Lord Lansbury's Christmas Wedding

by Helen Dickson

  Bewildered, she stared at him and managed to smile even as she blushed, unable to feel properly guilty, but at the same time an uneasy disquiet was setting in. ‘Hurt me? Do not distress yourself on my account. You didn’t hurt me,’ she hastened to reassure him. ‘Well, maybe only a little, which was to be expected, but I am perfectly all right.’ She lowered her gaze, for the remembrance of what they had done made her flustered and a bit shy, but venturesome, too. ‘In fact, I feel quite wonderful,’ she confessed.

  ‘I am relieved to hear it. However, the consequences of what we have done—what I have done, for I take full responsibility for this—must be faced.’

  Still in a state of euphoria, Jane was unable to make sense of what he was talking about. ‘But—what is there to face?’

  Picking up her hat, he handed it to her. ‘Marriage, Jane. We will be married as soon as it can be arranged.’

  She stared at him as realisation of what he had said became clear. ‘Marriage? You would marry me?’

  ‘Yes, of course I will.’

  He became still, observing her reaction to his suggestion, unable to believe what he saw. Dear Lord! He had asked her to marry him and she was looking at him as if he had grown horns, hooves and a tail.

  Jane swallowed; eyes wide and disbelieving. She did not look exactly pleased. More bewildered, confused, uncertain. Her hands went to her hair, twisting it back into some sort of order.

  ‘You must not feel...you must not think... I do not expect you to...’

  The words sounded sensible to Christopher, reasonable. And yet the silence that followed was long and heavy.

  Jane closed her eyes. When she opened them again, they had turned hard and cold and distant. ‘No, I cannot accept. I suppose your offer is kindly meant, but...’ She could not quite believe she had heard him right, but there were certain matters—matters that were important to her—that must be discussed before she could even consider marrying him.

  ‘Why have you asked me, Christopher? Are you saying that you have fallen madly in love with me? Is that why you want to marry me?’

  He turned away, focusing his eyes on something outside. ‘I have come to have a high regard for you. You must also know by now that I am attracted to you and have a passionate desire for you.’

  ‘I see.’ Having no idea of the proper etiquette of refusing a proposal of marriage and wanting to give him her answer to his face, she moved to stand beside him. ‘Please, look at me.’ He turned his head slowly and looked at her. Although it was one of the hardest things she had ever done, she said, ‘First, I thank you for your proposal. I was not expecting it. Second, as wonderful it is to know that you desire me, it is not enough. I will not marry you, Christopher.’

  Chapter Nine

  Christopher stared at her, unable to believe she had turned him down. Pain and desolation entered his eyes, but it quickly disappeared and his expression was suddenly guarded. He rushed on to reason with her before she could express her indignation. ‘I see no other option open to you, Jane, or to me.’

  ‘What are you saying, Christopher? Are you telling me that you love me?’ Please, Lord, she thought, let it be so.

  ‘Love?’ All trace of gentleness disappeared from his face. He slowly shook his head. ‘How does one define love? I no longer know what the word means. I care for you—a great deal, as it happens—but don’t confuse physical desire with love. I have lived through one disastrous relationship, which taught me that it is an unpleasant experience I have no desire to repeat. The woman in question burned almost every emotion out of me when she betrayed me with another.’

  ‘And so you judge every woman to be the same,’ Jane said quietly.

  ‘Maybe not all of them, but I realised a long time ago that poets may write about love and balladeers may sing about it. It exists for others—but not for me. Despite the feelings and emotions we aroused in each other just now, the depths of passion we reached, do not fool yourself into believing it had anything to do with love. Just because I made love to you does not mean you touched my heart.’

  Jane’s heart plummeted. Everything had suddenly begun to go so very wrong. She wondered what the unknown woman had done to cause so much hatred—or what he was guilty of as far as the woman was concerned that had made her turn from him to someone else.

  ‘I see. Well—thank you for being honest with me. But I would have imagined you would have too much common sense to attribute to all women what you have experienced in one.’

  ‘You would say that. You, who showed me so much vulnerability, so much generous passion—a woman who in her loving was so like...’ He fell silent, cursing himself for thinking of Lily when he hadn’t mentioned her to anyone in years. ‘However, this changes things between us. After meeting you it didn’t take long for me to realise that we have something in common. Like me, you like to make your own choices. I owe no man a living and I owe no woman a duty. In short, I am my own man, free to do what I choose. I am asking you to be my wife and the mother of my children. I will never fail you, Jane.’

  She inhaled sharply. The impact of his words was like a punch in the stomach. ‘I know that, but the answer is still no.’ She knew she was mad to refuse him. Mad with desperation and panic. But she did not feel particularly flattered or complimented by the manner of his proposal or his definition of love. What he offered was not enough.

  ‘There must have been other women in your life, Christopher. Have you offered to do the honourable thing by any of them?’

  ‘The women you speak of were experienced women of the world. You are the first woman I have made love to who was untouched—the first woman since...in a long time, I have feelings for.’

  ‘I see. Well, it doesn’t change anything. I won’t marry you,’ she said with a proud lift to her chin and in a tone made carefully neutral, feeling the need to give back hurt for hurt. ‘Marriage is important and serious and not something to be undertaken lightly—especially for me. I comprehend perfectly how you feel. But what makes you imagine I want to be your wife when you make me an offer of marriage so unwillingly? You have certainly said nothing that can tempt me into accepting your proposal. I reciprocate your feelings. I am strongly attracted to you and desire you, but without love I see no reason for us to marry. Besides, we’re from two different worlds. You should marry according to your station. I would be a total failure both as the wife of an earl and in society.’

  ‘You can learn. My mother will be there to guide you and explain everything you would need to know.’

  ‘I do not doubt it,’ she said caustically, feeling more hurt than she cared to admit. In his expression there was no affection, only a resolute determination to have his way. ‘Isn’t marrying me a bit extreme? What we did—I was equally to blame. I knew what I was doing. I confess to being somewhat ignorant of these matters, but is it not the usual custom for men of your position not to marry the women they seduce, but to pay them off? I gave you freedom with my body, but I think you’ve carried it too far.’ She could see that her words had pricked his anger. Holding her gaze, he stood before her, tall and powerful, his face austere, his eyes challenging.

  ‘You insult my honour and your own. Damn it, Jane! I’m not asking you to become my mistress. I am asking you to be my wife.’

  ‘Because you feel obligated. Well, you needn’t,’ she said coldly. She didn’t want him to ask her to be his wife because he felt obligated, as if it were some kind of duty. She wanted him to ask her because he loved her. But he did not. Perhaps he felt a little affection for her, but no more than that. That realisation was what hurt the most. ‘Please do not feel you have a duty towards me. Whatever I want, it is not that—to hold you through some obligation that would make a mockery of what we have just shared, however brief it was.’

  ‘You must realise you have no choice in the matter,’ he said. ‘It’s the sensible sol
ution.’

  ‘Solution? Solution to what? A solution means there must be a problem and I don’t see one. I’m not some foundling you’re obliged to propose to every time you have a touch of guilt. I understand that in such cases marriage is the accepted mode, but there are other alternatives. I shall go to London as planned and take up my work at the exhibition.’

  She looked at him, coldness about her now, of fixed, unbending resolution that would not be denied.

  ‘And if there is a child?’

  Jane stared at him. She hadn’t thought of that, that there might be a child from their union. Unconsciously her hand went to her abdomen and for a moment she could think of nothing more wonderful than to give birth to his child. But she would not have her life or that of her child dictated by circumstances.

  ‘There may not be a child,’ she replied. ‘If there does happen to be one, then we will discuss the matter again. I have the means to take care of a child myself, but you have my word I would not deprive you of seeing it. You are an honourable man. Illegitimate children of men in your position do not suffer any great setbacks in life.’

  Christopher stared at her, his eyes like chips of ice. ‘What are you saying? That I set aside my own child? To my knowledge I have never fathered an illegitimate child and I have no intention of doing so.’

  Jane’s body stiffened and Christopher saw a wall come up between them like a physical barrier.

  ‘Ah, so it is your conscience that is bothering you. Christopher, please listen to what I am saying. You don’t have to sacrifice yourself on the altar of matrimony for my sake. I doubt there will be a child. If there is we will deal with it. Accepting your support for any child we might have is one thing. Marrying me is something else and completely unnecessary in my opinion. I want nothing from you. Do not feel under any obligation.’

  Christopher’s jaw tightened and his eyes burned furiously down into hers. ‘I don’t. My obligation will be towards the child—should there be one. I could make some money over to it and put some in trust until a later date—but I would despise myself if I did not try to do better than that. I would insist that boy or girl, any baby, must be spared the stain of illegitimacy. I will not disown a child of my blood.’

  ‘Please stop this. You are being premature. There may be no baby.’

  Her stubbornness provoked Christopher’s eyes to blaze with renewed fury. ‘If there is, you cannot bring it up on your own. You will never endure the disgrace and humiliation when it becomes public knowledge. People can be extremely cruel in such situations. The scandal will be intolerable. You will never withstand it. I will have a say in how it is reared. I refuse to have a child of mine brought up a bastard just because its mother—in her abominable pride—refuses my offer of marriage. It is not an offer I make lightly.’

  ‘And with sentiments such as these you expect me to agree to become your wife?’ Jane flared incredulously. ‘You have my answer. I will not marry you and I will not let you stampede me into it.’

  ‘For heaven’s sake, Jane, you were a virgin,’ he said more gently, his expression grave as he combed impatient fingers of frustration through his hair. ‘If you think I would take your innocence and not do right by you, then you do not know me, of my position in life or my honour as a gentleman.’

  ‘I do and it matters to me that you have some regard for me. For myself, I don’t want to marry you. I see no reason to. I want to manage my own life. I want independence and autonomy. I want to be accountable to no one.’

  ‘And as my wife you would be accountable to me.’

  ‘Yes.’

  She pressed her lips together. Resistance was in every line of her, in her pose, in the stiff rigidity of her body, in the distance between them. They stood four feet apart, and yet the gap between them seemed wider than the Atlantic Ocean.

  ‘Your ability to wound my vanity, Jane, is boundless, it seems.’

  ‘I am sorry about that, but that’s how it is. You owe me nothing and I will take nothing from you. I don’t need your money. If I did, it would make no difference to my decision. I don’t want to be kept by you or by any man. I am fairly self-sufficient. I prefer it that way.’

  Christopher sighed heavily. ‘You are a stubborn woman, Jane Mortimer. You’re being unreasonable.’

  ‘Unreasonable? Because I won’t marry you? We made love, Christopher. That does not mean you have to marry me.’

  ‘What is wrong with that?’ he demanded to know, his voice harsh with his disappointment. He had expected her to react with delight to his proposal, not with what looked strangely like offence.

  ‘I—I don’t know exactly, but...’

  ‘What? Tell me and I’ll put it right.’ His face worked with some emotion, but he was not a man who liked to plead. ‘Your reputation may be greatly compromised. Have you not thought of that?’

  ‘Why? Because I’m a fallen woman?’

  ‘I didn’t say that.’

  ‘No, but it is what you implied.’

  ‘If word of this gets out you will be ruined.’

  ‘We are the only two people who know. I won’t tell.’

  ‘I won’t either. It’s not the kind of thing one bandies about. But if you don’t marry me and marry someone else, you will have some explaining to do on your wedding night.’ When she only stared at him in bafflement, he laughed. ‘I’m only saying that a man knows when a woman has been with another man.’

  Jane merely stared at him. She could feel the heat flooding her face. ‘Then I won’t marry anyone.’

  He looked at her as she raised her head and found it hard to drag his eyes away from her fascinating visage. ‘It seems to me, Jane, that you made your denial in an emotional state which, though understandable, I would like you to reconsider.’

  ‘I did not,’ Jane declared, a trifle insulted at Christopher’s judgement. ‘I have made my decision.’ Her voice caught for a moment. Now she wondered where the loveliness, the sweetness, the promise of half an hour ago had gone. She swallowed hard and continued. ‘It was wonderful—what we did—the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me. Please don’t think I regret it because I don’t, not for one minute. I am not ashamed. I will not marry you, because despite this attraction, this desire you seem to have for me now, you do not love me, nor care enough for me in any way that would make for a happy marriage. I will not live the rest of my life with any man in a loveless marriage made as a result of his temporary passion, to expunge his guilt. Now please excuse me. I should be getting back. I have much to do before Lady Octavia gets back.’

  He captured her arm as she passed him. ‘Wait.’

  Her gaze flicked to his hand wrapped around her elbow and then up to his eyes. She glared at him. ‘Please don’t touch me again.’

  ‘Do you have to leave Chalfont?’

  ‘Yes. You are not my lord and master.’ She wrenched her arm free.

  He clamped his jaw shut and tore his frustrated gaze away. The haughty, wary look he gave her clashed with the desperation in his eyes. ‘I won’t accept your refusal, Jane. I know by your reaction to my lovemaking that you’re by far from immune to me. I’m willing to overlook your refusal this time, but by God, I swear this is not the end of it.’

  ‘As to that, we will have to see,’ she bit out angrily. ‘I think that now we understand each other.’

  Picking up her riding crop, she walked out of the folly to where her horse waited. Keeping her face averted, she tried not to think of the intimacies they had just shared because it hurt too much to do so. Those moments together, when they had forgotten all else in the need to consummate their passion, had been some of the most exciting of her life. The wild behaviour was so out of character for her. It had been wonderful.

  And then Christopher had spoiled it. He had asked her to marry him to clear his conscience.

&nb
sp; She could not do it. She would not do it.

  When he had blurted out the question, that in itself had been odd. He had spoken as though the words had been forced from his unwilling mouth. As though he had not wanted to ask them, but had felt obliged. Tears clogged her throat. He should have fallen in love with her. He should want to marry her for love. He didn’t want her because he worshipped her.

  Without a word he cupped his hands together in which she placed her foot. When he had hoisted her into the saddle she turned her horse for home.

  It had turned into a soft, late summer’s day. The rain had washed the skies and tossed away the clouds, leaving the sun to shine where it would: gentle and warm and benign. On any other day Jane would have idled along, admiring the loveliness of the sparkling lake and Chalfont in the distance, the heady lilt of the skylark’s song, but she neither saw nor heard any of it.

  They rode back in silence. On reaching the stables, Jane dismounted and walked away.

  * * *

  Christopher watched her go and started to go after her, but then he remembered her words—do not touch me again. The words sank like a knife into his heart. He stopped himself, blind with bewilderment, loss and disbelief. In anger and frustration he slammed his fist into the stable door with a splintering thud.

  Everything inside him raged to go after her and make her stay—to marry him, even if he had to force her to remain at Chalfont until she obeyed. But deep down he knew he would have to let her go. Self-disgust and burning fury coursed through him, reality crushing down on him as he suddenly found his life infuriating and complicated. Everything was in a state of utter confusion—and all because he had been unable to keep his hands off Jane Mortimer.

  He had spent years of evasion, trying to avoid a situation such as this, and he had succeeded, believing himself immune, but it had only taken one look at Jane, one curve of her lovely lips, for him to fall into a trap of his own making.