish.” He kissed her, gently but thoroughly. “And I’m looking forward to a lifetime of you granting mine.”
“We have to go back to the ball,” she sighed. “It will be expected of us and I’m going to be horribly missish and tell you that I want everyone to admire my ring.” She held out her hand and watched the emerald sparkle in
the firelight. “But can we return here afterward?”
His eyes roamed her face. “Of course.”
“I cannot stay the night.”
“I know.”
“But I’m sure Brent will give us an hour or two.” She grinned.
“Especially if I let him and Emmeline have some privacy in the parlor.”
“You are so brilliant,” beamed Prudence. “I will have not only the most handsome man in the county as my husband, but also the most clever.”
“Please,” Reid feigned modesty. “No more. You’ll turn my head.”
“Yes,” she said, stretching out both her hands and clasping his cheeks. “I will.”
She drew close, turned his head a little, and kissed him, a lingering of lips and tongues that brought heat and desire in its wake. “Oh Reid.”
“We’ll marry tomorrow.” He tore himself away. “I won’t last any longer. Or we’ll have to move into the hideaway until the ceremony.”
She laughed and stood. “Let’s go and find out how soon we can wed.” She held out her hand. “I am every bit as eager as you are, but something tells me that tomorrow won’t be possible. Just ask your mother.”
Reid laughed as he took her hand and led her from the room, the two of them, some might say, surrounded by a glow of happiness.
After that? The evening went as one might expect.
The announcements were made, toasts were drunk and more dancing led to some quite boisterous reels.
Lady Jocelyn and Sir Rodney were seen to be dancing together, and comments were made as to how happy they seemed at their son’s engagement.
Brent and Emmeline thoroughly enjoyed the ball, and had some even more intimately wonderful moments later in a little parlor.
Brent declared himself forever in Reid’s debt, and Emmeline just looked…satisfied.
It was a happy time for everyone, even Lord Southwick. To Prudence’s surprise, Lady Southwick was receiving many compliments on her husband’s generosity. She took them all in stride, accepting them with modesty and managing to imply that it was her influence that had led him to make the decision to acknowledge his long-lost daughter. And wasn’t she a beauty?