“Your house is quite comfortable, Lord Oxford, I must admit,” she said, tilting her head. “’Tis a pity you neglect it.”
“Hunter.”
She said nothing.
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Unable to stand there staring at her any longer, he picked up his glass and returned to the sideboard to pour himself another.
“I am unsure of what I have done to hold such low esteem with you, Scarlett,” he said, his back to her. “But you are my wife, and there is nothing you can do to change that fact now. Can we not find some sort of peace between us?”
She looked down at the ground, where the stain was beginning to spread over the carpet.
“We need to clean this,” she murmured, apparently choosing to ignore his words. She walked over to him, knelt down by his feet, and before he could ask what in the blazes she was doing, she began to rummage around through the cupboard’s contents until she found what she was looking for.
“Here we are,” she said, pulling out a piece of fabric. How had she known where to find it? She returned to the carpet and began to blot out the liquid.
“Let me help you,” he said, putting down his glass, though not before taking a gulp of the brandy, letting it burn its way down his throat.
“It’s fine, I’ve got it,” she said, but he dismissed her resistance, taking one of the pieces of cloth in hand and beginning to blot out the liquid with her. He moved when she did, and their hands brushed against one another. He was startled by the jolt of heat that shot through him. He sat back on his haunches and looked at her, but her gaze remained rooted on the floor. Was her hand shaking slightly? He quickly shook his head, dismissing the notion.
Now that he was closer, he could better make out her features. He had nearly forgotten what she looked like, their time together having been so brief while their separation so long. He could see the smattering of freckles over her nose, though much of her face was hidden by the long curtain of her deep brown hair, which hung straight and loose around her shoulders.
If only she hadn’t built such a wall around herself, he thought with resignation. How very different this time together could be.
“That should do it,” she said abruptly, gathering the cloth and placing it by the door. “Your Aubusson is saved.”
“Thank you for your noble deed, my lady,” he said with a slight bow in jest, but she only raised an eyebrow at him.
“I will be to bed then,” she said.
She turned to the door, but he called out to her before she could go too far. “Scarlett?” She stopped. “Why are you awake at such a late hour?”
“I cannot sleep,” she said with a shrug. “I have never been able to.”
And neither could he. Perhaps they were more alike than either of them realized.
3
“Hunter, you’re home!”
Scarlett didn’t think she had ever see Lavinia so animated as when she ran through the door of the dining room, stopping with her skirts still billowing around her as she looked about in bewilderment for her brother.
Her face fell when she found only Scarlett sitting there.
“I heard Hunter was home,” she said by way of apology, sitting down at the table. Scarlett shrugged. “Apparently he did not wake in time for breakfast,” she said, but her comment was slightly presumptuous as the man in question strolled into the room. Lavinia stood up from the table so abruptly that her Chippendale chair went flying backward. She ran the few steps remaining between them and all but jumped into her brother’s arms.
“Oh, Hunter, it is so wonderful to see you! I was asking Scarlett just yesterday if she knew whether you were going to grace us with your presence this Christmastide. Isn’t it lovely Scarlett?”
Scarlett forced a smile onto her face. If nothing else, it was wonderful to see Hunter’s sister so joyful. Scarlett swallowed the piece of toast that was stuck in her throat, momentarily unsure of what to say. For she had forgotten how devastatingly handsome Hunter was, but now that he stood here before her in the light of day, she found herself reminded. Last night after she had tackled him to the floor, when he looked at her she felt the intensity of his gaze, but in the dim light she hadn’t been able to appreciate the true allure of his blue-green eyes, which she now remembered much more vividly as the sun streamed in through the window to descend on the masculine planes of his face.
He and Lavinia were alike in coloring, but that was where the similarities ended. Where she was round, he was angular, and where she was soft, he was hard muscle. Scarlett hadn’t paid near enough attention to their parents to notice which they favored, but she seemed to recall the marquess reminding her of his son.
“Where is that husband of yours?”
“Oh, you know Baxter,” she said with a wave of her hand. “He had some business or other to attend to” —likely a cheroot and a newspaper, if Scarlett knew well enough— “but said he would be by to see you later on. We will be spending much time together over Christmas, I’m sure.”
“I, ah, I’m not sure how long I will be staying.”
“What?” Lavinia’s joy evaporated suddenly. “You only just arrived, Hunter, and Christmas is but days away. You must stay. Please, say you will. We will have dinner together, and we are even hosting a New Year’s Eve party. It will be great fun.”
“We shall see,” he said noncommittally, before raising his head to look directly at Scarlett. “Good morning, Scarlett.”
“Lord Oxford.”
“Hunter.”
“Well,” Lavinia said after a moment of silence, while she looked back and forth between them. “I think I should probably go. I’m sure the two you have much to discuss.”
“Please stay,” Scarlett said, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice. “In fact, we actually saw one another last night when Hunt— Lord Oxford arrived, so there is no need for you to go.”
“Last night? I was here until well past dinner. What time did you get in, Hunter?” Lavinia asked.
“Just after midnight.”
“Oh!” Lavinia’s cheeks reddened as she mistakenly assumed the nature of their meeting. “Then you— that’s wonderful! Well, not that I should be saying a thing, I simply hoped — well…”
Scarlett saved her from her rambling. “Lord Oxford and I scarcely said hello, Nia. I was reading in the library and Lord Oxford … happened upon me.”
“I see,” she said, an eyebrow still raised. “Well, ah, yes, I should be going then. Goodbye!”
And then with a flounce of her skirts, she was gone, leaving the two of them to stare at one another awkwardly.
Hunter cleared his throat and walked to the sideboard, loading a plate with ham, eggs, and toast. He poured himself a coffee and sat down across from Scarlett, who simply watched him. He moved gracefully, despite his height and solid frame. She watched as he buttered his bread and stirred sugar into his coffee before lifting the cup to his mouth.
“See something interesting?” he asked, and she jumped, startled out of her reverie.
Good Lord, Scarlett, get it together. This was the last thing she wanted — to be inexplicably attracted to the man she was trying so hard to distance herself from. What if she came too close, if she not only developed feelings for him beyond attraction, but eventually fell in love with him? Unfortunately, she knew all too well what the end result would be. He would be back in London, the city she hated, living his life alone, free from her, while she pined away here at Wintervale, her previous enjoyable life now filled with despair.
“Nothing at all,” she finally drawled back, hopeful that he didn’t notice how nervous she was. She needed to get out of here. She placed her hands on the table to push back her chair, but he held up a finger to halt her.
“Scarlett,” he said, playing with her name. “There is something we must discuss. Something that Lavinia touched upon.”
“Yes?”
“You have made it clear you want little to do with me. However, the
fact of the matter is, we are married, and I am in line to become a marquess one day. We need children, Scarlett, you must realize that.”
She swallowed hard. She shouldn’t be surprised by his words. As he said, they were married, and that was what was expected. And yet, the thought of him in her bed … well, actually the thought of him in her bed was not altogether an unpleasant one, and that is what scared her the most.
“I think … there are a few things we must first determine before it comes to that,” she said, doing her best to maintain her composure.
“And those would be?” He raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair. His curls were haphazardly skewed around his head, and Scarlett felt a strange urge to lean forward and run her hands over them, but, of course, she restrained herself.
“Where would we raise said children? You spend all of your time in London, and I have no wish to live there.”
“What’s wrong with London?”
“It’s so … dirty,” she said, which was partly the truth. “Everyone is so close together all the time, and there is no freedom.”
“You value your freedom,” he observed.
“I do,” she said, leaning forward. “More than you know.”
“Very well,” he said, waving a hand out in front of him. “Raise them here. I enjoy Wintervale and will come home as often as possible.”
“As you have these past few months?”
“Come, Scarlett, that is hardly fair. You all but pushed me from the house.”
She looked down at her plate. He was right. She had been an absolute fiend to him. In trying to protect herself, she had made him believe that she was a monster, one he couldn’t even live with. Whatever was she to do?
Despite feeling like a coward, she chose not to respond to his last statement.
“If you do not want to even stay for Christmas, then why did you come?” she eventually asked.
“My steward tells me there are matters that I must attend to. Urgent matters, actually. I should likely find him post-haste.”
“Mr. Stone?” She allowed disdain to drip from her words. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“To help? With what?” he asked as he stood, looking down at her with confusion.
“With the estate. I have done all I can to try to improve things while you were gone. In fact, I should like to speak with you about a few matters of importance.”
“Oh?” He looked down at her, still bemused, but finally a small smile crossed his lips. “I am glad you are enjoying running the household, Scarlett, truly I am. It has been some time since anyone has called Watervale home for more than a month at a time. I’m sure the staff appreciates having you here. Well, I will be off now. We will talk again later on this evening.”
And then he was walking out the door, leaving Scarlett to stare at his back. She hadn’t meant running the household, not at all. Mrs. Shepherd did a well enough job of that, and Scarlett left her to it. Apparently, it hadn’t occurred to Hunter that his wife might have a thought to the estate itself. He certainly had neglected it, and Stone was completely incompetent, so someone had to do it. Well, he would find out her thoughts soon enough.
“She what?”
Hunter rose from the chair behind his wide mahogany desk, rounding it to stare at his steward. The man looked up at him with a satisfied expression, his smile marred by his untidy teeth. He seemed pleased with Hunter’s reaction, which irked him all the more.
“Yes, my lord, she’s been giving away the money! And for nothing. Just handing it to people, like ‘here ya go,’ with them doing nothing for it! I told her time and again not to, but she told me, she’s the countess, and I’m the steward, so what am I to do? That’s why I sent for you, my lord, so you could hopefully talk some sense into her.”
Hunter paused for a moment, staring down at his knuckles grinding into his desk, before walking around it and beginning to pace. This was why he had a capable steward — so he didn’t have to worry about these matters at home. He was preoccupied, trying to affect change throughout the country. There were children working harder than grown men in mills, men and women in prisons and asylums being treated worse than animals. He should be working to pass bills that would impact the lives of many. But no, instead he now had to see to his wife, who decided to quench the boredom of remaining here in the country by involving herself in things she knew nothing about.
“How do you know this?” he asked with some resignation, accepting what Stone was telling him.
“There’s been money missing for a couple of months now, my lord. I tried to ascertain where it had gone but found nothing amiss. There was but one account it was coming from — the one your wife is able to access. At first, I thought she was spending it on frivolous things, like dresses and the like, but then I heard a rumor round the village of people who were better off than they were before. I confronted her about it, and she didn’t even bother to hide it!”
Well, at the very least, his wife was honest, that was for certain.
“I think this could lead to some very nasty surprises, my lord,” Stone continued, his voice practically dripping with hatred. “Imagine some folks having more than others. They’ll say the earl and his wife are playing favorites. Soon enough she’ll be wanting them all to pay lower rates — ha!”
Hunter sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He had never had the patience for this sort of thing. He didn’t want to be here counting figures and dissolving tensions. He much preferred a good, upfront argument between gentlemen, as he pushed for needed change. But, here he was. His father had given him this land with the understanding that he would take care of it, and that he must do. Even if it meant pushing his wife even further away.
“I suppose I best go speak with her,” he said, dismissing his steward, who nodded at him, a smug smile on his face as he departed.
Hunter’s study was, conveniently he supposed, near his wife’s bedroom and sitting area. It was still mid-morning, and he was sure he would find her there. What she did with her time, he wasn’t sure, but likely the typical embroidery, or perhaps she was waiting for a neighbor to call. That was what most ladies did, anyway.
He didn’t realize how much of a surprise he was in for.
4
His wife was nowhere to be found. Not in her own chambers, in any of the drawing rooms, or even the kitchen or servant areas. Hunter searched every part of the house.
“Ah, Mrs. Shepherd!” he called, seeing the housekeeper bustle from one room to the next.
She paused her ample frame to look at him. “Yes, my lord?”
“Have you seen my wife?”
“No, my lord,” she said, but then added, “Have you looked out over the grounds?”
“Outdoors?” he asked, wondering if the housekeeper was confused.
“Yes, my lord,” she said with a nod. “Her ladyship, she likes to ride, enjoys being out in the grotto, even in winter, or riding through the trees just beyond the gardens. You can often find her there. In fact, if you take the stairs and look through one of the upper windows, you might catch a glimpse of her. That’s where I always look for her first.”
Hunter stared after the middle-aged woman in some amusement before shrugging and doing as she said. He looked out the window to the east and south, and sure enough, there she was, striding toward the stable. He couldn’t make out her features from here, but certainly no one else with long, unruly chestnut hair billowing in the wind, a cloak stretched out behind her, would be headed toward the stables on this winter day.
She was certainly leading him on a chase. He ran down the stairs, fetching his own cloak before continuing out the front entrance and across the yard, following her footprints in the snow. Where had she been coming from? What was she doing out here?
He entered the barn just as she was mounting her horse.
“Scarlett!” he called. “Hold on a minute. I have to speak to you.”
He came up short when he stood in front of her. He l
ooked up at her in astonishment before turning his face to the groom, whose cheeks burned from more than the cold as he looked away from the two of them to the floor.
“What do you think you are doing? And what are you wearing?”
“A riding habit,” she said, as though he were daft. “And breeches.”
“You cannot ride around like that!”
“Why not?” she asked, leaning over her horse’s head to peer down at him. “Men ride around in breeches all the time. And when I arrive where I need to be, I simply shake my skirts down over my legs. Hardly anyone sees me ride, and no one knows the difference. Do you know how much faster one can ride astride in comparison to sidesaddle? How less dangerous it is? Why I could never ride alone if I were draped over the side like a sack of potatoes!”
“You shouldn’t be riding alone! I… I…”
He was at a loss for words. He brought his hand to his forehead. “Never mind that for now. There is an urgent matter we must discuss.”
“It seems most things are urgent with you, Lord Oxford.”
“Hunter. Yes, well, will you just come down, please? My neck hurts from looking up at you.”
“I am going on a ride. My horse needs exercise, as do I. We can speak later.”
“We really must speak now. I—”
But his words were lost in the air that flew by him as she urged her horse into a gallop and swept out of the stable, right past him. He stood there for a moment, staring after her in shock, before turning to his groom.
“Best ready my horse,” he said with resignation.
Scarlett laughed as she eased back on Star’s reins, slowing her horse slightly. Oh, but teasing Hunter was much more fun than she had expected. She could tell he had no idea what to do with her, and that was all very well. She also had a suspicion of what he wanted to speak to her about, seeing as he had been in his study for part of the morning already, meeting with the ghastly Stone. The man was a nightmare, and in fact, she did want to speak to Hunter about getting rid of him, amongst other things.
Christmastide With His Countess Page 3