by Janet Woods
His head slanted to one side and his observation of her was intense. ‘No doubt you’d have made a damned nuisance of yourself by wanting to sit on my knee all the time. Besides which, you would have called me uncle, and I’d have had to pretend I liked you.’
Her stomach sank. ‘You don’t like me?’
‘I adore you, and no, I wouldn’t have preferred a child. That’s the only compliment you’re getting from me. You’ve had too much attention tonight as it is. Beware of Gerald, you can’t trust him.’
‘He said exactly the same about you.’
‘I know. Perhaps you should listen to him. Sometimes I’m not so in control of myself as I appear.’
She opened her mouth to argue, then shut it again when he laughed. ‘Oh, you.’
She was half expecting him to kiss her goodnight, but he didn’t. He opened the door to her room, turned her round and gently pushed her inside. ‘Goodnight, Sarry. Sweet dreams.’
Her head seemed filled with thoughts of Magnus, and she told Ada all about the ball as she was readied for bed.
‘We’re going to the Winter Gardens tomorrow to listen to the orchestra before we go home. They’re to play Christmas carols.
‘Then you must wear a warm coat. I’ll leave it ready for you, Miss. George and I will be going straight back to Fierce Eagles after breakfast.
No sooner had Sarette laid her head on the pillow than her eyes flew open and her heart began to pound. Gracious, she suspected she was beginning to like Magnus too much! What if he’d been telling the truth when he’d told her not to trust him? Perhaps Mr John had left her a fortune. Would Magnus really help himself to it? He might think he was entitled to it because John was his uncle. She wouldn’t blame him if he did.
And what about Ignatious and Gerald? Surely they’d help Magnus obtain it, because they’d resent a complete stranger walking into Mr John’s home and just taking it all. And it wasn’t as if she’d wanted it in the first place. She realized that it would cause enormous problems if it were true.
But then, what were Magnus’s plans for her? She couldn’t live in his house indefinitely and allow him to support her. People were already gossiping about the nature of their relationship. Not that it bothered him, and he was too honourable to take advantage of her.
Her face grew warm as an insidious little voice in her head pointed out, He wasn’t very honourable with that Isabelle woman. He pretended he loved her then discarded her without a second thought.
She said out loud, ‘What if he does the same to me?’
Don’t be stupid, he doesn’t even find you attractive, and how do you know he pretended to love her?
She smiled at that. Go away, I’m tired and you’re making me cross.
Resolutely, she closed her eyes, and was on the brink of sleep when the insidious voice said, You’re jealous of that contessa creature, aren’t you? You’ve fallen in love with him.
Her eyes flew open and she thought about it. Inevitably her mind went to Magnus Kern again. Her thoughts about him weren’t at all ladylike or innocent, and her feelings, though designed to disrupt any notion of sleeping, were extremely and sinfully pleasant.
She cuddled her pillow against her, smiled and admitted to herself . . . perhaps she had.
Sixteen
Christmas at the Grimbles was pleasant.
Most of the Grimble family and invited guests had gathered in the home of Ignatious, and it was a happy, laughing crowd of adults and children. Even Olivia was fairly polite to her – until the mood suddenly degenerated.
The problem for Sarette was Jessica Fenwick, who was all false sweetness in company, and who attached herself to Gerald’s arm like a leech whenever she could.
If she caught Sarette alone she was rude and unpleasant, knocking her with her elbow as she moved past. ‘Guttersnipe,’ she hissed, on one occasion.
Anger rose in Sarette, and she felt like strangling Jessica. But she wasn’t about to do anything to shame Magnus, who was deep in talk with Ignatious. Nobody seemed inclined to disturb them, least of all, her.
After dinner Olivia was persuaded to play the piano for carols and they all gathered around as she displayed her skills with several trills and flourishes. Jessica leaned on the piano in a pose that was designed to be noticed and admired, her face animated as she sang. She had a lovely voice, and made the most of the opportunity to show off her asset.
Sarette discovered Gerald by her side. His face was flushed and he was smiling too much, the result of a surfeit of Christmas spirit, she thought. She wanted to giggle when he winked at her. Gerald was priceless, and constantly made her laugh. As the other voices rose in song he took advantage to slide a hand under her elbow and steer her out of the room and into the hall.
‘Gerald, what on earth are you doing? Release me.’
‘I haven’t had a chance to talk to you alone all day, Sarry, my love.’
‘It’s cold in the hall. Let’s go back in and sing carols,’ she suggested gently.
‘It’s Christmas, and I want to kiss you under the mistletoe.’
She laughed. ‘Ah, so that’s it. There is no mistletoe here.’
He brought his hand out from behind his back, flourished a small twig of mistletoe and said triumphantly, ‘There, I brought one with me.’ At the same time he pulled her close and kissed her. There was no escaping his embrace and she gave into it with good grace until he prolonged it and it became intrusive. Alarm filled her. She began to struggle and turned her head away and pushed against his chest. ‘Stop it Gerald.’
The next minute the door to the drawing room was thrown open and Jessica gave an outraged scream. ‘You shameless hussy.’
Gerald staggered backwards, caught his heel on a rug and sprawled on his back.
The music suddenly stopped and people crowded in the doorway. Ignatious pushed his way through. ‘Good gracious, Gerald. What’s going on here?’
‘That hussy was kissing him,’ Jessica said shrilly, and pointed an accusing finger at Sarette.
Gerald laughed. ‘Who’s a hussy? Sarry? That’s preposterous. She’s as innocent as a newborn lamb. I was trying to kiss her and she was putting up a fight. How else d’you think I got down here?’ Gerald began to laugh and Sarette nervously grinned.
‘Explain please, Gerald,’ Ignatious said, giving a hand to help his son to his feet.
‘Certainly, father. I was attempting to kiss Miss Maitland under the mistletoe. She was reluctant. I was about to propose marriage to her. I must admit I was hoping for a bit more privacy than this, but there, I suppose this will have to do.’ He fell to his knees, took her hand in his and kissed it. ‘Will you marry me, Sarette, dear?’
Desperation filled her and she looked around for Magnus, her face flaming, before pleading, ‘You’re making a fool of yourself and you’re embarrassing everyone, Gerald. I think you’ve celebrated Christmas too well. Please get up.’
‘I can’t. My head’s spinning.’
Magnus stepped through the crowd and took hold of his collar. ‘Stop making a horse’s arse of yourself.’ Unsympathetically, he hauled Gerald to his feet.
Gerald made choking noises until Magnus thought to loosen his grip. Two of Gerald’s younger brothers took over the task of propping him up, grinning at each other.
Gerald gave Magnus a pathetic look. ‘I feel a bit worse for wear, Mags.’
‘I know you do. You never could hold your drink. Your brothers will take you upstairs to lie down for a bit, and I daresay you’ll live to annoy us another day.’
Gerald wagged a finger at Magnus and grinned. ‘I meant what I said. I’ll marry Sarry if she’ll have me. You will, won’t you, Sarry? You can keep the damned legacy—’
Jessica advanced on Gerald and he cringed away. ‘Get that harpy away from me.’
‘You obnoxious cad!’ Jessica said dramatically and, bursting into floods of tears, she flew into Olivia’s arms. Olivia made soothing noises and glared at Sarette. ‘See what happens when yo
u invite a person of such low morals into the family home, father.’
‘Enough, Olivia. Miss Maitland is entirely blameless.’ Ignatious looked quite distressed when he turned to her. ‘I’m so sorry this has happened, Sarette. Please accept my apologies.’
Sarette managed to smile at him, though she’d been embarrassed by Gerald’s public declaration and felt like crying. ‘It wasn’t your fault, really. I’m not going to take the proposal seriously. He will have forgotten about it by morning, and we can all laugh about it. See how contrite he looks.’
But Gerald was far from contrite. He grinned at her from the stairs, and blew her a kiss. ‘I’m not trite at all.’
Sarette couldn’t help but giggle, albeit nervously, and Magnus chuckled. ‘It’s about time we left, I think. I want to be home before it gets dark. Thank you for your hospitality, Ignatious.’
When they were under way Magnus said to her. ‘You handled that well.’
‘How can I be cross with Gerald when he makes me laugh? He’s such fun to be with. I expect he’ll have forgotten about it by tomorrow.’
‘And if he hasn’t . . . what will your answer be?’
She shrugged. How could she accept Gerald as a husband when she loved his closest friend? ‘I had formed an impression that Miss Fenwick had a claim to him. He was cruel to her.’
‘Miss Fenwick has been given no reason to think that Gerald is interested in her. All the same, Ignatious will have him carpeted tomorrow, and he’ll apologize to her, and to us. Despite his quirks, Gerald’s heart is in the right place, and he’d make you a good husband.’
Sarette supposed it would be convenient for Magnus if she married Gerald and left Fierce Eagles. She wanted to ask him about the legacy, since it was the second time she’d heard it mentioned, but she didn’t want to break the mood. In the meantime she chose not to respond to Magnus’s question.
They were home just after dark, stopping to light the carriage lamps on the way. The dogs came bounding out from the kitchen to greet them and to be made a fuss of. Boots’s voice had deepened, and he had a gruff woof in comparison to Patch’s yap. He seemed to have grown six inches in a week.
The house was warm, a fire was glowing in the drawing room and the dogs followed them in and settled down in front of it. The flames sent out licks of light to reflect off the shiny surfaces and penetrate into the leaping shadows. Magnus didn’t bother to turn up the gas lights.
There was a Christmas tree in front of the window. It smelled of pine resin and was decorated with tinsel stars, paper chains and wooden soldiers with drums, trumpets and pipes. On the top, an angel spread her wings as if she were about to fly away. Sarette felt contented, as though she’d always belonged here at Fierce Eagles.
‘Can you remember your father and mother?’ she asked Magnus.
He looked startled for a moment, then smiled. ‘I can just remember my mother. I get little snatches of memory of her. I remember being sick once, and she put her arms around me and sang me to sleep. As for my father? I remember him better, but sometimes get him mixed up with my uncle. I was ten when he died, and lived in Swanage.
Uncle John woke me in the middle of the night and told me what had happened. He was in practice with Ignatious Grimble then, and he vowed to give up the old ways, though I didn’t know what he meant. He cried with me over the loss of his brother and my father, then wrapped me in a blanket and brought me here, to Fierce Eagles.’
‘Were you lonely?’
‘Sometimes. I spent two years with my cousin for company, and Gerald often came over to stay. Then Uncle John’s wife Annie died. When I was a little older I was sent off to boarding school with Gerald, then finished my studies at Cambridge University. I worked in London for a firm of lawyers and passed the bar exams, which qualified me as a barrister. My uncle went downhill after Margaret died, so I returned to Fierce Eagles to be company for him.’
‘Sometimes Mr John was melancholy, but he was always good to me, and he talked about you a lot,’ she said. ‘I don’t think he wanted to feel love any more.’
‘He might not have wanted to, but he did. He said as much in his last journal.’
Her eyes came up to search for his in the twilight of the room. ‘Will you tell me what he said?’
‘He said he’d learned that he was dying, and that you were his heart and he didn’t want to hurt you.’
‘Mr John said that?’ A lump came to her throat and threatened to choke her. ‘How lovely . . . and how very sad. I would have stayed and looked after him until the end.’
‘Which was the very reason why he sent you away. He wouldn’t have been able to bear seeing you suffer.’
Fiercely, she said, ‘He would have lived longer if Flynn Collins hadn’t shot him.’
Magnus sighed. ‘If he’d survived that, the quality of his remaining life might not have been all we would wish for him. Did he seem to be in pain when you left him?’
‘His stomach had pained him off and on for some time. When I left he seemed his usual self, though he looked a bit gaunt. Mr John was drunk when I first met him, and I don’t think I ever saw him entirely sober. He drank too much, every day, starting just after breakfast. He needed it, he said. It stopped him from thinking too much. You’re right. He wouldn’t have wanted to be dependent on me. He was a very self-sufficient man.’
A knock came at the door.
‘Come in, Branston.’
‘You’re sitting in the dark, sir.’
Branston’s voice was a little slurred and Sarette smiled to herself.
‘Yes, I suppose we are. It’s pleasant, sitting here talking in the firelight.’
‘Yes, sir. Is there anything you need?’
‘Some cold cuts with bread and butter, a pot of tea and a slice each of that excellent fruitcake cook baked. The rest of the night is your own.’
‘Yes, sir. Shall I turn up the light?’
‘Not until you come back.’
The door gently closed behind Branston as he left.
‘I’m not hungry,’ she said.
‘You might be later.’
She drew in a deep breath and called on some courage. He seemed to be in a mellow mood, and for her own peace of mind she needed to get to the bottom of this legacy question. ‘There’s something I wish to ask you, Magnus. When we were at the ball, someone mentioned that your uncle has left me a legacy. Today, Gerald mentioned the same thing.’
‘Ah, I should have realized you’d notice his slip of the tongue. May I ask who told you at the ball?’
‘The contessa.’
‘Isabelle!’ He cursed. ‘How the devil did she know?’
‘Perhaps you talk in your sleep,’ she said drily, and could have bitten off her tongue when a frown coloured his voice, shattering the rapport between them.
‘I haven’t seen Isabelle for months. But why am I explaining something that is clearly none of your business?’
‘Unfortunately, strangers seem to know more of my business than I do, and they’re gossiping. Obviously they get their information from somewhere. Tell me about the legacy, Magnus.’
‘My uncle has left you a house in Bournemouth, and some investments.’
‘When were you going to tell me about this?’
‘After the addendum to his will had been through probate, and the funds had been released and transferred to me, as your legal guardian.’
‘What does addendum, and probate mean? They sound like medical terms.’
He laughed. ‘The addendum is the addition he made to his current will, citing you as a beneficiary. It has to go through a formality to be proved legal and correct. It takes a little while.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me about this before?’
‘I didn’t see the need. The house was tenanted up until a few weeks ago. I was discussing it with Ignatious earlier today. I’ve suggested that when a new tenant is found, that the rent be paid directly to you, to spend as you wish.’
‘Perhaps I’ll
choose to live in the house.’
He rose and turned the lights up. The mood was lost and the room was filled with a brightness that made her blink. ‘The house is fairly modest in size, but too big for one person to manage, and you wouldn’t be able to afford the upkeep, or servants.’
‘I don’t mind getting my hands dirty. I could take in paying guests or turn it into a school.’
He gave an easy laugh and sat beside her, cajoling, ‘Are you telling me you want to leave me, Sarry?’
‘Yes . . . no. Of course I don’t. I love . . .’ She only just stopped herself from telling him she loved him! ‘I love it here at Fierce Eagles. I just wished you’d told me before someone else did. It was kind of Mr John to have made all these arrangements for me. I’m grateful that he sent me to Mrs Lawrence, clothed me and fed me. But I’m not a relative or anything, and I didn’t deserve it, and all this time I’ve been feeling as though I was taking charity. Now I feel even worse.’
‘You’re miffed, aren’t you?’
‘Yes . . . no. I don’t know. I think my feelings are hurt, even though I’ve got no right to complain.’
‘Has anyone ever told you that you have a pretty mouth?’ He ran his finger gently over the curves then stopped in the middle of her lower lip. ‘I like that little pout.’
She blushed. ‘Stop trying to distract me. Magnus. Are you listening to anything I’m saying?’
‘No, I have no inclination to be lectured. You’re sitting under the mistletoe and I’m in the mood to kiss you.’
She groaned. ‘Being kissed under the mistletoe has got me into enough trouble today.’
‘Then the answer is no?’
‘No . . .’
His mouth claimed hers in a tender caress. She gave a little sigh and her mouth parted under his. His palms cupped her face, his thumbs were a gentle caress behind her ears and his little fingers rested against her cheekbones.
When Branston gently coughed, they sprang apart.
‘How long have you been standing there, Branston?’
The butler’s eyes rounded in innocence. ‘Who, me, sir?’
Sarette giggled when Magnus said, ‘Yes, you, sir. I can’t see anyone else called Branston in the room.’