Mistletoe & Michaelmas (4 page)

***

Aaron prayed those words didn't sound as desperate to her ears as they had to his own. Nevertheless, he was beyond curious about her answer and his whole body thrummed with anticipation of what her answer would be. Which was ridiculous, mind you. They'd only met just a few days ago and yet, he could think of nothing else but her and her opinion of him. Unbelievable.

“I can't say exactly.” She idly smoothed her thick velvet skirts.

Aaron reached his hand forward and with his fingers tipped her chin back up toward him. “Can you try?”

Her top teeth caught hold of her bottom lip, a habit he'd noticed her doing whenever she was nervous or unsure. He didn't know why exactly, but he found the act entirely erotic and wanted so badly to lean forward and kiss her. Only the memory of her earlier reaction kept his lips where polite society would declare they belonged.

“I don't know what to think,” she admitted at last. Her innocence, though refreshing, was obvious.

Shame washed over him. He was taking advantage of her innocence. “I'm a walking scandal,” he said flatly.

“But you're a vicar.”

“Yes. Only by the grace of God.” He steered the horses to turn back toward the house. “The law was on my side, but that doesn't mean everyone's opinion is,” he explained.

Beside him, Daphne fidgeted and dash it all, Aaron was a man, not a psychic and wasn't sure how to interpret her reaction. Unwilling to risk mortification—and his heart—Aaron didn't break the suffocating silence holding them captives as they returned back to the house.

Then stood paralyzed as she wordlessly accepted his help disembarking the sleigh and walked up the front steps. She stopped under that blasted sprig of mistletoe and turned toward him. "I suppose since you weren't an honorable gentleman who helped me navigate my way up these steps today, I shall impose a most torturous punishment on you."

"Oh?" he said around a throat full of gravel.

"Oh, yes." She heaved a sigh worthy of Drury Lane. "Gareth took Jane for a 'picnic' in the conservatory for luncheon today. I do believe your punishment shall be for you to escort me to and from the conservatory tomorrow."

Ignoring the nervous excitement coursing through him, he offered her a low bow, then said, “As the lady wishes.” He straightened. “Shall I plan to join you for your picnic, too?”

“Only if the gentleman wishes.”

Chapter Six

December 23, 1816

“She's quite lovely, isn't she?” Gareth, Lord Worthe, said, coming up behind Aaron and nearly scaring the breath out of him.

“What is it about this family that likes to startle the unsuspected?” Aaron muttered. He refused to be embarrassed that he'd just been caught shamelessly staring at Daphne from across the breakfast room, and by her brother-in-law no less.

Lord Worthe shrugged. “I'm not sure I'd consider the whole family guilty of doing such a dastardly deed.” He gestured to the line that no longer existed for the sideboard in the breakfast room. “Just us clever ones.”

Aaron shook his head and reached for a plate. “An unnerving amount of confidence seems to be another common trait among your breed.”

“I'd say you have that trait, too.” Lord Worthe spooned a large helping of coddled eggs onto his plate. “Otherwise, you wouldn't have such an interest in Daphne.”

Aaron's mouth ran dry. Did Lord Worthe disapprove of Aaron's interest in Daphne? He hadn't considered it until now since the earl had had more than one opportunity to speak to Aaron privately about it. He inclined his chin. “Do we need to speak privately, my lord?”

Lord Worthe speared a pear slice from the bowl and then shook it off onto his plate. “I don't know, Lentz, do we?”

Aaron repressed a groan. What was it about the nobility that made it impossible to just say what they meant? His cousin, Lord Mulwick was the same way. It irritated Aaron to no end. “Does it displease you that I have spent so much time with Miss Daphne?” He hated the way that sounded, but quite honestly couldn't think of a better way to word it while in such a public place.

Next to him, the irritating Lord Worthe chuckled. “Not at all.” His face grew more serious, almost dark. “As long as your intentions are honorable.”

“They are, my lord.” He meant that, too. He might be more forward with her than was appropriate at times, but nobody could ever doubt that his intentions were good.

“Again, I ask you, Lentz, should we arrange a time to talk somewhere more—” he cast a pointed look over his left shoulder, a reminder they were in a room with no less than twenty other people, who thankfully were on the furthest end— “private?”

Understanding took root in Aaron's thick skull. “You mean about...” he started in a low whisper.

Lord Worthe who'd just finished filling his plate nodded once.

Aaron was a bit taken aback. Was her brother-in-law and acting guardian ready to marry her off to anyone? A sick feeling formed in his stomach. “I don't know if…” He swallowed. “It's a little soon, is it not?”

Lord Worthe shook his head. “I don't think so. I knew my wife only a matter of days before becoming betrothed.” He shrugged. “Sometimes when you know, you know.”

“Indeed.” And Aaron
did
know. Ever since he'd first seen her, he'd known something was different about her.

“Enjoy your breakfast—” the earl waggled his eyebrows— “and luncheon.” He gestured to where Lady Worthe and Daphne were seated in the back corner of the room. “I must be off to more attractive company. You're welcome to join us if you'd like.”

Aaron had planned to anyway, but to be polite accepted not that he'd be a good eating companion this morning now that he'd just as good as received Lord Worthe's blessing on a match between him and Daphne.

***

There was something different about Aaron today, but Daphne couldn't puzzle out what it was.

He'd seemed more quiet and reserved at breakfast. At least his voice anyway. His eyes spoke a different story. They were deep and intent as if he were lost in deep contemplation of how to move a mountain. She'd never tell him this and risk inflating his ego, but she rather liked seeing him brood. It made him more masculine somehow.

“Are you ready for our picnic?” the object of her thoughts asked, giving the small hamper in his left hand a small swing.

“Yes.” She took his arm and allowed him to lead her into the blustering outdoors. Thankfully the conservatory wasn't that far from the house and would at least have a more agreeable temperature than the front lawn. “Brrrr. Aren't you cold?”

“Of course I am, but it wouldn't be very manly of me to vocalize it, would it?”

She allowed him to open the door to the conservatory for her. “I see your point. But if your idea is to hide how cold you get out in the weather, you gave yourself away with all those furs you've been wearing.”

“Pride only goes so far.” He closed the door to the conservatory behind them, then placed his open palm on the small of her back. “Let's find a place as far away from the door as we can.”

Daphne couldn't argue with that. With the weather as atrocious as it was and the walls of Danby Castle closing in more and more each day, it would seem the only means for people to escape the duke would be to picnic in the conservatory.

Aaron steered her toward the back corner. “The sun seems brightest over here.” He set the picnic hamper down and knelt beside it. The hinges creaked when he opened the top. He pulled out a large blanket.

Daphne reached for the blanket and began spreading it out.

Aaron stood and took an end of the blanket. His fingers brushed hers and even through the layers of gloves, she could feel the heat of his body.

“Come, let's eat,” Aaron said, dropping back to his knees on the blanket. He reached for the hamper and pulled out a thermos. “Cook made a batch of turtle soup for my lady.”

“Oh,” Daphne feigned surprise. “Is someone else joining us?” She bit her lip and cocked her head to the side.

“No.” Aaron reached forward and used his thumb to release her bottom lip from the hold of her top teeth. “Only you.”

A lump of unease filled her throat. He'd made such a comment several times before, but today something about it was different. She couldn't tell if it was the look on his face or his tone or the calm in his movements or even just the intensity in his eyes. Perhaps it was all of it. She didn't know and it would be dangerous to think about it. They were...friends? No. Well, yes, they were friends. But were they more than just friends? They'd spent an unmarked amount of time, alone no less, with one another since arriving. So much so that she hadn't even
met
her other cousins. Just seen them all in passing.

“Daphne?”

Aaron's voice pulled her to present. “Yes?”

“Are you feeling well?”

Daphne realized her hands were trembling and she clasped them together. “I—I don't know.”

Aaron was by her side immediately. He wrapped his left arm around her and guided her to the little concrete bench about ten feet away from where they'd spread out their blanket. “Sit,” he murmured, helping guide her down to the bench. He sat with her and removed the glove on his right hand and used his bare fingers to brush away the hair on her forehead. “Do you feel over warm?”

“Yes.”

“I didn't really bring you turtle soup,” he offered, concern filling his blue eyes.

“I know,” she admitted quietly. “I also know you're not meeting anyone else.”

Aaron nodded once. “Then what is it?”

“You.”

“Me,” he said flatly. He released a deep breath. “I'm being too forward again.”

Daphne held up her thumb and middle finger. “Just a touch.”

Aaron blew out another breath, then folded his arms across his chest, stretched his long legs out in front of him and crossed his ankles. “I'm sorry. I really am.” His Adam's apple worked. “I know I shouldn't, but I just can't help it. When you're in the room I can't look elsewhere. When you're not there, I can't think of anything else.”

Daphne's body felt numb. Aaron was better than what she'd ever dreamed of. He was genuine and true. There was nothing about him that made her think his interest in her was only about connections or money or any of the other reasons that men in London wanted to marry. But what about his past? Was she just his means to a second chance?

“After Janette, I never imagined I'd ever find anyone I could ever come to care about again. But then I saw you...”

“So I'm just your second chance at happiness?” she asked unable to keep the shrill from her voice.

His body jerked a little. “No.”

“But you said.”

Aaron groaned. “Forget what I said.” He turned to face her took her hands in his. “It didn't come out how I meant it.” Rubbing her knuckles with his thumbs, he said, “It wasn't the divorce and black mark on my reputation that nearly killed me. It was her—” he swallowed— “rejection.”

Daphne's heart ached for him and the pain stamped on his face.

“The moment I found out about her infidelity I started building a rock wall around my heart and set the last brick in place the day the ink dried on the decree. It's not that I still love her, because frankly I struggle with that even though the Good Book teaches it, but I vowed to never trust another with custody of my heart again. And then I met you...”

Daphne's heart leapt up into her throat and the room spun around her. “I can't.”

“I understand that we've only just met and I'm not asking you to marry me—”

The relief Daphne thought she'd have at such a statement did not flood her as she'd thought it might.

“—but if you'd consider allowing me to court you this Season in London.”

“Court me? London?” That made absolutely no sense. “But you live here in Yorkshire. And
like
it.”

He smiled. “I'm afraid, I'm guilty of that, but I'm not opposed to—”

“No,” she said, standing abruptly. “I can't…you can't...we can't.” She shook her head. “I like you, Aaron. A lot. But—” she bit her lip so hard she could feel it starting to bruise, but she just didn't care, it was the only way to keep her tears at bay, which was for the best because if she let them fall, it'd be her undoing. “I'm sorry, I just can't.”

“Can't allow me to court you?”

“No.” Then before he could try to persuade her otherwise, she fisted her hands into her skirts and ran straight to the house and up to her room where she could collapse on her bed and cry and sob and scream into her pillow the way she'd heard the featherbrains in London did but never imaged she'd ever have the urge to do.

Chapter Seven

December 24, 1816

Ever since Aaron had laid his heart bare to her the previous afternoon, Daphne could think of little else. For as genuine as he was and for as much as she couldn't deny her attraction to him, it could never be.  Her sisters would swoon and her brother would be furious if she took a sincere interest in a man who was so much older than her and was
divorced.

Daphne wiped her clammy palms on her skirts as she watched Aaron across the room. He'd made his way around the perimeter of the drawing room, making what appeared as polite conversation to many of the gentlemen in attendance, but not even one of the ladies. Odd. No, it wasn't odd. He'd told her in no uncertain terms his interest was only for her.

Daphne wondered if he'd come speak to her.

Unfortunately, he did not.

“Where is your Mr. Lentz tonight, I wonder,” Gareth said, taking a seat beside Daphne.

“He's not
my
Mr. Lentz.” Daphne winced at the waver in her voice, then sent a pointed nod in the direction of where Aaron had made his way onto the balcony.

“That's too bad.”

Daphne made lazy figure eights with the toe of her slipper. “It's for the best.”

Gareth drummed his fingers on his knees. “I suppose you'd be the one to know.”

Daphne nodded sadly. “I know more than I should.”

“That might depend on what you plan to do with the information.”

“There's nothing to
do
with the information,” Daphne said, exacerbated. “You do realize the two of us only met less than a week ago.”

“I see nothing wrong with that. I knew I wanted Jane for my wife within a moment or two of meeting her.” Then, with no further ado, her besotted brother-in-law pushed to his feet and made his way over to where Jane was holding court by the north window.

***

“Did you and Mr. Lentz have a falling out yesterday?”

Jane’s direct, but not unkind, question grabbed Daphne’s attention and she stilled the hand that had been brushing out Jane’s long, dark hair. “No.” She cocked her head to the side, then resumed brushing her sister’s hair. “Why would you even suggest such a thing?”

In the mirror, Daphne could see Jane’s reflection as her older sister's face took on a dubious expression. “Oh, nothing other than you dismissed my maid and suggested you'd help me get ready for bed and you've been pulling that brush through my hair ever since—which was—” Jane made a show of looking at the watched pinned on her bodice— “an hour ago.” She met Daphne’s eyes in the mirror, Jane’s alight with mischief. “Do you think my hair is devoid of tangles now?”

“No.” Daphne inclined her chin and pulled the brush through her sister’s hair thrice more. “Now it is.”

“Very well,” Jane said, reaching for the heavy hairbrush.

Daphne relinquished her grip on Jane’s brush and bit her lip. It was a good thing her younger and closest sister Olive wasn’t there or else all would be revealed within seconds. Still, Jane was not only her sister, but her eldest sister and for whatever reason it was harder to lie to Jane than Charlotte or Michael.

“Now, tell me what you’re thinking,” Jane said quietly.

“Nothing.”

Jane’s laugh filled the room. “It isn’t nothing. I might not be as close to you as Olive is, but even I know that’s a lie just as sure as the sun will rise tomorrow.” Jane grasped the grips on the side of the wheels on her chair and backed up, then turned to face Daphne. “I’ve seen the way you look at him.” She smiled softly. “And the way he looks at you.”

Daphne exhaled and sat on the edge of Jane’s feather mattress. Only a fool could be persuaded to think that there wasn’t some sort of attraction between Daphne and Aaron. But it couldn’t be. “It’s just a flirtation.”

“Oh, I agree, I’ve born witness to plenty of flirtation.”

Daphne blushed. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Jane’s face softened. “I didn’t mean to shame you, dearest. I just meant—” She broke off, clasping her hands in her lap. A moment later, Jane licked her lips. “Daphne, I don’t think your feelings for Mr. Lentz fall in line with a simple, innocent flirtation.”

A hard, immobile bubble of air formed in Daphne’s throat and she tried desperately to gulp it down. But it didn’t budge and the more she gulped the bigger another one grew in her chest until she was almost gasping for air! “N-n—” she stammered. “I—I—”

Jane lifted a delicate hand, halting Daphne’s attempt to explain. “He’s a little older than you, is he not?”

A little older was one way to word it, she supposed. Daphne gave a small, single nod.

“And divorced.”

Again, Daphne nodded solemnly, the lumps in her throat and chest still not receding. Though she did wonder how Jane knew of Aaron's past. Never mind. Jane had spent a lot of time indoors with their great grandfather, who, Daphne had learned was the most knowledgeable gentleman she'd ever met. There wasn't a fact or rumor he hadn't already heard, of that she was certain.

“Can you see past the blemish on his reputation?”

“
He
has none!” Daphne said more fiercely than she meant. Her hand flew to her chest then up to her throat. Her strong response had dislodged both suffocating air bubbles. She cleared her throat. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

Jane waved her off. “I’m rather glad to hear such a tone.” She grinned. “It gives me hope.”

Daphne pursed her lips. “Just because I was quick to point out he was the wronged party, doesn’t mean—” She broke off. There was no use. The more she attempted to explain, the brighter Jane’s smile became. And that wouldn’t do. The last thing Daphne needed was for Jane to join Danby in his bold matchmaking attempts.

“Actually, whether he was in the wrong or not—which just to be clear when there is a parliamentary divorce granted, the man is never
wrong
, even if he is.” She shook her head. “The point is, I didn’t ask you if he was wrong or right. I asked you if the shame of his having been divorced was a problem for you and your sudden need to defend him proved that it’s not.”

Daphne couldn’t argue Jane’s logic, and to attempt to do so would be futile.

“Now, as for the other important issue at hand. His age. Is it so unforgivable to you that he’s so much older than you?”

“Unforgivable,” Daphne choked. “I didn’t think one had a choice in their age.” Truly, she hadn't given his age much of a thought except how her family might react.

“No,” Jane allowed. “But is it something you dwell on or worry about?”

Daphne’s top teeth worried her bottom lip. “Plenty of young ladies marry older men,” she said using Jane’s own words from when they first arrived.

“Indeed. And to most of those matches, it’s not twenty years that separate them, but perhaps fifty between them. Would you like for Gareth to find you one of those sorts?”

“No, but I don’t see your point.” She hadn’t lied. There were many couples with more than one generation separating them.

“Most marriages with such a significant age gap is because the marriage is arranged, it’s business...” she met Daphne’s eyes and impaled them, “not love.”

Jane’s words hit Daphne like a snowball square to the chest and before Daphne could form a response, Jane was speaking again.

“Whether you’re intending to or not, I think you’re dismissing Mr. Lentz's interest because you’re concerned about what others will think.”

This time Jane’s words were the equivalent of a pianoforte being pushed down the staircase. “You're right.” Daphne already knew that, but to hear Jane put voice to it made her mind reel in every direction.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Daphne started. “Of course.”

Jane lowered her hand to her abdomen. “Gareth and I haven't told anyone, but next year at this time we'll be a family of three.”

“You will?”

Smiling, Jane said, “I wouldn't have Gareth or the joy of having a new life grow inside of me if Gareth hadn't told Michael to go hang, he was marrying me.”

Shame flooded Daphne for her resistance of Aaron and the feelings she had for him. “Thank you, Jane,” she said softly. “I know exactly what I must do.”