“Well,” she said following him as he went to find the groom. “It is to me.”
“Nia always wanted to celebrate Christmas,” he muttered. “No one ever found the time.”
“What was that?” she came up beside him so quickly that her deep purple riding skirts whirled around her, and he caught himself before he revealed anymore.
“Nothing,” he said. “Nothing at all. Ah, Carver, there you are!” Relief filled him as the groom came into sight. “Prepare…” He looked over at Scarlett, who stared at him with a look of such hope that he gave in with a sigh. “The sleigh,” he said. “Prepare the sleigh.”
As much as he hated to admit it, Scarlett had been right. The sleigh was the best conveyance to cut through his land. He hadn’t seen her fill the sleigh with anything, but with a quick look at the full bags within it and then a glance over at Scarlett and the satisfaction on her face, told him that this had been her plan from the beginning.
“This was nice of Carver, providing us with a blanket and a warming stone,” she said, though a bit of consternation entered her tone. “He only sent one though. I suppose we will have to share.”
“It’s fine, I’m not cold. Carver’s normally not quite so shortsighted,” he murmured. “I’ll speak with him when we return.”
“Don’t,” she said, placing a gloved hand over his, and when his gaze flew up to hers, she hastily pulled it away. “He’s a nice boy, truly, and I don’t want any trouble. I’m sure he just forgot. We were rather hasty.”
“I suppose,” he said, looking into the distance, seeing the smoke rising from a chimney. “Here’s Thomas and Molly Baker’s house.”
“I know,” she said, and he looked over at her, remembering Stone’s information regarding the money she gave to the families. How often had she been out here?
He pulled on the reins when they reached the drive, and when he turned to help Scarlett out of the sleigh, he was surprised to see that she was already on the ground and making her way down the cleared path in her sturdy black boots. “Bring a basket!” she called to him as she rounded the stone entrance, and just then a little figure came hurtling out the door to greet her.
“Lady Oxford!” the boy cried as he barreled into her while Hunter watched with astonishment. Never in his life had he seen such a sight before. His mother would be utterly horrified if she knew Scarlett was even speaking with the families let alone — was she lifting the boy in the air?
“Fly, birdie!” she cried, and the boy erupted in giggles as she spun him in a circle. He couldn’t have been more than four, he thought, as he watched from the sleigh, finally lifting the cover to reveal a pile of baskets, full of candies and liquor bottles and heaven only knew what else Scarlett had placed inside them. Good Lord, how much had this cost him?
“Bobby, let Lady Oxford come in — it’s freezing out there!” called a laughing voice from the doorway. “Lady Oxford, how lovely to see you!”
“How many times must I tell you, Molly, that Scarlett is just fine?” she said, a grin coming over her face as she made her way around the fenced pig enclosure to the entrance of the small cabin.
Scarlett? The woman who insisted on calling her husband Lord Oxford was telling a common woman to call her Scarlett? Hunter certainly didn’t look down on these people the way many of his class did, but he had never in his life expected Scarlett to hold them in such high esteem. Where was the cold woman he had come to know, who ate dinner in near silence, who hardly spoke to him with the exception of polite conversation when required?
Stunned, he began to follow her up the path, and just when Molly Baker was about to shut the door, she caught sight of him.
“Oh, my lord,” she said, lifting her worn brown skirt as she sank into a curtsy. “My apologies, my lord, I didn’t see you there. We were not aware you were in residence, and therefore were not expecting you. Not that you require any advance notice. That is — oh dear, I am rambling on. Please, do come in.”
She opened the door wider, and the warmth of the fire in the corner of the small room drew him in. He might have declined to share the blanket, but he had to admit that the chill in the air was beginning to seep into his bones.
“Thank you, Mrs. Baker,” he said with a nod. “My arrival was unexpected, I will admit, but I am pleased to have the opportunity to visit with you.”
“Of course,” she said, turning her head sharply when she heard voices behind her rise in argument. “Children!” she hissed. “Our lord is here to visit. Come say hello.”
Four young ones of various heights dutifully dropped the doll they were fighting over and lined up in front of him, while the boy he had first seen stood beside Scarlett, his fist wrapped around the material of her skirt. The door at the back of the house opened and Thomas Baker walked in, stomping his boots at the entrance to rid them of snow.
“Gads, it’s a frosty one out there, I tell ya, Molly. It—”
“We have visitors, Tom.”
“My lord! Welcome,” he said with a nod, but when his head turned to Scarlett, ruddy coloring infused his cheeks, which had certainly not been present when his attention had been directed toward Hunter.
“Lady Oxford,” he said, “How lovely to see you. Bobby’s already latched himself to you, has he?”
“He certainly has,” she said with a laugh. “How are you, Thomas?”
“Just fine,” he said. “Though I’ve had to bring the animals into the shelter, as cold as it’s gotten out there. It seems this snow isn’t letting up. Are you sure you should be out in this weather?”
“We’ll be fine,” she said with a smile. “We aren’t far from the house.”
Hunter felt as though he were watching a boxing match as his head swung back and forth between them, conversing as though she were the landowner and not him. He should be the one speaking about such with his tenant.
“Thomas,” he said, feeling like an interloper as he cut into their conversation. “Have you a moment to discuss a few matters?”
“Of course, my lord,” he responded.
“Here, allow me to prepare you some tea,” said Molly, as she began bustling around the room, shooing the children out of the kitchen. Hunter looked over at Scarlett, inclining his head toward Molly, suggesting that perhaps she speak with the woman while he discussed matters with her husband, but Scarlett looked away, pretending that she misunderstood his cue, although Hunter knew she was much smarter than that. He sighed. She was a handful, this one.
“Thomas,” he began, taking a seat in a scarred wooden chair which matched the table in front of it. “It has been some time since I have been here myself, as I have left my matters of estate business in the capable hands of Mr. Stone.”
Scarlett snorted from her seat beside him, and he cast a look of disapproval her way. They had to be united in front of their tenants, not questioning one another. He looked back at Thomas, who had covered his mouth with his hand, and Hunter had the distinct impression the man was hiding a smile.
“How fares your work?” he asked, pretending Scarlett wasn’t there beside him. “Have you had any particular issues?”
Thomas cleared his throat, glancing at both Molly and Scarlett in turn, before returning his gaze to Hunter. Scarlett sent a nod the man’s way, and Hunter’s irritation rose anew.
“I cannot say we’ve had an easy time of it lately, my lord,” he said with a bit of hesitation, and Hunter smiled, encouraging him to continue. “You see … the rent is just too high for us to make a go of it. Try as I might, I don’t make enough off sale of the animals to cover the payments as well as feed and clothe my children. If it wasn’t for Lady Oxford … well, I’m not sure that we would be able to continue on here, my lord. She has been generous, but I would feel much better knowing I had less to pay up front. I know that is much to ask, and I shouldn’t like to be presumptuous, but, well, I’m not sure what else to say.”
Thomas dropped his head, and Hunter realized how much it had cost him to humble himse
lf as he had in front of him.
“I see,” he said grimly. “Thank you for your honesty, Thomas. I will be looking into the matter, I can assure you.”
He spoke with the man for a few minutes more about various aspects of pig farming, though Hunter knew far less of it than he cared to admit. Eventually, he stood and shook the man’s hand.
“Thank you for your visit,” Thomas said, and finally the warmth he had bestowed upon Scarlett came over his face as he looked at Hunter.
“And before we forget,” said Scarlett, finally breaking into the conversation, “We have something for you.” She took the basket that Hunter had set it by the door. “Happy Christmas,” she enthused. “We will see you soon!”
The young boy gave her one last hug before they were on their way, back to the sleigh, Scarlett waving goodbye as the family watched from the door. When she turned to face forward, a guarded expression settled over her face, and all Hunter could do was wonder — who was this woman he had married?
8
The longer they sat there in silence, the more anxious Scarlett became. What was going through his head? Her husband had entered the sleigh, taken the reins in hand, and then sat there immobile, his gaze off into the distance. Was he angry with her? Not that he had any reason to be, she told herself. She was simply allowing him to see the truth.
“It seems you were right,” he said, his voice breaking through the whisper of the slight wind that had begun to brew, his breath casting smoke into the cold air. “I have been a terribly remiss lord.”
He paused for a moment, opening his mouth a couple of times until he finally continued speaking. “If I had asked Thomas how much rent is, he would have realized this as well, and yet I must know before I meet with Stone. How much are their rents?”
When she told him, he whistled. It was more than double what he would have expected. No wonder his tenants were having difficulties.
“How did I let this happen?” he asked, hanging his head somewhat, and Scarlett felt inexplicable sympathy come over her.
Stop it, this is his own doing. And isn’t this what you wanted — for him to see the error of his ways? He should have paid much more attention. But the look of remorse covering his face spoke to the fact that he had placed his absolute trust in the wrong person, and she could not keep her heart from going out to him.
“Sometimes the people we think we can rely on the most end up causing us the greatest distress,” she said, and he looked up at her with disappoint etched in his blue-green eyes — disappointment in himself.
“I have become caught up in my work in London,” he said, looking back out into the snow-covered distance. “In doing so, I have forgotten my responsibility here. But it is more than work. My decisions affect every aspect of these people’s lives. No wonder you think so poorly of me.”
She bit her lip. He was right, in a way, but what he didn’t know was that it wasn’t that she disdained of him so. No, there were aspects about him that she actually admired — his dedication, his ability to keep from becoming so inflexible that he couldn’t see the error in his ways. He was simply absent-minded about aspects of his life that he needed to pay more attention to. Perhaps it was a failing, but not one that was born of any necessary evil or ill intention.
No, what kept her from him was the fact that she could see herself becoming too close to him, and that would never do. For she knew what she spoke of when she told him that people could be a disappointment. Her own father had been so time and again. He loved her, she knew, but that hadn’t been enough. While he provided for her and was there when she asked him for anything, as a true father, he hadn’t been there for her when she needed him, nor there for her mother at any time at all.
As much as she had to protect herself, however, she should be more conscious of not allowing Hunter to feel too poorly for himself.
“This is nothing that you cannot fix,” she said gently, leaning forward so that she could look into his eyes. “You have the power to change this, to make things better here. Besides that,” she couldn’t help the grin from crossing her face. “I was here to make things right.”
He looked at her then, his face but inches from hers, and her heart began to quicken, beating fast enough for her blood to begin to race through her body, warming all which had become so cold in the freezing air.
“Hunter,” she said, her voice a whisper. “Hunter, I—”
The horse whinnied then, breaking the moment, and she sat back suddenly. “I think we best get a move on,” she said, clearing her throat, “we must see to the other tenants. Do you know what time it is?”
He shook his head, saying nothing as he sent the horses on their way.
“Do you not have a pocket watch?”
“No,” he said shortly, surprising her.
“You don’t have a pocket watch?” she looked at him, perplexed. “Every man has a pocket watch.”
“I don’t.”
“Why not?”
“No one ever gave me one.”
“Could you not have bought your own?”
He shrugged. “I suppose I could have. But … it simply didn’t seem right.”
Sensing his reluctance to speak on the topic, she frowned in consternation but didn’t question him any further.
She had nearly kissed him. Twice now, he had been close to taking her lips with his, and twice she had pulled away. What kind of man was he, that he couldn’t even convince his own wife to kiss him? Not only that, he had nearly broken down, had nearly told her of his own disappointment. He had asked his father for a pocket watch just like his, but his father always told him to earn enough money to buy his own.
Well, Hunter thought, he would have to forget that for the moment, for he had a role to play — the role of the focused landlord. They visited one house after another, bearing baskets and a promise of lower rents in the new year. Hunter was overcome with the joy on the faces of his tenants. What truly took him aback, however, was their reaction to Scarlett. They all loved his wife, welcoming her into their homes as though she were an old friend instead of the new wife of their lord. How often had she visited? He had never seen anything like it in all his years.
He finally asked her about it as he turned the sleigh back toward Wintervale.
“Why am I so friendly with them?” she asked, fixing her gaze upon him. “Because they are people, Hunter. People who I enjoy speaking with. For the past three months, I have been alone with them — and the servants of course, and then there is Lavinia, but she is not always around — and I enjoy their company. Besides, it is important to ensure they are happy. It is better for you at the end of the day.”
He nodded, wondering as he did if she was happy alone here on his estate. As though she heard his thoughts, however, she continued.
“I love it out here,” she said wistfully. “It is so open, so free, and you have a beautiful home, Hunter, truly you do. I couldn’t imagine being stuck in London for months on end, as you are. I actually feel sorry for you, that you must be.”
He certainly didn’t feel sorry for himself. He loved his work there — though he understood what she said regarding the freedom of the country and he wished once more he spent more time here.
“Oh, look!” she said, pointing to a path just visible through the evergreens. “This is where I wanted to stop.”
“Stop for what?” he asked.
“Boughs for the house! You are apparently not the only one who dislikes Christmas, Hunter, for there is not a decoration to be found within all of Wintervale. We looked everywhere, though Abbot and Mrs. Shepherd, as well as Lavinia, assured me I would come up empty. It seems Christmas is not a family tradition. Which is sad, really, as that is what Christmas is all about. I ordered some things, but others we must collect ourselves. Here, stop now.”
He slowed the horses, though he wanted nothing more than to continue on toward home. He really did have to be going if he wanted to make it to London. As he thought of it, a snowflake
dropped onto the tip of his nose, and he looked around to see a multitude of them falling around them.
“It’s snowing again!” she said, a look of glee coming over her face, and he couldn’t help but stop now, wanting to see more of this woman who had revealed herself to him today in the homes of his tenants. If Christmas was going to bring some happiness to her, well, he supposed for an hour he could stop and allow her to enjoy it. And then, when they returned to the house, he really had to be on his way, or he would never make it to London in time.
“All right, then,” he said, sharing her smile. “What do you need me to do?”
“Come!” she exclaimed with the same enthusiasm Bobby had held earlier. “You can carry for me.”
“Carry?”
His question was soon answered, however, as she piled bough after bough in his arms or the bag which had previously held the baskets for the tenants. She picked up all of the pieces of evergreens that had fallen to the ground, before carefully selecting other types of greenery. It all looked the same to Hunter, but she seemed to know exactly what each type of shrub or tree was, adding all to her collection. He dragged the filled bag back to the sleigh, before returning to hold the rest himself. He was relieved when she finally seemed satisfied, for he didn’t think he could carry anything else without it all falling to the ground.
“I think that should do, for now at least,” she said, bounding back toward the sleigh, while he followed much more slowly, trying to balance everything. “Oh, Wintervale will look so lovely once it all of this is strewn about.”
“Where do you even plan on putting this?” he asked, his voice muffled as his face was entirely covered by branches.
“Everywhere!” she exclaimed. “There is nothing like the feeling of Christmas, Hunter. It enters your very soul, filling you with a warmth unlike anything else. Have you truly never felt it?”
He finally relieved himself of his burden, dropping it into the sleigh, before turning back toward her. He seemed to forget how to breathe entirely, however, when he looked at her face. Those eyes which had regarded him with so much chagrin were now glistening with exhilaration, her cheeks were rosy as could be from the cold air, and her lips red and inviting. Finally, her walls had come down, and he was not going to let this moment pass.
Christmastide With His Countess Page 6