The Christmas Heiress (30 page)

The countess looked down at the ornament, then
back up at his face. Edward waited with his breath
held as she hesitated, looking uncertainly into his
eyes. "Do not expect too much from me, Edward.
Too much has passed between us for it all to be forgotten in an afternoon."

Her words rang in his ears as something tugged
painfully inside his heart. "There is fault on both
sides, Mother, yet I still hope we will someday move
beyond the hurt and accusations. Even during the
bleakest of times, I continue to have faith that
someday you will no longer gaze at me as if I am a
bitter pill you must swallow, that you will tolerate
my presences not merely because it is your duty but
because it brings you joy. I even dare to hope that
eventually we will both strive to do far more than
simply learn to rub along tolerably together."

"You hope for a lot."

"I do."

The countess rose and walked slowly toward the
large tree. Edward stayed by her side. Raising her
arm, she hung the sparkling glass ornament on the
highest limb she was able to reach. She turned toward him, her lips trembling. "If given the choice,
I would choose not to be a stranger to you."

Edward had to work hard to swallow the lump of
emotion in his throat. "I have come to you, Mother.
The choice is yours."

She glanced at him. "You are very determined. As
determined in your way as I am in mine."

The thought brought Edward up short. He shuddered visibly to think that he and his mother were
so very much the same.

The countess laughed. "Do not look so stricken,
Edward. We share very few other traits." His mother
leaned over and took a delicate sniff of the fragrant
pine. "You were always the quiet one, thoughtful,
well-behaved, yet even as a boy you were never willing to accept limits in your life. Was that why you
had to defy us? To leave all this behind and make
your own way?"

"I never set out to be deliberately rebellious. I
knew pursuing my business interests was the right 13
course for my life to follow and I always hoped that
my success would be the path to your forgiveness."

The countess shook her head sadly. "Not every
problem can be solved with money."

"I understand that now. Though in my defense, I
must point out that money, or rather the lack of it,
was our main difficulty."

She pulled a face at him, her eyes narrowing.
"Your father had already planned a reasonable
solution to that problem, yet you refused to honor
that obligation, refused to do your duty."

Edward felt his frustration start to build. "I chose
my own path because in my heart I knew I could
do nothing less. Would you have preferred that 1 honor your wishes and been unhappy for the rest of
my days?"

"The choice of bride was always yours to make.
We would never have forced you to marry someone
you disliked." The countess's eyelids drooped low
over her eyes. "Though I find it most interesting
that you are much in the company of Charlotte
Aldridge at this year's house party. And yet you still
maintain that you would have been so desperately
unhappy with her as your wife."

Edward could barely contain the stain of color
that rose to his cheeks. It was ironic how he had
indeed come full circle with his relationship and
feelings toward Charlotte. What he so desperately
wanted to avoid six years ago was all that he seemed
to want now-Charlotte as his bride.

What would his mother possibly think if she knew
the truth of the matter? He wondered if she would
appreciate the irony or bask in her conviction that
she had been right all along and he had been wrong.
But he was a very different person now. A union with
Charlotte six years ago probably would have been
miserable for both of them, given his state of mind
and the direction of his ambitions.

"I am not the same as I was six years ago. I believe
I am a stronger and wiser man for having entered
the world beyond the borders of my class."

"You certainly are different." The countess pursed
her lips, as if holding back further comment, then
surrendered to temptation. "Our children are our
most precious gifts, which is why the joy, sorrow and
disappointments they bring cannot be fully understood by someone who is not a parent."

"I do not need to wait until I have my own chil dren to understand that you have been disappointed in me, Mother," Edward replied wryly.

"But you will never truly understand how it feels
until you have your own children. Though I pray
they never bring you the kind of grief that I have
suffered."

Edward was unsure how to react to that remark,
so he let it pass. "Would you like me to ring for
Harris and have the tea brought in now?"

"Yes, Miss Montgomery can serve it. I believe I
should assist the others in placing the ornaments
on that tree or else we shall be decorating it until
midnight." Her lips quirked as she looked straight
ahead. "I do hope there are more of those lovely
glass ones you ordered. I find that I like them very
much, very much indeed."

Jonathan was aware of Evelyn the moment she
entered the ballroom. The odd, almost nervous excitement that made his breathing a little deeper
and his heart beat a little faster overcame him suddenly and thus he knew she was near. He anxiously
scanned the room and spotted her at his mother's
side, naturally, but Edward soon approached the
pair and Evelyn quietly slipped away.

With effort, Jonathan resisted the urge to immediately rush over and engage her in conversation
but instead held back and observed her movements. She sidled close to the grand tree, nodding
a greeting to those very few women and gentlemen
who acknowledged her arrival, then stood unobtrusively off to the side, her keen eyes taking in all the
activity.

She was a woman with the rare gift for stillness. A
necessity in her profession perhaps, but a soothing
quality he appreciated. She also possessed intelligence and good sense, perhaps a bit too much of that, passion and a warm, tender heart. In a word,
she was perfect. For him.

"So, Miss Montgomery, what do you think of our
Christmas tree?"

Tiny laugh lines appeared at the corner of her
eyes, though she did not smile. "It is quite the most
extraordinary thing I have ever seen, Mr. Bar„
ringer.

"A very noncommittal, diplomatic response."

The smile still did not appear, though a slight
glimmer of amusement flickered in the dark depths
of her eyes. "Survival in my position depends on my
ability not to offend."

The statement starkly reminded him of how
much of her true self she hid, and a part of him felt
hurt that she could not trust him enough to speak
openly. But he let it pass. Through their letters he
had come to know so much more about her and
the life she led. He had finally begun to understand
the difficulties and challenges she had faced and
overcome in her relatively short life and admired
her all the more.

Her parents had died suddenly, without having
the opportunity to assure her future. There had
been very little money and few prospects, leaving
Evelyn precariously close to destitution. It had
never before occurred to Jonathan what a frighting
place the world could be for a woman alone, someone who had no family, no money and no one to
whom she could turn for assistance.

Too young, too pretty and without the proper references, a very frightened Evelyn had somehow
managed to secure a position as his mother's companion. Jonathan was counting on that courage to tip the balance in his favor and help her take the
necessary leap of faith that was required to become
his wife.

"Do you enjoy Christmas, Miss Montgomery?" he
asked, feeding on his insatiable need to know
everything about her.

"I do," she admitted, finally bringing forth a
smile. "Though it was a different sort of celebration
when I was a child. I grew up in the far north where
Christmas was usually white."

"White?"

"Yes, white with snow."

"What else was Christmas?"

Her expression softened. "Family and laughter and
warmth. Holly and mistletoe and red satin ribbons
with golden bells on evergreen boughs hung over the
doorway to the front parlor. Marvelous food, congenial company, joyful songs. And, thanks to the snow,
skating and sledding and snowball fights."

"Fond memories?"

"Oh, yes, and ones that I have not dared to dwell
upon until now." Her breath escaped on a pleasant
sigh. "You have brought it all back for me. Thank
you.

On her beautiful face was an expression of deep
joy. It made Jonathan's heart sing to see her brief
happiness, and the urge to take her into his arms
and hold her close was so strong he had to clasp his
hands behind his back to resist the temptation.

"I hope that I will also be a fond memory for you
one day," he said solemnly.

"I have already tucked the image of you away in
my heart." Her jaw quivered slightly. "I know I have
been foolish, reckless even, but I am no longer sorry that we have spent this time together, that we
have shared our thoughts and feelings and dreams
through our conversations and correspondence."

He felt like a young boy who had just been given a
wonderful gift. "You like my letters?" he asked eagerly.

She glanced up at him and blushed. "I should not,
since some of the phrases border on indecency."

His grin widened. "I meant every word."

"I know." She turned her face away. "That is why
I cannot regret this stolen time. The heart is a
strong and resilient organ. It survives, it endures, it
even grows stronger. I accept that these magical feelings must be paid for with future pain, but, oh, that
is far better than never knowing any magic at all."

She acknowledged that what they shared was
magical! God help him, he was nearly frantic with
excitement. "It does not have to end, my dearest.
You know that I will do anything to make you my
wife. Think hard upon it before you refuse. Most of
us only get one chance for happiness and we must
reach out and grab it, lest it vanishes like smoke in
our hands."

Jonathan could see her apprehension in the rigid
tendons of her neck, could hear it in the shallowness of her breathing. "You are the very devil, sir, to
tempt me so."

"I am set on doing far more than tempt you," he
admitted, trying very hard not to smile. "Christmas
is the season for hope and I find that I live for any
scrap of your favor and attention. I beg you to
forget the differences you believe separate us and
simply enjoy the moments we share together."

"I cannot marry you," she said with great dignity.

"Yes, you have told me that on numerous occa sions, both in words and on paper, and yet I continually hope that one day you will take pity on my
wretched unhappiness and abject misery and change
your mind."

Evelyn opened her mouth, then closed it again
without speaking. Her tension slowly disappeared,
bringing a smile to Jonathan's face.
11-

"You make it far too easy to forget myself, to
forget my proper place," she muttered.

"Your
place
is
by
my
side,"
he
insisted.
"Surely
you
can see how you have the most extraordinary effect
on me.

"'Tis not me but more likely a case of indigestion.
I noticed you ate two helpings of pickled onions at
luncheon. They are quite sour."

"All, so you are watching my every move and
even remembering what and how much I eat. It
pleases me greatly knowing that I am under your
ever-vigilant gaze."

Pressing a hand to her mouth, she turned her
back on him. Initially alarmed, Jonathan was relieved to note her shoulders were shaking with
laughter.

"You are determined to misinterpret anything I
do or say as something romantic and encouraging,
are you not?"

"I am." He circled around to the other side so she
could not avoid facing him.

Eyes wide and stark, she stared at him. "Really, sir,
I must insist that you cease gazing at me like a starving lion."

"But does not my obvious devotion soften your
heart, at least a little?"

"The only thing that is softening is your brain.

The lion is gone, but now you have the stupefied
look of a gentleman who has just crashed into a wall
at a high speed." She tried to speak with a detached
inflection, but Jonathan glimpsed the quiet humor
in her lovely eyes. "If you do not change your expression at once, people will become suspicious."

He reached for her hand, then took a step to the
side so his body was blocking the view of him holding it. He turned it gently so her palm was facing
up. Then with the tip of his finger, he slowly traced
a line from the center of her palm to her wrist. She
tensed, but then he felt her body shudder.

With the fingers of her other hand, she swiftly
traced his cheek. The need to take her lips in a
scorching kiss was strong, but Jonathan restrained
himself. Her hands pulled away. But he noted with
masculine delight that her bosom was heaving.

"At least I have managed to refrain from making
sheep's eyes at you," he said quietly. "Though I
always thought that was a rather unappetizing analogy for a man in love, especially since sheep are
hardly the most intelligent of God's creatures."

"But sheep are gentle and lovable," she replied,
recovering her voice.

"They smell appalling," Jonathan insisted, wrinkling his nose. "But you need not be so concerned
that anyone will suspect my true feelings for you. I
assure you, I deserve a medal for discretion."

"Then we had best separate, lest your medal be
taken away."

It was the wise, sensible decision, yet Jonathan
hated the idea of being denied her company. "At
least wait until my mother calls for you."

"'Tis easier if I go before I am summoned. It will
attract less notice."