by Kimberly Nee
“All these so-and-sos are making my head hurt.”
They strolled down the corridor, and Emma savored the hint of pine from the wreaths on the walls, each tied with a red velvet bow. Momma loved to decorate the house for Christmas, and this year was no exception. Red and green draped every surface that didn’t get out of her way quickly enough, and she even provided the servants with red and green livery for the evening. The footmen wore green tunics and red trousers, while the maids wore green dresses with red aprons. They were colorful, to say the least.
As they rounded the corner leading to the ballroom, Emma spied a clump of people gathered at the doors, waiting to enter. She didn’t see Mary or Ben Jacobs, but her gaze found Julian with little effort. It was as if her eyes were drawn to him the way lightning was drawn to water. Her heart skipped a beat. He looked handsome in black breeches that skimmed the muscles in his thighs. With that, he wore a waistcoat embroidered with silver, blue, and purple thread, and his frock coat was the same shade of periwinkle as the thread accents in his waistcoat.
He turned the rest of the way toward her, as if feeling her gaze on him, and smiled. He’d been standing with a small group of men and broke away to stride toward them. “Good evening, Miss McKenzie. You look lovely this evening. That blue suits you.”
An unexpected giggle rose. Somehow, she managed to cover it with a cough and replied, “Thank you, Mr. McCallister. I’m glad you approve.”
“McKenzie, where’s the bigger, angrier one?” Julian asked with a grin. “I thought he’d be in the bar well on his way to climbing into his cups.”
“I’ll go find out, but then chances are we’ll both be climbing into our cups.” Drew released Emma’s arm to slip it through Julian’s. “And so I will entrust my sister’s chaperonage to you, McCallister. Don’t let anything happen to her.”
“As if I would.”
“Drew, please. Just don’t attack either Mary or Ben. You said yourself it was just a kiss. And it might not even have happened. Find out first. Remember the so-and-sos.”
“So-and-sos?” Julian’s brow wrinkled.
Drew grinned. “I know what I have to do, Em.”
After Drew left them, Julian tucked her arm through his and covered her hand. His fingers threaded through hers, and a tingle wound its way up her arm, all the way into her shoulder. He gave a gentle squeeze, one that rippled through her, especially when he didn’t ease his grip. A sidelong glance told her he was grinning down at her.
“What?”
“Come with me, Miss McKenzie. You need to make your entrance.”
“Oh, hardly. I wasn’t the least bit concerned with that. I just didn’t want to walk in there alone.” She filled him in on the details Drew offered up. “Especially if I’m to be bombarded with questions over a small kiss.”
“Better her than you.”
She chewed on that for a long moment and then nodded. “True. Very true.”
He tugged on her arm to draw her closer. As his lips brushed her ear, he whispered, “Unless you’d rather give them something else to gossip about?”
“Julian!” She bit back a smile. “I need to speak with Rose, and you’re cornering George, remember?”
“And if he’s with Darcy?”
She’d already considered and rejected half a dozen plans, going back to the first one that came to mind. “Flirt with her. You’re handsome enough to make her forget all about Mr. Hadley. I think you could make her forget about all other men in this room.”
As soon as she said the words, she wished she could take them back. It wasn’t that she didn’t mean them, but she hadn’t meant to blurt it out that way. And she hadn’t even had any champagne or wassail yet. Dear Lord. Imagine what would come out of her mouth if she imbibed?
She swallowed hard as Julian stared down at her. For several heart-stopping minutes he said nothing, and the voices of the guests melded into a low buzz off in the distance. But then he smiled. “I thank you for the compliment.”
“That wasn’t too bold of me, was it?”
“It was fine and I won’t hold it against you. Remember, I’m used to you being blunt. It’s just been a while since I’ve been the subject of your bluntness.”
“Ah, Mr. McCallister, Miss McKenzie, there you are.” Lydia Morris beamed as she came toward them, her arm tucked through her husband’s. “How are you, Mr. McCallister? It’s been too long since I’ve last seen you.”
“I’m well, Mrs. Morris. You look even younger than you did the last time I saw you.” Julian smiled at her and then her husband. “And how are you, Mr. Morris? Still up to your eyes in cakes and pastries?”
Ellis Morris’s smile shone through his bushy white mustache. “I will be buried by icing cupids and cake layers, and I will still have a smile on my face, young man.” He clasped Julian’s hand in his. “And you’re looking good as well. Life at sea agrees with you.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. I far prefer being on dry land, building the ships instead of sailing them. But sometimes duty calls.”
“You’d go mad without a lady in every port,” Lydia chuckled, a glint in her blue eyes. “And Ellis, don’t you even think to scold me. You know I’m right.”
Emma bit back a grin as Ellis only shook his head. Somehow, she didn’t think there was much his wife could say that would shock him after three decades of marriage. She said what she thought, and anyone who didn’t like it quickly found themselves on society’s outskirts.
“Lydia, Ellis.” Emma held her breath as her father and mother joined them, each holding two glasses of wassail. Momma smiled as she passed one of the glasses to Lydia, who accepted and sipped.
Momma directed her smile at Julian. “I’m surprised you aren’t with Garrett and Drew in there, with a glass in each hand.”
Papa lifted his own glass. “Sounds like a festive way to pass Christmas, if you ask me.”
Mr. Morris raised his glass. “Here, here. I say we go inside and do exactly that, and let the women have their chatter out here.”
Emma bit the inside of her cheek as disappointment flashed through her when Julian chuckled. “Sounds good to me. Although,” he cast a sidelong glance down at her. “But I doubt anyone will question why I’m out here, talking with three beautiful ladies instead of being in there with a bunch of drunken ogres.”
“Someone needs to be the voice of reason,” Momma broke in, peering around the doorway as if looking to see what mischief Drew and Garrett might have stirred up already. “I keep hoping those two will outgrow some of their silliness, but I have the feeling some things will never be beneath them.”
“It’s once a year, Becca.” Papa touched her shoulder. “And as long as they don’t get hurt or burn the house down, they’re fine.”
Momma sipped her wassail. “I suppose you’re right. And it is Christmas.” Her brow furrowed, but quickly smoothed. “Have either of you seen Mary? I haven’t seen her since we returned from church.”
“I haven’t seen her since I helped her get ready, but I don’t know if she’s come down.” Emma spied Rose at the far end. “Will you excuse me, please? I need to go speak to Rose. Maybe she saw Mary when she came in.”
Julian cleared his throat. “And I’ll go ask ol’ Georgie. He might have an idea. She couldn’t have gone too far. Excuse me, Mrs. Morris, Mr. Morris. Captain and Mrs. McKenzie.”
“Good luck, Mr. McCallister.” Mrs. Morris smiled while her husband bobbed his head.
“If you’ll excuse me as well.” Emma hurried into the ballroom several strides behind Julian and crossed over to where Rose stood with her parents. She looked as she had that morning in church, as if she was about to vomit.
“Rose?” Emma nudged her gently with one shoulder. “How are you holding up?”
She sniffed. Her eyes were bloodshot, the skin around them somewhat puffy, as if she’d been crying all day. She dabbed at them with the lacy handkerchief clutched in one gloved hand. “It’s been the longest few days of my lif
e.”
“Have you talked to him?”
She shook her head. “He doesn’t want to talk, Em. He wants to jump into bed with that harlot.” She jabbed a forefinger at Darcy Penrose, who was coolly beautiful with her pale blond hair, equally light blue eyes, and smooth ivory skin. “And I have a mind to load his drawers with coal embers.”
Emma chuckled. “Do you think that will work?”
“I don’t know, but it would be worth a try.”
“And if she would go away, would you take George back?”
Rose slid her hand into Emma’s. “Not here. Where can we talk? The music room?”
“No. I’m sure someone’s going to want to sing something before the night is over, and it’s too close, besides. The sewing room is our safest bet. Hopefully no one will look to sew any time tonight.”
Emma steered Rose through the nearest side door out of the ballroom and down the hall toward the back of the house, where a small sewing room was tucked away. Even if the music room wouldn’t eventually be overrun with merry-makers, the sewing room was more comfortable, with its well-padded chairs and sofas, all covered in floral chintz.
They settled on the sofa nearest the fireplace. Since there was always the possibility a dress would need mending, a small fire lay in the small grate to keep the room warm.
Rose sank onto the edge of the sofa cushion, taking care not to crease her silk skirts. “Em, I haven’t slept or eaten in three days. Three days. Momma’s going mad, thinking I’m going to die, and Papa can’t decide if his gun will be strong enough to take George’s head off or if it’ll just leave a big hole in it, and he can’t decide which he’d rather do. I’ve never seen them in such a state. They’re making me insane with fussing over me so badly. And I’m not sure any man is worth all of this. Especially not George Hadley.” Perhaps the handkerchief wasn’t enough. Now the palm of her glove looked sodden, as though she used it to swipe at her cheeks.
Emma sat back. “So do you not want to try to work everything out with him now?”
“Work what out? There is nothing to work out.” Rose rubbed her left eye with one fingertip. “Why should I want to marry a man who’s made it plainly obvious he doesn’t want me? He’d rather cozy up to Darcy Penrose, and that makes me sick. He makes me sick. If he wants her, if he wants to do that with her—” Her voice broke and she swallowed visibly against it. “She can have him, for all I care!”
Emma’s guilt rushed back. If she’d only kept quiet about seeing George and Darcy—She stared at the fire, all the anticipation she felt about the party dying away like one of the logs on the hearth. “I am so sorry, Rose. I hope you can forgive me.”
Rose grabbed Emma’s hand and squeezed. “Oh, no, please. Don’t be sorry, Em. I’m glad you told me. It would have been worse to find out he’d been lying to me all along.” She leaned her head back against the sofa and let out a heavy sigh that sounded as if it’d begun at her feet and worked its way free.
“But still…”
Rose shook her head so hard, the gold ribbons woven through her curls bounced. “No. There is no ‘but still.’ I’m glad you told me. Or at least I will be in time.” Rose managed to smile, but it never reached into her eyes. “I know it doesn’t seem like I will be now, but I will. One day I’ll even laugh about this, I’m sure.”
“I’m going to fix everything, Rose. I don’t know how yet, but I will.”
“No—” Rose shook her head “—please don’t try to fix anything. I mean it when I say I don’t want him any longer. Let Darcy have him. I no longer care. They are made for each other.”
Emma bit the inside of her bottom lip. She wanted to wrap her arms around Rose and just hug her until her pain went away. Hopefully Julian would be able to talk some sense into George.
Chapter Eleven
“OH, FOR CHRIST’S—” Julian bit back the rest of the oath when he rounded the corner by Captain McKenzie’s office, and low voices floated out to greet him. And not just any low voices, either.
No, there they were—George and Darcy, by the windows, barely illuminated by the single candle flickering on the desk in front of them. Since they appeared as one silhouette, he only knew their identities by their voices, although they quickly leapt apart when he cleared his throat.
“Oh my—!” Darcy pressed a hand against her bodice.
“What the—?” George snapped at the same time, glaring at Julian. “What are you doing here?”
“I might ask you the same thing.” Julian folded his arms over his chest, smiling at them. They were a sight, Darcy smoothing her wrinkled bodice with one hand while the flush in George’s cheeks was visible even with the low light.
“I beg your pardon?” George retorted.
“Oh, there’s no need to be angry,” Darcy broke in. The hand that had pressed into her own bosom sliced through the semi-darkness to move to George’s chest instead. “I’m sure Mr. McCallister will be discreet.” A smile came to her lips, and she looked up at Julian through lowered eyelashes as she added, “Won’t you, Mr. McCallister?”
Discreet. Julian almost laughed, but covered it with a cough. How funny, considering Darcy’s reputation for spreading gossip. But since she appeared to be waiting for his answer, he nodded. “Far be it from me to ruin a lady’s reputation.”
George must have been holding his breath, for air left his body in a mighty rush and Darcy reached up to brush a wisp of George’s thin brown hair away from his face with the same hand she’d been pressing into his chest. “You see, we’ve nothing to worry about.”
“Nothing from me.” Julian gestured in the general direction of the ballroom. “But someone in there might notice the lovely lady in red is amongst the missing.”
Darcy’s cheeks grew almost as red as her velvet gown. “Why, thank you for the compliment.”
George cleared his throat. “Darcy—that is, Miss Penrose, shall I escort you back?”
She shook her head, tapping him with her fan. “If someone should see the two of us leaving…”
Her voice trailed off and George nodded. “No, it would be best to avoid that.”
“Mr. McCallister—” she touched his arm with the tip of her fan “—I do hope you will ask me for a dance this evening. We’ve so much to catch up on.” She peered up at him through lowered lashes again. Perhaps she thought it made her seem more coquettish.
So much to catch up on? What could they possibly have to catch up on? They weren’t friends. “If your company isn’t entirely monopolized, I will certainly ask.”
She fluttered her eyelashes as she purred, “I look forward to it. Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me.”
Julian shook his head as she sauntered off, and when he turned back to George, it was to find him staring at her as if he wanted to pounce on her. He got George’s attention quickly enough, however, by hitting him squarely between his shoulder blades with the flat of his hand.
George whipped about, his eyes narrowed as he snapped, “What the devil are you about, McCallister?”
Julian returned the glare. “Sneaking kisses in your host’s office? With Miss Adams only a few steps away? Poor taste, Georgie. Very poor taste.”
George’s eyes resumed their normal shape, and he caught his neckcloth with a bent finger, as if it was suddenly too tight. “It’s good of you not to say anything.”
“Good of me? I’m not doing it for you, George.”
“Yes, well, all the same—” George ducked his head and stepped around him. “Happy Christmas, Mr. McCallister.”
Julian caught him by the shoulders, halting his stride. “Not so fast.”
“What the—what’re you doing?”
“I’d like a word with you. Regarding Miss Penrose.”
“Not you, too.” George shoved Julian’s hands from his shoulders. “Why are you even here? I thought you normally made it a point to be anywhere but Brunswick for the holiday.”
“Normally I do.” Julian managed to keep his voice even, although
the desire to throttle Hadley tore through him. This is what Rose wanted? To marry a man who could have his head turned by a tart like as Darcy Penrose, who would openly flirt with any man, no matter her surroundings? If it weren’t for his promise to Emma to help her, he’d let George hang himself. In fact, he’d find ol’ Georgie the rope. “But, as I said, I’d like a word with you.”
George crossed his arms, glaring at him. “What’s going on, McCallister? What did Miss McKenzie bully you into saying to me?”
Julian glanced down at the candle on the desk. He couldn’t imagine choosing the captain’s office for a tryst, although the desk was the perfect height and wide enough that he wouldn’t have to worry about Emma sliding off it—
“Are you going to answer me?”
Julian snapped back to George. “No one bullied me into anything, and if it weren’t Christmas, I’d make you sorry you even suggested it.”
George shuffled his feet and then took a step back as if afraid Julian was going to lunge at him, “What is it?”
“What’re you doing, George? With Miss Penrose, I mean. You cannot honestly prefer her over Rose, can you? After all this time?”
“I’m sorry, but I hadn’t realized this was any of your concern, McCallister. Did you and Miss McKenzie plot this, or are you both in the habit of poking your noses where they don’t belong?”
“Honestly? I don’t give a damn if the two of you work it out, or if you decide you want to chase every female in town instead. But I’m here because I care if Rose is happy, and right now, how happy do you think she is?”
George flinched, but his expression remained hard.
Julian poked him in the chest. “She isn’t that happy. So we need to right this, don’t we? Because Miss Adams’s upset has Miss McKenzie upset because she feels responsible. And you know how I feel about any one of the McKenzies being upset.”
George blanched, but his chin rose. “Miss McKenzie shouldn’t have said anything. What I do is also none of her concern, only she doesn’t seem to realize that.”