"Of course, my lord," Hughes answered stiffly.
"Very good. There will be an extra bonus for you if you can manage to get it back to Miss Winterhaven without anyone finding out the truth," Nigel said.
Hughes nodded. "Miss Winterhaven will have the mermaid back in her possession today," he assured him, as Nigel opened the door.
"Good. And Hughes?"
"Yes?"
Nigel smiled broadly. "Merry Christmas."
"What do you mean, she's already left?" Nigel asked with a frown.
Henry raised an eyebrow. "Emily left for church a quarter of an hour ago, with Miss Turner and Victoria. We're the last sleigh-full, so to speak," he finished, moving toward the door.
Nigel wasn't happy. He wanted a chance to speak privately with Emily before the church services, to apologize for his behavior in the garden. Actually, he wasn't penitent at all, for he knew that she had misread his intentions. He knew his intentions were all that were honorable, but obviously she needed some reassurance. "Then I suppose we should be leaving," he commented, following Henry out into the bright winter sun.
Nigel couldn't concentrate on the service. Reverend Something or Other was a prosy fellow, and the time ticked by more slowly than he thought possible.
Emily was down the family pew from him, looking very fetching in a Spanish fly-colored velvet pelisse, her eyes large and unbelievably green. A single rose decorated her gown, and she couldn't have looked lovelier in his eyes. Unfortunately, she refused to look at him, concentrating on the hymn book, looking up only to stare blankly at the Very Reverend Something or Other.
Nigel continued gazing dreamily at Emily, his mind drifting. Why is she wearing that faded rose? he wondered, glancing around at the congregation. If he were lucky, he would try to convince some country matron to surrender her rose for Emily, who definitely deserved something better than the rose that was, well, dying, before his eyes. Completely unable to concentrate on what was being said, Nigel spent the rest of the service scanning the crowd for females wearing roses that were actually alive.
The service ended too soon for Emily, who was dreading her first encounter with Nigel. He obviously thought she had lax morals, and believed she was ripe for a dalliance. She hoped her words to Harriet had rectified the situation, and that Nigel now realized she was completely respectable. Her glance at his face last night made her certain that he had understood her meaning, and he didn't seem to be pleased with what she had said. That must be why he's avoiding me, she thought, certain that Nigel had been waiting until the last moment to arrive at church so he didn't have to sit near her.
And her rose didn't seem to be having any effect on her situation. According to the tradition, a young woman was supposed to pluck a rose on Midsummer's Day and save it until Christmas. On Christmas Day, if she wore the rose to church, the young lady's future husband was supposed to come up to her and take the rose from her. That hadn't happened—and it isn't likely to happen, she decided, glancing around the room. Most of the parishioners had already left the small church, and their party was one of the last to leave, since the family pew was in the second row. Blackmore, who Harriet explained could be a bit of a heathen, decided to forego attending the Christmas service this year, so their party had the most prominent seats.
Emily followed Miss Turner out of the small church, still rather blue-deviled. Her pendant was gone, Nigel thought she was a doxy, and Susan Claredon looked incredibly lovely. In fact, in Emily's mind, she resembled a well-dressed scullery maid or, even worse, a poor relation.
As she walked into the brightly lit vestibule, she was startled to find Nigel there, apparently waiting for someone. Which was odd, since he had practically jumped out of his end seat at the first possible opportunity.
"Emily, may I speak with you privately for a moment?" he asked softly, his left hand carefully concealing the rose it held.
A frown marred Emily's delicate features. "I really don't think that would be proper, Lord Stratford," she replied stiffly, following him to the far end of the vestibule nonetheless.
"I'm not planning to ravish you here and now," he said with a wicked sparkle in his golden eyes.
Emily blushed, and was quite taken aback when he reached over and took the rose off of her pelisse and put it in his pocket. "May I ask what you're doing, Lord Stratford?" she asked formally, beginning to pale slightly. She was still in church, and the rose was taken from her. By a man. But Lord Stratford certainly couldn't be her future husband!
Nigel smiled as he placed the new rose on her green velvet pelisse. "Your rose was faded, and I thought you might like something more… festive," he said with a smile, inspecting the new red rose.
Emily looked down at it, shocked and confused. Finally, after a long silence, she formally said, "Thank you for the rose, Lord Stratford," her manners coming to her rescue.
Nigel smiled down at her, completely captivated. "You're welcome, Emily. And you must call me Nigel."
She blushed and stared at her muff. "I don't think that would be proper."
Nigel chuckled. "Yes, well, I think you realize that I'm not quite proper myself, Emily. But I would like you to call me Nigel, at least for the rest of our visit. It is Christmas, and you wouldn't deny me a favor on Christmas Day, would you?" he asked, cajoling a smile onto her face.
Emily looked up at him, a delicate pink staining her cheeks. "I suppose I can call you by your Christian name," she conceded, noticing the mischievous sparkle in his eyes.
"Thank you, Emily," he replied, taking her arm and leading her outside.
As the pair stood in the sunlight, looking for the rest of their party, he looked down at her and said, "I think you're going to have a grand Christmas, Emily—just you wait and see."
Eliza, Emily's abigail, paced the front hall nervously. Miss Emily should have been back at least a quarter of an hour ago! Instead, she was lagging at church, obviously one of the last people to be driven back to the house by Henry.
She put her small hand into the pocket of her gray dress and fingered the mermaid. "Miss Emily will be so pleased when she finds out I found the mermaid," she thought eagerly, since she knew Emily had been quite preoccupied since it turned up missing.
Eliza was highly suspicious of the way it turned up, though. Lord Stratford's valet had told her that she was wanted in the kitchen. So she went downstairs, only to find that no one had actually summoned her at all. When she returned upstairs to find Lord Stratford's valet and give him a proper dressing-down for sending her on a fool's errand, the pendant was sitting unobtrusively on the dressing table. She was so ecstatic that she completely forgot about Lord Stratford's valet.
"May I ask what business you have waiting here?" an icy female voice from behind Eliza demanded, and Eliza could sense that a scold from someone was imminent.
She turned to find the breathtakingly beautiful Lady Claredon, looking like a vision in a cream velvet dress, addressing her. "Pardon me, my lady?" Eliza asked with a stutter.
"Fool," Susan snapped, her waspish disposition very apparent. "Why are you lingering in the hall? Don't you have any other duties to perform? If you don't, I'm sure I can find something to keep you busy," she concluded, giving Eliza her haughtiest stare.
Eliza tried to keep her voice from wavering. Lady Claredon was a member of the ton, and she rarely was spoken to by someone with such address. "I'm waiting for Miss Emily to return, my lady," she stammered.
"Why? You should be busying yourself with something, not standing about, wasting time."
"But I have to speak with Miss Emily the moment she returns from church," Eliza began nervously, fingering the pendant in her pocket. "You see, I… misplaced a piece of her jewelry earlier in the week and she's been ever so blue-deviled about it. But today it turned up, and I'm sure she'll want to know about the mermaid as soon as she walks in," Eliza concluded, completely out of breath.
To her surprise, Lady Claredon paled slightly. "You located her missing piece of je
welry?" she said in a choked voice.
"Yes! It was ever so strange—it was just sitting on the dresser like it wanted to be found!" Eliza exclaimed, momentarily forgetting that she was being addressed by a personage.
"Really," Lady Claredon replied, walking off with a rather dazed expression on her face.
As Susan walked through the myriad halls, her anger began to mount. How dare he, she thought, walking toward her bedroom. Nigel is the veriest sapskull! I risk my reputation to retrieve his dashed pendant so he can leave this horrid house party and what does he do? The muttonhead gives it back to that ape leader! Why, I'd give him his congee if Mama weren't so set on our engagement, she thought traitorously, stomping into her bedroom. In one swift move, she slammed the door so vigorously that the whole house shuddered.
Ten
"Nigel, how could you?" Susan wailed, her goddess-like features remarkably transforming into those of a harridan.
Nigel frowned at her, and glanced up and down the hallway. Thankfully, no one was in sight. "What are you going on about, Susan?" he asked casually, his figure tall and imposing next to her petite stature.
"The pendant. You returned it to that… ape leader bluestocking that everyone thinks you have a tendre for! How could you give her the pendant, after all the trouble I went through for you!" she cried, her blue eyes large and pleading.
Once again, Nigel was at a loss. In all the years he had known her, Susan had never acted so… common. Obviously, it was time to let her know where she stood in his eyes. "Lady Claredon," he began firmly, fixing his golden gaze upon her, "the pendant is the property of Miss Winterhaven, and it was my responsibility, as a gentleman, to return it to her."
Susan's mouth dropped open, making her look rather like a dying fish. It was not an attractive pose, and Nigel was rather hard-pressed not to chuckle at the look of stupidity upon her face.
"And furthermore, you will not malign Miss Winterhaven in my presence again. You have no right to do so, Lady Claredon, and I won't hear of it any longer," he finished harshly.
"But Nigel, I did it for you," she whined, a tear falling down her cheek dramatically. "I can't believe you're being so… cruel to me."
Nigel glanced around the hall. Luckily, they were still alone, and almost all of the doors were closed, except down the hall. He didn't realize that Victoria and Wellington were in that room, and could hear every word that was being said. "Lady Claredon," he began, his frown very pronounced by now, "you obviously have many misconceptions concerning our acquaintance. You will always be considered a friend of the family, but never more than that. Do I make myself clear?" he asked in a clipped, irritated voice.
Tears began to roll down Susan's face as if she were on Drury Lane. "Nigel, are you jilting me? Crying off?" she sobbed, glancing around the hall.
"There is no reason to do either, since we never, at any time, had an understanding."
"But Nigel… I thought…" Susan drifted off, her sobs calming down since there was no audience to view her performance.
"I have no idea what you thought, Lady Claredon, nor do I wish to know," he said, and glared down at her, his arms folded crossed across his chest.
Susan looked up at him, her bottom lip trembling. She said nothing.
"I'll see you in the parlor when you're more composed. Harriet expects us, since everyone is going to be exchanging gifts," he said curtly, and walked stiffly away, leaving her alone in the hall. He had never expected his Christmas holiday to be so… complicated.
"Thank you, Aunt Emily," Victoria cried exuberantly, rushing over to Emily's seat on the edge of the parlor and enveloping her in a hug.
Emily chuckled merrily. "You're very welcome, Victoria," she said, looking down at the girl's dark-haired doll dressed as a Scottish shepherdess.
"She's ever so pretty, Aunt Emily. Did you really see people like this in Scotland?" she asked, trying very hard to pronounce "Scotland" properly.
"Yes, I did. You see, my grandpapa has an estate in Scotland, so I even know some shepherd girls. Many people think Scotland is a barbaric, backward place, but it's actually very nice," Emily explained patiently, hoping to head off the prejudice that all of the ton had against Scotland.
"Will you tell me some stories about Scotland later, Aunt Emily?" she asked, her blue eyes looking up entreatingly.
"Of course, dear," she replied, smiling down at her honorary niece.
As Emily glanced around the room, she was truly amazed at how sedate and family-like the entire afternoon had been. Almost all of the gifts had been exchanged, and, once again, Harriet had made sure that everyone was relaxed. So the Christmas wassail was a bit stronger than usual, and consequently, everyone was wonderfully merry.
The Christmas meal was going to be a bit less elaborate, Harriet had explained to the party earlier, since the tradition at the manor was to have a more elaborate meal on Boxing Day, with the entire staff. So the Christmas Day fare would simply be turkey, ham, stewed oysters, turnips, beets, plum pudding, fried celery, and a variety of beverages, including Regency punch and Negus.
Emily watched Nigel across the room, in a deep coze with Aubrey. Once again, Aubrey looked like a fashionable London dandy, while Nigel, in his black satin breeches, white shirt with wrist ruffles, and black, embroidered-silk waistcoat looked more like a Gypsy than a nobleman. "Or possibly an Italian poet," Emily mused with a smile, watching the revelry around her.
Lady Markston didn't seem particularly happy, and was drinking more than her share of wassail. Her daughter Susan was beside her, sampling one of the candies that she had received as a gift from Nigel. Aubrey kept glancing over at Susan, who appeared to be oblivious to him, while Nigel pointedly ignored the pair of ladies. Harriet and Henry flitted between the couples, doing their duties as proper hosts. Miss Turner watched over Victoria from the other side of the room, beaming with pride at her well-behaved charge. Victoria, unaware that anyone was paying any heed at all to her, was on the Axminster-carpeted floor near Miss Turner, working on a puzzle that Nigel had given her.
Why hasn't he opened my present? Emily wondered, staring at the small package that was still in Nigel's hands. All of the presents had been opened except the gift that Emily had given Nigel.
As Emily sat alone, lost in her thoughts, she was rather startled when Harriet's butler, Coverdail, a tall, gaunt gentleman, appeared at her side.
"Begging your pardon, Miss Winterhaven, but there is a package for you waiting at the door," he said solemnly.
Emily's eyes widened. "A package? Who is it from?" she asked, wondering if her parents decided to send her Christmas gift rather than wait to exchange gifts when they all returned home later in the month.
"I'm not privy to that information, miss. Would you follow me, please?"
"Can't you bring it in here?" she asked, still a bit dumbfounded.
"The package is rather oversized, miss—I think not," he replied stiffly, waiting for her to rise and follow him.
With a sigh, Emily put down her plate of subtleties and glided out of the room behind Coverdail.
As they moved through the halls, Emily's curiosity began to grow. What could it be? she wondered, since the mail hadn't been through in days. It couldn't be from her parents. So who was giving her the frightfully large package sitting inside the front door?
"There is your package, miss," Coverdail said formally, and swept out of the hall, leaving Emily alone.
The package was very large, almost the size of her portmanteau. A large red bow sat atop the box, and, as she leaned over to open the lid, it flew off by itself.
"Oh!" Emily exclaimed, and stepped back a few feet.
Then began to giggle.
Poking her head out of the box was the most adorable, tiny, reddish-brown puppy she had ever seen. It looked around the hall a little, then saw Emily and issued the most ridiculous little yap.
Emily giggled and went over to the box. "Why, who are you? And what are you doing in my Christmas box?" Emily ask
ed the puppy, who was now trying to get out of the box.
The puppy yapped again, and Emily could see her little tail wagging furiously.
"I suppose I should help you out of the box," she said, picking the puppy up in her arms.
At that point, the little dog began to lick Emily's hands eagerly.
She giggled again. "You are the silliest puppy I've ever met," she replied, sitting on the glistening oak floor.
A voice from the shadows said, "Merry Christmas, Emily."
Emily looked up from the floor, completely disconcerted. "Lord Stratford—I mean, Nigel," she stuttered, turning a deep shade of red.
Nigel smiled at her and walked over to the pair. "Do you like your gift?" he asked as he sat on the floor next to her.
Emily began to stroke the puppy, completely at a loss. "I've always wanted a puppy, but because we travel so much, my parents never allowed me to have one. Thank you," she replied, staring down at the adorable ball of fur curled up happily in her lap.
Nigel looked at the package in his hands. "I thought it would be more comfortable if we exchanged presents in private. That's why I didn't open yours immediately," he explained, taking the ribbon off her gift.
"Actually, it's not much of a present," Emily said, suddenly very shy around Nigel.
As he opened the box, a mist appeared in his bright hazel eyes. He took the sheaf of papers out and replied, "You wrote this, didn't you?"
She looked at the pages of handwritten music and nodded.
Nigel glanced over at Emily, his heart filled with love. "That's a wonderful gift, Emily. Most people are appalled by the fact that I play, and you've actually given me some new music," he said, awe in his voice.
Emily shrugged a bit. "It's nothing—just a short piece I thought you might enjoy playing," she replied simply.
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