Perhaps there was another world in which her father had not been murdered, and in which she could have married the second son of an aristocrat and no one would have minded. But that had changed once she’d taken on the position of maid for the Butterworths, and the added responsibility of arranging Christmas for the earl did not change her low position.
Flora wrapped the sheet around her, conscious of her state of undress. The sheets were too soft, the bed too luxurious, for her.
No one could find her here.
Wolfe wouldn’t want that, and she wanted Wolfe to be happy.
Clothes.
She needed clothes.
She swung her gaze around the room, spotting her chemise, dress and stockings dangling in various corners, as if to emphasize the utter inappropriateness of last night.
The adjoining door opened, and Lady Isla stepped inside.
Flora wrapped the sheet around her quickly, conscious that the action was unlikely to mask her unclothed state completely. Her shoulders were bare, and her hair tousled in a manner utterly not in keeping with anyone with a modicum of decency.
Lady Isla narrowed her eyes. The woman was splendid, despite the early hour. Her coiffure emanated exquisiteness.
Lady Isla hesitated. “You seem familiar.”
Flora bit her lip.
There’d been a time when Isla had played with Flora. She’d been older and perhaps prone to bossiness. She’d overwhelmed Flora with a list of her dolls and their accompanying vast collection of clothes. And yet, they’d enjoyed themselves.
“Is that—?” Lady Isla’s confident voice wobbled, and Flora’s chest tightened.
“Greta,” Lady Isla said softly. She swung her gaze to Wolfe. “What is she doing here?”
“You recognized her?” Wolfe’s voice croaked.
“Naturally,” Lady Isla said. “Now can we please speak in private?”
Wolfe shot an apologetic look to Flora, and Isla opened the door to the adjoining room.
“I’m not alone,” Isla said.
“Whom did you bring? Admiral Fitzroy and his wife?”
“You needn’t appear so scandalized. They are very pleasant. No, I didn’t bring them. They are in Southern France. The Duke and Duchess of Vernon are here along with Lord and Lady Hamish Montgomery.”
“Indeed?” Wolfe found himself giving a pleased smile.
“And everyone will be scandalized of your treatment of the duchess’s former maid.”
“I’m treating her well.”
“I don’t think I need tell you they might think it in bad taste to discover you’ve been bedding the duchess’s former lady’s maid. Rather vulgar.”
“There was nothing vulgar about it,” he said defiantly.
Isla raised her eyebrows. “I hardly think you would like me to invite my groomsman up to spend the night with me.”
“Naturally not. That’s—er—quite different. Quite different indeed.”
Isla narrowed her eyes. “Is it?”
The question rushed through his mind.
“I heard our names,” a cheerful voice said, and the duke peered through the open door.
“Callum!” Wolfe said, mustering enthusiasm. “How delightful to see you.”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” the duke said merrily.
HIS FRIENDS WERE HERE. Flora heard the voices. Christmas was truly beginning now.
Even though it had always been her favorite time of year, it occurred to her she would not be able to spend more time alone with Wolfe. He would be busy hosting his friends, and he would not want to deign to admit he’d spent more time than was appropriate with her.
She swallowed hard. She dressed hastily, wishing she’d worn a dress without quite so many buttons. She then smoothed her hair in the silver framed mirror in Wolfe’s room. Her heart beat, and she tried to create some semblance of respectability.
No one could ever know.
She opened the door a crack. She didn’t hear anyone in the hallway. They all seemed to be convened in the room beside. Finally, she swallowed hard and proceeded to march down the corridor.
She made it only ten paces before she heard a voice.
“Flora, my dear!”
Normally Flora enjoyed her past mistress’s sister’s company, but now she halted suddenly, as if she’d been turned to stone.
“I can’t believe it! It’s you!” Lady Hamish Montgomery continued. “Hamish! Look who I found in the corridor!”
In the next moment Lord Hamish Montgomery, the Duke of Vernon, and the Duchess of Vernon had surrounded her in the corridor. She watched as Lady Isla and finally Wolfe joined. She didn’t meet Wolfe’s eyes.
Flora’s heart beat madly. She’d just exited the earl’s room. In the morning. Anyone would find it odd that she was upstairs.
And they didn’t even know she was here. She averted her eyes as if she could in any way hide from Lady Hamish Montgomery. It was impossible.
“I’m working here for the earl,” she said.
“McIntyre, you need a lady’s maid?” The duke slapped Wolfe on the back, and Lord Hamish Montgomery joined him in laughter.
“The solution to having slightly long hair is to cut it off, not to hire a lady’s maid,” the duke continued.
They seemed so happy. She looked at them but she saw no disapproval in their expressions. Only slight confusion.
They don’t know. They don’t suspect.
She’d just been leaving his quarters, but they always saw her as a servant. They didn’t see anything untoward about her appearance, only the fact that she was in Scotland at all.
“I mean...” The duchess looked at her. “You said you were going far away, but I didn’t expect to find you precisely here. Otherwise you could have come with us, couldn’t you have?”
“Naturally,” the duke said. “My wife already misses you as lady’s maid. Others are just not as good.”
“I can certainly believe that,” Wolfe said. “But she is not just a lady’s maid.”
The others rolled their eyes.
“Well, you do not require a lady’s maid,” Lord Hamish Montgomery said.
“Flora is our Christmas consultant,” Wolfe said.
“There’s such a thing?” The duke narrowed his eyes.
“There’s all manner of interesting and new positions,” the duke’s brother said, evidently eager to contradict his twin.
“She is responsible that the festivities for the holiday season go well.”
“Oh, that does sound most fascinating,” the duchess said kindly. “And you’re doing something quite apart from hair and mending.”
The duchess’s sister gave her a curious look.
“She is exceptional,” Wolfe said again, as if worried that the duchess might think her only suited to clothes.
“How extraordinary. Not that I would doubt it,” the duchess’s sister said. “You always were a very sweet maid.”
“It’s quite far to take her,” the duke mused.
“It is a most important position. And I assure you, you will have a most delightful time here,” Wolfe declared, shifting the conversation away from her. “I am so happy you could attend. Perhaps we can go down to the breakfast room together. I’m famished.”
“What a magnificent idea,” Lady Isla said. “We can leave your Christmas consultant in peace to continue her work.”
The others followed her down the stairs.
The duchess turned. “I’m really so excited to see you here. We must talk at some point.”
“That would be lovely.” Flora smiled, but her heart ached.
It didn’t matter. She had work to do. She tried to move briskly and she tried not to have her mind linger on Wolfe.
Flora continued down the corridor, opened the door to the servant’s staircase and then descended down to the kitchen. She would eat something too.
The housekeeper and maid looked at her with pity. They knew what had happened, and they knew now what her new state was.
“I’m sorry, love,” Mrs. Potter said, giving her a drink. “You shouldn’t get too close to the master.”
She raised her chin. “I’m quite well, Mrs. Hopkins. I have some work to do.”
“The ballroom looks beautiful,” one of the maids said.
She smiled. “I think I’ll make some snowflakes to join them. Is there paper?”
The housekeeper nodded. “I have some in the pantry. How many do you need?”
“As many as I can have for you to have sufficient paper until you can order more.”
“Then you must be quite fond of snowflakes.” The housekeeper smiled.
“I am.” She formed snowflakes with the paper, remembering going skating with Wolfe and how actual real life snowflakes had fallen over them and had led them to the cottage and had led them to so much more. It was a good memory, the very best memory she could have.
Then she could go to Cornwall and then she could say that for a few days at least she’d lived in bliss. Perhaps not everyone could say that.
Chapter Eighteen
Wolfe had seen Flora leave dozens of times before. But this time was different. This time it meant everything had changed.
“Your visitors arrived last night,” Hamish said. “Lord Pierce and Mr. Warne.”
“Good, I’m glad,” Wolfe said. “Have they been good guests so far?”
“I think they’re still traumatized from the carriage journey. Not that they would admit it.”
Wolfe chuckled.
“They mentioned going into town tomorrow though. I thought I wouldn’t drag them here for breakfast.”
“Ah. I’m glad. I want the ball to be when they first see McIntyre Manor.”
“When it is at its very finest?” Hamish asked. “Callum mentioned you are trying to matchmake Isla. You’re a good brother.”
“I try to be. I thought I would give her some options.”
“Are you certain she desires to marry?”
Wolfe laughed. Of course Isla wanted to marry. That was obvious. What woman didn’t want to marry? The whole season was filled with women utterly desiring of marrying. He knew. He saw how desirous they were to dance with him, despite his reputation.
“You’ve grown quite amusing since you married,” Wolfe said.
“I wasn’t trying to make a joke,” Hamish grumbled.
“Ah, there’s that serious nature again. I think I’ll be spending more time here,” Wolfe confessed.
“Truly?” Hamish’s eyebrows rose. “When you have Hades’ Lair? I thought that was going well.”
“It is going well,” Wolfe said. “That doesn’t mean I desire to stay there.”
Hamish gave him a strange look.
“What is it?”
“This region is isolated. Are you certain you would be happy?”
“I would be,” Wolfe said.
“Hmph.”
“I suppose it’s an age thing,” Hamish mused. “What you require, Lord McIntyre, is a wife. Were you aware that Lord Pierce is in possession of a sister?”
“I was not.”
“Well, he is in fact,” Hamish said. “Apparently she’s debuting this season. You can snatch her up in January.”
Wolfe shifted his legs over the floor. “I have no desire to be saddled with some eighteen year old bride.”
“Come now. Lord Pierce’s sister has been schooled in the finest finishing schools. She will make a most excellent countess. I’m not simply saying that because Lord Pierce lets me win when we play whist together.”
“I don’t know,” Wolfe said.
“Apparently she is in possession of Lord Pierce’s blond hair, and I remember you remarking at one point that you were partial to the fairer strands of the hair spectrum.
“I’ve changed my mind. I prefer brown hair.”
“Well, as someone with brown hair, I am glad your tastes have matured, though I imagine Lord Pierce’s sister has other fine attributes not relating to her hair color as well. On the other hand, there are bound to be other debutantes who meet your new hair preferences more completely.”
“I don’t want to meet anyone in the season,” Wolfe confessed.
“Suit yourself. But you might be happier with someone. I certainly am.”
“I agree,” Wolfe said. “I don’t believe Miss Pierce is the woman for me.”
“Her father is an earl, so she is Lady Isabella.”
“Lady Isabella then. I don’t believe Lady Isabella is the woman for me.”
“Well. Isla has been spending time with Admiral Fitzroy’s wife, which reminds me that Admiral Fitzroy has a niece. Lady Theodosia. I think she might be suitable. She is a bit silly, but she does like poetry, which must show some sign of intelligence.”
“One would hope so,” Wolfe said. “The thing is I may have already met the right person.”
“Indeed?” There was an odd glimmer in Hamish’s eyes. “That’s good. That’s the hardest part.”
Wolfe tried to smile, but he couldn’t. Perhaps normally meeting someone was the most important part, but this was different. He was an earl. Didn’t he have some responsibilities? He couldn’t really just run off with a former maid of all service.
He would be starting a married life with scandal. His children would be born into that same scandal. It was really not the McIntyre way. At all. The McIntyre way was all about sacrifice. He’d been told that many times. Sacrifice even when everything was difficult.
His father had been stern, and he hadn’t been nice, and perhaps he’d been quite bad. Callum was convinced his father had acted truly malevolently against Callum’s aunt, though at this point no evidence existed. Besides, he did know his father had acted with the interests of the family in mind. Could Wolfe ignore all that sacrifice? Love matches were things for villagers, for people who did not have to think about families, who did not have to think about how a match might affect business interests. And yet, with all his heart he adored her. The thought of all that logic couldn’t sway him from the belief that the best thing for him, the best thing for her, would be to marry.
He sighed. “Can I speak to you in confidence?”
Hamish raised his eyebrows. “I thought you were closer with my brother.”
“You have the reputation for being more sensible.”
“That is true. It’s because of my massive intelligence. Did I mention that I received a new commission?”
At any other time Wolfe would have rolled his eyes. “I’m not doing that badly either.”
Hamish shrugged. “Perhaps. Now what is it.”
“There’s this woman. She’s divine. Like the sun.”
“Though I imagine her hair is more dark?”
“Yes.”
“I gathered that,” Hamish said lightly. “Comes with my massive intelligence.”
“So there is this dark-haired woman who is utterly beguiling.”
“Quite. Though it’s not her appearance that draws me to her.”
“I imagine that’s part of it.”
Wolfe nodded. “Yes, that’s part of it. But none of this would have happened if it had just been her appearance.”
He’d seen pretty maids before, but he’d never desired them. They’d blended into his space, like a nicely formed sconce or sideboard. Something he noticed on occasion, appreciated, but hardly dwelled on.
Devil it, he did dwell on Flora. She was everything.
“If she is so wonderful, what exactly is the issue with her?” Hamish asked.
“There’s no issue with her.”
“Well, then, why don’t you grab your mother’s ring from her jewelry collection, run after her, and propose?”
“Just like that?”
“Why not?” Hamish asked.
“What if we’ve only really known each other a few weeks?”
Hamish snorted. “That’s more time than I’d known my wife. before we married. And trust me, we are exceedingly happy.”
“You have changed.”
/> “You don’t need to meet someone over dozens of balls, have two dances with them each time, and then call on them in the presence of their mothers and any aunts to know whether one wants to marry them or not.” Hamish tilted his head. “Now tell me. Are we talking about your affection for your Christmas consultant?”
Wolfe swallowed hard. “How did you know?”
“She has dark hair and, though my heart is forever my wife’s, I can see there is a certain symmetry in her face that you may deem appealing, but I’ve never seen two people make more effort at not looking at each other.”
“Do you think anyone else noticed?”
“No. I only just put it together, and—”
“—you have a massive intelligence.”
“Oh, now you’re teasing me.”
Wolfe smiled.
“Since she does work for you I would be more cautious. She should not feel compelled to accept any offer you might give her.”
Wolfe swallowed hard. “Her last day is at the Christmas ball.”
“Well. That makes it simple. You don’t have long to wait. You can propose after the ball.”
“Oh.” Wolfe blinked. He’d thought Hamish would be more disapproving. The man had done his best to stop his brother’s match, when he’d deemed him to be making an inappropriate marriage.
“Just so she knows she has the option to get into a carriage and leave. The position really ends after the Christmas ball?”
Wolfe nodded. “Yes. She has a position in Cornwall that begins in January.”
“Then she can decide how ideal the position in Cornwall is. That’s simply my advice.”
“It’s good advice,” Wolfe said.
He resisted his urge to bound down the stairs and go after her, and say that spending his days with his friends did not surpass spending his time with her. Besides, this day had been about his sister Isla. He mustn’t forget that. It would do no good causing a scandal beforehand, and Isla had made her opinions on Flora quite clear. Even though they’d been friends at one point, Isla did not approve of Flora in Wolfe’s bed, and he hardly thought Isla would approve of Flora as his wife.
Lords, Snow and Mistletoe: A Regency Christmas Collection Page 27