A Cotillion Country Christmas

by Carolynn Carey

  Chapter Five

  In the hallway, Caroling hesitated, not knowing what to do. She thought she had finally mended her relationship with her sister but now…

  Lord Tarlton would probably convince his wife that Caroline deliberately opened the window. They would think Caroline hoped Elizabeth would catch a chill in her weakened state.

  And although Elizabeth would not believe him, his words would insinuate another small, sliver of doubt between the sisters. A crack would form that time and Lord Tarlton, would industriously widen.

  While Caroline loved Elizabeth dearly, she knew her faults. Elizabeth was sweet and generous but she was also vain. And she had a vacillating character that depended on the men in her life for strength. First Papa and now Lord Tarlton. She would listen to her husband’s words despite knowing that Caroline would never do her any harm.

  Eventually, his words would become Elizabeth’s thoughts and any affection she held for her older sister would die. She was not strong enough to resist his influence forever.

  Caroline could already see the subtle signs of change. Now that Elizabeth was married, she clung to Lord Tarlton like a vine clinging to an oak. Whatever he thought, she thought. And Elizabeth naturally felt duty-bound to support his opinion publically.

  It was unfortunate that he was more of a weedy, maple sapling than a strong oak tree. He’d provided Elizabeth very little support during the last few hours.

  Not to mention that two years ago, he hadn’t even been able to hold firm to his promise to marry Caroline. Instead, he had let Edward Masters convince him that Elizabeth would make a better wife.

  With a heavy heart, Caroline realized she had managed to accomplish nothing this Christmas day but make her situation bleaker.

  Then she thought about Lord Tarlton’s remark and Edward’s inexplicable betrayal. Her anger resurfaced.

  This day had, at least, revealed what a cad Edward was. And Caroline now knew who to blame for Lord Tarlton’s last-minute decision to elope with Elizabeth.

  Caroline walked down the hallway and paused at the top of the stairs. She stared down into the gloom, her mind wearily spinning. Despite it all, she could not maintain her indignation. Edward’s suggestion to Lord Tarlton would not have met with success if the man hadn’t already been in love with Elizabeth.

  If only Lord Tarlton had not met lovely, young Elizabeth before the wedding, Caroline thought, before shaking herself.

  What was she thinking? She no more wanted to be married to Lord Tarlton than she wanted to grow a pair of horns and a tail.

  “Caroline!” Edward hailed her from the foot of the stairway. “Where have you been? My aunt has arrived. They’ve been holding supper for us.”

  “I took a tray to Elizabeth,” Caroline replied coolly. She slowly descended, trying to hide her feelings. Her bitterness over his perfidy shook her limbs. She clutched at the banister and kept her eyes focused on the stairway. If she caught his gaze she would break down and scream and Lord Tarlton would be completely justified in sending her away.

  She had to maintain her self-control if she had any hope of establishing a good relationship with the Tarlton household.

  “Well, hurry up.” He held up an impatient hand to her, obviously expecting her to take it.

  She ignored him.

  “Where is Tarlton?” He dropped his hand, a puzzled—almost hurt—look in his gray eyes.

  “With his wife. He’s afraid I tried to poison her,” she replied dryly. She stepped down onto the smooth, Italian marble floor and stood indecisively.

  Edward laughed and took her arm despite her initial resistance to his gesture. “Then we won’t wait for him to join us, though Mrs. Pembroke will think we’re a ramshackle set without any manners whatsoever.”

  “And she would be correct. We can’t proceed without him!” Caroline glanced at him in shock.

  He shrugged. “Why not? Who knows how long he will be with Lady Tarlton.” He gave her a mischievous smile. “Did you succeed?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “In slipping a bit of poison in her porridge. What was it? Arsenic? A toadstool?”

  “I did no such thing, as you are very well aware.”

  He nodded. “Silly of me. It’s deuced difficult to get toadstools in the winter.”

  “Will you stop that?” She pinched his arm and smothered a laugh. Why could she never stay angry with him even when she knew he behaved unspeakably by convincing Lord Tarlton to marry Elizabeth?

  “Good,” Edward said in a satisfied tone as he escorted her into the dining room. “I was afraid you were going to bite my head off when you came down those stairs.”

  Caroline stopped near the doorway, noting a rather tall woman standing indecisively near the curtained window. She caught Caroline’s gaze and nodded hesitantly before glancing toward Edward. Her red hair, tinged with broad streaks of gray at the temples, was piled up under a lacy cap with black ribbons that upon closer inspection looked worn and frayed along the silken edges. Though tall and elegant, the woman’s black wool dress showed unmistakable signs of mending in several places and the white lace cuffs and neckline could not hide the fact that the lace was old and starting to yellow.

  As if aware of Caroline’s assessment, the lady’s chin rose slightly and her gray eyes grew darker with fragile pride.

  “A trifle awkward, I’m afraid, with Lord Tarlton upstairs but perhaps I may act the host?” Edward bowed in the direction of his aunt. “Mrs. Pembroke, may I present Miss Bartlett?”

  Mrs. Pembroke acknowledged the introduction with a slight nod. “May I ask what was so urgent, nephew, that you would invite a womanto step over the threshold on Christmas day?”

  “A birth,” Edward said before catching Caroline’s gaze, “and the need for a chaperone.”

  “A birth!” Mrs. Pembroke exclaimed. Her back stiffened. “You know perfectly well I have no love for infants. If you expect—”

  Edward held up his hand. “No need to distress yourself, aunt. Lord Tarlton merely felt his sister-in-law, Miss Bartlett, would appreciate your company since his wife is abed and unable to join us.”

  “It is very odd,” Mrs. Pembroke said in a suspicious, hesitant voice. She glanced at Caroline while her thin hand briefly caught at one of her lace cuffs as if to hide the worn edge. Her impoverished state showed clearly and she obviously feared her nephew had invited her to join the small gathering at Lord Tarlton’s home because he felt sorry for her.

  The embarrassed gesture caught Caroline’s heart. She knew only too well the demoralizing humiliation of pity.

  “You must blame me for the strange abruptness of the invitation,” Caroline said. She moved forward to stand nearer to Mrs. Pembroke. “I did not bring my abigail and my sister’s staff is occupied. And I did not want to spend Christmas without someone reasonable to converse with.” She cast a meaningful look toward Edward and was rewarded by a small smile from Mrs. Pembroke.

  “I can see how tedious an evening spent with my nephew might grow,” Mrs. Pembroke replied dryly. “Although why anyone thought of me—”

  With a devilish grin, Edward gripped his aunt’s shoulder and leaned over to kiss her cheek. “Of course we thought of you, dearest aunt. There is no woman as beautiful and witty in all of London who would brave the winter’s storm to come to spend what will assuredly be the most boring Christmas evening in all of England.”

  Mrs. Pembroke laughed at this and pushed her nephew away. “And you are a liar and a rogue. However, perhaps we should return to the drawing room to await our host—”

  “Not at all.” Edward shook his head. “He is drooling over his infant and is unlikely to return. I shall act as temporary host this evening.” He swept them a bow and turned toward the dining table.

  Despite his words, he did not take a position at the head of the table. Instead, he seated Mrs. Pembroke to the right of the empty chair and Caroline to the left. Then he took the chair next to his aunt and gestured to butler.
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br />   He nodded to the staff who solemnly started a procession of silver platters and steaming dishes. One of the footmen brought a huge platter of beef to the table and hesitated before placing it on the sideboard. In the absence of Lord Tarlton, the butler, with a wrinkled face completely devoid of expression, carefully sliced the meat and stood back to allow the footman to serve them.

  “What about the soup? And the fish course?” Caroline asked, eyeing her plate hungrily as the footman carefully doled out roasted potatoes and carrots, pickles and a dollop of vegetable marrow soufflé.

  “Oh, the first two courses were already served before Tarlton decided to check on his wife,” Edward replied airily.

  “But—”

  He caught her glance. The intensity of his gaze made her stomach tighten. She hurriedly transferred her glance to her plate.

  “But?” he asked helpfully, holding a forkful of potatoes an inch from his mouth.

  “I-I simply thought you would have waited.” She glanced at Mrs. Pembroke. “Since you invited your aunt…”

  “So did I. However, we were unsure if my aunt would be free to join us and Lord Tarlton thought you might share supper with his wife.”

  “Until you suggested I most likely wouldn’t want to share supper with her, if I intended to poison her.”

  Mrs. Pembroke glanced at Caroline in surprise before stifling a small laugh.

  “Now, why would I do that?” Edward put down his fork and studied her, his face grave.

  “For the same reason you—” Caroline cut herself off. Mrs. Pembroke’s shrewd, gray eyes flickered with amusement.

  Caroline not bring herself to reveal that she knew he had convinced Tarlton to marry Elizabeth in front of his aunt. Or that Caroline suspected Edward had been working against her for some time and was now hiding his actions behind sweet words.

  The thought brought a sudden, painful constriction to her throat. She felt so drawn to him that she could scarcely credit his dreadful actions.

  She could think of no reason for him to hate her so, unless it grew out of simple resentment. The ache in her heart increased. She blamed herself. Although she couldn’t remember precisely, she imagined she might have chastised him a few times, after he pulled some absurd prank while she was responsible for watching over him. He had been a mischievous lad at twelve and she had been very conscious of her duty at sixteen.

  It seemed incredible that he would dwell on such a trivial thing for so many years but she could think of nothing else.

  Then, impossibly, her heart clenched more tightly. Perhaps he simply did not like her. Such dislikes occasionally grew between two people without any specific spark to initiate them. If so, there was nothing she could do to change his feelings and yet… She studied his face and caught her breath when he glanced at her a smiled—a deep, warm smile that made her pulse race.

  Surely, she was wrong. He could not give her such a heated look if he loathed her.

  “Yes,” he prompted her. “You were saying…”

  “I wish everyone would drop their nonsensical dissembling and simply be truthful,” she replied heavily. “I did not come here to be witty. I came to air the truth.”

  His eyes glinted in the candlelight as he leaned back in his chair. After a searching glance, he picked up a crystal glass of burgundy wine and studied it against the golden candlelight. “Are you sure you wish to hear the truth?”

  “Of course.”

  “You do not seem quite…prepared,” he said in a slow, meditative voice.

  “On the contrary,” Caroline replied with a certain amount of asperity. “If everyone would allow me the simple courtesy of believing what I’ve been saying the last two years, I would be quite happy.”

  “And what have you been saying?”

  “You know perfectly well. I’ve been repeating myself constantly since I arrived.”

  “Déjà vu. I know the feeling well.”

  “Perhaps you should strive to be more sober and serious.”

  He eyed her sardonically. “And you can recommend this based upon your own successful experiences with serious sobriety?”

  Frustrated, Caroline laid the back of her wrist against her forehead and closed her eyes in mock horror. “Why, sir! You wound me dreadfully.”

  “Rest assured you have returned the favor manyfold.”

  “Favor? What favor?” Lord Tarlton asked, striding back into the room. He appeared more harried than ever. The wispy remains of his hair stood out at odd angles from his egg-shaped head and floated up and down as an errant draft swirled around him. He pulled out the chair at the head of the table and sat down, his eyes on the table.

  “The favor of such lovely company,” Edward responded with admirable sangfroid.

  Lord Tarlton nodded at Mrs. Pembroke. “I’m not sure I mentioned earlier how grateful we are for your presence, Mrs. Pembroke. Miss Bartlett, in particular, desired your company.”

  “Thank you. Your invitation was most welcomed,” Mrs. Pembroke assured him.

  “How is Eliz—your wife, Lady Tarlton,” Caroline asked, striving for calm politeness.

  “She is resting, although I’m still concerned she may catch a chill.” Lord Tarlton gestured to the butler who hurried to his side with the silver platter of beef.

  “I sincerely hope not,” Caroline said, concentrating on showing her concern for her sister. Nothing was going as planned. Edward seemed bent upon goading her into acting with even less civility than she normally exhibited and exposing her worst side. And his aunt just seemed amused at his misbehavior.

  “We will see how she fares on the morrow,” Lord Tarlton replied heavily.

  “I’m sure she’ll be quite well,” Edward said, with one arm crooked over the back of the chair. He took a sip from his wineglass and glanced at Caroline.

  When he caught her gaze, he winked. Caroline flushed and immediately looked down at her plate.

  “I hope you are correct,” Lord Tarlton said in a lugubrious voice, clutching his fork and knife and staring at his plate.

  Elizabeth is as healthy as an ox, Caroline thought. She’ll certainly outlive me if my heart doesn’t stop fluttering whenever Edward smiles.

  She looked at her brother-in-law and bit her lip to stifle a laugh. It was dreadful to laugh at his concern but he looked exactly like a hound mourning the loss of his favorite bone.

  A stifled, unladylike snort escaped. She hastily covered her mouth with her linen napkin and pretended to sneeze. When she glanced up, everyone was staring at her. Unable to help herself, Caroline gazed at Edward. He successfully hid his own chuckles behind the pretense of drinking more wine. Mrs. Pembroke shook her head and helped herself to another slice of beef.

  Another, stronger bubble of laughter rose within Caroline. She could barely breathe from her efforts to maintain a serious expression on her face.

  “Miss Bartlett, are you quite all right?” Lord Tarlton asked suspiciously. He glanced up at her from time to time as he carefully cut his thick slice of roast into precisely even squares.

  “Yes,” she replied, choking. She smothered her giggles with the napkin again before holding up her wineglass to be refilled. “I beg your pardon.”

  “What we need is a distraction,” Edward announced. “Something to divert us while Lady Tarlton recovers.”

  “Have you taken leave of your senses, man?” Lord Tarlton asked. He stared at Edward in blatant shock.

  Edward smiled. “Not yet but I fully intend to.”

  A swift flurry of emotion passed over Lord Tarlton’s long face before he finally gave them a stiff smile. “Perhaps we need a Lord of Misrule.”

  “Just the thing!” Edward held up his glass in a salute to his host before winking insolently at Caroline again.

  “Are you sure you wish to grant my nephew that sort of power?” Mrs. Pembroke asked.

  Lord Tarlton stared at her uncertainly.

  Caroline giggled and then stuffed a corner of the napkin into her mouth. She bi
t down, determined not to laugh, while Edward did everything in his power to make her lose her composure. He grinned and held his wineglass up to salute her before downing the contents in one gulp. The mischievous gleam in his gray eyes made it nearly impossible for her to control the laughter bubbling up anew.

  Once more she took up the shield of her linen napkin. She crumpled it in one fist to hide her mouth from Lord Tarlton and mouthed the words to Edward, “Will you please stop!”

  “I beg your pardon, Miss Bartlett. Did you wish to say something?” Edward asked with bland innocence.

  “Lord Wexley…” Mrs. Pembroke said in a warning tone, biting her full, lower lip as if to stop herself from publically chastising him. She caught Caroline’s eyes and gave her a conspiratorial shake of her head at her nephew’s exasperating behavior.

  “No,” Caroline replied in a strangled voice, filled joy at her a sense of companionship with Mrs. Pembroke. “But it’s a terrible idea to make light—”

  Lord Tarlton slapped the table next to him, shaking all the dishes and silver. “I believe I am right! We must have a Lord of Misrule. You shall come up with some light diversion—it would lift my wife’s spirits enormously. Perhaps we can make her forget the dreadful experiences she has suffered since her…” He paused and glanced at Caroline. Then with obvious effort, he rephrased his words. “She suffered with the birth of our child. I only request that you amuse her gently—”

  “And I have such the thing—Shakespeare,” Edward suggested.

  “Shakespeare!” Both Caroline and Lord Tarlton spoke simultaneously.

  Laughing, Mrs. Pembroke shook her head.

  Edward glanced from one to the other, his handsome mouth curved with a smile. “Indeed.”

  “You can’t seriously mean for us to read sonnets to my sister?” Caroline asked, appalled at the excessively maudlin idea.

  Edward shook his head. “Not sonnets, no. We shall put on a play.”

  “We?” Again, both Caroline and her brother-in-law echoed each other.

  Lord Tarlton then said, “Despite your appointment as the Lord of Misrule, I will do no such thing.”