“But I have something else for Christmastide, which I anticipate you will appreciate.” As he crowed, she was not sure what to make of his sly smile. “This is for you, simply because I wish you to have it.”
“All right.” Biting her bottom lip, she stood from the bench, lifted the lid on the box, and parted the swath of white silk. “Mr. Howe, it is beautiful.” Heavy in her grasp, the wooden soldier boasted brightly painted regimentals, in red and white, complete with gold epaulets, tufts of cotton for his beard and hair, and a strange lever at the back, which operated his jaw. “But—what is it?”
“It is a nutcracker, from my private collection, which includes a Roman version cast in bronze.” To her surprise, he eased to the bench and drew her to sit beside him. “The Germans refer to it as a nussknacker, and according to legend, a gifted nutcracker represents power and strength. It is a guardian, to protect your home and your family.” Percival pointed to the mouth. “See the painted teeth?” When she nodded, he smiled. “The nutcracker bares its teeth to ward off evil spirits, even as it brings good fortune and luck to its owner.”
“How enchanting.” Struck by the thoughtfulness of the gift, she hugged it to her. “I shall treasure it, always, and I am at a loss as to how I can repay your generosity.”
“I am pleased it meets with your approval.” Then he caught her in a narrow-eyed stare. “And I have a request, if you are amenable.”
“In light of your munificence, I do not see how I can refuse.” As she toyed with the fluffy beard, she laughed. “What would you ask of me, Mr. Howe?”
“First, I would ask that you call me Percy, in private. And, with your consent, I shall call you Margaret. Also, I would have you play the ‘Andante,’ from Mozart’s Piano Concerto Twenty-one.” When she started, he frowned. “Do you not know it?”
“Actually, I k-know it quite i-intimately.” Stunned by his selection, she stammered, as that particular piece harkened to the chance meeting with her own Prince Charming. Yet, he never approached after that night at the Netherton’s masque, whereas Percival perched to her right, and he wanted to marry her. She was his choice. “As to the rest, I agree, Percy.”
“Excellent.” With a gentle nudge of her shoulder, he nodded. “Now, amaze me, Margaret.”
“All right.” Resting her fingers to the keys, she paused. “Are you partial to the piano?”
“Only of late, given the musician.” Not for a minute could she mistake his meaning. “But the concerto is my favorite and holds a special place in my heart, as it evokes a cherished memory.”
“What a coincidence.” In that moment, she looked on him with renewed interest. “Have you a piano in your home?”
“No.” He shook his head, and her spirits deflated. “I had thought, after we wed, that we might purchase one, together, so you may pick the instrument of your fondest desire. Something that suits you and your unique taste.”
“Really?” At his pedestrian comment, she could have shouted for joy, and she bounced in her seat. Even a Broadwood grand?”
“Truly.” He nudged her with his shoulder. “Even a Broadwood grand. And, henceforth, you shall play for me, exclusively.”
“Is that a promise?” Perhaps, it was time for Margaret to surrender the illusion of the past. While she would forever adore her anonymous Prince Charming, Percy was flesh and blood, life-size, and he was to be her husband. “I mean—that I will play only for you?”
“Do you not enjoy performing before an audience?” Was it her imagination, or did he study her mouth as they spoke? “Given the musicales, and your regular participation, I presumed you basked in the attention.”
“Why would I, when we are the joke of the ton?” When he averted his gaze, she realized he knew exactly to what she referred. “Do you think me ignorant of the none too nice comments, at my expense?”
“My dear, after we marry, you may do as you please.” To her surprise, he caressed her cheek in a brazen display of familiarity. Of course, as they were alone, there was no one to witness the demonstration. “But I would be honored and more than a little proud to have you entertain our guests, in our home.”
“Then I should be delighted.” With that, she settled her fingers on the keys and commenced the piece she knew so well.
As usual, when she progressed through the masterpiece, an imaginary orchestra rose in the background, and she closed her eyes and surrendered to the fluid composition.
Uncompromising acceptance enveloped her, and she relaxed, as with music she found her place in the world. Reveling in unshakable confidence, she commanded the piano, and the keys answered the summons, as in that realm she was a master.
Despite Percy’s presence, she unleashed all the passion and fervor she kept hidden from everyone else, and the notes carried her to new heights. Just as she reached some heretofore-unknown pinnacle, she reached the end.
Silence weighed heavy in the room.
Aware of naught but the beat of her heart, Margaret opened her eyes and peered at her fiancé. For a while, he simply studied her, and then he traced the crest of her ear with his finger. He was close—so very close, and she admired his thick lashes and full mouth. She wondered how those lips might feel pressed to hers.
As if Percy read her thoughts, he bent his head and kissed her, and she bade a warm welcome to her new Prince Charming.
Chapter Three
As Percy stood before the long mirror, his valet adjusted the lace edge of a sleeve. Dressed for dinner, in a pair of buckskin breeches and a black waistcoat and coat, Percy scrutinized his image and raked his fingers through his hair. Nervous, he tugged at his cravat and tried not to focus on that kiss in the music room, but the sweet rendezvous with his future wife remained at the forefront of his thoughts.
Unutterably charming in her untutored enthusiasm, he could not stop thinking about Margaret, after he returned to his chamber, the previous night. In desperation, he slept with a window open, to cool his lust, and he bloody well nearly caught his death, in the process.
“Will that be all, sir?” Jameson retreated.
“Yes, thank you.” After dusting off a speck of lint, Percy rolled his shoulders, strolled through his sitting room, and walked into the hall.
The massive home reflected the personalities of its owners, with masculine wall treatments in a combination of mahogany, leather inserts, and burgundy flocked wall coverings, along with delicate porcelain and crystal trinkets, as well as vases filled with hothouse blossoms, indicative of a woman’s influence, about which Ernest complained.
Yet Percy knew his cousin loved his wife and her unconventional taste, every bit as much as he enjoyed grousing, given Barrington exhibited the same behavior, regarding Florence. It struck Percy as a strange rite of passage for long-suffering spouses who did not genuinely suffer.
When he entered the gallery filled with portraits of Howes past, he almost knocked over his fiancée, as she charged forth from the east wing.
“Oh, Mr. Howe.” Garbed in a fetching gown of rich blue velvet, in a style typical of Henrietta’s designs, with a conservative neckline that did nothing to bridle his passion, and her hair piled high, with a single flirty curl dangling at her throat, he longed to share another kiss. “My apologies, as I was not paying attention, and I almost toppled you.”
“My dear Margaret, the fault is mine, as I was blinded by your beauty.” As usual, given his compliment, she blushed, and he adored that about her. “Might this beggar dare ask to escort you to dinner?”
“You do me a great honor, Percy.” Resting her palm in the crook of his elbow, she half-curtseyed. “By the by, I brought the nutcracker to the drawing room, as I would have everyone admire your thoughtful gift.”
“I am so glad you like it.” Descending the stairs, he leaned close. “And I would thank you, again, for the lovely interlude, last night, as well as your magical performance on the piano.”
“Percy.” She bit her bottom lip, and he ached to suckle her tender flesh. “Be ca
reful, as someone might hear you.”
“What does it matter, as we are soon to be married?” In the foyer, he drew her to a halt and glanced at the kissing bough, which hung from the casing that framed an arched entry. “What say you, beautiful lady? Do we dare?”
With cheeks of beetroot red, she nodded once and tilted her chin, in perfect position to offer a treasured boon. Thus, he slipped an arm about her waist, drew her to him, and just barely brushed his mouth to hers, in a tantalizing taste of all they had to share, before angling his head and deepening the experience.
At a gentle prod of his tongue, she opened to him, and he engaged her in a frisky little duel meant to entice and arouse, as he pressed on her caresses intended to nurture the fire that erupted between them. When she trembled, ever so subtly in his arms, coupled with a sultry moan, he shuddered and brought the sweet tryst to an end, before the situation spun out of control, because she tempted him beyond all reason. Yet, when he tried to withdraw, she clung to him.
“Oh, Percy, I cannot thank you enough for saving me.” Burying her face to his chest, she gave vent to a soft sob. “I was so certain no one could ever want me. I was sure my father would barter me for some service or another, as no one ever expressed the slightest interest in me.” Then she shifted to meet his gaze, as she clutched the lapels of his coat. “But you want me. You see me.”
“Sweetheart, I have always seen you.” With that, he claimed her lips in a crushing kiss, if only to reassure her that his ardor was true, and he cupped here bottom, through her heavy skirt, to press her hips to his, that she might know the depth of his arousal, and she gasped. “By heavens, doubt me not, as I desire you, Margaret.”
“And I you, as I can scarcely contain myself, but I am no wanton woman.” As if to prove her point, she hugged him and sighed. “While I have never known a man in such fashion, I am convinced of my feelings for you, and it is more than gratitude, sir.”
“Given your countenance, which shimmers as the stars in the night sky, I believe you.” As much as he prized her devotion, he realized he owed her the truth of how he won their engagement, because he refused to begin their life, together, on a foundation of lies, and he resolved to explain the situation, and reassure her of his unreserved dedication, at the earliest convenience. “And you do me a great honor, as never did I assume I could inspire such joy in anyone.”
“You have.” Although he did not think it possible, she shone even brighter. “Know that you have, and I could not be more thrilled about our engagement.”
“I am equally eager, my dear.” Again, he nabbed a quick kiss and collected a single berry from the bough, which he tucked in his pocket. “There. We have fulfilled the custom, and you will indeed marry next year. Now, let us join the others, before they search for us, and we are caught.”
“All right.” As would a distinguished couple, they marched down the hall and into the dining room. “Good evening, everyone. Look who I found in the gallery.”
“Ah, there you are, Margaret. I wondered what kept you.” Mrs. Hogart narrowed her stare. “Upon my word, are you ill, because you look flushed. I hope you are not catching a cold, as the last thing you need is a swollen, red nose.”
“Uh—no, Mama. I am quite well.” Margaret peered at him and cast a shy smile. “But I was in a rush to dress, as you know I loathe being late to anything. Where should I sit?”
In that instant, Percy glanced at Ernest, who arched a brow and frowned. Given Ernest’s breach in decorum as he wooed Henrietta, which was no great secret, he was no one to judge Percy.
“As we are, for all intents and purposes, family, let us relax the rules and enjoy an informal seating.” Perched to Ernest’s immediate right, Henrietta held his hand. “Mr. and Mrs. Hogart may take the two chairs opposite me, and Percy and Margaret may occupy the chairs to my right.”
“Of course.” Percy led his fiancée to her seat and then settled in his place, to her left. “What a sensible arrangement, Henrietta.”
“Something smells delicious.” Mr. Hogart draped his napkin in his lap. “And I am famished.”
“I am glad to hear that, because I planned a special menu, and the cook has outdone herself, for the occasion. Indeed, I am so disappointed Barrington and Florence could not join us, even though the storm has abated, and the roads are much improved, but they fret for their babes, which I more than understand.” Henrietta nodded to the butler. “You may commence the service.”
“Oh, I almost forgot.” Ernest snapped his fingers, signaled a servant, and said to Percy, “A missive arrived for you, late this afternoon, and I left the envelope on the desk, in my study. I should have a footman collect it, as the messenger said it was urgent.”
“Do you think it could be news of my predicament?” Mr. Hogart asked, much to Percy’s horror.
“What predicament?” Mrs. Hogart snatched a roll from a basket. “Is something amiss?”
Mr. Hogart started and paled.
“Er—no.” Percy selected a juicy slice of venison from a platter, searched his mind for a suitable explanation, and prayed for calm. “Mr. Hogart is interested in one of my investments, and I requested a report from my solicitor, but I cannot believe he would dispatch a missive in this weather.”
“I wager the lanes are not so treacherous for a lone rider, given the winds have died down, and the sun melted much of the snow.” When the footman returned, Ernest said, “Give the letter into Mr. Howe’s care.”
As the ladies and gentlemen studied Percy, he perused the sender’s directive, glanced at Mr. Hogart, and broke the seal. Scanning the contents, Percy digested the related facts and pondered how best to deliver the sorrowful news to his soon-to-be relation. But one thing was certain. He was done running from controversy.
“Is everything all right?” Ernest daubed the corners of his mouth. “You look a tad out of sorts, cousin.”
“Everything is fine.” Percy lied and seized on a diversion, as he folded the parchment and deposited the envelope into his coat pocket. “But I have a favor to ask of Henrietta.”
“Indeed?” The lady in question set down her fork. “What can I do for you?”
“I would commission a gown for my bride-to-be, in a style just for her.” Beneath the cover of the table linen, Margaret clasped his hand, and he twined his fingers in hers. “Spare no expense, as I would have only the finest for my future wife.”
“But that is our responsibility, Mr. Howe.” Mrs. Hogart lifted her chin. “It is highly irregular for the groom to outfit his fiancée.”
“Yet, you will indulge me, will you not, Mrs. Hogart?” Unabashed, Percy brought Margaret’s hand to his lips, as he caught her father in his stare, and he pressed a not so chaste kiss to her bare knuckles. “And I would pose another request, if I may.”
“And that would be—what, Mr. Howe?” As if he understood Percy’s concern, Mr. Hogart stretched upright. “What can I do for you?”
“I would have you post the banns on the first of January.” Percy peered at Margaret, and she smiled. Not for a minute would he chance the possibility of losing her, when they were so close to the altar. “And I will write my solicitor, posthaste, to secure a license, that we may marry in February.”
“February?” Mrs. Hogart pressed a clenched fist to her chest in a typical display of exaggerated emotion. “Why so soon? I had hoped your nuptials would be the talk of The Season. How can I savor Mrs. Ponsonby’s envy if you wed early, because the excitement will have waned before the ton returns to London?”
“And what of my trousseau?” Margaret squeezed his fingers. “I would come to you at my best, and we have had no time to shop. I would make you proud of your chosen mate.”
“My dear, I could never be anything less. Be that as it may, I am determined.” Percy considered the logistics of Mr. Hogart’s position, and the dire circumstances necessitated expedience. Tomorrow, after the requisite church services and holiday meal, he would sit down with his fiancée and inform her of her family�
��s dilemma, because he would brook no secrets between them. “You should have sufficient opportunity to purchase whatever you require, but I will take you as you are, and we will marry on St. Valentine’s Day.”
After dinner, the servants cleared the dishes, and the cook brought in the Christmas plum pudding. As was the custom, each portion revealed a particular trinket. Lord Ernest found a small wishbone, which signified good luck, Henrietta found a tiny anchor, which meant safe harbor, mama located a thimble, for thrift, and papa and Percy found silver coins, which symbolized wealth, much to papa’s expressed elation. But Margaret’s prize was the best of all.
In her helping she was delighted to discover a ring. It was not a precious bauble, but it predicted her forthcoming marriage, and she considered it a sign that her path was right and true.
Afterward, they adjourned to the music room, where Margaret pounded the ivories, to maintain her ruse, while Ernest, Henrietta, mama, and papa danced a jig. There was laughter and sport, as Ernest fretted for Henrietta, her belly round with their first babe, and Mama performed a quickstep, which had everyone howling. And Percy sat beside her, turning the music sheets, as she played.
“Well, should we repair to the drawing room, light the Yule log, and exchange gifts?” Daubing her temple with a handkerchief, Henrietta leaned against her husband. “Anyone for tea or brandy?”
“Yes, to the latter.” Papa loosened his cravat. “And, perhaps, some shortbread.”
“Upon my word, John.” Mama tittered. “How can you eat another bite?”
“What concern is that of yours?” Papa hugged his belly. “Dinner is long since passed, and I worked up an appetite with all that frolicking about the room.”
“Daresay it is the most exercise you have had since before our wedding.” Mama snorted. “And I must say, Margaret’s playing is a vast deal improved. Indeed, she has never sounded better.”
As they navigated the stunning residence, Ernest and Henrietta exchanged sweet declarations of adoration, while mama and papa traded jocular barbs. Following in their wake, at a discreet distance, Percy escorted Margaret.
The Nutcracker Reimagined: A Collection of Christmas Tales Page 20