Holiday House Parties (18 page)

“Is she, indeed?” Miles murmured, thinking that the same criticism could be made of Lovebourne as well.

“I tell you the chit's a glib-tongued pittle-pattle!” Julian declared firmly, turning from the fire to face his listener. “Finally, in desperation, I directed the conversation to myself. I must have been as great a bore as she, going on as I did about my courtship with Elinor. I tell you, Endicott, it was an unbearable two hours. I've been asking myself ever since how I could have been so besotted as to believe I preferred her company to Elinor's. Why, comparing Elinor to Felicia is like … like …”

“Like comparing a Mozart concerto to a dance tune?” Miles offered.

“Yes!” Julian nodded in heartfelt agreement. “Exactly so!” He crossed the room and sank into a chair. “What a muddle I've made of my life, Endicott,” he groaned, dropping his head in his hands. “What a deuced muddle!”

“Not necessarily,” Miles suggested carefully. “All may not be lost.”

Julian's head came up abruptly. “What do you mean? Aren't you and Elinor—?”

“We are not. Perhaps the time has come for complete honesty, old fellow. But first, there is something I must know. If your feeling for Elinor true and sincere, or are you the sort to lose your heart to every pretty female who comes into your line of vision?”

Julian, his brows knit, stared at Miles intently. “I've loved Elinor for more than five years, without once being tempted to infidelity. Except for this one stupid mistake.” He rose slowly from his chair. “What is it you're trying to tell me, Endicott?”

“Elinor lied to you. It's you she loves, not I.”

Julian stood for a moment transfixed. “She doesn't love you?” he asked suspiciously. “Is that really true?”

“I promised you complete frankness, didn't I?”

Julian blinked down at him, afraid to believe what he'd heard. “But … I don't understand. Elinor is not the sort to tell falsehoods. Why did she lie to me?”

“To free you,” Miles responded. “To free you to court Felicia without guilt.” He rose and strode to the door. “That's the sort of selfless generosity she is capable of.”

Julian ran after him. It took three quick strides to catch Miles and grasp his arm. Julian's eyes glowed with hope. “Do you mean Elinor would really consider renewing our betrothal? That she would forgive me?”

“Just ask her.” Miles shook off Julian's hold and went quickly to the door. But at the threshold, he paused, turned, and glowered at the other man. “But I warn you, Lovebourne, that if at any time in the future you play her false, you'll have to answer to me.”

Julian took no notice of Miles's sudden glower. He was too elated to pay mind to anything but the delightful news he'd just been brought. His prospects were suddenly bright, and so was his mood. The Christmas spirit had overtaken him at last.

The fact that the Christmas spirit had completely disappeared from
Miles's
heart troubled his lordship not at all.

11

The sun was setting in spectacular majesty when the guests assembled in the drawing room for the traditional drink from the wassail bowl before Christmas dinner. The kissing bough, hanging over the drawing-room door, had already worked its magic on the assemblage, the gentlemen having taken their places early at the side of the door and kissed each lady as she arrived. Now, wassail cups in hand, they awaited Elinor's arrival. On this occasion, her first appearance downstairs since she'd been taken ill, they all were eager to welcome her.

While they waited, Martha Selby paced the room. It was not her daughter's arrival that worried her, for she'd helped Elinor to dress and had seen that the girl's health was truly restored and that, in addition, she was in her very best looks. It was Miles Endicott who troubled her. “I don't understand Miles,” she complained to Fanny, her brow wrinkled in concern. “He found me in the kitchen this morning, announced that he wouldn't be with us for Christmas dinner in a voice that made poor Cook jump with fright, and then stalked out without another word. I must have offended him in some way, but I can't for the life of me imagine how.”

Elinor was just coming down the stairs at that moment. She was still a trifle pale from her recent bout of illness, but her mother was quite right about her appearance. She looked utterly lovely. She wore a green velvet gown cut low across the shoulders and embroidered with silver-threaded festoons of geranium leaves at the décolletage and the hemline. Her hair was pinned up in loose curls at the top of her head, with a few tendrils permitted to escape and frame her face. But the features that gave her appearance its greatest charm were her eyes; they positively sparkled in happy anticipation of this event. Unfortunately, however, the guests were not to see that sparkle, for the girl overhead her mother's words, and the glow in her eyes died at once.
Miles was not coming
. “Oh, Mama,
no
!” she cried in disappointment as she paused in the doorway.

The gentlemen, taking no note of her little cry, surrounded her at once. Holding her prisoner under the kissing bough, her uncle Henry kissed her right cheek and the Earl her left. No sooner had they released her than Julian bowed them aside and took her into his arms. “Merry Yuletide, my love,” he whispered in her ear. “I've never seen you look more beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Elinor answered absently, wishing those words had been said by someone else.

“Endicott told me everything,” Julian went on. “The whole truth.”

Elinor gaped at him. “Everything?”

He grinned down at her, quite sure of himself. “I can only be thankful that I still have your love. Now we don't have to announce the end of our betrothal at all.” With that he pulled her to him and kissed her with brazen fervency.

While the others watched the little scene, smiling in benign approval, Elinor tried to wrench herself from his embrace. “No, Julian, no!” she gasped. “You don't underst—”

But Julian, holding her tightly round the waist with one arm, had already turned to the others. “Let's drink to
next
Christmas,” he said proudly, picking up a cup of steaming ale with his free hand and holding it high in a toast, “when Elinor and I shall be husband and wife.”

“Hear, hear,” chortled the Earl as the others drank.

“No!” Elinor cried, pulling herself free. “No! Julian, stop! Mama … everyone … don't—! I'm so sorry. Julian, my dear, I
can't
—!”

Julian at last took note of the dismay in her voice. “
Elinor
!” he exclaimed, shocked. “What are you
saying
?”

“Don't look at me that way, Julian, please! It's not so dreadful to break one's troth, really it isn't. One soon gets over it. You'll find yourself a much more suitable bride in London. After all, you are the handsomest creature on God's green earth.” She took one last glance at all of the shocked faces looking up at her, winced, turned, lifted her skirts, and fled from the room.

Ignoring the hubbub behind her, she ran down the hall. Halfway to the entry hall, she came face to face with the butler. “Perkins!” she cried. “My cloak, please, quickly!”

The butler stopped in his tracks. “Miss Elinor!” he exclaimed. “Where are you
going
? You can't leave now. I was just about to announce dinner.”

“Please, Perkins, go ahead and announce it. Don't let them wait for me. Tell them I'll … I'll explain later. But first, my cloak.”

A brief moment later she was out the door. The Endicott manor house was not quite two miles away. Elinor took the shortcut through the Selby south field, through the home woods, and up the rise that led to the squire's west lawn. By the time she'd crossed the lawn and knocked at his front door, she was completely out of breath. As she waited for Miles's man to admit her, she put a shaking hand to her now-tumbled hair. She must look a fright, she realized—wild-eyed, red-nosed, and windblown.

But Farrow, Miles's elderly houseman, did not show surprise at her appearance. “Good arfternoon, Miz Elin'r,” he said in his up-country brogue. “Murry Christmas to ye.”

“Thank you. And a Merry Christmas to you, Farrow. Where is he?”

“In the liberry, ma'am. But 'e said 'e ain't to be disturbed.”

“I don't doubt it,” she retorted brusquely, marching past him.

“I wouldn't go in, ma'am, if I wuz ye. In a turrible temper 'e is. Wouldn' eat no dinner nor nothin'.”

“Then don't come with me,” she threw over her shoulder. “I'll announce myself.”

“Yes, ma'am,” he said stoically. “It's yer funeral.”

She strode down the corridor with a determined step, but her courage faltered a bit when she reached the library. However, knowing that Farrow was watching her from down the hall, she squared her shoulders and threw open the door.

Miles was slumped in an easy chair, his neckerchief hanging untied round his neck, his booted feet resting cross-legged on the hearth, and a book lying open but unread on his lap. “Go away, Farrow,” he growled without turning his head. “I told you not to bother me about dinner.”

“Who cares about dinner?” she said lightly, pausing on the threshold. “But did you intend not even to wish me a happy Christmas?”

He wheeled about, half rising from his chair. A look of astonishment crossed his face and quickly disappeared. If there was a hint of gladness in the look, she did not see it. He stared at her for a moment, speechless, and then returned to his former position, legs extended. “You've come a long way for a rather commonplace greeting,” he muttered sullenly, “but if you must have it, here it is. Happy Christmas. Now go back to your guests.”

“Heavens, you
are
in a ‘turrible temper,'” she said, closing the door and crossing to the hearth to face him. “Is it because you feel guilty for betraying me to Julian?”

“Betraying you?” He raised his eyebrows coldly. “How can you call it betrayal? I dropped him in your lap, just as I promised.”

“Yes, so you did.”

“If you've come to thank me, you may save your breath. Go back to him and live happily ever after. Just leave me out of it.”

“Why should you be left out after doing so much to bring us together? Don't you want to
see
the result of your efforts? Why didn't you come to dinner to hear his romantic declaration?”

He glowered up at her. “I've had quite enough of you and Julian for one day.”

She untied the strings of her cloak and let it fall. “Your efforts were wasted, you know. I've refused him.”

“
Refused
him?” Miles's booted legs came down from the hearth with an angry stamp as he sat bolt upright. “Why on
earth
did you refuse him?”

She met his eyes bravely. “I had my reasons.”

“I'm
damned
if I understand you! You told me you loved him, didn't you?”

“No, I didn't tell you anything of the sort. You said you read it in my eyes. Perhaps you don't read them as well as you think.”

He stared at her a moment, brows knit. Then, holding his breath, he got slowly to his feet. “I'm in no mood for word games, Elinor,” he said, grasping her by her shoulders. “Are you trying to tell me you no longer care for the fellow?”

“I'm trying to tell you much more than that,” she said softly, dropping her eyes from his burning glare. “I'm trying to tell you that I … that it's
you
I love.”

His grip on her shoulders tightened. “What nonsense is this?” he demanded angrily.

She blinked up at him, her heart pounding in fear. This wasn't the reaction she'd expected. She wanted to run away, but she'd gone too far to stop now. “I know this all seems too sudden to be believed,” she murmured awkwardly, “but you see, ever since you kissed me yesterday, I—”

“When I kissed you yesterday,” he cut in scornfully, “your only reaction was to caution me that I'd catch your deuced cold.”

“That was
not
my only reaction. Honestly, Miles, you are making this very difficult for me.”

“Sorry,” he said brusquely. “Go on.”

“The truth is that my reaction was quite … overwhelming.” This confession made her blush, but she went bravely on. “Ever since you kissed me, I … I haven't been the same. I began to realize that I've loved you for a very long time, but I didn't believe until yesterday that you could love me.”

Something softened in his expression. His eyes searched her face hungrily. “Are you telling me the truth, woman? This isn't one of your self-sacrificing acts, is it? Giving up Julian in order to make
this
old fellow happy?”

A little gurgling laugh bubbled up out of the turmoil inside her. Everything was going to be all right after all. “You gudgeon,” she said, her lips curving into a tremulous smile, “do you think I'm as self-sacrificing as all that?” She stepped closer to him and slipped her arms about his waist. “I know how to put your doubts to rest, my dear. Why don't you kiss me again, just as you did yesterday? I was too startled then to let myself respond. But now I'm quite ready.”

He expelled his pent-up breath slowly, and his eyes took on a glow Elinor had never seen before. “My God, woman,” he said hoarsely, taking her face between his hands, “I've loved you for so long I can't remember when it began.” Then he lowered his head to hers and kissed her gently.

It was she who changed the tenor of the embrace. With a joyful cry, she flung her arms about his neck and, pressing herself tightly against him, kissed him with all the passion that had been pent up in her. He needed no more evidence than that to be completely convinced of the sincerity of her declaration.

Later, seated on his lap in his large wing chair, she lifted her head from a most satisfying embrace and reminded herself that there was one unpleasant task still ahead. “Miles, my love,” she sighed, reluctantly breaking the silence, “I'm afraid I've stayed too long. I must go home and face the others. I left matters in a terrible turmoil.”