A sweet, innocent smile settled on her rosy red lips, and she had the gall to bat her lashes at him.
“Or maybe I will catch my death of cold and perish before morning’s light,” he rebutted, realizing his irritation had fled, and he was openly enjoying their banter. “Please, let the magistrate know he can find my cold, deceased body over yonder in the shrubs.”
A voice was cleared behind him, and Lucas turned to see his valet. “What, Charles?”
“The horses have been brought round, and a stable hand has prepared a few stalls for us to seek a bit of sleep in. I will assist you in the morning.”
“Wait!” Lady Pippa squeaked as Charles gave his master a quick nod and departed for the stables. “You cannot—I have not—humph!”
Lucas took his time turning back to Lady Pippa, making sure his grin matched her smug smirk from a moment ago. “Thank you so much for your kind offer of shelter, my lady. Do you prefer I search the house for my own room?” He was staying, and no matter how much it irritated her, her own servants had outvoted Lady Pippa. “It is difficult to celebrate my victory with you glaring daggers at me.”
Chapter 3
Pippa felt her face flush with indignation and fury at the nerve of this man…this earl. A gentleman of the ton, who should pride himself on his decorum and respect of the fairer sex, yet seemed to find fulfillment in leaving others speechless.
He was the one seeking shelter from her.
He was the one looking like a drowned rodent in her foyer.
He was the one being kicked from a home he was not wanted in.
Why did Pippa feel like the unwelcome party in this situation? As if he were the one with all the power; he who belonged while she was the interloper…nothing more than a trespasser in her own home.
Though, she knew, society dictated that she offer the man—no matter how irritating—shelter and a dry bed for the night.
“Lady Pippa,” he said, his tone softening, and the laughter leaving his body. “I regret that we started on the wrong note. I am Lucas Hartfeld, the Earl of Maddox, and as I mentioned, my carriage was damaged beyond any repair attainable during this fierce storm. I throw myself at your mercy and request shelter…a bath and a warm meal.”
She eyed him, watching for any indication that he mocked her with his tone or words. There was no teasing left in him. Before her stood a man drenched to the skin, his teeth starting to chatter from the cold.
“Very well, my lord.” Pippa slid past him and retrieved her book. “I will ring for my butler, and he will show you to your room and make arrangements for a meal.”
With a flourish meant to convey her curt dismissal of the man, Pippa pivoted toward the grand staircase, but her book hit his arm, casting it from her hands. It slid across the floor as the cover fell open and a slip of paper fluttered to the earl’s feet.
Before Pippa could snatch the invitation to Lady Natalie’s party, Lucas grabbed it. His brow rose in question as he read. “You are attending the Sheridan’s holiday gathering?”
“No, I am not attending,” Pippa confessed with a bit too much conviction, which only gained his inquisitive stare. “What I mean to say is that, yes, I was invited, but I am awaiting my parents’ return from Bath. They may not arrive in time for us to attend.” Too late, Pippa realized she’d told the man she was alone in her home without proper chaperones.
“Well, that is certainly a shame, because, other than my parents, you would be my only acquaintance.” He handed the invitation back to her and walked farther into the foyer, inspecting a painting on the wall as he went—his Hessians sloshing with each waterlogged step. Pippa imagined it was fairly difficult to saunter when one was soaked to the core. “I guess I will manage, if this storm lets up and I’m able to continue my journey. How far is Lord and Lady Sheridan’s estate?”
“Only a brisk, fifteen-minute walk through the cluster of trees bordering my home—to the north.” It was the path she and Natalie had taken for years, having shared tutors and instructors, and also stealing away from home to spend time with one another. They’d been bosom friends—something Pippa had done her best to not dwell on since last Season and their unexpected falling-out. “Or a seven-minute coach ride.”
He glanced over his shoulder to where she watched him. “Oh, then I dare say, if my wheel had lasted a bit longer, I would have made it. Pity.”
“You are correct. But if you’d traveled any farther, you might not have seen my estate and sought refuge.” Pippa was starting to warm to the idea of keeping one of Lady Natalie’s guests from arriving on time for her celebration. If she could dampen Natalie’s spirits, it would be well deserved for how she’d embarrassed Pippa. “I will call for Briars.”
Pippa pulled quickly on the bell rope under the stairs…giving it an extra tug to make sure it awoke her servant.
“Please, do not let me keep you from your studies.” He glanced at the book, still lying askew on the floor between them. “I can await your servant here and explain my predicament.”
“You were not interrupting me,” Pippa said. “I was merely reading for pleasure. Besides, it is long past my bedtime.”
“Reading for pleasure?” he asked as if it were a foreign concept to him.
“Yes.” She made no move to retrieve her book. “It is something I enjoy.”
“There are many things I do for pleasure—and reading is not one of them,” he mused, as if to himself. “But a bed…that is something that leads to great pleasure.”
Pippa knew better than to gasp at his outrageous and highly scandalous remark. It was his aim to make her uncomfortable, though she knew not why.
“My lady?” a sleepy voice called from the hall off the foyer.
“Briars!” Pippa called, relief flooding her at the appearance of another person. It would put an end to her time alone with Lucas. “This is the Earl of Maddox, Lucas Hartfeld. His carriage broke a wheel on his way to the Sheridan estate. The storm is far too fierce for him to continue on tonight. Please, prepare a room, meal, and hot bath for him—in any order he requires.”
“Certainly, Lady Pippa,” Briars replied. “My apologies for the lateness of my arrival.”
Pippa flipped her hand in dismissal as if to show his delayed assistance hadn’t done any harm, and that she hadn’t been highly uncomfortable during her time alone with the earl—yet, she knew she’d be unable to banish the sight of Lucas’ wet, clinging linen shirt anytime soon. She only wondered what had become of his coat.
Briars cleared his throat. His eyes traveled from her head to her toes, silently insisting she do the same.
She’d completely forgotten her less than proper receiving attire due to Lucas’s frustrating comments and demands for shelter. The man had a knack for distracting her.
“Yes, well, I will retire for the evening,” Pippa said. “I bid you both a restful night.”
She turned, with less flourish than earlier as it had only landed her in far deeper waters with the earl. She started toward the stairs—and the safety of her quarters.
“Lady Pippa?” Lucas called behind her. Lucas—she needed to remember that he was essentially a stranger, the Earl of Maddox, or “my lord.” She turned to see he’d retrieved her forgotten book and held it out to her. “You will likely be missing this come morning.”
He took the few steps to meet her, dissuading her from ignoring his offer of the book and fleeing to her chambers.
Pippa sighed and reached for the book.
She stiffened when their fingers touched—acutely aware of her nipples hardening beneath her nightshift.
At his inhaled breath, Pippa knew he’d noticed, too.
Quickly, she snatched the book and nodded in thanks before turning and rushing up the stairs; the book in one hand and her shift held high with the other. It would add insult to injury if she were to stumble before she was out of his sight.
“Sweet dreams, Lady Pippa.”
The words floated after her until she reached the
landing and turned down the corridor that led to her suite of rooms, a chuckle greeting her as she slammed the door behind her, throwing the bolt for safety’s sake.
Chapter 4
Lucas stalked toward the aroma of eggs, ham, and warm bread, his anger from the night before continuing. The storm refused to break, his carriage was still thoroughly stuck on a muddied road, and his coachman hadn’t any answers as to when they’d be able to depart Lady Pippa’s home.
He was essentially at her mercy—something Lucas would normally enjoy. He appeared powerless at the hands of a innocently alluring woman, when truly, they both knew who held the power.
But the vixen he’d met the previous night would find little enjoyment knowing she could take the upper hand from him. Her meek demeanor was at odds with her saucy remarks.
There was no need to wander aimlessly as the breakfast room was not far from the kitchens, much like Lucas’s family estate.
With no hesitation, Lucas entered the room, fully expecting to receive the full brunt of her ire for overpowering her wishes the night before. He would be livid if someone saw fit to disregard his commands and make themselves at home in his house. However, he’d had no other feasible options. Surely, Lady Pippa understood that.
Nevertheless, he entered the room, prepared for her pointed stare and demands that he and his servants leave posthaste.
The sight that greeted him was nothing he had expected.
Lady Pippa did not so much as look up from what occupied her or acknowledge his presence. It shouldn’t vex him so—he was the unwelcome houseguest, after all, but Lucas had never been a man to be ignored—not by society, his servants, and, most assuredly, not by women.
“Good morn, Lady Pippa,” Lucas ventured, as a servant stepped forward to hand him an empty plate to fill from the sideboard. “I hope you slept well.” It was not an outright question, but certainly a comment she’d be forced to address unless she sought to further show the flaws in her upbringing and manners.
“My night was restful. Thank you for asking, my lord.” She looked up as he arrived at the sideboard. He was forced to turn away from her to fill his plate or stand awkwardly and stare straight at her. “And yours?”
Lucas took in the mass quantities of food before him, shocked and a bit thrilled that the variety and selection before him were so vast—this far from polite society. There was more food here than he and Lady Pippa could eat in two days, and he assumed she’d already finished her meal.
“My room was warm, the bath very pleasing, and my bed suitable. If only the howling wind had subsided enough to allow a completely blissful sleep, it would have been appreciated, but that was not any fault of yours.” He piled his plate high, feeling guilty if Lady Pippa’s cook had prepared all this food only for him. “Thank you for asking, my lady.”
The same servant as earlier snapped into action and pulled his chair out for him so he could sit directly across the table from Lady Pippa. He was able to see what occupied her as he sat. She held two needle-shaped instruments cumbersomely in her hands. The tips clinked as she seemed to knot some sort of yarn length. He’d never seen anything like it—his mother had never taken to such basic domestic responsibilities, regarding the mending and repairs of clothing as servant’s work.
“What are you doing?” He stabbed a piece of meat and brought it to his mouth as he watched her work, fascinated by her swift movements.
“I am knitting a cap.” Lady Pippa looked up at him as she continued to work as if her hands had done this job so many times they did not need her brain’s directions. “Not all of us have the luxury of spending our time gallivanting about the countryside in search of merriment.”
Her pointed words struck a nerve. “And is that your life’s mission, my lady—to knit hideous caps for yourself?”
“These are not for me,” she hissed, the insult in her voice clear.
“You mean to force those dreadful things on others?” Lucas looked at the small pile of green and red hats, complete with small balls attached to the tops—shocking him further, a few even had bells attached. “Tell me you are not requesting coin for them.”
“Helping the less fortunate is a virtue that not all people possess, my lord. It does not make me think less of you that you do not understand this, though neither does it raise you in my estimation.” Her stern expression had Lucas regretting his decision to leave his room.
“My apologies,” he conceded. “It was not my intent to insult you. Your caps are lovely—very festive, indeed.”
“They will keep the children in the village warm, which is all that matters to people who have so little.”
If he’d wanted such a lecture, he would have attended a local vicarage to hear the many ways his life had gone awry. “That is very commendable of you,” he said around another bite of food.
“Are you hungry, my lord?”
“I would not have gotten a plate if I weren’t.”
“It is only that your plate is so full it is overflowing on my mother’s cherished table runner.”
Lucas stared at his plate before him, noticing a small pile of eggs had, indeed, slid from his plate to land on the table when he’d knifed a large piece of ham. Hoping to avoid notice, he flicked his empty fork to push the escaped morsel back onto his plate.
“Has your coachman been able to fix your carriage?” she asked, focusing once again on her task. “While not as fierce, the storm has not subsided as much as I’d hoped.”
“I am afraid not, though he will brave the weather and journey to town to see if the wheel is easy to repair or if a new one is available for purchase.”
“Do you plan to ride ahead to the holiday party?” He noticed her fingers stilled for the first time when she asked the question, revealing her interest in his answer.
“It is highly risky to take a horse out in this weather,” he said. “The chances of the beast twisting a hoof in a hole or throwing a shoe are greatly increased.”
It was obvious by her nod that she already knew this, but she was giving him some sort of test—maybe to see if he’d risk his horse’s safety, or assess how desperately he wished to arrive at the Sheridans’ holiday party. Thankfully, for him—though likely not to Pippa’s favor—Lucas was in no hurry to reach the duke’s country estate. Namely, seeing his parents for the first time in almost two years was not something he was looking forward to. It would be the first holiday they had spent together since he was in knee britches and sent away to boarding school. Even now, Lucas only knew they’d summoned him for the specific purpose of introducing him to his intended bride—and shortly after, announcing their betrothal to all of society.
There was no other reason—and even now, he saw little need to meet his intended. They would meet eventually anyways…on their wedding day, certainly.
He and his parents had resided in London, moved within the same circles, for the past eight years, and never had their paths crossed…not in any ballroom or garden party or opera.
They avoided him, just as he avoided them. They had only seen one another a handful of times to discuss things of little import to Lucas.
It was a cycle they’d all become accustomed to. One he preferred as it left him to his own devices; however, Lucas was unsure what benefit it offered his parents, the Marquis and Marchioness of Bowmont.
“What are your plans for the day?” If he were stuck in her home, he at least hoped to find something to occupy his time—idleness was something he’d never favored. He was already tapping his foot rapidly against the floor, though he was thankful for the thick rug that muffled the sound. “I do not expect the storm to pass before supper, and my coachman may be in town most of the day hiring a blacksmith to repair my carriage.”
Her brow pulled together at his question. “Today is the day my mother and I usually decorate for Yuletide. But, unfortunately, while the storm delivered you to my door, it has kept my parents away.”
Lucas couldn’t imagine why that pained her so,
as he’d relish keeping his mother and father far from him.
“The holiday is, what…” Lucas searched his brain and counted the days. “…two days away?”
“Yes,” she sighed. “Only two days, and we have much to do.”
He glanced around the room, everything in its place. Much as the rest of the house he’d seen. Not a thing to be dusted or a table to be polished. Most of all, the house was startlingly empty, devoid of many servants—or possibly, they kept out of sight. He could not fathom what Lady Pippa had to prepare, especially if it were only she and her parents.
“Are you expecting more guests?” He would feel bad about intruding on a planned celebration with a completed guest list that didn’t include him or room for an extra body. “I guess if the storm lets up a bit, I can depart.”
“No, we are not expecting anyone else, but do not let me stop you from departing.” Her smug smile returned, knowing she’d used his words against him once more. “But as much as I’d relish having my home back, my manners don’t allow me to insist you leave. Did I pronounce that word correctly? M-a-n-n-e-r-s.” Her smile faded as she looked at him with mock bafflement.
Lucas laughed, a deep reverberating sound. And it felt good, great if he were honest with himself. “Okay, you little minx, okay. I am sorry for my offensive mood last night. I was wet, cold, and inconvenienced.”
“And I was not inconvenienced?” she asked innocently.
Lucas shook his head. “I will also admit that you were inconvenienced, and that it was my fault. Please, allow me to help with your decorating, at least during your mother’s absence.”
Setting her needles aside, Lady Pippa said, “That is not necessary, but thank you for your kind offer.”
It was as if she sought any excuse to keep him at arm’s length. She treated him no better than a stranger—which, by all accounts, he was. Then why did she seem so familiar to him? It was difficult to admit that they’d only met the previous night. Their back and forth was that of people who knew one another well and knew exactly the correct thing to say to gain the reaction desired.
A Kiss At Christmastide: Regency Novella Page 3