“Very good,” said Lady Halifax, apparently finally pleased with him. “I would like that very much.”
As Hunter walked out of the room, however, he couldn’t help the sense of foreboding that descended upon him. Lady Halifax was a perfectly lovely woman, he told himself. Whatever could be amiss?
“You’ve fallen in love with him.”
“What?”
Scarlett looked at her mother in shock. The three of them had been in the room together for all of five minutes — how could she come to recognize Scarlett’s feelings in such a short time?
Virginia Nicholas smiled sadly at her daughter, reaching over to cup her face in her hands. Scarlett thought, as she always did when she saw her mother, it was like looking into a mirror of her future. The same hazel eyes reflected back toward her, the same freckles over the nose — even her lips were the same shape. But over the years, her mother had developed many lines on her face. Some were from the laughter she and her daughter had shared together, true, but so many were from the dismay she felt upon seeing her husband leave her behind every time he came to visit.
“Oh Scarlett,” her mother sighed, stroking her cheek as though she were a young child. “He’s a beautiful man to look at, that much is true. But what happened? I thought you were adamant in your decision to keep your distance.”
“I was,” Scarlett said, choosing her words carefully. “But Mother, over these past few days I have come to know him. He is actually quite … wonderful. He is considerate, and once he begins to focus on something, he is the most determined man I have ever met.”
“When did you marry?”
Scarlett looked at her mother quizzically.
“August, as you well know.”
“And how long did it take for him to visit you?’
Scarlett sighed.
“I pushed him away after our wedding. I hadn’t expected him to be so … attractive. And charming, when he puts his mind to it. I was scared by all you had told me. I built up walls around myself so that he couldn’t find his way in, couldn’t cause me to care for him, to hurt me as Father hurt you. But … but Mother, not all men are like father.”
Her mother began to wring her hands together in her lap.
“I understand that, Scarlett, but look around at the couples of the ton. How many are happy — truly happy? There are far more men with mistresses then there are men without.” She tilted her head to the side, a sad expression on her face. “You had to be married, of course, and Lord Oxford seemed as good a man as any. I simply hoped you would understand, would have more sense than I did as a newly married woman. I had so much hope, Scarlett, so much love, and your father … well, it seemed he did at first too. But then.…”
She shook her head sadly, and Scarlett’s heart broke at the fluid in her mother’s eyes.
“I so badly tried not to love him anymore, Scarlett, truly I did, but I just couldn’t help myself. He used that love against me, to keep me with him, to keep me hopeful. Only with age and wisdom did I finally come to understand that it was never to be. I don’t want you to have to go through what I did.”
Scarlett took both her mother’s hands in hers, clasping them tightly as she tried to impart the strength her mother needed so badly.
“I love how much you care for me, Mother, truly I do,” she said. “But Hunter … he loves me, Mother. He told me so.”
Virginia’s eyes roved over Scarlett’s face, and despite the gentleness of her next words, Scarlett could feel the slight rebuke in them.
“When did he tell you this?”
“Last night.”
“What were you doing?”
Scarlett’s face flushed. She certainly couldn’t answer that question, not to her mother. But Virginia smiled ruefully at her, apparently guessing the truth.
“A man will say anything in the throes of passion,” she said. “Scarlett, I am not telling you not to be a good wife, not to be with him, or have a family with him. I simply want you to be careful, all right?”
“All right, Mother,” Scarlett said in order to appease her. “I will.”
Hunter had nearly forgotten about his promise to Lavinia to attend tonight’s dinner. Now that Lady Halifax had arrived, however, he was more than anxious to get out of the house. Lady Halifax was polite enough to him, but she looked at him as though he were a fox in a hen house. He had to continually remind himself that he was Scarlett’s husband, not a blighter out to deflower her and then leave her behind.
Although, he supposed, that was somewhat the truth of their situation. He would prefer not to leave her, but rather wished she would come with him. In fact, that was just what he wanted to speak with her about before they made their way to Nia and Baxter’s.
He knocked on the door to her adjoining room. At her call to come in, he cracked open the door, finding her struggling to dress.
“When you gave the staff the day off, did it not occur to you to keep more than a scullery maid in the house for tasks such as these?”
She looked at him with her eyebrows raised, and he chuckled as he walked over to her. “Turn around,” he said, tying her stays and then helping her bring the velvet silver gown over her shoulders. For a moment, he thought he should divest her of all her clothing entirely, but they were already running rather late and Lavinia would have his head if he put her off once more.
“Scarlett,” he said as he slowly fastened her buttons. “You know I will be returning to London shortly — likely in the next couple of days.”
She nodded but said nothing.
“I’d like you to come with me. Please.”
Her eyes flew up, meeting his in the mirror. He could sense the panic that registered there, and while he didn’t want to push her to do something she so clearly despaired of, he didn’t want to think of leaving her behind now.
“No!” she exclaimed, shaking her head wildly. “I will not go to London. I told you this months ago, and again when you arrived.”
“Yes,” he responded, needing her to understand. “I remember. But I thought things may have changed, that you may have warmed to our … situation, become more open to the possibilities that may await us there.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You mean the possibilities that await you there.”
“Things have changed,” he said, his voice low and husky.
“We have been together one night,” she said without emotion. “That doesn’t change everything.”
“It’s more than that, Scarlett,” he said, resting his chin on her shoulder as he gazed at her reflection. “I love you. You are my wife, and I want to live that way with you.”
“I know,” she whispered, though she said nothing else, and his heart rent in two. This was the second time he had told her how he felt for her, and again she stayed silent. He finished buttoning her dress and stepped back from her.
Coldness washed over him, and it had nothing to do with the freezing temperatures outside.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, hearing the anger in his voice but unable to keep from allowing his frustration to show. “What have I done to repulse you so?”
“It’s not you,” she said with a cry, turning around toward him, her silvery gown swishing like moonlight as she did. “I have no wish to return to London. It’s where … it’s where…”
“What?” he asked, desperate to know.
“It’s where my family fell apart,” she whispered, tears gathering in her eyes.
“Talk to me, Scarlett,” he pleaded, taking a hesitant step toward her, his hands coming to her arms over the white gloves she had pulled on.
“My parents … they were happy once,” she said, her eyes far away, unfocused. “I used to think how wonderful it was that they loved one another so much when it seemed many other couples care nothing for one another. We followed my father from London to the country, as most do, as you well know. I loved the country — I still do, clearly. I could spend all day with the horses, riding the fields, traveling the countrys
ide. I loved following the neighbor’s children around. When we were at our country estate they would spend hours outdoors with me, but then they would go to school once we returned to London. This one summer, when I was ten years old, my mother decided that we could take an extra few weeks at the estate before returning to London. Instead of telling my father when we were to arrive, she thought she would surprise him. We arrived in London later than we anticipated — we got off to a late start, and we stopped to visit a friend on the way. It was just past dinner. We came to the front door, and the butler tried to keep us from entering, but….”
As she told the story, a hand came to her hair, still down upon her shoulders without a lady’s maid to attend to it. She worried those strands of hair so much that he wanted to reach out and still her fingers, but he knew if he interrupted, he might never have another opportunity to hear her tale.
“My father was in the drawing room with a woman. Her breasts were practically falling out of her bodice, her skirts hiked up nearly around her waist. My father was hastily trying to rearrange his clothing but … we knew. My mother went into a fit of hysterics. She had always been under the belief that my father was true to her, that their love was pure. Her eyes were opened that day. When she began to put the pieces together, she realized that never in their marriage had he been without a mistress, never had he been faithful to her. She had been blind to it, not wanting to see it. And even worse, in her mind, was that he took hardly any effort to hide it, allowing this woman into her home — our home.”
She paused, her eyes finally focusing on his face.
“I’ve hated London since then. My mother has hardly ever been able to return to that townhouse, always remembering what she saw there. The worst part of it all, Hunter? My father didn’t even care. Oh, he was upset that I witnessed his exhibitions, that’s true. But it didn’t seem to bother him that my mother knew. And while she never forgot his blatant disregard for her feelings, to this day she continues to love him, despite how much she hates him in equal measure.”
Hunter stood there in shock, not knowing what to say. His parents had been cold to one another, had never been loving nor kind toward him. But that was the life he had always known. Scarlett had been part of a loving family — facade that it was — until it had been ripped away from her.
“Scarlett,” he finally said, bringing her hand to his lips. “I am so very sorry.”
18
Why had she told him that story?
Her mother’s words echoing round her mind, Scarlett had begun to dress this evening determined to put some distance between her and Hunter — not to freeze him out entirely, but to put up some form of protection. Instead, she had shared some of her innermost thoughts with him, making herself even more vulnerable, giving him more power over her.
“Scarlett,” he said again, softly, “are you afraid I will do the same to you?”
She wiped at her eyes, dashing the tears away.
“I don’t know,” she mumbled. “At first, yes. Now … I am not so sure.”
“I wouldn’t hurt you like that,” he said, his lips tightly pursed. “I could never do that to a woman I love.”
“My father told my mother he loved her.”
“I’m not sure how to convince you that I am not the same man as your father,” he said gently, bringing his index finger and thumb to her chin, tilting her head up to look at him. His blue-green eyes bore into her, as though he were trying to emphasize his point. “But I’m not. Nor am I the same man as my own father. We come from parents who did not set the greatest examples of love for us. But can we not at least try, Scarlett?”
She gave a quick nod. She wanted to try, truly she did. But this had simply been a moment in time, when they were together without the rest of the world’s intrusion. What would it be like if she did return to the city with him? She had been in London for only short periods of time over the past ten years. Could she spend months within its confines, as she longed for the freedom the countryside offered her?
Her thoughts continued to plague her as she stepped into the sleigh with her mother and Hunter for the short ride to Lavinia’s. This was home now, she thought while they slid away, as she looked up at the impressive brick building, its wings stretching backward to the gardens beyond. She knew nearly every foot of the estate, was familiar with the servants, the tenants. How could she leave all of that behind?
When she turned her face from the view beside her, she saw Hunter looking at her with some concern, and she managed a small smile for both him and her mother.
When they reached the home of the Lavinia and Baxter Shaw, Hunter squeezed her hand as he helped both Scarlett and her mother out of the sleigh. Lavinia was, as always, extremely pleased to see them.
“Oh, and Lady Halifax, how lovely to have you with us!” she said as she led them through the foyer and down the corridor. Scarlett noted that all of Lavinia’s servants were still in attendance. Was she in the minority of those who celebrated Boxing Day? Surely not. It must simply be Hunter and his sister. “We are a small party this evening. In addition to the four of us, Lord and Lady Raymond are here tonight instead of last night, as they were unable to travel on the roads.”
She swung open the door of the drawing room, to reveal Baxter lounging in his usual chair, a mahogany and leather library chair that was completely out of place within the delicate room. Scarlett knew it was rather well worn in the middle — she sometimes wondered if the piece of furniture was part of him. He had a glass of amber liquid in one hand, an unlit cheroot dangling from his lips. She didn’t understand what Lavinia saw in the man, but she actually seemed to enjoy his company, so Scarlett didn’t question it. As long as Nia was happy, who was Scarlett to judge?
Across from him sat a couple on the chesterfield, a tall, thin man with an easy smile, and a blonde curvaceous woman in a beautiful pink gown. Scarlett had met them at the church in the village before, but had never taken the time to come to know them better. Hunter, apparently, was already on much more familiar terms.
“Madeline!” he exclaimed as the woman rushed toward him, flinging her arms around him. Scarlett felt her heart flip in her chest, as jealousy unlike any she had ever felt before beginning to seep through her veins.
“Oh, Hunter, it is so wonderful to see you!” Lady Raymond said. “It has been ages. Why, I don’t think we have had occasion to see one another since shortly after your wedding!”
Which was more recent than the last time Scarlett herself had seen her husband. She caught her mother’s pointed stare and raised eyebrow, and she turned her head quickly, doing what she could to prevent her from getting into her head.
“Lady Raymond, Lord Raymond,” she said, inclining her head as she swallowed the envy and attempted to be polite. “How lovely to see you again. This is my mother, Lady Halifax.”
“Oh, wonderful to meet you!” said Madeline, releasing Hunter and coming over to the pair of them. “And Lady Oxford, how delightful you look tonight, as you always do.”
“And you as well,” Scarlett replied, allowing Lord Raymond to take her hand and bow low over it. “Happy Christmas.”
“Happy Christmas to all,” said Lavinia, sweeping into the room. “This will be such fun, will it not?”
Scarlett wasn’t so sure.
Dinner seemed interminably long. Somehow, Scarlett found herself seated at nearly the opposite end of the table from Hunter. It wasn’t an overly large table, to be sure, with just the seven of them, but even so, Lady Raymond was seated right next to him, looking particularly thrilled about it.
Scarlett knew she was being ridiculous. The woman was nothing but pleasant and charming, and was simply excited to see an old friend again.
“Oh, and then,” Lady Raymond said, continuing the story she was telling about one dance or another that had taken place in a London ballroom, “Hunter brought me a glass of lemonade, but purposely tripped and spilled it all over the vile Lord Vale! How fortunate I was that he was there
to free me from the man’s clutches. I couldn’t have borne one more moment with him breathing all over my face!”
Scarlett tried to force a laugh along with the rest of them, but it was becoming more difficult the more Lady Raymond spoke. The worst part of it all was that she knew she might actually like the woman, were not all of her stories of Hunter. They had all grown up together, it seemed, their families having been close both in their relationship as well as proximity.
Lavinia and Lady Raymond had been the best of friends since they were girls. But there was something about the way that Lady Raymond looked at Hunter….
“I do hope you will be returning to London as well this Season, Lady Oxford?”
It took a moment for Scarlett to realize that Lord Raymond was speaking to her. She had been so engrossed in the conversation at the other end of the table that she had neglected her own dinner companions, and guilt washed over her.
“I haven’t yet decided,” Scarlett responded. “Perhaps for a brief time.”
“I do hope you will,” he said meaningfully, and Scarlett’s heart began to beat rather rapidly. Was he trying to tell her something, or was she simply being foolish?
“Lady Oxford hates London,” Baxter drawled, his first words throughout the entire meal, and his wife backed up his words with a nod.
“Oh yes, London is not for our Scarlett,” she said with a smile of affection for her sister-in-law. “Though I have been encouraging her mightily to return with us come February. Baxter and I choose to remain in the country until well after New Year’s, but of course, Hunter is so busy with his work that he will be returning shortly. In fact, we are fortunate he is here with us at all — we have to thank the weather for that, if nothing else!”
“Oh yes!” said Lady Raymond, placing a hand on Hunter’s shoulder. “Your work is so admirable, Hunter, truly. Tell me more of it?”
“There’s, ah, nothing to tell, really,” Hunter said, discomfort crossing his face as he frowned slightly. Was he dismissing Lady Raymond, or was he simply annoyed that she was so openly flirting with him in front of the rest of them? At least, Scarlett felt she was. Perhaps she was reading too much into it. But from the look her mother sent toward her from across the table, Scarlett knew that she was also picking up the same sort of intention, though her mother, of course, was always overly suspicious.
Christmastide With His Countess Page 13