The Christmas Visit: Comfort and JoyLove at First StepA Christmas Secret

by Moore, Margaret

  As they sat alone by the frosted windowpanes, they watched the men play a game of curling on the frozen pond a short distance from the house. “I know your secret, Lady Louise,” she said, keeping her attention on the game as she discreetly withdrew the blackmailer’s handkerchief and pretended to dab her forehead with it. No, the duchess showed no signs of recognition.

  A slight rustle indicated that Lady Louise had turned toward her. “Indeed? What secret might that be, my dear?”

  “The…the one that would devastate your husband.”

  There was a long silence before she replied. “You will not tell him, will you?”

  “That depends upon you, Your Grace. I would like to hear your reasons for keeping it secret.” She could not tear her attention from Julius. He could whisk the broom more effectively than any of the others. He glanced up at the window and waved to her, and she was convinced anew that she was quite the luckiest girl in Oxfordshire.

  “Why, because you were right. It would devastate Elmhurst. You cannot know the pride he takes in it.”

  “In…?” What was the woman talking about?

  “If he knew I could do it better, he would question our entire marriage. Why, he believes I admire him for it.”

  Charity frowned. “But, if he knew—”

  “Have you ever heard him play, Miss Wardlow? He is passable, but hardly the virtuoso he believes himself to be.”

  “The…the pianoforte?” she guessed.

  “The very first time we met, I gushed like a schoolgirl over his skill and told him how he evoked memories of soft summer nights and daydreams of love. That praise formed the foundation of our friendship. If he knew I was once considered a prodigy and played at the king’s request, he…he would be humiliated. He would think I was laughing at him behind his back. I could not bear that.”

  “For him to know that your skill is greater than his?”

  “It seems such a silly thing, I know, but it is his secret vanity. If he knew my skill exceeded his, he’d be so ashamed. I doubt he’d ever trust me again.”

  Charity’s heart twisted. How touching a thing to protect the pride of one you love! “Oh, my dear Lady Louise. Your secret is safe with me. I swear it.”

  “But how did you find out? I was so careful to cover it. The poor king recalls nothing, and my piano instructor has gone back to France.”

  “I…I, ah, noted your expression when your husband played the first night you arrived. You looked as if you yearned to touch the keys.”

  “Oh, I do. I only play when Elmhurst is gone. I shall have to be more careful. Thank you for warning me, Miss Wardlow. I shall be forever grateful.”

  Charity felt like a complete fraud.

  She noted Sir Andrew standing a few feet away. He gave her a little signal and moved toward the door. Clearly he wanted her to follow him. She stood and offered a little curtsy. “I must go now, but I hope we shall have the opportunity to chat again soon.”

  “I shall make the time, dear Miss Wardlow. It is rare to find someone who understands a wife’s deep regard for her husband.”

  “Your eavesdropping, Sir Andrew. Habitual or…”

  A tiny smile twitched the corners of her delicious mouth. The imp was teasing him! No one had done that before and made him like it. “Amusing, Miss Wardlow. I was not eavesdropping. I came to find you.”

  “Do you have news?”

  She took his arm as they walked slowly toward the music room and it occurred to him that he was going to miss her when he returned to Scotland. “I spoke with Mackay,” he said. “I am convinced that he is not concealing an illegitimate child. The woman, whoever she is, must think she can extort money from him on the accusation alone.”

  “I think that is wishful thinking, Sir Andrew, but it does you credit as Mackay’s friend. As for me, I had a very enlightening conversation with Lady Louise,” she told him. “She has a secret, but it has nothing to do with Mackay.”

  He had overheard enough to know that, and he admired the way Miss Wardlow—Charity—had handled the situation.

  “Who shall we question next?” she asked.

  He loved that they could disagree and be at odds yet tease, laugh and be friends. And, despite that he wanted no part of her meddling scheme, he liked her use of we. “Miss Gwendolyn Lindenhouse,” he sighed. “I shall introduce you at luncheon.”

  The music room was, indeed, empty. Charity crossed the large room to the piano, sat down and riffled the keys. “Would it not be glorious to create beauty, whether in music or in art? I am so poorly equipped in both.”

  He sat beside her, touched by her wistfulness. “Beauty, sweet Charity, is in the eye of the beholder.” He lifted her chin with his forefinger until her face was tilted up to his. He searched her expression for any sign that his touch was not welcome and was relieved to find none. He couldn’t be certain he could have stopped if he had.

  Her smile faded as her lips softened and parted, welcoming his kiss. He knew the moment his mouth met hers that he was in deep trouble. Yesterday, she had been sitting on this very piano bench with Julius Lingate. She had blushed as Lingate kissed her hand, and a prick of envy and regret had tweaked him. He had been taken with her appearance then, but he was captivated by the woman now. He wanted Charity Wardlow. He wanted her modesty, her principles, her strength of character and her quiet determination.

  Aye, and he wanted the rest of her, too. He wanted the slender, lithe body naked and twisting against his in the throes of passion. He wanted to watch her breasts grow ripe and her belly round with his baby. He wanted long conversations with her before a crackling fire, and he wanted to know what pleased her, angered her, excited her.

  She made a soft little moan when he began to relinquish her mouth. That was all the encouragement he needed to deepen the kiss again. He slid his arms around her and gathered her to his chest, relishing the feel of her soft breasts as they flattened against him, the slender curve of her back and, dear Lord, the graceful arch of her neck when she tilted her head back to meet his mouth.

  Wordlessly, instinctively, she turned her head to give him access to her throat. And, just as he’d known she would, she gasped when he lifted the silken blond curls and trailed a line of kisses from her earlobe to the back of her neck. She was so responsive. So ready. Dare he risk more?

  As he moved his hand toward the low curve of her décolletage, a clatter of boots in the foyer interrupted them. Blast! It was the overgrown schoolboys returning from their game of curling. He released Charity, noting her look of confused disorientation. Next time he’d lock the damned door.

  “Hail Lingate!” the call went up from the hall. “Hail the conquering hero!”

  Lingate. That undeserving blighter! Drew couldn’t be certain what the man’s intentions were, but he knew Charity was prone to favor him. He would have to work closely and quickly if he was to woo her away.

  Was Mackay right? Was he meddling in Miss Wardlow’s affairs? He glanced at the curve of her flushed cheek as she watched Lingate bask in the glow of her admiration. No. This wasn’t meddling. God, no! This was a rescue.

  Chapter Five

  After the midday meal, Charity went looking for Sir Andrew. They hadn’t been placed anywhere near each other for the meal, so the occasion to introduce her to Miss Gwendolyn Lindenhouse had not presented itself. She was anxious for the introduction since time was so short, and she wanted to devote the rest of her afternoon to her investigation. She was not so worried about the women she already knew. She could strike up conversations with them whenever the opportunity to be alone with them arose. After Miss Lindenhouse, there would be four names left on her list. With luck, she would complete her inquiries before Olivia’s wedding day.

  Masculine voices carried down the corridor from the library. Sensitive to Sir Andrew’s accusation that she was a common eavesdropper, Charity walked boldly to the door and stood at the entrance, awaiting Sir Andrew’s notice. A dozen or more men were lounging near the fireplace, rum
toddies warming their palms. Lord Edward, Julius and Sir Andrew had raised their glasses in a toast.

  “To wives and beloveds,” Lord Edward declared.

  Before they could drink, Julius added, “And may they never cross paths!”

  Most of the men laughed and even she smiled, thinking him terribly clever. Sir Andrew, however, shot Julius a nasty look. Only then did it occur to her that perhaps Drew had a finer appreciation of the nature of love. Oh, but surely Julius had only been joking. Julius flushed from Sir Andrew’s dark look and Charity realized he was a little afraid of Sir Andrew.

  Seeing the two men side by side gave her pause. Though Julius was classically handsome and gracefully built, there was a strong magnetic appeal to Sir Andrew’s sheer masculinity and tensile strength that overshadowed Julius. At a distance, she could finally understand why she had been so pliant to Sir Andrew’s hypnotic pull. Still, she could not help but be a little chagrined for the liberties she had allowed him—liberties she had never allowed any man, including Julius.

  Enough of her silly fickleness! “Psst!” she whispered when Sir Andrew glanced toward the door. She motioned him to join her in the corridor.

  Sir Andrew finished his toddy and left his empty glass on the mantel, excusing himself for a moment.

  “Miss Wardlow,” he said with a polite bow of his head. The grin he gave her when he straightened nearly made her forget why she was there. “Did you wish to speak with me?”

  “Um, yes. I wonder if you could introduce me to Miss Lindenhouse now.”

  “But of course,” he said, taking her arm. “Where is our quarry?”

  She rather liked the sound of “our.” It made her feel as if he were as committed to the investigation as she. “In the sitting room, Sir Andrew. She is conversing with several other ladies at the moment.”

  “Will we be conspicuous?”

  “Conspicuous?” she puzzled. “I cannot think why.”

  “I will be entering a female domain, introducing you, and then going away. Would that not look suspicious?”

  “Hmm.” How had something so obvious escaped her? “Perhaps you are right. Perhaps I should introduce myself or ask one of the other ladies to do it. I only wanted to avoid the inevitable questions about why I should like to make Miss Lindenhouse’s acquaintance.”

  “Ah,” he said. “I see. Well, glad to be of service. I shall stay and take part in the conversation. Then no one shall think it odd that I disappear after the introduction.”

  “No!” she gasped. How could she pry into personal matters with Sir Andrew watching her with those unfathomable deep blue eyes? “That is, I do not think Miss Lindenhouse would speak freely in front of a man. And she would certainly think me ill-bred to bring it up in mixed company.”

  “Such sensibility never concerned you before,” he murmured.

  Was that criticism? “Women are more forthcoming than men, Sir Andrew. We share information with each other more easily,” she said defensively.

  “I can see that you’ve given your plan considerable thought, Miss Wardlow. And so have I. Yes, I’ve decided that I will have to stick close to you. How else will I keep you honest? And I would like to hear your conversations for myself. Perhaps some little tidbit will drop that would help point us in the right direction. I am very astute in detecting a lie.”

  She was not certain she wanted Sir Andrew witnessing her inquiries. Somehow it seemed a betrayal of the confidences she was encouraging. Before she could express her concern, Sir Andrew took her arm and led her toward the sitting room.

  “You can trust my discretion, Miss Wardlow. As you know, I have an abhorrence for meddling and never repeat anything I overhear, by accident or otherwise.”

  “But would you not rather be with your friends in the library? Surely they provide more compatible entertainments.”

  “I cannot think of more entertaining company than you, Miss Wardlow.” His hand covered hers where it rested on his other arm and a shock of pleasure spiraled up her spine. “And I shall be at hand to discuss the results. I believe it was you who said we would have to work quickly.”

  She nodded, her skin warming beneath his touch. There seemed no solution but to allow him to come along.

  Once the introductions were performed, Drew bowed and excused himself with the reason that he needed to catch up on his correspondence. He took several folded letters from the inside of his jacket and sat in a low overstuffed chair not far away from Misses Wardlow and Lindenhouse. To discourage interruptions, he kept his head down as if in study of the pile of letters in his lap.

  Charity—he allowed himself to think of her in that way now that he’d decided to woo her—opened the conversation with a few innocuous observations of the festivities. Indeed, they seemed to agree on almost everything. When they arrived at the point at which men began—friends and acquaintances in common—he had to smile.

  “Yes, Lady Auberville is a dear friend of mine. She and I have known each other from the schoolroom,” Charity said.

  “I was quite surprised when I heard that she and Auberville were married,” Miss Lindenhouse admitted. “I knew her from Miss Smythe’s Academy for Young Ladies, and she had always sworn that she would never marry. And by special license to one so proper as Auberville—well, you can imagine the amazement that caused!”

  Charity laughed. “I can, indeed. Her dearest friends were caught by surprise as well. But the deed is done and she is quite content. More than content, I’d say. Lady Annica admitted it was a love match.”

  Miss Lindenhouse sighed and glanced down at her hands folded in her lap. “Is that not what we all would like, Miss Wardlow? And yet, how can one trust something so fickle as love?”

  Drew saw Charity’s chest rise in a deep breath and he knew she had decided that it was time to launch into her inquiry. She leaned closer to her companion and lowered her voice as she offered a handkerchief. Lord! It was the one he’d taken from Mackay’s drawer. What a bold ploy. Would Miss Lindenhouse recognize it?

  “I know your secret, Miss Lindenhouse. You may speak frankly with me.”

  “You know?” Miss Lindenhouse looked stricken. “But how?”

  Charity shrugged. “People say things when they think no one is listening.”

  “But that means…he must have been talking about it.”

  Charity’s brow creased in sympathy, as if she regretted causing Miss Lindenhouse distress. “M-more that he was muttering to himself,” she said.

  “Oh,” Miss Lindenhouse sighed. “I suppose you think poorly of me now?”

  “Not at all,” Charity replied quickly. “We all make mistakes. I have made one very similar to yours.”

  Miss Lindenhouse’s brown eyes grew round as she handed the handkerchief back. “You? With whom, Miss Wardlow?”

  Charity’s cheeks flushed crimson. To be caught in a lie? Or because her confession held some truth? And what in heaven’s name was she confessing to? Did she even know?

  “With…with someone I had known for many years.”

  “Yes, familiarity is a great danger, is it not? There is something to be said for keeping one’s distance and not allowing any familiarities before marriage. Once a door has been opened, it is difficult to shut.”

  “So you ended it?” Charity asked.

  “Oh, yes. Once I realized Mr. Greene had cozened me, I had no choice. The consequences could be too grave.”

  “What consequences, Miss Lindenhouse?”

  “Why, babies, of course.”

  Charity nodded sagely. “Ah, yes. So you had issue?”

  Drew sat forward. Was it going to be this easy? Charity’s line of questioning had been so smooth he hadn’t seen it coming.

  “Heavens, no! I ended it before it could come to that. But I have no doubt it would have. Even so, my innocence and his conscienceless behavior have compromised me beyond redemption. Who will want me now?”

  “Now that you are no longer…”

  “Precisely. I collect y
ou were not quite so deceived as I and escaped irreparable damage?”

  “No,” Charity admitted, “I was not so deceived. Even so, Miss Lindenhouse, you must not give up hope. Surely there is a good man somewhere who—”

  “No!” Miss Lindenhouse held up one hand in protest. “The experience so damaged my trust in the stronger sex that I want nothing further to do with them.”

  Drew could not help but admire Charity’s ploy. She really was quite adept at questioning, and her instincts were unfailing. Perhaps she had not been boasting when she told him she’d had experience in investigations.

  She cast him a covert glance before returning her attention to her companion. “Miss Lindenhouse, if you should ever, ah, require, well, justice, please call upon me back in London and we can discuss this further. For now, simply know that your secret is safe and will never be mentioned again unless you are the one to bring it up.”

  Charity started to rise, but Miss Lindenhouse took her hand. “Miss Wardlow, what was it that Mr. Greene was murmuring?”

  She looked confused for a moment and Drew knew she was weighing her words for possible consequence. If she was smart, she would say nothing to encourage Miss Lindenhouse to renew her relationship with the cad, nor would she unnecessarily hurt the woman.

  “Just that he should not have used you so poorly. It may be that he is afraid you will tell someone, for who will trust their daughters to him then? My advice is to say nothing to him and let him stew in his own juices. A fitting form of revenge, eh?”

  The smile that spread over Miss Lindenhouse’s rather plain face made her radiant. “Yes, indeed. Oh, that makes me feel ever so much better.”

  The thin winter sun slanted through the sitting-room window as Charity stood, setting a soft glow in her blond tresses and lighting her yellow gown like a torch. There was not a woman in the room who could hold a candle to Charity, and a fierce surprising stab of possessiveness swept over him.