The Last Chance Christmas Ball

by Mary Jo Putney

  “But of course. All is fair when it comes to a chess match.” She moved her queen diagonally. “Checkmate.”

  The grumble segued into a growl.

  “You are getting too good at the game,” she murmured. “If I didn’t resort to such tactics, I fear I would have been soundly beaten.”

  “I should like to test whether that is true.” He sat back and crossed his arms. “So I demand a rematch.”

  “You shall have it, but not right now.” Lily stifled a yawn, telling herself it was only fatigue that had her imagining the candle flames had sparked an oddly fierce glint in his chocolate-dark eyes. “I really must get some sleep.”

  The glimmering gave way to a look of contrition. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pressed you to play, knowing what a trying day of travel you’ve had.”

  “I enjoyed it,” she said.

  A ghost of a smile passed over his face, but was gone in a quicksilver flash, leaving his features looking as if they were chiseled out of shadows and stone. “I shouldn’t have, but so did I.”

  Uncertain as to what he meant by the cryptic statement, Lily dipped a vague nod and rose. “Well, then. Good night.”

  “Good night,” echoed Edward as she moved to the door and slipped out to the corridor.

  It might only have been the whisper of her steps on the carpet but a faint whisper of “Lily” seemed to hover behind her for just an instant before dissolving into the darkness.

  CHAPTER TWO

  There was yet a steel-gray hue lingering in the shadows of the morning, but the clear winter sunlight was quickly burnishing it to a silvery glow. The sky was cloudless and the air very still. In the distance, the dark silhouette of the bare trees sparkled here and there with bits of frozen snow, setting off a winking of diamond-bright flashes against the snow-dusted landscape.

  Edward squinted as a blade of light cut across his eyes, and then splashed some ice-cold water on his face. He had slept badly, plagued by strange dreams.

  Plagued by fierce longings.

  He had never thought to see Lily again, and yet here she was, at Holbourne Abbey. And free, though he hadn’t been thinking clearly enough last night to inquire further on her reasons for returning to England.

  Where was she headed? What were her plans?

  Wincing, he took his head in his hands. What did it matter? The irony of the situation stirred a laugh deep in his throat, but it stuck there, reverberating painfully in his chest.

  Of all the devil-cursed luck. A momentary glint of tawny gold, wrapped in a flutter of flame red—and all of a sudden his orderly life had been turned on its ear.

  Moving to the mullioned windows of his bedchamber, Edward pressed his forehead to breath-misted glass, letting the chill seep through his heated skin. What had seemed like a reasonable idea just the day before now had him tangled in a hellish coil.

  Damn, damn, damn.

  Expelling a harried sigh, he wiped clear one of the glass panes and peered out toward the stables. Perhaps an early ride in the bracing cold before breakfast would help clear his muzzy head. He needed to think—how the devil was he going to deal with Lily? Her presence had sparked to life all the passions he had carefully locked away in the darkest recess of his brain.

  They were now dancing like demons—wild, wicked fire-red flames swaying in time to the music of longing. Teasing, taunting his resolve.

  “Damn.” Edward was about to turn away when he saw two riders break free of the trees and spur to a canter over the snow-dusted cart track that ran between the pastures. Closer and closer they came, handing their mounts with easy grace over the treacherous ground. One of them was Lily, whose unexpected appearance had stirred to life sparks from the past. . ..

  And the other was the lady whom he had so recently asked to become his wife.

  Another oath suddenly slipped from his lips. Spinning around, he hurried to his dressing room.

  “That was quite exhilarating,” exclaimed Lily, her breath forming a cloud of vapor as she added a soft laugh. Sliding down from the sidesaddle, she handed the gelding’s reins to one of the grooms. “I had forgotten how stimulating the chill of an English winter feels slapping against your cheeks.”

  Roxanne Hayward raised a brow, the arch of red nearly disappearing beneath her fur-trimmed shako. “You actually enjoy its icy fingers raking against your flesh?”

  “After years of searing heat, it is a welcome change.”

  “For now,” quipped Roxie—the young lady had insisted on being addressed informally, saying all the Strettons and their guests did so. “With no wind and the bright sunshine, the morning is quite mild for this time of year. Let us see how you feel when a howling blizzard blows in from the North Sea.”

  She dismounted from her spirited filly with a natural grace that Lily couldn’t help but admire and casually tossed her crop to the grizzled stable hand who rushed over to greet her with a gap-toothed grin. “How are the kittens doing, Jock?”

  “They be crawling around, making mischief in the loft, Miss Hayward,” he replied. “Just like you and Lord Edward and Mister Kim.”

  “Aye, we were little hellions, weren’t we?” she said without a hint of contrition.

  The comment sparked a flurry of bantering comments from the men mucking out the stalls. Lily stood silently as Roxie traded good-natured barbs with them, feeling her spirits drop a notch lower with every clever quip. The lively redhead seemed so at home at the Abbey, she was beginning to have a sinking suspicion that this lady might very well be Edward’s intended.

  Looking out to the paddocks, she drew in a rueful breath. Her sleep had been fitful, and seeking to dispel her unsettled mood, she had decided to take a short ride before breakfast. But in hindsight, it hadn’t been the best of plans.

  She had encountered Edward’s neighbor at the far end of the orchards, where the two properties abutted. Roxanne Hayward had come flying over the high stone fence, expertly steadied her horse as it landed on the slippery ground, and without breaking stride had cut between the trees to take a shortcut out to the cart track. Curiosity about the stranger riding on Stretton lands had, naturally enough, impelled her to canter over with a friendly hallooo.

  Lily slanted a quick sidelong look at Roxie’s animated face, framed by wind-snarled curls of glorious copper red. She had quickly learned of the young lady’s history with Edward and his siblings, along with a number of facts about the Abbey and its surrounding lands. According to local legend, the ancient tower adjoining the main house was blessed with protective powers and was considered a talisman of good luck, which was why a previous earl had restored it rather than knocking it down.

  Perhaps, thought Lily wistfully, a little good luck would rub off. . . .

  “I’m famished,” announced Roxie, interrupting her thoughts. After exchanging a last jest with one of the young boys sweeping around the feed bins, she added, “Shall we go in to breakfast?”

  Lily nodded, noting that Roxie seemed to be treated as part of the Stretton family by everyone. “I will, of course, need to change out of my riding habit.”

  “Yes, yes, I know it’s quite unfashionable for me to traipse into the breakfast room smelling of horse and sweat, but I’ve been running tame here at the Abbey since I was a bantling, so they will forgive me.” She smiled. “Besides, I don’t mean to stay for long. I just wanted to speak with Edward about something.”

  At this hour? A queasy feeling began to churn in Lily’s stomach, one that had nothing to do with hunger. “It sounds as if the two of you are very good friends.”

  Roxie’s face clouded for just an instant, but the shadow disappeared so quickly it might have been merely a quirk of the light. “Yes, we are.”

  They passed through the open stable doors and started up the path to the Abbey. The bright sun was making the morning very pleasant, but Lily was still grateful for the thick wool jacket and fur collar of her new riding clothes. Somehow, a chill suddenly seemed to be seeping into her bones.

>   “And what is your connection to the family?” asked Roxie after several strides. “If you have been in India for ten years . . .”

  “The dowager is my godmother,” replied Lily. “Edward was kind enough to obey her request to squire me through my first Season. I have not yet met his siblings.”

  Roxie remained silent, as if expecting more. But Lily had no intention of elaborating. Instead, she couldn’t help probing for more information from her companion. “You said you are now the owner of the estate adjoining the Abbey? That must require a great deal of time and attention.”

  “It does, but I love the land and care very deeply about its tenants and its well-being. So I truly enjoy all the responsibilities.”

  Lily knew Edward felt the same way about Holbourne Abbey. “Well then,” she said briskly, “you and Edward share much in common.”

  “We do.” Roxie waved to a servant chopping wood by one of the outbuildings, and then began peppering her with questions about life in India. They were actually welcome distractions from the present. And the future.

  Don’t be maudlin, she chided herself, while giving an account of her first tiger hunt. To think Edward’s heart might be unengaged after ten years was absurd.

  “How very exciting,” murmured Roxie. “It sounds like you’ve experienced a great many adventures.”

  “There were many exotic experiences,” replied Lily. “But I am very happy to be back in England.”

  Roxie darted a quick glance at her, but the slanting shadows of a nearby oak tree made it impossible to read her expression.

  Both of them seemed uncertain of how to continue, and for several moments, the only sound between them was the crunch of snow and gravel beneath their boots.

  “Oh, look! I think I spot Edward,” exclaimed Roxie, giving a vigorous wave in the direction of the pillared portico.

  They were still some distance away, but Lily, too, instantly recognized the figure coming down the front steps. Suddenly desperate to escape seeing him greet his neighbor, she looked around and spotted a path leading through the opening in the yew garden and around to the ancient tower at the opposite end of the house.

  “You have piqued my curiosity about the local legend. I think I shall have a look for myself before I go in to breakfast,” she said, already angling her steps toward the safe haven of the greenery. “It was lovely to make your acquaintance. No doubt we shall be seeing each other again over the coming few days.”

  “Where did Lily go?” asked Edward, puzzled at how, in the short time it had taken him to stop and confer with one of the gamekeepers, she had disappeared into thin air.

  “I told Mrs. Tremaine about the local legend. She wanted to have a closer look.”

  His gaze lingered on the hedge. “I would have been happy to accompany her. She doesn’t yet know her way around.”

  “I doubt that she’s in any danger of being swallowed by a tiger,” quipped Roxie. Her smile thinned to a more enigmatic expression. “You didn’t mention that an old friend was coming to the ball.”

  “I didn’t know,” responded Edward. Catching the skeptical slant of her brows, he explained, “She remarried when her first husband passed away in India, so I didn’t recognize the name on the guest list. I wasn’t aware that she had returned to England, or that Grandmamma had sent her an invitation.”

  “Ah.”

  “Which means?” It wasn’t often that he couldn’t read what she was thinking.

  She dismissed the query with a shrug. “Nothing in particular.” A pause. “Your Mrs. Tremaine seems to have led a very interesting life.”

  Edward felt his jaw tighten. “Has she? We’ve not yet had a chance to discuss her time in India.”

  “Tigers, elephants, spitting cobras—clearly she has the courage and composure to face any challenge. One has to admire such worldly experience.” Roxie made a face. “In contrast, I feel a little like a provincial schoolgirl.”

  “Nonsense,” growled Edward, though he couldn’t help being curious about Lily’s stories. Would he seem like a country bumpkin in her eyes after all the adventurous gentlemen she had met in her travels? “You have an impressive array of talents. Why, you run a large estate, and do it very well.”

  “Like you, she seems very bookish.”

  “Have the two of you been out riding since dawn?” he asked a little querulously. “You appear to know her whole life story.”

  In answer Roxie fixed him with a searching stare. “Is there a reason you are in an ill-humor this morning?”

  Edward blew out his cheeks, feeling frustration welling up inside him. “In fact, there are several. Grandmamma’s ball is supposed to be a festive family celebration, and yet I am concerned that all is not as it should be with Caro’s marriage. And as for Kim . . .”

  He glanced at the tower. “Any great plans yet on how to storm his defenses?”

  Roxie replied with uncharacteristic silence.

  Unsure of what else to say, Edward kicked at a clot of snow.

  Evading eye contact, she shifted her stance to stare out over the sloping lawns. “Look, you are perfectly free to change your mind about—”

  “What gives you the impression that I wish to renege on our arrangement?” he asked tightly.

  Roxie drew in a sharp breath, and then let it out in a slow exhale. “I was simply pointing out—”

  “I’m quite aware of all that we agreed upon.” He cleared his throat. “Are you having second thoughts?”

  She hesitated just a moment before shaking her head.

  “Fine,” he responded, in a tone he hoped would put an end to the subject. “Was there a reason you rode over here at this hour of the morning?”

  “Other than cook’s sultana muffins?”

  He knew she meant it to break the subtle tension between them, but he wasn’t in the mood to smile.

  After a long moment, Roxie went on, “I was checking the mended fences along the north pastures and since I was close by, I thought I would stop and ask if you need any additional flowers from my hot houses for the ball.”

  “You would have to ask Mother or Mrs. Taft.”

  “I shall go do so.” She waited expectantly for him to move. “Are you coming?”

  “I had better go around and see whether Mrs. Tremaine is in need of any assistance. She’s not yet been introduced to any of the guests, and entering a houseful of strangers can be daunting.”

  “Yes, of course,” murmured Roxie. Without waiting for any further response, she turned and set off at a brisk pace for the pillared entrance of the Abbey.

  Lily set a hand on the weathered stone. Perhaps it was merely the sun or the thought of a magical local legend, but it seemed that a curl of heat rose up through the fleece of her sheepskin gloves to caress her palm. She slowly rubbed back and forth along the wind-carved block, feeling at the edges where the mortar had long since crumbled away.

  There was something about myths and legends that appealed to her imagination. Lucky talismans, wondrous enchantments, talking bears—

  “Do you need some help? The footing is quite unstable around the base, and it’s easy to twist an ankle.”

  She straightened, hoping he had not seen her rubbing the stones. “I was just examining the mortising. It is quite old, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. An old castle stood on this spot. When one of my ancestors built the main house a hundred years ago, he left the tower standing in deference to the locals, who—”

  “Believe it bestows luck on those around it,” she finished. “I know. Your friend Miss Hayward told me the story.”

  “Superstition,” he muttered.

  “You don’t believe in the legend?”

  Edward looked up at the shuttered windows built into the ancient openings. “I’ve seen no sign of it,” he answered tersely.

  Lily sensed a tension radiating from him—the stones seemed to react with a faint thrum. But something in his expression kept her from questioning him further.

  Stepp
ing back down to the path, she turned the talk to a more mundane topic. “I very much enjoyed taking out Ajax this morning. He’s a lovely mount. And your lands are beautiful. I can see why you have always loved this place.”

  “It is special to me,” he replied, then offered his arm. “Shall we go in? You must be hungry after a rousing ride, and Mother will be anxious to introduce you to the other guests.”

  The short walk back to the main house passed in pleasantries. She did not bring up Roxie, unsure of whether she wanted to know more about his redheaded neighbor. Likely she would learn soon enough about his relationship with her. Edward seemed preoccupied, but it was only natural that the ball, with its impending announcement, would be weighing on his thoughts.

  They parted at the main staircase. “Please tell your mother I shall be down shortly, after I’ve made myself presentable for polite company,” she said, brushing several windblown tendrils from her cheek. “It was so glorious to be back riding through the English countryside that I couldn’t resist a good gallop.”

  His gaze held for a moment on her face, before he looked away. “I shall wait for you in the breakfast room, and help you through the introductions.”

  “You need not trouble yourself. I’m sure you have much to do, and Miss Hayward seemed very anxious to talk to you,” replied Lily. A wry smile curled up the corners of her mouth. “I am no longer a shy, tongue-tied girl who needs a knight in shining armor to squire me through such rituals.”

  “I was a green cub without a bit of Town bronze, while you were always poised and polished.”

  “I shall not correct your memory,” she murmured, the words trailing off in a whisper of wool as she started up the stairs. But in her mind, the image of the serious, solemn young man with the beautiful smile would never, ever tarnish.

  CHAPTER THREE

  It did not take her long to dress and descend to the breakfast room. Edward, she noted, had taken her at her word and had not lingered. Instead, it was the countess who made the introductions of those who had come down—Lord Gabriel Quinfroy, Miss Minchington. . . .