With This Christmas Ring

by Manda Collins

  He was both aghast and unsurprised by her inability to understand his ire. “I suppose it is unfair to blame you for your nature,” he said, almost to himself. He could see now that her view of the world and her own role in it was as much a part of her as the green eyes he’d inherited from her.

  “My dear boy,” she said, her still dark brows drawing together, “I don’t understand any of this. I have only done what I thought best for the family. And I cannot tell you how unhappy your censure makes me. But I suppose it’s because you’re under the spell of that woman again. She was just as influential on you then as she obviously is now. You must see it for yourself.”

  At her words, his understanding for her flaws evaporated. “She is soon to be my wife, Grandmama, and you will speak of her—and, indeed, behave in her company—with the respect due to the future Viscountess Wrotham.” At her gasp of shock, he continued, “Do I make myself clear?”

  Blinking back tears—he was unable to tell if they were of remorse or an attempt to soften him—she nodded. “I see that you are unable to be moved on this. I have done all that I can to help you avoid disaster, Wrotham, but if you are determined to bring shame on us, then I suppose there is nothing I can do to stop you.”

  Ignoring her attempt at shaming him, he said only, “This campaign against Miss Parks stops now. Am I understood?”

  His grandmother shook her head, as if unable to believe he was issuing such an order. “A campaign? Really, Wrotham, you make it sound as if I am far more powerful than I—”

  Not caring what she had to say, he interrupted her. “Am. I. Understood?”

  Looking mulish, and not at all remorseful, she gave another slight shrug. “Yes, my lord.”

  At her assent, however grudgingly he’d obtained it, he turned and left her alone. No doubt she’d find some way to punish him, but if nothing else, she was a woman of her word. She’d stop attempting to oust Merry. Though there was little guarantee that she’d stop parading Lady Katherine and Miss Delaford before him.

  Which was why he had already set plans in place to make sure Merry spent today, at least, by his side. The sleigh ride he’d planned would do the trick, he thought with a grin.

  Feeling much lighter than he had earlier, he set off in search of her.

  * * *

  Merry was relieved the next morning to find the household seemed to have collectively decided not to address last night’s revelations with her.

  As she took her seat at the breakfast table beside Miss Delaford, the assembled guests were speaking about the planned outing for that afternoon.

  “It’s been years since I’ve ridden in a sleigh,” said Lady Willowvale, who was, if Merry recalled correctly, the sister of the late Viscount Wrotham and Alex’s aunt. “I wonder that the household still has them, given how little use they’ve got in the years since my brother died.”

  “Does his lordship not entertain often?” asked Lady Katherine, who was seated beside Lady Willowvale and across from Merry. “I suppose that’s because he enjoys his bachelor life.” The blonde gave a secretive smile, as if she would soon be the one to end that lifestyle.

  “Oh, he’s never been much of one for entertaining at the hall,” Lady Willowvale continued, eating a healthy forkful of eggs. When she’d finished chewing she went on. “If you must know the truth, I believe the dowager has discouraged him from making free with the house. Though he is the viscount, she has ruled the roost for so long I daresay it’s easier for him to let her have her way than to resist.” She gave a speaking look to the young lady, as if ensuring she’d understood the implication. “Anyone who marries my nephew will have a difficult time ousting Mama from what she sees as her domain. Just a warning to you.” She included Miss Delaford in her gaze now.

  Merry, she ignored.

  Before either lady could respond, William entered the breakfast room, looking somewhat the worse for wear. Merry hoped it was simply insomnia or stress that made him look so tired and not a return to the spirits that had laid him low in the past.

  “William,” his aunt said to him once he’d selected kippers and eggs from the sideboard, “you must take me up to see this infant of yours after breakfast. I vow, I spent little time with my own children when they were small, but it does one good to see a cooing baby from time to time. And from your explanation last night, the poor little mite is in need of her family.”

  The complete lack of expression on Will’s face for a split second told Merry that he was not yet sanguine about his own role in Lottie’s situation. Even so, he gave his aunt a nod and said, “Of course, Aunt. I had planned to visit the nursery after breakfast as well, so you may join me.”

  “Oh, I’d like to come,” Miss Delaford said breathlessly, her sudden excitement all but rattling Merry’s teacup. At Will’s look of questioning, she continued, with a bit more control, “That is, I should like to see the little child. I feel sure she’s a sweet thing. One does appreciate an infant at Christmastime.”

  Looking somewhat less severe, Will nodded. “Certainly, Miss Delaford.” He gave a glance at those remaining at the table. “Would anyone else like to meet my daughter?” He blinked as he said the words, as if suddenly realizing he’d said the words “my daughter.”

  He was trying, Merry thought to herself. At least he was trying. She’d had her reservations about entrusting Lottie to the man who broke Charlotte’s heart, but thus far, William Ponsonby had shown himself to be just as reformed as he’d declared himself to be.

  “Miss Parks?” he asked, looking solemn and a bit sheepish. “Will you join us?”

  But Merry thought it was time for her to allow him to parent his child without her interference. At least when he was introducing her to his family and houseguests.

  “Thank you, Mr. Ponsonby,” she said with genuine warmth. “I have some letters I need to write. But thank you for asking.”

  And not long after, William, accompanied by Lady Willowvale and Miss Delaford, left the table and the breakfast room.

  Across from her, Merry noted that Lady Katherine looked a bit sad.

  “Are you feeling unwell, Lady Katherine?” she asked, despite the slight jealousy she felt toward the lady the dowager had chosen to offer up to Alex for a potential bride. The blonde was everything Merry was not. Tall and slender, where Merry was of medium height and slightly plump. And titled thanks to her father’s earldom, whereas Merry was a plain miss whose father was a mere baronet with neither wealth nor social status.

  Lady Katherine was, indeed, the perfect wife for Alex, and Merry couldn’t help but be reminded of it every time she laid eyes on her. For that matter, so was Miss Delaford. And yet, Alex had assured her it was she that he wished to marry. It was difficult to believe when faced with the perfection of his other choices.

  At her question, Lady Katherine looked up guiltily, as if she hadn’t thought she’d be seen. “No, Miss Parks, nothing like that.” She managed to paste on a smile as she made the denial. “Just a bit homesick, that’s all. My family’s holiday celebrations are quite elaborate. And this year, because we’ve come here, I’m just missing our own family traditions.”

  That was reason enough for feeling glum, Merry thought with a pang of sympathy. Though she and her father had never been particularly fulsome in their celebrations, they did have a few traditions that she would miss this year. Like the Christmas pudding that she and the cook had been working on for months. She’d always search out at least one trinket to bake into it that would make her father laugh. Last year it had been a tiny magnifying glass like the one he used to examine small print. And this year she’d found a small replica of one of the Elgin Marbles. But of course, she’d not be there for him to find it.

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Lady Katherine,” she said with sympathy. “But at least your parents are here with you.” The Earl and Countess of Needham had, of course, accompanied their daughter to Wrotham Keep, given that the entire reason for their invitation had been to show her as a prospect
ive bride for its master. “Perhaps Lord Wrotham can see to it that the servants help you with a few of your traditions.”

  At that, the other lady lifted her head with surprise. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. After a moment’s hesitation, she finally said, “I must say that I’m surprised to hear you so easy with the notion of me going to Lord Wrotham. I had thought given your previous attachment . . .”

  Merry sighed. She supposed the fact of her previous betrothal to Alex was perhaps not on the tip of everyone’s tongue, but it could hardly have gone unnoticed. Especially by Lady Katherine. And Miss Delaford, for that matter.

  Deciding to speak the truth, rather than hiding behind polite lies, Merry said, “I suppose it’s only fair to tell you that, yes, Lord Wrotham and I are . . .” She searched for the proper word, but found none. “We are close,” she settled on. “And you must know that his grandmother invited you here without consulting him.”

  Rather than recoiling in horror, Lady Katherine smiled. “I guessed as much when he arrived with you.” At Merry’s frown, she continued, “You don’t think anyone believed your story about a broken-down carriage do you? It was obvious to anyone that you’d traveled together. Though I must admit, I did suspect the child of being yours.” At the mention of Lottie, her eyes turned troubled. “But that, at least, was an incorrect assumption on my part.”

  She looked far more upset by the news than Merry thought was warranted. Why should Lady Katherine be upset to learn that Lottie was not the love child of Alex and Merry? One would think she’d be pleased, given her family’s aspirations for her.

  Then, the reason dawned on Merry.

  “Oh, my dear,” she said, her heart aching for the other lady. “You’re in love with Mr. Ponsonby.”

  At the words, Lady Katherine smiled ruefully. “I suppose it’s not a far leap to make. I should have been devastated at the notion Lord Wrotham had brought his illegitimate child to the Keep, but instead, you find me weepy because the child belongs to his cousin.” She shook her head. “I’m a fool, I know it. Especially now that it appears the last thing Mr. Ponsonby needs is a wife who knows nothing about infants.”

  Merry’s mind was teeming with questions, but she knew she couldn’t pepper the lady with them like a Fleet Street newspaper writer. Instead, she said, “Does he know how you feel?”

  Lady Katherine shook her head. “We met in the spring in town. And many times over the course of the season. But though I hoped, he never called, or showed any particular interest. But there was something we shared. I know it seems foolish of me. But I’m sure of it. We had a connection. And before you arrived with Lord Wrotham, I felt it again—so much so that the dowager made it a point to ensure we weren’t seated beside one another at dinner again after the first night.”

  In the spring, William would likely have just been returned from his time away while he fought to overcome his reliance on drink. And given his behavior with Charlotte, she doubted he’d have been eager to become entangled with another young lady.

  “Does this mean you don’t wish to marry Lord Wrotham?” she asked, making sure she understood the other lady before she offered her assistance. She knew well enough that there were some ladies who would choose the titled cousin no matter how much emotion they felt for the untitled one.

  “Miss Parks,” said Lady Katherine with a smile, “I have never wished to marry Lord Wrotham. The only reason we are here is because my mother is friendly with Lady Willowvale. That lady suggested to her mother that I would make a suitable bride for her Lord Wrotham, and before I knew it, the dowager had contacted my parents and we were in the carriage on our way to Kent.”

  She gave a rueful shake of her head as she continued. “And I cannot tell a lie. I was not displeased to come here because I hoped that Mr. Ponsonby would be here for the holiday.” Then she sobered. “But your arrival with his daughter has made it impossible for me to gain his attention now.”

  Merry had a suspicion that little Lottie had made William leery of pursuing anything with Lady Katherine. But she found herself liking the other girl. And though she’d come here wanting to shame William, she found herself touched by the way he’d publicly acknowledged Lottie last night. He might easily have refused to speak, or simply left the room. But he’d stayed and taken responsibility.

  Did she wish he’d done so while Charlotte was still alive to see it? Absolutely. But she wasn’t one to linger over things that couldn’t be changed. And when it came down to it, she wanted Lottie to have a mother. If she couldn’t have Charlotte, a young lady with genuine affection for William might be the next best thing.

  If, that is, she would accept Lottie as easily as William had.

  “How do you feel about the child?” she asked Lady Katherine. “I will admit that I’d like to help you, but I cannot assist someone to become a permanent part of Lottie’s life who will hold her in contempt for something she has no control over. Or worse, who blames her for the inevitable talk that will follow her, no matter how much her family attempts to quell rumors.”

  Lady Katherine nodded. “I can see now why Lord Wrotham is so smitten with you.”

  Merry blushed. Was he smitten with her? She knew he was drawn to her. His request to court her told her that much. But she could hardly say that meant he was head over ears. They’d been apart for a long time. And she still wasn’t quite sure that Alex had fully forgiven her for abandoning him five years ago. It would take explaining what exactly had happened to remove that last barrier between them, but so far she’d managed not to let their conversations get there.

  Before she could say yes to his proposal—for it was inevitable given his declaration, she would tell him the truth. She only hoped he would not choose his family over her.

  Now, however, she needed to pay attention to the matter at hand. “I hope you’re right, but I do need to know your feelings for Lottie. Her mother was a dear friend, and I promised her that I’d bring her to her father. He behaved dishonorably with my friend. You know that because he announced it to us last evening. But he did marry Lottie’s mother. The child is as legitimate as you or I. And I cannot commit myself to helping you if you will hold the unusual circumstances of her birth over her. Or treat her any differently than you would any other children you might have. Can you do that, Lady Katherine?”

  “I know he hasn’t been a saint, Miss Parks,” said the other woman, her gaze steady, “but I also know that he is not the same person he was when he behaved so badly to your friend. And, of course, I wouldn’t blame an infant for something so completely out of her control. You have no way of knowing whether I am sincere or not, I suppose, but I assure you, I am willing to accept any child of Mr. Ponsonby’s. Especially one who has lost her mother in such tragic circumstances.”

  It was what Merry had hoped to hear, and yet, she felt a pang of pain for Charlotte’s sake. I hope I’m doing the right thing by you, dear friend, she said silently.

  Aloud, she said, “Let me see what I can do, Lady Katherine. I cannot promise anything, for I’ve only just met Mr. Ponsonby, but I do believe if he feels about you the way you say he does, then it will take only a bit of persuasion to convince him that he is allowed some happiness in this life. No matter what he might have done in the past.”

  She would, of course, talk to Alex about it first. He knew his cousin better than anyone, after all, and would know exactly how to approach him.

  Chapter Eight

  Despite his resolve to find her as soon as he’d finished meeting with his grandmother, Alex found the breakfast room deserted when he arrived in search of Merry. She’d gone upstairs with the other ladies to change for the sleigh ride, he was told by the footman he found removing breakfast dishes.

  In need of a change of clothes himself, Alex hurried to his own rooms, and some twenty minutes later, joined those members of the party who had agreed to visit the tenant cottages by sleigh with baskets of foods and toys for the children there.

  The holid
ay visit had been a yearly excursion while his mother was still here—doubtless something she’d fought his grandmother over and won—and though it had stopped after she left, he’d decided in France when she’d described it to him that he’d like to reinstitute it and make it a Wrotham Keep tradition.

  Merry, he saw, as she stood talking to Lady Katherine and Miss Delaford, was wearing a deep crimson hooded cape, its fur-lined hood hanging at her back, allowing the light from the lamps in the entryway to glint off her shining black tresses.

  He was moving to join their group when he was arrested by his cousin Will, who was also dressed for the outdoors, in a greatcoat and red wool scarf. “Alex, I don’t think I’ve thanked you.”

  “The best thanks you can give me will be to treat Lottie as she deserves,” he replied, clasping his cousin on the shoulder. “I’m proud of the progress you’ve made. And though I’m disappointed about the business with Charlotte, as I know you must be, a man is more than his worst behavior. You have a chance to redeem yourself. Don’t squander it.”

  Rather than offer excuses or make promises, Will simply nodded.

  The two men approached the small group of ladies together, and Alex was pleased to see Merry’s eyes light up at his approach.

  “I’ve not been in a sled in years,” she confessed to him as he took her arm. The group began trickling outside to where the horse-drawn sleighs—three of them, to be exact—had been assembled in the drive, which only yesterday had been clear of snow.

  Now, as far as the eye could see, the countryside was blanketed in white. As were the trees lining the drive. That view, coupled with the sight of everyone in their winter furs and scarves, set a niggle of memory free in his mind. Of him as a child being lifted into the sleigh so he could sit beside his mother.

  “Nor have I,” he responded to Merry, as they led the rest of the group toward where footmen were waiting to assist them into the vehicles. “Not since my mother was here.”