A Christmas Charade (32 page)

“Afraid I’ll be compromised?”

“Afraid I’ll lose my head altogether.”

Her eyes widened, then fell. He wondered if he had been too blunt in his admission of ardor. Nothing in her demeanor had warned him she might be offended when confronted by his passion.

He feared she would leave without a word, but she reached up to smooth the hair at the back of his head, where her fingers had earlier wreaked havoc.

“Good night, Stenton,” she said softly.

He turned her in the direction of the east wing. Walking beside her, he said, “Do you think you could bring yourself to use my Christian name?”

She hesitated, then said lightly, “It shouldn’t be too difficult. In my mind I’ve called you Clive more than once.”

He accompanied her down the passage, but stopped at the foot of the stairs. He could reach his chamber from the east wing, but prudence told him to leave her right here.

“Merry Christmas, Elizabeth. Sweet dreams in
your
bed.”

He resisted the impulse to draw her close once more. Turning on his heel, he strode off to use the stairs across the hall.

“Merry Christmas, Clive,” she said to his retreating back. She said it softly so he wouldn’t hear the quiver in her voice.

One of the footmen, carrying a snuffer, came down the stairs as Elizabeth started up.

“Best take a candle, miss,” he said, removing one from its holder on the wall. “I’ve just doused the lights in the corridor.”

“Thank you.”

Shielding the flame with her hand, she ascended swiftly to the first floor. She did not want to think about Clive’s kisses, but with the taste of his mouth still on hers, she could not help but dwell on them and on the feelings they aroused in her.

She had floated in a bubble of happiness, believing that her miracle was about to happen. A man did not kiss a woman the way Clive had kissed her unless he had serious intentions. That was what she had believed.

Until he told her they must stop lest he lose his head altogether.

She did not doubt the nature of his feelings for her. His kisses had been tender as well as ardent; they had held sweetness as well as passion. But while she had been lured into dreams of a life and love shared forever after, he had struggled to keep a cool head.

The Duke of Stenton could not propose marriage to Miss Gore-Langton, a penniless lady’s companion. He had tried to warn her that morning during the sleigh ride. He had confessed his own impecunious state, and even though he seemed to have scorned his sister’s attempts to provide him with an heiress, it was obvious that, if he married, he must take a bride with a dowry. As his father had done.

Hurrying along the dark corridor in an effort to reach her chamber before composure could wholly desert her, she almost did not hear the soft voice calling to her as she passed Stewart’s room.

“Psst! Miss Elizabeth!”

She swung around. The flame of her candle flickered wildly, but it did not go out. The dim glow fell on a slight form in an old-fashioned striped cotton skirt with an overdress of some dark blue material. A huge mobcap all but hid a thin little face framed by wisps of dark curls.

“Annie! Is something wrong?”

“Quite the contrary!” Annie executed a dance step. “Miss Juliette and the major, they’re both in there. Making up. There’s going to be no more talk about having the marriage voided.”

“Juliette’s miracle!”

“Aye, that it is. A miracle. With just a little help from me.” Annie touched the key in the door of Stewart’s room.

“You locked them in?”

At Annie’s nod, laughter bubbled inside Elizabeth but just as quickly died. If only her own miracle could be brought about by something as simple as being locked in.

Annie’s shrewd eyes rested on Elizabeth. “We don’t want to disturb anyone. Let’s talk in your room.”

As Elizabeth followed Annie around the corner to her own chamber, she thought how strange it was that she felt no surprise at seeing the ghost as clearly as she would see Juliette. Neither did she have to get used to that thin little face with the large eyes. It was as though she had known all along what Annie looked like.

Annie disappeared through the closed door. Elizabeth, distracted by her musings, realized only just in time that she must use a more conventional method of entering a chamber.

“What about
your
miracle?” Annie asked bluntly when Elizabeth had shut the door. “Didn’t you get your kiss?”

“Oh, yes.” Elizabeth paced the room with quick, impatient steps. “I was kissed several times.”

“But it isn’t enough, is it? You want his grace to feel the way you feel. You want him to fall head over heels in love and ask you to marry him.”

Elizabeth looked at Annie, perched on a corner of the dressing table. “That’s the most disconcerting thing about you. That you know exactly what’s in a person’s mind. It made me wonder if I’d gone mad and was talking to myself that first time you spoke to me.”

“It has come in handy to know what people are thinking.” Annie toyed with the lid of Elizabeth’s jewelry box. “Take the old ladies who’re looking for the duchess’s jewels. The plump one, Miss Flora, now she’d make off with the lot if given a chance. She doesn’t say so, but she’s thinking it.”

“But that mustn’t happen!”

“You want the duke to have the jewels, don’t you?”

“He certainly could use them. He could buy a herd of sheep and a fleet of fishing boats for the villagers.”

He could also forget about the heiress.

Elizabeth shot a look at Annie to see if the little ghost had picked up the thought that had come unbidden into her mind. But either Annie did not want to embarrass her, or she was caught up in her own train of thought.

“Well, there’s no need to worry about Miss Flora,” Annie said gaily. “Miss Amelia will keep her sister in line. Besides, they’re still convinced the marquetry chest is in Lady Fanny’s room, but they’ll never find it there.”

“Annie! Do you know where the jewels are?”

“But of course.” Annie gave Elizabeth a wide-eyed look of astonishment. “I put them in their new hiding place, didn’t I?”

When the fire was discovered, Annie had run to rouse the duchess, who had snatched the marquetry chest from the secret compartment and thrust it at the young nursery maid. “Keep it safe, Annie. We may need this if Stenton is gutted,” she had said and hurried off to the nursery.

“And I did.” Annie slid off the dressing table. “Shall I show you where, Miss Elizabeth?”

“Please do.” Feeling rather dazed, Elizabeth picked up the lamp on her bedside table. “And having put the jewels in a safe place, you followed the duchess into the burning nursery?”

“But, yes. I couldn’t just stand by, could I now?”

“You’re a brave girl. I don’t know if I’d have had the courage.”

“All of us come to a point when we must show pluck,” Annie said sagely. “For me it was the fire. For you, perhaps it was when you went down to the beach last night. Or, perhaps, your time to show your mettle hasn’t come yet.”

Annie led Elizabeth down the corridor, past Miss Flora’s and Miss Amelia’s chambers, toward the south wing. But she did not go into the south wing. She stopped at the last room this side of the stairs.

It was a small sitting room. A ladies’ room. Elizabeth remembered peeking into it during her tour of exploration. A half-dozen chairs and an oval table with a marble top stood in the center of the room on a large Turkey rug. A pigeonhole desk and two glass-fronted cabinets lined the wall adjoining the stairs, and the fireplace filled a large portion of the opposite wall. A sewing table, two tambour frames, workbaskets and workboxes, and several straight-backed chairs were placed by the windows, where at least during the early part of the day sufficient light would make the use of working candles unnecessary.

Elizabeth raised her lamp and studied the wainscoting with the richly carved and bossed frieze at about shoulder height. She did not know about Miss Flora and Miss Amelia, but Lady Fanny and Lady Harry had thoroughly examined the bosses in this section of the castle to see if one would twist to open a secret compartment.

“I trust your memory is good, Annie. If we must test every one of these carved rosettes, we’ll be here all night and day.”

Annie giggled. “You’re making the same mistake the other ladies made. The chest is
not
in a secret compartment.”

“Then where—”

Elizabeth drew in her breath sharply. Her gaze flew to the tambour frames, the workbaskets and workboxes. One of the boxes was in the shape of a miniature sea chest, the rounded lid richly decorated with marquetry work.

“But that’s impossible! Incredible!” she said. “Someone must have noticed it before now.”

“Who? Did any of you ladies sit in this room and work your embroidery, your crocheting, your tatting?”

Slowly, Elizabeth crossed the room toward the sewing nook. “Mrs. Rodwell … the maids who clean and dust. Surely they would know it wasn’t a workbox.”

“Look at it!” Annie flitted past her. “If you didn’t know exactly what you’re looking for, would you have taken it for a
jewelry
box?”

“Even knowing what I was looking for, I looked right past it.” Elizabeth dropped to her knees. Setting down the lamp, she picked up the marquetry chest. “It’s locked, Annie.”

“Aye, and that’s what almost caused trouble when the village women came to clean. One of them wanted to break it open to see if there was thread in it that she might use. Thank goodness the others reminded her that none of them would be asked back if anything was discovered broken or missing.”

Elizabeth gently shook the box. There was no sound or rattle. If jewels were inside, they were securely cushioned.

With the box tucked beneath her arm, she rose. In the morning, she’d give it to Clive.

“And you’ll let him kiss you again,” said Annie.

Elizabeth shot her a startled look. “I wish you wouldn’t always read my mind.”

“But you will?” Annie insisted.

“Certainly I will,” Elizabeth said briskly.

She picked up the lamp. Something was happening to her throat. It felt tight and prickly.

“I am twenty-eight years old, Annie. Surely I am entitled to snatch a bit of happiness before I turn into a crotchety old maid!”

“Happiness?” said Annie. “Then why are you crying?”

Elizabeth gave a defiant sniff. “It’s the smoke from the lamp. It bothers my eyes.”

Annie did not dignify such a bouncer with a reply. Following Elizabeth into the corridor, she said, “I’ll be off, then. Good night, Miss Elizabeth.”

“Where are you going?”

But Annie had disappeared.

Elizabeth returned to her chamber. She looked at the bed with its gilded posts and the beautiful canopy and drapes of ivory velvet.
Her
bed. And Clive had wished her sweet dreams.

She sat by the dying fire, the jewelry box in her lap. The clock on the mantel showed it was almost three. She must wait at least five more hours before she could think about seeking out Clive.

A long wait. Not as long as she had waited for his kisses but long enough to give her the craziest notions.

She convinced herself that the jewels, which Lady Fanny believed to be worth “a king’s ransom,” were the key to her happiness. They were the miracle that would bring about Clive’s proposal of marriage.

Just when her spirits lifted, they were dashed again. She was certain the treasure wouldn’t make the slightest difference in his approach to matrimony. He was still the Duke of Stenton, above the touch of Miss Gore-Langton, daughter of a mere baronet.

And then she wished she hadn’t found the jewels at all. If the miracle should happen, if he should tell her he loved her and ask her to be his wife, she’d rather have him do so in the face of impecuniousness.

She must have dozed finally, for when Annie spoke to her, she was quite startled. Her head jerked back and it took a moment to recognize where she was.

“Miss Elizabeth, didn’t you hear me? His grace is in the library. You can take him the box now.”

Elizabeth straightened in the chair. She rubbed her fingers, which were stiff with cold or, perhaps, from clutching the marquetry chest.

She glanced at the clock. “I cannot see him now! It’s not yet six.”

“Six! Gorblimey, I almost forgot to unlock the major’s door!”

Elizabeth was getting quite used to Annie’s sudden appearances and disappearances. But she would have liked the chance to ask why Clive was up at this ungodly hour. On Christmas Day.

As though it mattered.

She rose. It probably wasn’t what Annie meant when she had talked about showing pluck, but she’d go to the library now.

Once again clutching the jewelry chest under her arm and carrying a lamp, she hurried along the corridor. If she slowed down, she might change her mind. She did not even pause for breath at the library door, but knocked and entered.

He stood by the window, his back to the door. He still wore the dark blue coat and champagne-colored pantaloons he had worn for the Christmas Eve celebration. But, then, neither had she changed out of her velvet gown.

He did not turn but said, “It’s snowing again and the wind is kicking up. If we’re lucky, you won’t be able to leave tomorrow.”

“How did you know it was me?” Heart pounding, she crossed the room to stand at his side. “Oh, the reflection in the window. But you weren’t even surprised.”

Taking the lamp from her, he set it down on the desk. He did not smile, but there was a warm light in his eyes when he looked at her.

“I was expecting you. After sending me to the Great Hall where Grace and Adam were playing tennis, your little ghost informed me that you wished to speak to me.”

“I did not send her.”

His look turned quizzical. “But I sent her to you to be sure you knew I was here, waiting for you.”

She did not know what to say and wished she had Annie’s ability to read minds.

To break the silence, she asked abruptly, “Did they break something? Grace and Adam.”

“Knocked the mistletoe off the kissing bough.”

They stared at each other.

“I want to kiss you again, Elizabeth.”