Page 9 of The Taming of the Countess

CHAPTER NINE

T hey arrived at Penford the day before Christmas Eve. Evie had settled back into the reality that James had meant what he’d said. He didn’t intend to consummate their marriage at all. And although it had hurt her feelings to realise it, she’d forced an invisible shield around her heart.

She wasn’t good at seduction. Her fumbling attempts to gain James’s attention had met with nothing, so why try? It was better if she made the most of the marriage she had instead of the marriage she wanted.

When the coach came to a stop, Evangeline stared out at the snow coating the grounds, feeling as if she’d stepped into an enchanted fairy tale. Although she’d visited the estate once or twice, long ago, it suddenly struck her that she was now Lady of the household—the Countess of Penford.

It had never really occurred to her before that she had married into nobility. Although her mother had been the daughter of a baron, Margaret had settled into their ordinary life with no trouble at all. The only hint of her past was her impeccable manners and her insistence that Evangeline be raised in a ladylike way.

She found herself trying to remember the lessons her mother had drilled into her. What was she supposed to do with a household of servants? She’d never really paid attention, despite Margaret’s efforts to teach her. She knew she was supposed to help plan the menus, but what else was there? A sudden rush of nerves flooded through her, and she realised how ill-prepared she was.

James helped her down from the coach, and most of the servants were already there to greet them. She searched for some sign of his mother, Lady Penford, but the dowager was not among the others.

The sea of faces and names blurred as he led her up the stairs and into the estate. There were a few signs of neglect with overgrown hedges and ivy upon the house, but then, James had only been to Penford once since his return from India.

Inside, the house was still a bit draughty, and she pulled her cloak close for warmth. Mrs Marlock, the housekeeper, walked alongside them.

‘It’s very welcome you are, Lady Penford,’ the older woman greeted her. The woman’s grey hair was scraped back into a tight bun, and she wore a set of keys upon a chain at her waist, like a chatelaine from the medieval era. ‘Would ye be wanting tea or summat to eat?’

‘Tea and hot food would be wonderful,’ Evie answered. ‘If it’s not too much trouble.’

The housekeeper straightened. ‘Oh, it’s ne’er any trouble, my lady. We’ll have a wee bit to fill yer bellies, soon enough.’ She gave orders to one of the maids and then told another to build up the fire in the drawing room.

‘Will the Dowager Lady Penford be able to join us?’ Evie asked. She hadn’t seen James’s mother in over a month.

Mrs Marlock met the earl’s gaze, but her expression was unreadable. ‘I will let her know that you’re here,’ she said, ‘but she isn’t feeling well today.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Marlock,’ James answered.

The housekeeper excused herself, promising to send up food. Within a few moments, the warmth of the fire began to seep into the room. Evie stood beside it, trying to warm her hands and feet. Soon enough, her dog Anna-belle trotted into the drawing room, followed by the puppies, who swarmed their mother as she slumped in front of the fire.

‘She’s made herself at home, I see,’ James remarked.

A moment later, her cat swished into the room. Dasher rubbed against her gown and then flopped beside the dog.

‘I suppose they both have.’ She smiled a moment. ‘Thank you for letting me bring them here. I would have missed them.’

‘I remember how much you love your animals.’

‘I could fill a barn with them,’ she admitted. ‘When I was a little girl, I sometimes visited my uncle Jonah in Scotland and rode horses there. He also had a donkey that I adored.’

She grew wistful, remembering. But even as she turned her attention back to her pets, she couldn’t help but wonder what her life would become here. ‘James, what are my responsibilities at Penford?’

‘Whatever you want them to be, I suppose. Do as much or as little as you like.’ He walked over to stand by the window. ‘I’ll stay for a fortnight and then return to London.’

He’d told her that was his plan, to live a separate life from hers. And yet, part of her felt unsettled that he was already planning to leave again. A sadness caught within her.

Am I that undesirable? a voice inside ventured. Do you really want to leave me behind so soon?

But then, that was the arrangement, wasn’t it? He’d always intended to bring her here for her safety and then return. The problem was her own loneliness. She liked James and enjoyed bantering with him. She didn’t want him to go back so soon.

Evie straightened and told herself not to let herself fall back into misery again. There was no reason why she couldn’t follow James to London. She had a business to run, after all.

But in the meantime, she wanted a little more time as newlyweds.

‘Will you stay a little longer?’ she ventured. ‘If you leave me behind only a fortnight after we are married, people will talk.’

Before he could answer, Mrs Marlock arrived with a footman who brought in a tray of hot soup, scones with cream and jam, tea, and small ginger biscuits. Evie’s stomach rumbled at the sight of the food, and then the footman uncovered another dish, revealing two large slices of cake. Instantly, it brought her back to that ball so long ago, when she’d hidden beneath the desk with cake. A pang caught her heart at the memory of the lonely girl she’d been. But she wasn’t about to stand aside and become a lonely wife. She would find a way to fill her life with meaningful work.

‘Thank you, Mrs Marlock,’ the earl murmured, and a few moments later, they were left alone.

The moment the door closed, Evie poured cups of tea for both of them. She fixed his tea with milk, no sugar, and then made her own.

‘You remembered,’ he said.

Evie hadn’t really thought about it, but it seemed that she’d always known how he drank his tea. She’d seen it often enough when she’d gone to visit with Lily and Rose.

He thanked her and then passed her a plate. ‘Cake?’ he offered.

But she shook her head. ‘No, thank you. Soup will be fine.’ Her appetite was fading, and it felt as if their relationship was already shifting away from friendship to something more formal. She didn’t want a stilted, arranged marriage.

And maybe it was best to simply discuss this with James.

‘I should like to talk about our marriage,’ she began, taking a sip of the hot soup. ‘The rules, I mean.’ She needed to understand whether there was any hope at all for something different between them—even though she was fairly certain that he didn’t want her. His actions said as much.

His expression revealed his confusion. ‘The rules?’

She nodded. ‘You married me to protect me from Viscount Dunwood. And I’m grateful for your help, truly. I do think I’ll be safer because of it. But I don’t really want to be abandoned and alone.’

At least he seemed to understand what she was saying. ‘It’s just for a time, Evie. Until the talk dies down.’

‘I know. But I’m already away from my family on Christmas. And all my friends are in London, too.’ She felt a rise of sadness catching at her heart. ‘If you leave, too…’ Her words broke off, and she stopped herself, realising how needy she sounded.

He sobered. ‘No, you’re right. I suppose it’s not fair to take you away from everyone else.’

‘I would like one week,’ she said. ‘One week, here at Penford, to pretend to be happily married when we’re around the servants and your mother. As my Christmas present.’ Before he could impose more rules, she stood from the table and walked towards him. She rested her hand upon his shoulder. ‘You needn’t worry. It won’t be real.’

Though she tried to keep her voice light, he covered her hand with his own. Before she could do anything, he pulled her into his lap, just as Mrs Marlock returned. Evangeline stifled her gasp of startled surprise, but before she could stop herself, a laugh broke forth.

‘Och! I came to see if ye were needin’ anything else,’ the housekeeper said. ‘I’ll be certain ye’re nay disturbed, my lord.’ Then she hurried outside the room and closed it again.

The moment she was gone, Evangeline couldn’t stop her laugh. ‘Did you know she was coming inside?’

A wicked smile slid over his face. ‘I might have heard her approaching the room.’ She started to stand, but he kept her on his lap. ‘Was this what you wanted, Evie? To pretend?’

‘I—yes, but—’

He cut off her words when he began nuzzling her neck. A thousand shivers broke over her skin, and she was torn between telling him to stop and wanting him to continue.

‘Then we’ll pretend.’ He reached out for a scone and broke off a piece, feeding it to her.

She hardly tasted it at all, but she was entirely aware that he was teasing her. Trying to make her uncomfortable by kindling desires he had no intention of fulfilling.

‘I meant, around the servants and others,’ she started to say.

‘Did you?’ he challenged. From the sudden flare in his eyes, she wondered what was happening. His hands remained at her waist, and she caught her breath at the thought of what he would do next.

Her mother’s claim—that she could seduce her husband—suddenly came to mind. It occurred to Evie that she was becoming passive, waiting for James to touch or kiss her. Was that really what she wanted?

Or should she try to take the lead?

This is a terrible idea , her brain warned.

He had already brushed her aside the first time she’d declared her feelings two years ago. Then again on her wedding night. Why should it be any different now?

Yet, it felt like a challenge somehow. He was almost daring her to pretend, to reach for what she wanted.

And two could play this game.

She reached for another piece of the scone from his plate and added clotted cream to it. Slowly, she fed it to James, watching as his eyes darkened. For a moment, she rested her hand against his face, and he caught her hand, keeping it there.

‘Are you hungry?’ she asked softly. Her voice came out breathless, and from the harsh look in his eyes, she was well aware they weren’t speaking of food any more.

‘Very,’ he answered.

She found herself staring at his mouth, uncertain of what to do. But he held himself back, waiting for her to make the next move. She thought a moment and then glanced over at the tray.

‘Oops,’ she murmured. ‘I forgot the jam.’

But instead of offering him a spoonful of jam with the scone, she dipped her fingertip into the strawberry preserves and brought it to his lips. His mouth closed over her finger, and when he swirled his tongue over it, an echo of sensation ached between her legs.

Her body grew even more responsive while she sat on his lap, for she could feel his rigid erection pressed against her. She could imagine him kissing her, touching her intimately. And Heaven help her, she wanted that.

‘I have something you want,’ he murmured.

Shocked, she could do nothing but remain motionless as he rearranged her on his lap. The hard length of his arousal rested against her, and she bit her lip when he moved.

Then he reached for a piece of the chocolate cake and brought it to her mouth, feeding it to her. With a wicked smile, he met her gaze, and she understood that he’d fully intended the innuendo, just as she had.

But when she licked his fingertip while staring into his eyes, his smile faded. He gripped her hips, and her body seemed to grow even more heated. His gaze turned hooded, and he drew her face to his.

‘Rule one,’ he murmured against her lips. ‘We will not consummate this marriage.’

I know , she started to say, before he added, ‘But there are no rules that prevent us from enjoying one another. If you want.’

She wasn’t at all certain what he meant by that. ‘Enjoying one another?’

He nipped at her lower lip, sliding his tongue against it, and she couldn’t stop herself from kissing him back. His mouth teased hers, lazily kissing her lips while he dragged his hands through her hair.

This was dangerous. It was exactly the sort of touching that she’d surrendered to, two years ago. But she’d asked him to pretend to be married. And he’d given her just that, hadn’t he?

Evie yielded to him, opening her mouth against his, and his tongue slid inside. Heat roared through her, and she shifted against the ridge of his desire. He was aching for her as much as she was for him.

Slowly, he pulled back from the kiss, and his eyes were blazing. And suddenly, she questioned what she’d begun between them.

And whether it would end as badly as it had before.

* * *

His wife was slowly killing him. She had somehow tempted him beyond all reason, and James knew that if he didn’t leave for London soon, he was going to utterly abandon his decision to remain apart from her.

It had taken all his self-control not to drag Evie off to his bedchamber. Instead, he’d muttered an excuse about needing to see to his mother and had left her behind.

He supposed he might as well see Iris, to discover what Mrs Marlock had meant when she’d said that Lady Penford wasn’t feeling well. He hadn’t seen his mother since their arrival and wondered whether her condition was her memory loss or a true illness.

Either way, he was feeling entirely unsettled when he walked along the hallway that led to a separate wing of Penford. Because there were fewer stairs, his mother and grandmother often stayed in this part of the house.

A maid greeted him as he passed. ‘Good evening, Lord Penford.’

‘I’ve come to see my mother,’ he told her. ‘Is she in her room?’

The maid shook her head, and he could tell she was uncomfortable. ‘She’s in the parlour, my lord.’

He gave a nod of dismissal and walked inside the small sitting room. The pianoforte was decorated with possibly fifty items, ranging from small porcelain birds and flowers to silver spoons or pieces of coloured glass.

‘Hello, Mother,’ he greeted her.

Iris looked up and frowned at him. Slowly, she rose from her chair and moved closer to the hearth. ‘I don’t know you.’

A slight edge of sadness caught him as he realised what the others meant when they’d said she was unwell. ‘It’s me. James,’ he told her. ‘Your son.’

‘My son is in India,’ she argued back. ‘I don’t know you.’ Her hand closed over a fireplace poker, and he realised that she felt threatened by him.

He was careful not to move but questioned whether he ought to go along with her illusions. ‘I am sorry if I disturbed you. I only wanted to see if you were well or if you needed anything.’

‘I want you to leave,’ she said firmly. ‘My husband will be home soon, and if you have not left Penford, he will be most displeased.’ She gripped the fireplace poker, and James took a step back.

‘My apologies,’ he said quietly before he retreated and walked back into the hall. An unsettled feeling caught him, and he decided to step outside on the terrace to gather his thoughts.

The wintry air was cold, and he took a moment to stop and breathe. It was only two days before Christmas, and for a while, he simply watched the falling snow as it coated the hedges and grass. There was a serenity here, a calm he’d not experienced in a long time. Behind him, he heard footsteps approaching and when he turned, he saw Evangeline standing at the doorway.

‘I didn’t expect to see you here,’ he said quietly.

‘I was planning to join you and say hello to your mother,’ she answered. ‘But then I saw you leave. Was it a bad day for her?’

He nodded. ‘She didn’t know who I was.’

Her face turned sympathetic. ‘I’m so sorry. It’s hard to watch someone you love fade away into someone so very different.’ She crossed over to him and took his arm in hers. ‘Do you want to walk for a little while?’

‘It’s freezing outside,’ he warned.

‘Just through the garden,’ she suggested.

He escorted her down the snowy pathway and through the arched brick doorway that led into a walled garden. A small stone fountain rested in the centre, and a few fir trees along the perimeter were lined with more snow.

‘Tomorrow is Christmas Eve,’ she said. ‘We should invite your mother to join us for a celebration.’

‘She didn’t know who I was,’ he said quietly. ‘I didn’t realise it had got that bad.’ He had seen her only a month ago, and though she’d had her spells, it had never been like this.

‘She might remember both of us in the morning,’ Evangeline said. ‘We won’t know until then.’

He understood that she was trying to be optimistic, but he doubted if anything would change. ‘I don’t even know what to give her for Christmas,’ he admitted. ‘I brought a few things from London, but she might not want them any more.’

‘Or they might bring her joy,’ she countered. ‘Give her the gifts anyway.’

He walked alongside his wife, the snow crunching beneath their feet as the darkness descended. The sun had descended, leaving only a sliver of violet sky. Evangeline shivered, and he realised she wasn’t wearing a cloak. She’d followed him outside with no regard for the cold. He removed his jacket and put it around her shoulders.

She pulled it close and turned back to him. ‘So, what did you ask Father Christmas for this year?’ Her voice was teasing as she smiled.

He hadn’t truly thought about it. ‘I don’t need anything.’

He guided her back towards the house, and as they passed by one of the fir trees, Evangeline yelped. Snow had fallen from one of the boughs against her neck, and she swiped at it, jumping from one foot to the other as she tried to brush it off the back of her gown. ‘It’s freezing!’

A laugh escaped him, and she glared at him. ‘Why do you find that funny?’

He had no answer, but he couldn’t stop his smile. It was the wrong decision, for a moment later, Evie reached down into the snow and formed a ball.

‘Don’t you dare,’ he warned, reaching for his own snow. A second later, snow exploded against his cheek from a snowball she’d aimed. ‘You’re going to regret that decision, Evie.’

He made a larger snowball and threw it at her. His wife shrieked as she dodged it. ‘Your aim is terrible.’

But his next snowball landed with a splat on her bodice—precisely where he’d aimed it.

‘Oh, you will pay for that, Penford.’ She tried to reach for another handful of snow, but he lifted her into his arms, laughing as she rubbed the snow against his neck. Both of them were soaked, but he no longer cared.

This was the Evangeline he liked, the woman who had a playful side. He could tease her, knowing that she wouldn’t cry or complain—she’d get even.

‘Our clothes are soaking wet,’ he reminded her. She stilled in his embrace, looking away from him, even as her arms remained around his neck.

He carried her up the stairs to the house and past several servants who stared at them. Evie was holding his jacket, and she muttered, ‘We’re not behaving in a dignified manner. You should put me down.’

‘You might have another snowball in your arsenal,’ he murmured. ‘I wouldn’t want to risk it.’

‘James,’ she chided.

But he carried her up the large staircase and down the hallway. ‘Remember, we’re pretending to be a happily married couple. Isn’t that what you wanted for your Christmas gift?’

‘I…suppose.’

He opened her bedroom door and lowered her to stand. Evie tried to straighten her skirts. ‘My gown is a mess,’ she moaned, as he closed the door. ‘It’s soaked.’

‘You were the one who threw a snowball at me,’ he reminded her. ‘I was only defending myself.’

She ventured a slight smile. ‘You may want to watch your back, Penford. I did promise revenge.’

‘You can try.’ But he was intrigued by the wickedness in her tone.

‘Go and warm yourself by the fire,’ he offered, pointing towards his bedchamber.

She stood by the fire, warming her hands. Then she arched her back, fumbling with the buttons of her gown. ‘Help me take this off.’

‘Do you want me to ring for your maid?’ He supposed Evie would want a hot bath and at the very least, a clean nightgown. But she turned to look at him.

‘You could,’ she acknowledged. ‘Or you could help me remove the gown. We could pretend to be a happily wedded couple a little longer.’

Although she kept her words even, he sensed a note of intensity in her voice. It reminded him of the way she’d tempted him earlier, when she’d fed him jam from her fingertip. The memory flooded through his body, reminding him of the temptress Evie could be. He’d been careful enough to keep her at a distance, but every hour only heightened his desire to touch her.

She’d never answered his remark about pleasuring one another, and he didn’t know if she was interested or not.

He was fully aware of the wet gown clinging to her generous curves. And, if she agreed to it, there was no reason to deny both of them a chance to explore their desires. The idea of finding out what pleased Evie was a vivid thought he couldn’t let go. But he didn’t know if she would shy away from him…or embrace the idea.

He walked slowly towards the fire and helped her with the buttons of her gown. ‘Is that what you want, Evie? To pretend?’ A few patches of snow fell from her bodice as he bared her light rose corset and shift. He’d never seen such finely made undergarments, and they accentuated the curve of her breasts and her slender waist.

Evie stepped out of the gown, removing her bustle, and then her petticoats. Her gaze slid over him, and she appeared nervous, as if she hadn’t decided what to do. ‘Will you help me with my stays?’

He began unlacing her slowly, drawing out the moment. Evie glanced over her shoulder, and he lowered his mouth to kiss her nape. She gave a slight intake of breath but didn’t move.

‘Is that what this is?’ she whispered. ‘Pretending?’

‘If you want.’ James told himself that there was no harm in touching his own wife or bringing them both fulfilment. Especially when the boundaries were drawn so firmly between them.

From the look in her eyes, he sensed that she was indeed interested in more between them. His conscience warned that it wasn’t wise to explore this path…but when he touched the laces of her corset, he wanted so much more from her.

Evie suddenly turned and stared at him, her blue eyes turning intense. And when he moved in closer, she seemed shy as she turned her back to him once again. He rested his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs grazing the soft skin. Right now, he wanted her so badly, it hurt. Slowly, he unlaced her stays, one after another.

When her corset grew slack, she suddenly froze. He saw the moment she went rigid and clutched the rose under-garment to her body. ‘James…this isn’t real, is it?’

‘Do you want it to be?’

She turned to face him, still clutching her undergarments. Her face had gone pale, and her breathing seemed unsteady. ‘I don’t know what I want.’

Her breathing grew unsteady as she stared back at him with indecision. Then slowly, she let her corset fall to the ground until she wore nothing but a soft chemise. He could see the faint outline of her nipples through the fabric, and the need to touch her, to taste her, went roaring through him.

‘I know what I want,’ he answered. He lifted his shirt away and discarded it on top of her fallen gown.

Slowly, he slid his hand to the ties of her chemise, which were damp from the snow. She didn’t move, but he caught the rise of goose bumps as he moved his hand lower towards her breast. He rested his hand upon her bare skin, just above it. He stared into her eyes, waiting for permission. She closed her eyes and then brought his hand to cup her breast. Beneath his palm, her nipple was swollen and peaked. With his thumb, he stroked her, and she let out a shuddering sigh.

Watching her like this, seeing the emotion on her face, made him want her even more. His shaft was hard, desperately wanting to be inside her.

Then she reached out to touch his chest, and her cool fingers slid over his pectoral muscles. Her gentle touch was nearly his undoing.

He lowered her chemise to her waist and took her nipple into his mouth. She moaned and drew her fingers to his hair while he swirled his tongue upon her flesh. She was as beautiful now as she’d been two years ago.

With his hands and mouth, he worshipped her. His heart was pounding, but he craved her like nothing he’d wanted before.

Her fingers dug into his shoulders, and she cried out, trembling against him. Her hips pressed close, and he suppressed his groan.

‘James,’ she breathed. ‘Wait.’

God above. He didn’t know if he could. Before he listened to her plea, he slid his hand between her legs, cupping the dampness there. She was wet for him, and when he caressed her gently, her body rose to his touch.

Though it was a physical ache to stop, he stilled his fingers. Then he drew his other hand to her nape as he stared down at her. ‘Do you want me to stop? Or should I remind you of what it was like that night in the garden?’

Her blue eyes were deep with emotion, her expression vulnerable as he held his warm fingers against her wetness, tempting her towards surrender.

‘You left me that night,’ she whispered. ‘And you’re going to leave me again, aren’t you?’

He wasn’t going to lie to her. It was the arrangement they’d made. This was only temporary between them. Although he’d wanted to touch her and feel her hands upon him, he knew if he stayed with her for any length of time, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from consummating their marriage. Evie tempted him beyond words, making him question everything.

But she deserved honesty. He gave a single nod but never took his gaze from her face. ‘It’s better if I leave.’

Slowly, she stepped away from him, and her expression turned stricken. Awkwardly, she adjusted her chemise and covered herself. In a thick voice, she admitted, ‘I know the agreement we made. And though I do desire you…’ She closed her eyes as if the words pained her. ‘I don’t want to pretend, James. I want it to be real.’

He saw it then—the heartbreak in her eyes. Evie wasn’t the sort of woman who could simply enjoy the pleasures of desire without love. He was wrong to even suggest it.

There were no words he could give her, nothing he could offer. He couldn’t be the man she wanted him to be—a husband and a father. Not with the dark memories flooding through him of all the people he’d let down over the years. The last thing he wanted was for her to look at him with disappointment.

And so, he took the coward’s path and turned away, returning to his own bedchamber.

* * *

Evangeline spent most of the morning in the village. Although many of the shops near Penford were closed, she’d convinced several of them to open so she could complete her Christmas shopping. She needed to be away from James, away from Penford. If she allowed herself to remember the humiliation of last night, she would only start crying.

And so, shopping became the distraction she needed.

Last night, she had suddenly understood what James had meant by ‘enjoying one another.’ His touch had awakened a yearning within her that went so deep, it touched her heart. She had desperately wanted to feel his touch upon her bare skin and become intimate. Earlier, she had mistakenly believed that seducing him would win his heart.

But when he’d undressed her last night, she’d suddenly realised that, to him, it was about physical enjoyment. He’d been quite clear about not consummating their marriage, not wanting to risk a child. Even if they did cross the line between pleasure and seduction, it didn’t mean he loved her.

He would never love her.

That revelation had struck her so fiercely, she could no longer hold back her own feelings. Despite her efforts not to care for James, she had already lost her heart to him. It was clear that lovemaking would only shatter her feelings. But when she’d made herself vulnerable, telling him that she wanted their marriage to be real, he’d walked away.

She had barely slept last night, trying not to cry. It was her own fault for hoping their marriage could be more. It was better to avoid temptation, she’d told herself. If she never walked the path, never dared to learn what sorts of breathless pleasure awaited them in their marriage bed, it was the best way to protect herself.

She didn’t know if she could bear this marriage, knowing that he still viewed the match as only an arrangement. It didn’t seem like they were even friends any more, truthfully. He refused to tell her anything about India, and she was convinced that this was the reason why he held himself apart. Perhaps she needed to gain his trust to understand what had happened to him.

Maybe…maybe they needed to start all over again. It was Christmas Eve tonight, and she wanted to spend Christmas together and rebuild their friendship.

One of the shops was already open, and she chose a new cravat for James. She started to look for a warm scarf, when suddenly she felt a sense of uneasiness. It was almost as if someone was watching her. But when she turned around, there was no one there.

You’re being foolish , she told herself.

But she couldn’t shake the feeling.

She turned back to the shopkeeper and asked, ‘Was anyone here just now?’

The older man shook his head. ‘Nay, my lady. All our customers have gone for the day.’ From the impatient tone of his voice, it was clear that he was eager to go home as well. It was only past one o’clock, but she understood his wish to be with his family.

‘I’m sorry. I’ll just buy these.’ She picked up the cravat and one of the scarves, bringing them over. ‘Could you wrap them up for me?’ Then her gaze fell upon some sugarplums and bon bons. ‘And these, as well.’

He nodded, and she walked towards the shop window, gazing outside. Her footman was waiting for her, and she guessed that must have been the presence she’d sensed watching over her. He’d probably wondered how much longer she would be shopping.

‘Thank you,’ she told the shopkeeper as she gathered her parcels and left. She had also bought gifts for Lady Penford—a soft blue shawl, lavender and rose oils for her bath, and some new handkerchiefs. Although James had brought a few things from London for his mother, she wanted to offer her own gifts.

After she left the shop, she glanced around. Once again, she saw no one there. It had been nothing except her own uneasiness and was nothing to worry about. More likely, it was her insecurities bothering her after last night.

Even now, she was embarrassed by her panic. If she had simply kept her mouth shut, she might have experienced a night like the one in the garden. But instead, she’d stopped him, revealing her feelings once again.

She was an idiot. And now he was going to view her with pity. For she was pathetic. He would be kind, and Evie didn’t know if she could bear it.

She wanted to go back to the moments of throwing snowballs at him and arguing. Better to say exactly what was on her mind without caution, and that would keep him from treating her as if she were made of glass. She had her pride, after all.

The snow was falling again when she travelled home in the coach. Most of the seats were taken up by packages wrapped in brown paper. It wasn’t a long ride, and she suddenly realised how hungry she was. She couldn’t wait to enjoy luncheon, and a delicious Christmas meal this evening. Her stomach growled as she wondered what the Cook had prepared.

When they arrived at the estate, her footmen took the gifts and brought them inside. She stopped Mrs Marlock, and the woman bobbed a curtsy. ‘Is there aught I can be helping ye with, Lady Penford?’

‘If you wouldn’t mind, I would like to decorate the house for Christmas. Perhaps there are some servants who might be willing to help?’

‘Oh, to be sure.’ Mrs Marlock smiled warmly. ‘We can hang boughs of greenery and holly, if ye’d like. I’ll see to it.’

‘Thank you.’ Evie untied her bonnet and gave it over to her maid. Then, she walked towards the dining room and suddenly saw the Dowager Lady Penford standing in the hallway.

The older woman appeared so fragile and lost. Evie started to approach, but the footman stopped her. In a soft voice, he murmured. ‘It’s not a good day, my lady. I can escort the dowager back to her room.’

She brushed him aside. ‘No, I would like to share luncheon with her. Please tell Cook that we’re ready for our meal.’

With a wave of her hand, she dismissed the others. She took careful steps towards the dowager, who was still standing at the doorway. When Evie grew close, she saw tears on the woman’s cheeks.

‘Hello,’ she said softly.

Lady Penford jerked in surprise and took a step backwards. It was then that Evangeline noticed the matron was wearing a summer gown of lawn, embroidered with lilac thread. It was a wonder she wasn’t freezing since she had no cloak or pelisse. From the damp hem of her gown, it appeared that she’d walked outside recently.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you,’ Evie said gent-ly.

‘Who are you?’ the dowager asked. Her voice held fear, and she gripped her skirts as if prepared to flee.

‘My name is Evangeline,’ Evie answered. She didn’t know quite how to explain why she was at Penford, and it seemed entirely too soon to talk about her marriage. Instead, she said, ‘I am friends with Rose and Lily.’

‘My daughters,’ the dowager whispered.

‘Yes. They are lovely, aren’t they?’ Evie was careful not to move towards the woman, not wanting her to feel threatened.

‘I miss them,’ Lady Penford confessed. ‘It’s lonely here.’

Evie took a moment to consider what to do next. She could feel the woman’s fear radiating out in waves. ‘I understand what it is to feel lonely. I wondered…’ She paused a moment and glanced towards the dining room. ‘Since Rose and Lily are not here, would you be willing to join me for luncheon? I would like to have someone to talk to.’

The dowager shook her head. ‘Oh, I couldn’t. I’ve eaten already.’

From her thin appearance, Evie wondered when Lady Penford had last eaten a proper meal. ‘Would you keep me company instead? Whilst I eat?’

The older woman hesitated, as if she didn’t want to. She appeared as if she’d rather be anywhere but in Evie’s presence.

‘It’s all right if you’d rather not join me,’ Evie said. ‘I can eat by myself.’ She didn’t want the woman to feel threatened.

But after she’d spoken, the dowager seemed to make up her mind. ‘No, you needn’t be alone. Eating a meal by yourself is a wretched thing.’

Evie gave her a warm smile. ‘It is, isn’t it?’ She took a step towards the older woman and asked, ‘Will you sit with me, then?’

‘I suppose.’ The matron took a few tentative steps into the dining room, and Evie nodded a silent order for the footman to bring up the food. While they waited, she asked the dowager, ‘Will you tell me about your news of Penford? It’s been a while since I saw you last at Rose’s wedding.’

The matron’s face softened. ‘Rose is expecting her first child. I’m to be a grandmother.’

Evie couldn’t help but smile. ‘That’s wonderful. When will the baby be born?’

‘In the summer,’ she answered.

She didn’t press the matron for more but simply sat nearby. A slight movement caught Evie’s attention, and she saw her husband standing in the doorway. James’s expression grew guarded, but she met his gaze and silently warned him to take care.

He stepped out of the way when the food arrived and remained in the shadows so his mother would not see him. But when the footman offered a bowl of hot soup, Evie remarked, ‘It’s such a cold day. Are you certain you won’t have a little of this soup? It might warm you up after your walk.’

The dowager paused and then shrugged. ‘I suppose a little might not be bad.’ Within a few moments, they were both eating in companionable silence. The vegetable soup was served with warm bread, and Evie savoured the flavours.

‘I understand your son, James, has returned from London,’ she ventured. Once again, she caught his gaze from the shadows.

‘I’m not certain,’ the dowager said. ‘I haven’t seen him yet.’

‘Would you like me to send for him?’ Evie suggested. ‘He could join us.’

The dowager’s eyes filled with tears again. ‘I wish George could join us. I miss him so.’

It hurt to see the pain in the matron’s expression. A tear slid down her cheek. Evie reached out her hand in silent comfort, but the dowager didn’t take it. ‘Will you tell me about him?’

Her question seemed to interrupt the tears, and Lady Penford found a handkerchief to dry her eyes. ‘I—no one’s ever asked me that before.’

‘I would love to hear all about him and how you used to celebrate Christmas with your husband,’ Evie urged. And as the woman began to speak, she glanced back at James. An unknown emotion caught within his face before he inclined his head to her and disappeared. He under-stood that Lady Penford wasn’t ready to see him, and he apparently didn’t want to upset her more.

But as the woman began to share stories, Evie decided to try to recreate a Christmas from the dowager’s past—one that might give her and James a reason to smile again.