Christmas Delights

by Heather Hiestand

  “It can happen,” Lewis said. “But I do not know what the chance of it is. I know so little of what has transpired.”

  “Will I go mad?” Penelope said in a tiny voice.

  “I do not know that either,” he admitted. “But you cannot spend your life worrying about it. You have to be strong and take what pleasure you can in each day unfolding after the next.”

  “I feel quite desperate sometimes.” She gulped air, her small chest heaving.

  “Your mother was perfectly well for a very long time, correct?” he asked.

  “I suppose.”

  “She must be in her thirties,” he ventured. Of course, now that he was in his thirties, it did not seem like such a long time to hang on to sanity.

  Penelope nodded.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, trying not to show any anxiety. “I’m certain you will be fine.”

  “You are?”

  “You are also your father’s daughter, and you have a strong character, Miss Penelope Courtnay. Very like your cousin. I don’t see an ounce of surrender in you.”

  “No?” Her lips curved into a tiny smile.

  He shook his head. “I believe you will fight hard against anything, though I would attempt to moderate your temper.”

  “People say such mean things,” she muttered.

  “I’m sure they do, but it is a reflection upon them, not you. Say a prayer for them instead of giving in to heated emotions.”

  “Mr. Noble?”

  He heard Victoria’s muffled voice on the other side of the green baize door. The door opened and she appeared.

  “Are you ready to depart?” She looked pale but composed.

  For himself, he could not wait to leave. They would be pushing daylight on their return and he didn’t like the idea of driving on the mucky path around the lake after dark.

  He took Penelope’s cup and poured another few ounces of steaming water into it. “Here, drink this before we leave.”

  Victoria took the cup gratefully.

  “I am sorry I did not offer refreshments,” the servant said, entering silently. “I explained why. Would you like me to serve you now?”

  “I understand,” Victoria said, inhaling the steam from the cup. “And no, we must be on our way.”

  “I took some bread and cheese for the child,” Lewis said.

  The woman nodded, unperturbed.

  Five minutes later, they were back in the carriage. While the motor warmed, Lewis checked the chimneys. Only one had smoke rising. “They are going to freeze.”

  “It is better than burning,” Victoria said. “I will explain later, but for now, let us return to Pevensey.”

  He nodded and drove out of the field. Penelope huddled under her furs and wrapped the tarp into a kind of a tent around her, even though they had the awning to protect them from the occasional drizzle. Victoria pressed herself tightly against Lewis, her head drooping against his shoulder at times.

  He felt intense gratitude that she found comfort with him, instead of holding herself stiffly apart in her grief. They did have a real, alchemical connection. He would go to her in his grief, too; he knew that. But what good did that do them, when she planned to spend her life in Liverpool? His cousin Rose had more likelihood of spending time with Victoria than he did.

  CHAPTER 13

  Victoria had intended to go downstairs for the New Year’s Eve ball. She had an elegant white-and-black dress that perfectly complemented an ebony feathered headpiece, and she suspected tonight would be the final main event of the house party. This would likely be the last night to meet local society. Also, Lady Florence’s maid had said her father had returned, and she desperately wanted to speak to him. He had not turned up for afternoon tea in the parlor, or come to her room after she dressed.

  But Penelope refused to go up to the nursery. And so Victoria found herself in an armchair at the end of the corridor near her room after dinner, in the very alcove where she and Lewis had explored sensual delights in such a naughty and discoverable manner. She shifted uncomfortably in the armchair, the mere thought of his flesh pounding into hers making her moist between the soft skin of her thighs.

  “Why are you sighing? Are you sad?” Penelope asked, her tone plaintive as she wriggled on the opposite chair.

  Victoria stared at the three-tiered stand of marzipan fruits between them. Pure marzipan was too sweet for her tastes now, after so much effort to reduce, but she thought she might indulge in one of the dates, which was stuffed with marzipan, topped with an almond, then dusted with sparkling colored sugar. “I am deciding if I am hungry enough for one of these treats. You really shouldn’t have brought so many.”

  “I thought they might cheer me.” Penelope chose a tiny blueberry-colored marzipan treat and popped it into her mouth. “They are terribly pretty.”

  “Jings, but that’s a lot o’ marzipan,” said the Baron of Alix.

  Victoria hadn’t even noticed him in the corridor, which was a sign of her sorry state. Had he been coming to see her? His room wasn’t nearby. “Hello, John.”

  He smiled warmly at her, and she knew he was pleased she had remembered to use his first name, as he’d requested when they’d agreed to be friends. “May I escort you to the ball, Victoria?”

  Before she could explain Penelope’s wish to keep her nearby, she heard the sound of a door opening farther down on the corridor. Quick steps loped toward them and two people appeared. Victoria inhaled sharply at the sight of Lewis, lean and dangerous, his eyes shadowed by the brim of an American cowboy hat. The planes of his face were made sharp by the tilted hat, and his studied sneer thinned and lengthened his sensual lips. The rest of his clothing was conventional evening wear. Eddy wore nice clothing as well, though one side of his collar was askew. She glanced at John and realized the baron had a sailor’s cap sloping back on his head, which she hadn’t even noticed. Her headdress was still back in her room, too heavy to wear for no purpose.

  Penelope swallowed her unchewed blueberry treat and began coughing when Eddy winked at her. Victoria patted her on the back until she stopped.

  “Is that marzipan for anyone?” Eddy asked.

  Penelope nodded her assent, though she still couldn’t speak. Lewis narrowed his eyes in the baron’s direction and pulled a chair away from the wall. She hadn’t realized there were more chairs hiding along the stone walls and shivered at the idea that people could have observed them when they coupled without her ever seeing them. The shadows were deep and consumed the stone.

  John took a seat, too, and the four of them each chose a marzipan creation. Eddy grabbed an entire stem of grapes, though the men were more abstemious, each taking a banana. Victoria sighed and surrendered to one of the date confections.

  Lewis stared hard at her. “Have you shared your solution to the five coins riddle with Penelope?”

  She smiled, amused that he remembered her fairy tale. She hoped to ease the tension she felt emanating from him. Did he think she had planned to meet John here? “Yes, when I was sitting in the back of the carriage with her yesterday. To be honest, Penelope, Lewis imagined the juggling ice creature, not me. He’s very creative.”

  He nodded. “I couldn’t hear you with the wind in my ears. What comes next?”

  “The jars. Four jars unopened,” Penelope said somewhat indistinctly around a marzipan pear.

  The baron shook his head and grinned. The sailor’s hat must be pinned because it did not budge from its precarious position. “I look forward tae hearing the entire story.”

  Victoria glanced at the cowboy hat again, amazed at how it toughened Lewis’s features. She wished they were alone so she could kiss him, to see if she could soften those hard lips. “I need to write it down so I don’t forget.”

  “You can share it with your children someday.” John’s expression warmed.

  It made Victoria acutely uncomfortable, sitting here with such a nice man . . . and her lover, who was not looking so nice at that moment. No, Lewis was d
isgruntled, but he had no power over her, not when he had not proposed. She did not expect him to put her father’s wishes for her over his own business, but he could be more circumspect.

  She shifted uneasily in her seat. Lewis’s gaze went from her armchair to Penelope’s, then back again. His eyes drifted to her décol-letage. She felt her skin grow hot.

  “Er.” She cleared her throat. “And so to the jars. Princess Everilda remembered a tale of the jars that might be relevant. The four jars carried purity, humility, stewardship, and Christian charity. The female virtues.”

  Lewis lifted a brow and she glared at him.

  “My story is set long ago,” she pointed out.

  “Go on,” he said through gritted teeth. John, in contrast, smiled pleasantly.

  “Of course, the princess had no idea how the legend of the jars would play into her quest to free Prince Hugh from his stepmama’s trap. She decided to go for a quiet walk and pulled a thick fur mantle around her shoulders. Like today, there was only a little ground before the lake, and she was soon at the edge, where she found four jars bobbing among the reeds.”

  “Was Moses there in a basket, too?” John asked, mischief dancing in his eyes.

  “My story is not set that far back in time,” she reproved. “No, it was the cusp of the New Year, though a little earlier in the day, so there was still light.”

  “The jars?” Penelope prompted.

  “Yes. They were clear, and a strange kind of light emanated from them. Princess Everilda wondered if they were safe to touch. Luckily, she found a discarded shepherd’s crook on the ground.”

  “How fortuitous,” Lewis murmured.

  Victoria was tempted to throw a marzipan apple at him. “She used it to pull the first jar out of the reeds. When she had it on the ground next to her, she knelt on the muddy bank and leaned close. It emitted a hum.

  “She counseled herself to be brave and, after drawing her dagger from her belt for security, unstoppered the first jar. The ray of light rose into the air, and Prince Hugh’s face appeared, positively angelic in the crystalline nimbus. ‘Are you true?’ he asked.

  “ ‘Of course,’ she cried, and his image vanished. Desperate now to see her beloved’s face again, she pulled the second jar to her and unstoppered it.

  “His face appeared again. ‘Are you proud?’ he asked. She responded resoundingly, ‘No!’ He vanished yet again.

  “This time, she waded into the lake herself and grabbed both of the remaining jars. When she opened the third jar, the prince showed himself. ‘Is the castle secure?’ She did not know how to answer, for the malevolent designs of the dead queen had surely invaded her realm, yet no human foe was causing a problem.

  “ ‘I don’t know,’ she answered, as honestly as she dared. Then she opened the last jar.

  “ ‘Are the people fed?’ asked Prince Hugh.

  “ ‘Of course,’ she said, surprised. ‘There is no hunger among the castle folk.’

  “The jars flared again, and Prince Hugh appeared above them. ‘Take a basket of bread to the bell tower of the church at midnight and feed the birds.’ She held out her hands to him in despair, but he vanished.” Victoria popped the rest of her date into her mouth, satisfied by her story.

  “Three bells unrung is the next clue,” Penelope said.

  “Fascinating,” John exclaimed. He brushed one hand against another, then pulled gloves from his pocket. “May I escort ye to find your headpiece, Victoria?”

  She saw Lewis’s jaw work when he heard her name. Did he think she had offered her body to the baron as well? She lifted her chin. “Penelope would like me to stay with her.”

  “Ye canna,” John said. “She’s meant tae go tae the children’s party in the nursery. Come, Miss Penelope, ye do not want to miss that. I understand the vicar’s children are here and are expecting ye.”

  Victoria watched, bemused, as he jollied her cousin into taking his hand and walking down the corridor. She expected Lewis to pause outside her door, but he followed John and was trailed by Eddy. They all vanished up the staircase and down the corridor, leaving her alone. She went into her room and attempted to place her headpiece, but she couldn’t balance it alone. The maid had disappeared. She gave up after fifteen minutes and plucked a plume from the headdress, affixing it to the back of her head, then tied a scarf around her forehead so she looked like an Indian princess. Cowboys and Indians. She’d keep Lewis connected to her one way or another. Just seeing him in that hat had made her knees weak. She would do better to ignore him at the ball and let her father see her doing as he asked.

  By the time Lewis had asked Victoria for a dance, her card was full. She hadn’t seemed very sorry to refuse him. He’d heard her breath catch earlier that night and knew she felt something, but perhaps it was only lust. While he’d been raised not to ascribe such coarse feelings to a lady, he knew Victoria, at least, was an exception to the rule.

  Some part of him was not surprised when he ventured back down his corridor a little after midnight, when the champagne had been drunk and good wishes bestowed all around, and found Victoria there.

  At least this time she was alone. No children, no Scottish baron, not even the marzipan. She had what looked like a beauty mark on her cheek, but when she turned into the flickering light of the candle that burned on the windowsill, he suspected it was a dot of frosting from the enormous, multiple-tiered cake that had been served, brought down from Redcake’s in London.

  He lifted his finger to her cheek and wiped the sugary substance away. Buttercream. He’d know that smell anywhere after years of designing, installing, and maintaining equipment in the bakeries.

  “What?” she asked, putting her ungloved fingers to the place he’d touched.

  He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the substance away. “You must have been into the cake.”

  “Just one bite, to see if it tasted as good as I remembered.”

  “Did it?”

  “No,” she said softly. “Everything is too sweet now. Cake, marzipan, chocolate drinks.”

  “Why did you do it? All that self-denial?”

  “You don’t think I deny myself much, do you,” she said with a wry twist of her lips.

  “I know you do,” he said. “Food, at least.”

  Her voice was all but swallowed up by the shadows. “Why are you so cross with me?”

  He considered his response for a moment, then chose honesty. “I was jealous when I heard the baron call you by your Christian name.”

  “We agreed to be friends.”

  He silently saluted the baron for his underhanded tactic with the most eligible heiress present at the house party. “He’s not a suitor, then?”

  She sighed. “I must marry someone someday, Lewis. My father has softened his requirements somewhat. The baron would suit him.”

  “But not me.” He knew he shouldn’t feel irritation, but he did.

  “I am sure he would be delighted to have you join the family in Liverpool, if you cared for me more than you care for your work. But I know you well enough to understand the truth.”

  “You do?”

  “Of course. We shall only have this.” She stepped toward him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I find myself unable to say no to you, for the little time we have left.”

  “I have not asked anything of you,” Lewis said. He knew he had been foolish the moment he opened his mouth. Her arms released him and she stepped back. The single candle only offered him the odd glimpse of her face.

  “No?”

  “No. I did not know I would find you here. But now that I have, I should wish you a very happy New Year. Best wishes to you, Lady Allen-Hill.” He bowed stiffly, feeling like some old-fashioned courtier in a play, and went to his room.

  She came after him, her footfalls light on the carpet. “Lewis! Please.” Her hand closed on his biceps.

  “Will you allow me inside you tonight?” he asked harshly. “Moan your pleasure, clutch at my back, call my n
ame, then simper and make love to the baron with your eyes at breakfast?”

  “Why are you being so cruel? Take off that hat so I can see you.” She lifted her hands to his face.

  He tore it off, threw it to the stone floor, then ran his fingers through his matted hair. “What else? Shall I take off my jacket, my trousers? Do you want me to expose myself to you right here, where anyone can walk by? Do you want to be compromised, Victoria? Force your father to see your wanton ways so that he will let you do what you want?”

  She drew breath sharply. “I want him to be happy, to know his life’s work is secure in good hands. I’ve never been a disappointment to him.”

  “Then why do you pursue me? Why do you risk yourself?”

  “I want you to want me more than anything!” She coughed.

  He knew her ire had exceeded her ability to breathe in her tight stays. How often had he heard Alys complain about the restrictions of gowns. Victoria’s gown was laced so tightly that her cleavage fairly popped from the top, a delectable bounty that he ached to sample, even as it lessened her ability to argue.

  “I don’t want you more than anything. More than most things, I imagine, but less than my pride, less than my self-worth. It was very difficult for me to make my uncle see that I was more than his lackey, that I had value. I will never subordinate myself to another man. I have too much talent.” He bent down and picked up his hat, then placed it over his heart.

  “And too much success,” she said slowly. “There is no benefit to you. Mr. Lewis Noble is too successful to apprentice under Mr. Rupert Courtnay. No, I would need one of those popinjays who were sent away for that. But me, I still want a real man.”

  “Find someone your own age. I’d have been an excellent candidate when I was, what, twenty-one like you?”

  She nodded. “Precisely. But then I wouldn’t know what I was getting, and isn’t that important, too?”

  “You picked unwisely.” He could tell she was close to tears, though of sorrow or rage he couldn’t be sure. “Your father has chosen his desires over you. You must understand that. As you are not beholden to him financially, I am not sure why you let him dictate to you still.”