“Is this true?” his mother asked, gripping his shoulders and looking him over with a critical eye.
“It is,” he answered. “We were on our way back just now when Thaddeus came upon us. We apologize for any upset we might have caused, but—”
“You conniving little witch!” Mrs. Burton bellowed, cutting Maxwell short and launching herself at Josephine. “Do you think we cannot see what you are up to? Your inappropriate behavior has now reflected poorly on the lieutenant. I warned you—”
“Mrs. Burton, Josephine is not to blame,” Maxwell snapped, pulling away from his mother and moving to stand between the woman and her stepdaughter. “Neither of us could have predicted the storm.”
“I know you conspired to get this man off alone, you wicked creature,” Adelaide blustered, face reddening and spittle flying from her mouth. “You may have everyone else fooled with your false innocence, but you have never been able to hide from me. Since you were a child, I’ve always known you to be a godless wanton.”
“That is quite enough!” Maxwell thundered, rage overtaking him that she would dare speak to Josephine that way.
Placing a gentle hand on his arm, Josephine came out from behind him, her expression resigned. “It’s all right, Maxwell.”
“See how she refers to him by his Christian name?” Adelaide cried out to no one in particular, a hand pressed dramatically to her bosom. “How dare you presume to speak so familiarly to your betters!”
“Mrs. Burton, I realize you are overwrought,” said the earl, appearing in the room with Thaddeus, who swiftly pulled the door shut behind him. “I daresay we are all displeased with this turn of events. Maxwell, Miss Brewer, the fact remains that you went missing together for an entire night. There is bound to be talk.”
Mrs. Burton cast a scathing glare at Josephine, before turning pleading eyes on the earl. “My lord, I cannot apologize enough for the actions of my despicable stepdaughter. As you know, she is not in my home of my own will but that of my late husband. I have tried to raise her as a good, Christian lady, but some things simply cannot be learned by her sort.”
“Are you suggesting that your stepdaughter set out to trap my son?” the countess asked, brow wrinkled in bewilderment.
“I know she did,” Mrs. Burton insisted. “It is just the kind of thing she would do. She’s nothing more than a common whore, as her mother was!”
Josephine sucked in a sharp breath, spine snapping straight at the insult. Yet, she remained composed, squaring her shoulders as she faced her stepmother.
“You are embarrassing yourself with this unnecessary scene,” she said, her voice hard as steel and cold as ice. “And you will refrain from speaking of my mother that way. You did not know her, nor have you taken the time to truly know me. I am innocent of the things you accuse me of, and you know it.”
With a snarl, Adelaide lashed out, her palm colliding with Josephine’s cheek. The sound of it resounded through the room, along with Josephine’s startled cry as she staggered back, a hand pressed to her jaw.
“Mother!” Violet cried, rushing to Josephine’s side.
“Christ,” Thaddeus muttered, while the earl swore under his breath.
Maxwell’s control snapped, and he was upon the woman in an instant, gripping her shoulders tight and shaking her until her teeth rattled. She squealed like a pig, cowering as Maxwell loomed over her, nostrils flaring and chest swelling while he fought the urge to strike her.
“You go too far,” he growled. “If you lay a finger on her again, I can promise you will regret it.”
“Maxwell, calm yourself,” his mother urged, prying her friend free of his grasp. “The woman is upset, and rightfully so.”
He turned to Josephine, who stood in the circle of Violet’s arms. The young woman crooned and stroked Josephine’s inflamed cheek, tears streaming down her face.
“I’m so sorry,” Violet sobbed. “I’m so sorry, Jo.”
“Are you all right?” he asked Josephine, his voice quavering with barely controlled rage. “Does she do this often? Strike you?”
Josephine’s gaze darted to her stepmother before landing on him again. “Not often. She … she hasn’t struck me in years. I—”
“You ungrateful creature!” Adelaide cried out. “After all I’ve done for you, raising you when no one else wanted you!”
“I never asked for any of it,” Josephine countered. “And I certainly never asked to be treated as an unwanted afterthought. You have been nothing but cruel and vindictive toward me, as if it would somehow change the fact that my father loved my mother more than he could have ever loved a heartless woman like you.”
Adelaide moved as if to throw herself on Josephine again, but the countess held her back, murmuring soothing words. Clinging to the countess, she sneered at Josephine.
“I want you out of my home! You are no longer welcome there. My dear Mr. Burton did love me, and I suppose he thought himself acting charitably by forcing you on me. He never would have done it if he’d known what a disgusting creature you would turn out to be.”
“Mother, how could you?” Violet interjected, eyes wide with horror as she continued to weep as if it were she who had been ejected from her mother’s house. “You cannot cast Josephine out with nowhere to go. It is cruel, and you know it isn’t what Father would have wanted.”
“Enough!” thundered the earl, red-faced and clearly annoyed with how disorderly these proceedings had become. “Mrs. Burton, your family matters are your own affair. The fact remains that we must come up with some solution to stem the gossip sure to arise from this unfortunate incident. Already our guests are speaking of it over breakfast and word will spread like wildfire once they have left.”
“The solution is clear,” Maxwell said, never taking his eyes off Josephine. “Marry me.”
His father stiffened, his mother gasped, and Violet grinned through her tears, while Thaddeus looked as if his eyes would drop free of their sockets at any time. Adelaide simply stood there glowering as if finding them equally repugnant.
“What?” Josephine whispered.
Violet released her, and he approached, taking both her hands in his.
“I was going to ask you anyway, because while we were in that cottage last night it occurred to me that I cannot live without you. I know the timing is horrible and the circumstances are far less than you deserve, but I love you, Josephine. Marry me, and I will make this up to you every day for the rest of our lives.”
“Maxwell, you aren’t thinking clearly,” his mother exclaimed. “You are a Davies, and the son of an earl. You cannot marry this … this …”
Maxwell scowled at her over his shoulder. “Choose your words carefully, Mother. You are speaking of the woman I’m going to marry.”
“Your mother is right,” the earl cut in. “Miss Brewer is not an acceptable match for you. You’d never be accepted in polite society. And given your … injury—”
“My injury has already made me unacceptable for society,” Maxwell argued. “No one knows what to make of me anymore, including my own family. Do not pretend you weren’t all relieved to know that I would soon leave for Cornwall so you wouldn’t have to bear my presence. What difference does it make to you who I marry?”
“It matters,” his mother replied with a frown. “Maxwell, think what you are doing!”
Thaddeus cleared his throat. “Mother, Father … for goodness’ sake, you are ruining what was shaping up to be quite a romantic proposal.”
At Maxwell’s shocked expression, Thaddeus merely smiled and inclined his head.
“Continue, brother … and good luck.”
Maxwell turned back to Josephine, who was still staring at him as if he’d just sprouted wings. “You never have to feel alone or out of place again, just as I would never have to. You can do whatever you want, be whoever you want … just so long as you tell me you’ll be mine. Please, Josephine.”
Josephine opened her mouth, then closed it, seeming to str
uggle with words. “I … oh, Maxwell, I love you, too.”
He grinned, feeling lighter than air. No one else existed for him, as the words he’d been wishing for finally fell from her lips. She clung to his hands, her own shaking as she looked at him with eyes brimming with both hope and fear.
“And I do want to marry you,” she added. “I want more than anything to be with you. However, your parents may be right. You love me now, but in time you may come to see that choosing me was a mistake. I cannot erase the circumstances of my birth, nor can I hide from the truth of my background. Once people come to know, they will scorn us.”
“I don’t care,” he insisted, raising her hands to his lips and kissing her knuckles. “You know how difficult it has been for me since I returned from Crimea. You know that all I wanted was to escape and closet myself away from the world. You changed that, Josephine. You made me want more from the rest of my life, and you made me want it with you. I don’t need anyone else to accept me, not when I know that you love me, and accept me, and see me for who I am. I could never stop loving you.”
Her hands ceased their shaking, her smile widening. “You make quite a convincing argument. How could any woman refuse?”
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes, Maxwell. I will marry you.”
He drew her into his arms with a surprised huff of laughter, a weight easing off his shoulders. While he had hoped she would say yes, he’d also feared her refusal. The rest of his life now loomed before him, no longer a wasteland of self-imposed loneliness. He would have Josephine, and he would make the most of whatever time he had left on earth.
“Well then,” Thaddeus spoke up with a grin. “That quite solves the problem of the scandal, doesn’t it? Well done, Max.”
Maxwell gave his brother a nod, accepting his hand for a shake as Violet approached, taking Josephine for another embrace.
“Forgive me,” she whispered. “I wasn’t as good a sister to you as I should have been. But, I do love you, Jo. And I hope you’ll be happier than you’ve ever been.”
“Thank you,” Josephine replied, her words thick and heavy with emotion. “And I do love you, as well … sister.”
The two held hands for a moment before Josephine returned to him. Stroking her cheek, he then gestured toward the drawing room doors.
“Now, we must go quickly if we are to have much light to travel by.”
She frowned. “Where are we going?”
“Gretna Green, of course,” he declared. “Elopement seems the best course of action to keep us from having to wait until your twenty-first birthday. You would need no one’s permission to marry me in Scotland.”
“No,” she said. “I don’t want to wait any longer than I have to. Eloping sounds perfect.”
“You’re going to need witnesses,” Thaddeus chimed in. “I’ll come along, if you’ll have me.”
“Of course I will,” Maxwell said.
“I may as well serve as your second witness,” the earl grumbled while ringing for a servant. He seemed resigned that this would happen whether he approved or not. “If you insist upon doing this, I’ll see you safely to Scotland.”
“My lord!” the countess cried out, giving the earl a look of disbelief. “Surely you do not mean to aid him in this?”
After ordering the servant to send for the largest family carriage, the earl turned back to his wife with a sigh. “The girl is ruined, my lady. Even if she is of … low birth, she has still been raised as something of a gentlewoman. Marrying her is the honorable thing to do, and Maxwell can see that. And there is … well, he does seem rather fond of her.”
“Quite fond,” Maxwell murmured, kissing the top of Josephine’s head. “I make no apologies for that and will do this with or without your blessing.”
“Well, you do not have it,” the countess snapped before turning to flee, skirts swishing with each angry step.
The earl gave Maxwell and Josephine a shrug. “She will grow used to the idea. Now come … you may have a short time to freshen up, dress for travel, and gather your things. We’ve an elopement to be about and ought to depart soon to make the best use of daylight.”
Thaddeus left after a kiss on Violet’s hand and a promise to write her when he returned home. Violet made her exit soon after, casting her mother a look filled with shame and censure. Adelaide stood staring at them with a tight mouth and eyes blazing her fury.
Before Maxwell could lead her away, Josephine approached the woman, head held high and hands folded demurely before her.
“When I was a little girl, all I ever wanted was for you to care for me. I missed my mother, and I was told you would be my new one. But you proved yourself incapable of any kindness toward me, even when I did all I could to please you.”
Adelaide sniffed. “How could I love the spawn of the whore who took my husband from me? He was mine by law, but she had everything else, the conniving bitch.”
Josephine showed no emotion at the slight to her mother. She only reached out to touch Adelaide’s shoulder, an act that might have been interpreted as one of affection.
“You are a hateful woman,” she whispered. “And I pity you. When you’ve grown old and find yourself alone with your regrets, I do hope Violet will take pity on you. Because I will not. I will walk out of this door with my fiancé and gladly never see you again. Though, you will hear from my solicitor regarding the matter of my inheritance.”
With that, she turned and came back to Maxwell, a bounce in her step as if she, too, had felt the lifting of a weight off her shoulders. He supposed she felt as free as he did to set out and begin their new life. His mind raced at the possibilities; the days, weeks, and months ahead of them and what they might hold. Whatever happened, Maxwell would be grateful to have someone to experience the future with.
“Is this still the best Christmas you’ve ever experienced?” he asked, tongue in cheek.
Halting to face him, she laughed. “At first it was, then it wasn’t, and now it is again. So, in short … yes. It will always be the best Christmas I’ve ever had, because it will forever be the day you became mine.”
Taking hold of her waist, he pressed her against the nearest wall, not caring who might happen to come upon them. In a matter of days this woman would be his wife, and he would kiss her whenever and wherever he liked. He ducked his head to do so now, lingering and taking his time, sweeping his tongue in to taste her, and making the heady moment last.
Pulling away, he stroked his knuckles over her cheek, the redness from Adelaide’s slap already fading. “You know, I shall make it my personal mission to outdo myself. Every Christmas will be better than the last.”
“As long as there is mistletoe, so I have an excuse to do this.”
He muffled a moan of delight as she grabbed his lapels and pulled him down to her, tugging at his lower lip and teasing it with her tongue. He was left breathless by the time she stepped back, his body roaring with need he couldn’t do anything about just yet. He couldn’t wait to finalize their marriage so he could have her as often as he wanted.
“You don’t need an excuse to do that, ever,” he declared. “But if you wish it, my love, there will always be mistletoe.”
Epilogue
Cornwall, England
24th December, 1857
One year later …
“Oh, Maxwell, someone’s at the door!”
“It is likely another group of carolers. Let them take their singing elsewhere. I’m not done with you just yet.”
Josephine giggled as Maxwell nibbled her neck, each touch of his lips and tongue sending fire sweeping through her veins. His hands pawed at her bodice, and she felt the touch even through the layers of her gown, corset, and undergarments. Her breasts had become so tender as of late, her condition heightening her awareness of her husband in a way it never had.
Her belly had only just begun to swell, making the cinch of her corset only a bit uncomfortable. Despite the new side-lacing corsets she’d acquired i
n anticipation of her steady growth, Maxwell continued to assert that she had no need of corsets at all during the course of her pregnancy. She had yet to grow used to the idea, though she supposed the discomfort she’d heard other ladies complain of would soon have her shedding the undergarment. For now, no one knew by looking at her that she carried their first child. The changes of her body and the knowledge of what had resulted from their love seemed to make her husband even more ravenous for her than usual. Thus, her current position draped across a couch with his hands and mouth attacking every place they fell.
“Max, stop,” she said breathlessly, groaning when he gave her a bite. “It might be Thaddeus and Violet. What will they think if they walk in to see you mauling me like this?”
“They will think he’s as much a rogue as ever,” boomed Thaddeus’ voice from the doorway.
Josephine burst out laughing while her husband straightened from on top of her, scowling in his brother’s direction. Thaddeus stood in the doorway with Violet on his arm, both still bundled in cape and greatcoat and smelling of cold winter air. Apparently the housekeeper, Mrs. Potts, had let them in and shown them to the salon—where Maxwell had been trying to get under her skirts.
“I’m not a rogue, only a man wanting five goddamn minutes alone with his wife,” he groused. “Apologies, Violet.”
Her sister giggled at Maxwell’s course language, waving him off with one gloved hand. “It is good to see you, too, Maxwell.”
The two got on far better than Josephine had expected, given Violet’s previous wariness of him. However, after wedding Thaddeus and becoming part of the Davies’ family as well, Violet had come to know Maxwell a bit better and understood him in a way she hadn’t before.
“Only five minutes?” Thaddeus quipped, shrugging out of his greatcoat and draping it over one arm before divesting Violet of her cape. “Is that all?”
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