A Christmas Scandal (14 page)

Maggie looked down at her dance card, nearly full thanks to Sir William’s introductions but for a handful of dances—a quadrille, a galop, and a waltz. “I do so adore dancing the galop,” she said of the lively dance.

Lord Havershaw looked instantly worried and began emitting an odd humming sound. It took a few moments before Maggie realized that the sound was coming from the gentleman in front of her.

“I think perhaps a quadrille?” he asked hopefully.

“Lord Havershaw has two left feet, you see, Miss Pierce,” Lord Hollings said. “Pencil me in for the galop and a waltz. One near the end of the evening.”

Maggie flashed him a look of irritation. He hadn’t asked to dance, as the other gentleman had, but simply demanded it.

“A quadrille it is, Lord Havershaw,” Maggie said, smiling sweetly at the gentleman, who’d begun humming even louder. How very odd.

“And my dances, Miss Pierce?” Lord Hollings smiled at her expectantly, as if completely unaware that she was slightly miffed with him.

“The galop is next,” Maggie said, with some dismay.

“Excellent,” Lord Hollings said, holding up his arm for her to take.

He immediately began leading her toward the dance floor, forcing her to call back to poor Lord Havershaw that she’d been happy to meet him and looked forward to their dance.

“That was quite rude, you know,” she said as they took up their positions and waited for the orchestra to begin.

“I thought if you stayed standing near him for much longer the man would explode.”

Despite herself, Maggie giggled. “It was him humming, wasn’t it?”

“A nervous habit. One that was extremely annoying, not to mention sometimes dangerous, when we were in school together.”

The music started and they stepped simultaneously to the lively tune.

“Dangerous?”

“We were schoolmates at a place called There-ford’s. It was very strict and the punishment for even the slightest infraction was quite severe. Poor Havershaw would begin that god-awful humming every time one of the schoolmasters walked by. We must have been nine or ten.”

“How terrible,” Maggie said, though she was trying not to laugh.

“No matter how many times we tried to get him to stop, he simply could not. The more nervous he was, the louder the humming. One time a few of the boys, myself included, snuck into the kitchen after dark. They hardly fed us, you see, which was quite shocking considering how much our parents were forced to pay for the privilege of sending us there. One of the boys knocked down a pot and it made a terrifying noise. We all hid beneath this large wooden table in the center of the room.”

“You poor things.”

“Yes, well, Havershaw was with us.”

“Oh, no.”

“And he was quite, quite nervous.”

Maggie began to giggle.

“One of the boys, it might even have been me,” he said disingenuously, “suggested giving him a pop to knock him out.”

“You didn’t,” she said, beginning to get a bit breathless, for the galop was quite a vigorous dance.

“No. Though later we wished we had. His humming led the headmaster directly to our hiding place. We went two days with nothing more than gray porridge and water. And we got whippings, too.”

Lord Hollings was smiling, as if the memory was a fond one.

“It sounds like an absolutely horrid school.”

“It was. But I’ll tell you what, Maggie mine, in all my years I’ve never had closer friends. We still call each other friend today.”

Maggie nearly stumbled when he called her “Maggie mine.” Clearly, he was so comfortable, he was unaware that he’d called her anything but Miss Pierce. He had never done so before, and to have it slip out so casually was odd, indeed.

“Did you ever go away to school?” he asked, and it wasn’t simply to make conversation. It was clear he was interested in her answer. That’s when Maggie felt it, the way she’d felt it all those months ago in Newport, that tug, that pull, that strange sensation of falling toward him even though she knew she wasn’t. He was doing it to her again, making her feel comfortable in his arms the way she’d never thought she would again. She could simply melt into his arms and stay there forever, and she would have if she’d truly thought he would be there to catch her.

“My father would have none of it,” Maggie said, smiling at the memory of her dear father. He’d been so adamantly opposed to her going away. “He could not bring himself to send me away to school even though I begged him to. At the time I was quite angry with him, but now I realize it was only because he has such a soft spot in his heart for me.” Suddenly, her throat closed and she found she couldn’t speak. She stared at his cravat, willing herself not to cry.

The music had stopped, they’d stopped dancing, and she hadn’t even been aware of it. “Maggie.” She felt a gentle finger beneath her chin as he lifted her face. “Are you all right?”

She smiled shakily at him. “It’s only that I miss my father.”

“You’ll be home before you know it,” he said, and that nearly was her undoing, because she was quite certain she wasn’t going home, not for a very long time. He dropped his hand suddenly, making her acutely aware of where they were.

“Excuse me. Miss Pierce? Lord Hollings? I believe this next dance belongs to me.”

Maggie turned to find Sir William staring daggers at Lord Hollings.

“So it is, sir,” Maggie said brightly. “I do so love the polka.”

“It is our waltz,” Sir William said curtly.

Flustered, Maggie curtsied to Lording Hollings, thanking him for the dance.

“My pleasure, Miss Pierce,” his said, then walked away.

Maggie immediately went into Sir William’s arms, smiling brightly, pretending with all her skill that she didn’t want to run after Lord Hollings.

“That was such a tender moment I interrupted,” Sir William said, sounding quite unlike himself.

“Lord Hollings stepped on my toe. It was quite excruciating and he was awfully sorry. It was rather a surprise, really, because Lord Hollings is usually such an accomplished dancer,” she said.

Sir William tightened the grip on her hands. It didn’t hurt but she could tell he was angry. “I am not one of your stupid young men who can be so easily misled, Miss Pierce.”

Maggie instantly lost her false smile and stared over Sir William’s shoulder mutely, trying not to cry. It was a rule for young men and young women to look pleasant when they danced with a partner no matter how unpleasant one felt. But Maggie truly could not bring herself to smile, not when she was thinking of her father, not when she could still feel Lord Hollings’s touch.

Sir William led her from the dance floor, giving up the pretense of a happy couple, a hand firm on her upper arm, almost like a father would lead a naughty child.

“You must tell me what is going on between you and Lord Hollings. I thought from the beginning that there was some sort of undercurrent between you two. More fool I, I thought it was because you disliked each other, but I now have the feeling that it is quite the opposite.”

Maggie clenched her jaw, giving him a mulish expression. “I have never behaved in a way that would make you think such a thing,” she said, knowing she was being purposefully vague.

“Perhaps it is the way Lord Hollings behaves around you. I am sorry if I am mistaken about your own feelings.” He didn’t sound at all sorry, he sounded angry.

“If you must know, Sir William, Lord Hollings mentioned my father, which is an extremely painful subject to me. I planned to tell you in a more private setting, but as I can see you are angry, I will have to tell you now and hope it does not taint your view of me.” She took a bracing breath. “My father is in prison and will be for five years. He embezzled thousands from his friends. Lord Hollings does not know this, very few people here do. My mother is ashamed, of course, and wants it to remain a secret, or at least not something we mention in casual conversation. I do not like pretending to be happy when I am not, and when Lord Hollings mentioned my father I fear I was unable at that moment to pretend to be happy. In order to explain my tears, I told Lord Hollings simply that I missed my father, and Lord Hollings, trying to cheer me up, told me I would see him soon, which could not be further from the truth. My father is deeply humiliated by this experience and has not yet allowed us to visit. I was quite overwhelmed and Lord Hollings, being apparently more sensitive to my emotions than others,” she said pointedly, “was only trying to comfort me like a gentleman. He asked only if something was wrong.” It was mostly the truth. She’d only left out the part where she was completely and utterly in love with Lord Hollings.

If Maggie thought she would shame Sir William with her overly dramatic description, she was wrong.

“He touched you.”

Maggie lifted her chin. “We were dancing.”

“He touched your face. He looked at you as if…”

“As if what?”

“As if he wanted to kiss you.”

Those words hurt far more than Sir William could know. “You are mistaken,” she said, looking straight into his eyes.

Sir William let out a sigh. “I am sorry for your father,” he said, his voice softening. “If you are worried that it has somehow lessened you in my eyes, you are wrong.” He looked around the vast ballroom and let out a soft chuckle. “I am very fond of you, Miss Pierce. You must know that.”

Maggie tensed, dreading that he would ask her to marry him at this moment.
Not now,
she pleaded silently.
Please not now.

“I suppose I must get used to men staring at you. It will not be easy. You are very beautiful.” Those words were the closest he’d come to a declaration. I suppose I must get used to men staring at you. It was as if he’d marked her as his.

“Thank you.”

“You are still angry with me.”

Maggie couldn’t help but smile. “Only a little. It is very difficult for me to remain angry with anyone. It really is a curse.”

“A wonderful curse,” Sir William said, obviously relieved that she was no longer speaking to him in a monotone.

Just then, the ballroom changed, conversations grew silent and then the dancers, noting the change, stopped dancing, and finally, the orchestra members lowered their instruments. Maggie let out a giggle, quickly stifling it. For standing at the entrance to the ballroom was the most ridiculous-looking man she’d ever seen.

Carson Kitteridge had arrived.

“Oh, my goodness, he’s even more beautiful in person,” gushed Lady Amelia as she clutched her brother’s arm, not seeing the look of complete disbelief in his eyes.

Carson Kitteridge stood at the entrance of the ballroom dressed in white from head to toe, except for the large silver embellishments on his hat, fringed shirt, pants, and spurred boots. He swept the hat off his head revealing long, wavy hair that was tied loosely in back with a white and silver string. At his throat, he wore a strange little tie and a large silver medallion that seemed to hold the tie in place. He looked more dazzling than the star at the top of the Christmas tree. As his eyes swept the crowd, each woman sighed in turn as his gaze touched upon them.

“Oh, good God,” Lord Hollings muttered.

“Isn’t he the grandest man you’ve ever seen?” Amelia asked.

“He certainly is…different,” Edward said. He knew only what he’d read in the
Times,
that Carson Kitteridge was supposedly a hero of the great Indian wars, rode with General Custer, and was generally considered an American hero. He owned a large ranch in Texas, was a member of the famous Texas Rangers, and was in England as a sort of ambassador for the great American wilderness. In between, of course, putting on two shows a day, which Edward had heard had little resemblance to the famous Buffalo Bill Cody Wild West Show that had all of England so enthralled six years ago. That show, which Edward had actually attended, was quite spectacular, featuring real Indians and real cowboys. Queen Victoria had even attended during the Golden Jubilee. This show, however, was considered far more pedestrian and less exciting than the original. Still, Carson Kitteridge was managing to engage London’s female population.

He was a large man, standing above most of the men in the room, something, Edward noted, he seemed to enjoy. He wore a pointed beard and a large mustache that curled upward, no doubt helped by wax. Edward had to admit he was a fine specimen, though for the life of him he couldn’t understand why any woman would find him more attractive than, say, him.

He looked about the room and found her, Maggie, and was immensely relieved when he saw her hiding a smile behind her hand. As if knowing he stared, she looked at him and her smile broadened as she rolled her eyes—just slightly—to let him know just how absurd she thought the man was. God, he loved her.

Carson Kitteridge, looking like a king walking among his adoring subjects, entered the room flashing a smile that fairly made the gaslights and Christmas decorations seem dim. The orchestra resumed playing and ladies with their gentlemen began dancing while pretending not to look for the famous Carson Kitteridge.

Edward chanced another look at Maggie and found her still standing next to Sir William, watching as the American cowboy started to mingle. Holding her in his arms tonight had been sheer torture. And he still had a waltz to live through before the grand Christmas feast. He simply could not keep his eyes off her and wondered why he should even continue to try. As he watched, she said something into Sir William’s ear, something only the older man could hear, and the man smiled. She’d made him smile. Damn him to hell, but even that made him insane with jealousy. Loud laughter filled the room. Apparently Mr. Kitteridge had said something impossibly witty. Maggie looked across at him and crossed her eyes.

At that moment Edward vowed the evening would not end before he kissed her.

“You must introduce me.”

Edward gave his sister a sick smile, which Amelia chose to ignore. “Must I? I fear all that glitter on him will blind me if I get too close.”

“If you don’t, he’ll end up dancing with someone else during the last waltz. Look,” Amelia said, holding up her dance card. “I’ve saved the last waltz for him.”

“Isn’t that a bit presumptuous?”

“I am going to ask him to dance.”

“You are doing nothing of the sort,” Edward said firmly.

“Then introduce me, please,” she said, feeling a bit of panic grow in her chest. If she didn’t get a chance to dance with him she’d just die; she could feel herself beginning to expire at that very moment. “You are an earl, Edward. You never use your rank for anything. You might think you were still a mister the way you act. Please do this for me.”

“You want me to
make
him dance with you?” he asked.

Amelia let out a puff of air. Edward didn’t understand. How could he? He’d never been in love. Not that she loved Carson Kitteridge. Even she knew how ridiculous it would be to claim she loved a man she’d never met. But still…there was something about him that drew her, made her feel like she’d never felt before. He was the first man she’d ever seen that she could even consider kissing. “Please just introduce us.”

Her brother looked down at her as if seeing a foreign creature standing before him. Indeed, that was what she felt like, foreign, completely unlike herself. She’d never made a fool of herself for a man; she’d never wanted to. But Carson Kitteridge was standing in the very same room as she and he was even more handsome than she could have imagined. The artist had not done him justice at all. He was far grander and taller and impossibly more handsome than the poster of him.

“Very well,” Edward said, holding out his arm for her to take.

Amelia clapped her hands together, unable to contain her happiness, then put on a look of sedate interest that didn’t quite mesh with the excitement in her eyes. They stood for a few moments on the fringes of the crowd that surrounded Mr. Kitteridge, before Amelia lost all patience and elbowed her brother.

“Mr. Kitteridge,” Edward said during a brief break in the conversation. The cowboy turned her way and Amelia, who’d never even felt light-headed her entire life, felt like she might swoon. The physical impact of him looking at her was like nothing she’d ever experienced. It felt as if her entire insides had just melted, just like that, and puddled to her slippers.

“Sir?” His voice was a deep baritone, smooth and rich.

“I would like to present to you my sister, Lady Amelia. She is an admirer of yours apparently.”

“Mr. Kitteridge,” Amelia said. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Just like that, Mr. Kitteridge abandoned the throng surrounding him, took Amelia’s hand in his, and lifted it to his mouth, stopping just short of kissing her gloved hand. “Lady Amelia,” he said, looking into her eyes with his striking gray ones, “the pleasure, surely, is all mine.”

He had the most delicious accent Amelia had ever heard, drawing out his vowels so that it seemed as if each syllable deserved special attention.

“Have you seen the show?” He was still holding her hand and Amelia wondered if he was ever going to let go. She hoped not.

“No, I haven’t, but plan to before we leave London.” She looked to her brother, who was looking at their hands. “Isn’t that right, Edward? Oh, I’m so sorry, this is my brother, Lord Hollings. He’s an earl.”

“An earl. Well, that’s mighty fancy.”

“Oh, no. Not really. Edward is a regular sort, aren’t you, Edward? In fact, he’s just become an earl. Before that he was just—”

“Amelia,” Edward said, giving her a look that told her she’d gone quite insane, and indeed she felt a bit insane. It was as if Mr. Kitteridge’s hand burned through her glove and melted the parts of her that weren’t already liquid.

“I’m not certain we’ll have the time,” Edward said, surely just to make her crazy.

“Of course we have the time,” she said to Mr. Kitteridge. “I’ve only been looking forward to it forever. Some people say it’s even better than Bill Cody’s show.” No one had said that, and Amelia didn’t know why she’d just lied, but there it was. At the mention of Bill Cody, Mr. Kitteridge’s smile faltered slightly and Amelia wished she hadn’t said a thing.

“Our show is very different than Mr. Cody’s and I think far more entertainin’. We have two shows tomorrow. I would be honored, Lord Hollings, if you and your sister could come as my guest.”

Then he winked at Amelia, as if he knew he’d just trapped her brother into going and was sharing their little victory. Amelia’s brother could do nothing but nod and thank Mr. Kitteridge for his kind offer. If they hadn’t been standing in a ballroom, Amelia would have jumped up and down with joy. Imagine not only going to the show but being Mr. Kitteridge’s special guests.

“I wonder, Lady Amelia, if there is the smallest chance that you have an empty spot on that there dance card.”

Amelia didn’t even pretend to look. “Why, I do have one dance remaining, Mr. Kitteridge. A waltz.”

Mr. Kitteridge’s smile broadened. “If you would do me the honor,” he said, bowing grandly.

“I shall pencil you in now,” Amelia said brightly, carefully shielding from him that, other than her brother, his was the only name on her card.

“Oh, my, I do think our Lady Amelia is in love,” Maggie said to Sir William.

“With whom?”

“Carson Kitteridge, the American cowboy she’s been talking about so endlessly. I do hope she doesn’t let herself get too involved.”

“I don’t see how she can. We’re going back to Bellingham in a few days and that show isn’t going to be in town much longer. Can’t see what any female sees in him. Look at that hair,” he said, laughing.

“Some women like a man who’s different from everything they’ve ever known. Perhaps that’s why I like Englishmen,” she said, allowing herself to flirt a bit. Flirting with Sir William had lost a bit of its charm ever since he began taking it all so seriously. He would get this look in his eyes, much like a dog when its master mentions offhand that it’s time to go for a walk but then sits down in a comfortable chair. She almost wished he’d get angry with her again; it had been rather refreshing.

“All Englishmen or someone in particular?” he said, smiling down at her.

“Just one,” she said, squeezing his arm. It was the least she could do, after all. She was glad he’d forgotten about Lord Hollings and apparently believed her when she’d said he was merely comforting her. “But I do have to warn you that I have another dance with Lord Hollings and if you plan to turn into a jealous toad, I want you to leave the room,” she said, teasing him.

“Perhaps I’d better. You may not be interested in him, my girl, but I can tell you he is vastly interested in you.”

“Lord Hollings is interested in all women,” Maggie said, ignoring that her heart picked up a beat at his words. She looked across the ballroom to where Lord Hollings seemed to be happily holding court with three young ladies. Despite Lord Hollings’s protests that he did not like the attention women gave him, he certainly appeared to be having a wonderful time chatting with three of them at once. She tried not to stare across the bobbing heads of the dancers, but it seemed it was impossible for her.

“When is your next dance with Lord Hollings?” Sir William asked with forced nonchalance.

Maggie knew, but she pretended to scan her dance card anyway. “The last waltz,” she said. “Oh, I should have saved that for you. I’m sorry.”

Sir William smiled. “No worries, my dear. I got my waltz in, didn’t I, and there’s no need to get tongues wagging by dancing two waltzes with you, eh? Ah, here comes Lord Woodbury,” Sir William said, nodding to his friend whom he’d introduced to Maggie earlier in the evening. Her dance card was nearly filled with men in their fifties and older because it seemed as if Sir William wanted to introduce her to every man he’d ever been acquainted with. Other than Lord Hollings, no one was near to her age. Maggie told herself she didn’t mind, in fact wouldn’t mind when they were married. She didn’t realize how very little she had in common with the older generation until she spent an evening with them. They either treated her like a little girl or looked at her in a way that made her feel exceedingly uncomfortable. For some reason, Sir William didn’t get angry with his friends for leering at her, only at Sir Hollings for touching her face.

After her dance with the gentleman, she went in search of Amelia. She was supposed to help her mother chaperone the girl, and so far this evening she had not done a very good job of it. When she found her, Maggie’s heart plummeted, for she was looking up at Carson Kitteridge like a girl fully in the throes of her first crush. The man was standing far too close, with one hand braced against the wall as he hovered over her. Amelia wasn’t a small girl, but she looked tiny looking up at Carson Kitteridge, who seemed to loom over her like a hungry wolf. With determination in her step, she marched over to where they were standing, fairly fuming that her mother wasn’t doing a better job with her chaperoning duties. In fact, Maggie couldn’t recall seeing her mother all evening.
Wonderful. Something else to worry about.

She deftly pulled a long strand of hair from her hair clip as she approached the pair, and said, “Lady Amelia, there you are. I need your help with my hair.”

Amelia, looking rather dazed, practically had to shake her head to clear her vision. Then she actually frowned at her friend. “They have maids in the retiring rooms for that,” she said, then turned back to Mr. Kitteridge. “Besides, my dance with Mr. Kitteridge is nearly here. I’d hate to miss it, you know.”

Carson Kitteridge looked from one girl to the other, apparently vastly amused.

“Could you introduce your friend, Lady Amelia?” he asked with his Texas drawl. Though Maggie had never traveled to Texas, she was quite certain she’d never heard a drawl so pronounced before, and she narrowed her eyes at him. “Do I detect an American accent?” he asked.

Clearly, the man was a genius. “You do, Mr. Kitteridge. I’m Margaret Pierce from New York.” She was quite certain he wouldn’t have any knowledge of her father’s embezzlement. He did not seem to be the sort of man who read the
New York Times
regularly.

“Miss Pierce is here as a guest of the Duchess of Bellingham,” Amelia said, and Maggie had the suspicion that she was trying to impress the cowboy.

“That the one who up and married that duke?”

“The very one,” Maggie said, forcing a smile and quickly reassessing the cowboy. If he knew about Elizabeth, that meant he read newspapers; she prayed he didn’t know about her father.