Snowbound Wedding Wishes: An Earl Beneath the MistletoeTwelfth Night ProposalChristmas at Oakhurst Manor (Harlequin Historical)

by Allen, Louise

  His face must have expressed his astonishment.

  She bobbed a curtsy that irritated him beyond measure. ‘We’re all ready, my lord, as you’ll see. Sarah! Joan!’ The two Harris girls presented themselves also, and curtsied low—all in black, except for their aprons and caps.

  ‘You look ready for a funeral,’ Theo said heavily.

  Jenna kept that bright smile pasted to her face. ‘But, my lord, we don’t want you to be ashamed of us country folk,’ she said softly. ‘Is there anything else we should be doing to prepare for your guests?’

  Hell’s teeth, she was playing games. He wanted to rip that stupid cap off her head and kiss her. Instead he just said, ‘Everything is absolutely perfect, Jenna. Though—do you think you could send for those musicians to come this afternoon?’

  ‘Presumably so your guests can laugh at them, my lord?’

  ‘Look.’ He drew a deep breath. ‘I thought I’d made it clear. I didn’t invite these visitors and they’re the kind of people I left London to get away from, for God’s sake!’

  She said nothing. He rubbed his temples. ‘Jenna—what age was old Lord Northcote when he died?’

  ‘He wasn’t old at all, my lord,’ she answered quietly. ‘He was thirty-five.’

  ‘Then—Jenna!’

  But she’d already gone to speak to Rob, who was bringing in logs from the yard. Theo sighed and went to get changed.

  * * *

  Outwardly calm, Jenna saw that all the food was ready. She checked again that the girls’ black dresses were tidy and their aprons clean, their hands and faces spotless. She looked at herself, in a mirror on the wall. Some locks of her fair hair had strayed. She pinned them tightly under her cap again, because she was, after all, only a servant.

  She would soon be waiting on those rich people from London. Loud, confident men and beautiful women amongst whom Lord Dalbury, despite his protests, would be at ease. With whom he would talk and laugh...

  He’d kissed her. He’d asked her to be his mistress, and when she’d refused, he’d been angry, perhaps thought she was angling for more. When all she could think was that his touch melted her, his kiss had been the sweetest thing she’d known, and for more of those moments in his arms, she would have given anything, anything at all.

  He would be leaving, very soon. Yet since the day he’d arrived, her life had changed. Her world had changed.

  You should have accepted his offer, you fool.

  But he didn’t really mean it. He couldn’t mean it. Look at the way he’d poured scorn on everything here—the customs, the music, the food. And as for his kiss, he was just like all men. Quickly aroused, wanting to bed her then and there—but he’d soon forget her, as she must forget him.

  And yet, the certainty of him leaving here was like a dark chasm opening up before her. As long as you don’t let him know it, she told herself rather desperately. That was all that mattered now. As long as you never let him know it, you will manage, somehow! But she wasn’t even sure of that, when his friends arrived.

  Chapter Nine

  Lady Celia’s party arrived soon after one. It had grown colder during the last day or so, Theo had noticed; the ground was iron hard, and the blackbirds were clacking in the woods as they hopped from branch to branch searching for the last shrivelled berries.

  Theo welcomed them all in the big entrance hall, where Aggie and Jenna and the two girls, in their black gowns and hideous caps, waited to take their coats and mantles. The guests exclaimed in wonder over the hall and the roaring log fires, and the greenery everywhere.

  ‘Why, it’s positively medieval, darling Theo!’ cried Lady Celia in her shrill voice. She was only nineteen, but already sounded exactly like her mother. ‘There must be ghosts!’

  ‘No ghosts,’ said Theo flatly, but Celia’s mother, wandering down the passageway, had already spotted the winding stairs to the turret and gave a squeal of delight. ‘Theo, please—’

  ‘No,’ said Theo with unexpected sharpness. ‘Don’t go up there.’

  The women pretended to cower with fright. ‘Why not, Theo? Oh, don’t say there really is a ghost and you’re not telling us?’

  Theo barred the way. ‘The stairs are unsafe,’ he said and ushered them towards the dining hall with gritted teeth.

  * * *

  Two hours later Theo was forced to acknowledge that all his plans had gone completely, hideously wrong.

  He’d thought the ancient hall would horrify them—but they loved it. He’d relied on the food to make them recoil in fastidious distaste. But instead, as Aggie, Jenna and the Harris girls brought in course after course, they applauded with delight. The brawn, the chitterlings—he still wasn’t sure what they were, and didn’t really want to know—and finally the boar’s head, with an apple stuck in its gaping mouth—they adored it all.

  ‘When we reach Chatsworth tonight,’ exclaimed Lady Celia, ‘we can tell the dear Duke that we have had a positively enchanting time!’

  When Jenna came in to whisper that the musicians had arrived, Theo hurried out to speak to them. ‘In you go, lads. Make it as loud as possible, will you?’

  ‘Right you are, your lordship!’ grinned Joe. ‘We’ll tune up first, shall we?’

  ‘God, no,’ said Theo. ‘Those bagpipes of yours, Ned—my guests can’t wait to hear them. In fact—I’m depending on all of you.’ You don’t know how much I’m depending on you.

  One by one the musicians traipsed in, clearing their throats and shuffling bashfully. There was a startled silence from Theo’s guests as they began a wassail song. Theo began to hope.

  Then the song ended, and everyone except Theo broke into rapturous applause. ‘Wonderful!’ cried Lady Celia’s mother. ‘So thoughtful of you, dear Theo, to arrange such authentic entertainment for us!’

  The musicians started up again, delighted with their reception. Theo, with a muttered ‘Excuse me’, went out to the kitchen.

  Jenna was there, preparing the next course. Damn it, it wasn’t fair that she should have to slave like this. She might be penniless, but...

  He suddenly realised she was looking at him with apprehension. ‘My lord. Is anything wrong?’

  ‘No,’ he said quickly. ‘But can you just—you know—hurry the food on a little?’

  She looked puzzled. ‘But what if your guests haven’t finished?’

  ‘Just clear their plates anyway,’ Theo said breezily. ‘Whether they’ve finished or not. After all, they won’t want to be late leaving.’

  She raised her clear eyes to his. ‘My lord, were you aware that it has started to snow?’

  Apprehension froze his gut. ‘Just a few seasonal flakes, I trust?’

  She was shaking her head. ‘I’m afraid it’s falling steadily,’ she said.

  * * *

  By the time the musicians trailed home, their stomachs full of warmed wine and mince pies from Aggie, the snow was several inches deep. Their stout clothing and knowledge of the local paths meant that their short journey would be no problem.

  But for everyone else travel was impossible. It snowed steadily all evening and a stiff wind piled it up in drifts. Theo’s guests took the news calmly; in fact, Theo would have sworn that Lady Celia’s blue eyes positively gleamed.

  Not one to miss her opportunities, our Lady Celia, Gilly would have said drily.

  Aggie and Jenna hurried round all the bedrooms, swiftly lighting fires and putting stone hot-water bottles between clean sheets. The three grooms and two coachmen who’d brought the visitors took up quarters in the attics, their horses fed and rugged up well in Theo’s stables.

  Theo went outside to fetch in more logs from the store in the barn and he met Jenna by the back door, carrying some fresh candles for the bedrooms.

  ‘You’re quite sure you can manage?’ he asked her. Hell, this was his fault—he should have sent a resounding ‘no’ to his self-invited guests the moment he received that first letter!

  She replied calmly, ‘My mother would tell yo
u, my lord, that every winter a house like this has to be prepared for severe weather.’

  Her mother. That reminded him... Not now. Leave it, you fool, for now. ‘Of course. What else needs to be done?’

  He saw her hesitate. ‘We could do with the coppers being filled from the pump in the yard, so we can take hot water up to the bedchambers when your guests retire. But Aggie and I can manage.’

  ‘You will do no such thing,’ Theo said grimly, heaving up a huge copper pan from its place by the back door. ‘And to be quite honest, I’d rather be of some use than sitting in there with them, exchanging London tittle-tattle. Does that shock you, Jenna?’

  ‘No,’ she said slowly. Her eyes met his properly for the first time since he’d kissed her.

  Theo put the copper down abruptly and caught her by both shoulders. ‘Jenna. I have not been kind to you.’

  ‘My lord—’

  ‘Please,’ he said, ‘just listen. I’m sorry, about you having to do all this extra work. And what I’m most sorry about is my insult to you on Christmas Day. When I offered you money, to...’

  And he’d upset her again, he could see, damn his clumsiness! He could feel her tensing as his fingers caressed her shoulders; he could see emotion darkening her wonderfully expressive eyes as she breathed, ‘Please. Let me go, my lord.’

  ‘That Christmas Day was magical, Jenna,’ he whispered. ‘Quite magical.’

  He could feel her trembling. He let his hands fall and she hurried off; she had more sense than he did. If she’d stayed, he would have kissed her senseless and let his guests go hang. Theo went to fill the heavy coppers, which was a kind of penance—but not nearly enough. And he still hadn’t asked her the one question he needed to ask.

  * * *

  After absenting himself for as long as he could, Theo reluctantly rejoined the men. The ladies had retreated to the parlour, to partake cosily of tea and gossip by the fire there; he hurried past the open door before they should catch sight of him.

  The men were addressing Theo’s good brandy in a determined way. ‘By God, Dalbury,’ drawled Sir Charles Rollaston, ‘you’ve found yourself a strange old pile out here!’

  Theo had known Rollaston briefly in the army and couldn’t stand him. ‘Being away from London has its attractions,’ Theo replied evenly.

  ‘I’ll wager there’s a woman!’ another man exclaimed. ‘Dalbury must have a sweet little country lass hidden away! Have you heard the saying?

  Derbyshire born, and Derbyshire bred—

  Give ’em a penny, they’ll drag you to bed!’

  Oh, how they roared with laughter. Theo felt his fists clench with the effort of not hitting them. Rollaston said, ‘Perhaps we’ll come up here for the shooting next season, eh, Dalbury? You could set up a house party—get together a bunch of our old army comrades and a few willing girls, what?’

  Theo gave a chilly smile. ‘Sorry to disappoint you, Rollaston. But I’m not even sure that I’m keeping the place.’

  ‘You’re selling up?’ they chorused. ‘But you can’t! It’s priceless, Dalbury, really priceless! Never been so entertained in our lives as we were by those fellows who call themselves musicians! And the food—God save us, the food...’

  * * *

  Jenna heard it all, because she had just come to the door with the mulled wine they’d demanded. Give ’em a penny, they’ll drag you to bed!

  They’d laughed. All of them. Theo’s back had been to her, but she knew he’d have joined in. And his words couldn’t have been clearer. He was selling up. He’d lied to her.

  She backed away and crashed into a small table set against the wall. She dropped the tray. Theo was out there in an instant.

  ‘Jenna. Here—let me help...’

  ‘No! I can manage! Leave me alone!’

  She was already kneeling to pick up the tray, but the mulled wine spread like blood across the flagstones. He reached out, to touch her shoulder. ‘Never mind about them, or the wine. Just—’

  She struck his hand away and ran upstairs to her room.

  Afterwards, after Theo had sold the place, Jenna didn’t know what she’d do. Whoever bought it wouldn’t want her and her frail mother here. And Hewitt would be waiting for his revenge—they’d have to go where he couldn’t trace them. Yet her mother would be shattered not to be within sight of this place.

  Give ’em a penny, they’ll drag you to bed!

  So unfair. But—the colour rushed to her cheeks, and her breath caught in her throat—Lord Dalbury didn’t have to give her a penny, even. From the moment she’d first seen him, she’d lost her stupid heart.

  But she must never, ever let him know it.

  * * *

  For another day and night, it snowed. On the third day it stopped, leaving a glittering, silent world of white-clad hills and frosted trees. The roads were impassable for carriages, but Lord Dalbury’s guests were enjoying themselves enormously, playing old-fashioned parlour games like charades and spillikins. Jenna saw that Lady Celia clung to Theo’s side from morning ’til night. Once, when Jenna was cleaning out the grate in Lady Celia’s bedchamber, Lady Celia herself came in unexpectedly.

  Jenna scrambled to her feet. ‘I’m sorry, my lady. I’ll come back another time...’

  Lady Celia put out her hand to stop her hurrying from the room. ‘No! I’ve only come for a shawl.’ Her hand suddenly dropped; she looked pale. ‘I rather feel it’s I who should apologise to you.’

  ‘My lady?’

  Celia sat on the edge of the bed. Jenna, watching her, suddenly realised that she was possibly only a year or two older than herself.

  ‘We’ve put you all to such inconvenience,’ Celia whispered. ‘And Mama and her friends—they are hateful to you all.’

  ‘You are Lord Dalbury’s guests, my lady,’ said Jenna steadily. ‘It’s our job to serve you.’

  ‘Perhaps.’ Celia gave her a wan smile. ‘But Theo didn’t really want us here, did he?’

  ‘My lady...’ Jenna didn’t know what to say.

  ‘It’s my mother, you see.’ Celia gazed up at Jenna. ‘She’s desperate for me to marry Lord Dalbury, and...and I like him so much, but I don’t think he can bear the sight of me!’

  Jenna stood frozen. Celia was blowing her nose with an exquisite lace-edged handkerchief. ‘I’m sorry, so sorry! I shouldn’t even be telling you all this, but you’re young, too, you look as if you’d understand...’ Celia’s tears were flowing down her cheeks now; Jenna took a step forward.

  ‘Can I do anything, my lady? Bring you a cup of tea, perhaps? Or fetch your mother?’

  Celia’s sobs turned almost to laughter then. ‘My mother? Oh, no. One thing you can do is keep her away from me! And—please don’t tell anyone about this, especially Theo... Will you promise? Please?’

  ‘I promise,’ said Jenna quietly, and left the room, closing the door behind her.

  Chapter Ten

  Aggie told Jenna she looked as if she needed some fresh air, so Jenna went out in the crisp snow, walking up on the moors in the sun, trying not to even think about Theo. But on the way back, when the Hall was just half a mile away, she saw a familiar figure striding towards her through the snow.

  Lord Dalbury. Please, please let me be strong.

  ‘Aggie told me you’d gone out on your own,’ he said.

  ‘I’ve done all my jobs!’

  ‘I’m sure you have.’ Theo saw she was wearing her man’s coat and hat. ‘And you wanted to get away from my guests, no doubt. But, Jenna, I’m sick of the sight of them, too, and a couple of hours ago I walked over to the village, to hire every able-bodied man I could find to dig out that blasted road over the hills. As long as it doesn’t snow again, the way should just about be clear by now for their carriages.’

  Poor Lady Celia. Jenna gazed up at him, still defiant. ‘And when are you going, my lord?’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘You’re selling up,’ she said bitterly. ‘I heard you say you were selling up just as soon as
you could. You hate it here, don’t you?’

  ‘No. I don’t hate it at all. In fact, I think it’s rather beautiful... Look, you’ll be getting cold standing here. Walk back with me and tell me about yourself and all the things you used to do at Christmas. I told you about my childhood Christmases, but you hardly told me a thing about yours. What was it like, living at the Hall?’

  She’d already set off, her hands thrust deep in her coat pockets, and Theo matched his stride to hers.

  ‘Oh, I was just like any other child from around here,’ she said airily. ‘We’d go round the cottages on Christmas Eve, tormenting the villagers to give us festive treats like gingerbread men and toffee. And all the way through to Twelfth Night we’d sing heathen songs and believe in all sorts of superstitious nonsense about goblins and mermaids...’

  ‘Jenna,’ he said warningly, ‘Jenna...’ But there was a spark of dancing amusement in his eyes.

  ‘Sometimes,’ she went on, ‘we’d go hunting for Hob Hurst, because over Christmas he was supposed to grow fat and slow from the extra food the farmers’ wives left out for him. Often we’d pinch Hob’s food, especially if it was leftover Christmas pudding. But if we were caught, we’d be chased away with curses and snowballs, because it’s cold and grim up in these northern parts, my Lord Dalbury!’

  Theo was choking with laughter. She laughed back, then was running away from him, round the back of an old stone barn against which the snow had drifted several feet deep.

  She couldn’t go any further.

  Theo followed her. Now, he told himself. Now was the time to ask her, about her mother, and... ‘Jenna—’

  Too late, he saw that she’d bent to pick up some snow in her gloved hands and, with a mischievous grin on her face, she hurled it. It caught Theo smack on the chest, exploding into shards of ice that tickled his nostrils. ‘Why, you little imp!’ he called.

  She was scooping up some more snow. ‘Not up to a battle, Lord Dalbury?’