The Christmas Heiress (2 page)

Charlotte stiffened her back, temper flashing in
her emerald-green eyes. "The lace on my gown is
an exact match to the intrigue gold and silver filigree work on the diamond necklace," she insisted.
Reaching up, she fingered the clasp nestled at the
side of her throat. "No other jewelry I own would
be nearly as flattering with my ensemble."

Her hand lingered as she ran her fingers repeatedly over the smooth facets of the center-set stone.
The entire piece was a fretwork of open and airy
scrolled silver and gold, punctuated with large,
flawless rose-cut diamonds that glittered like fire
every time she moved.

Charlotte held a vague memory of her mother
wearing the necklace, a fog of remembrance that
had faded more and more with each passing year.
This tangible link to the woman she had barely
known was very important to her, but never more
so than tonight.

"What do you want to do, Miss Charlotte?" Her
maid's voice cut through the silent tension that had
been steadily building.

She glanced over and saw that Jones had extracted three different pearl necklaces from the
jewelry case, each stunning in its own way. But none
could compare to the diamond necklace.

Charlotte gnawed her bottom lip, then cast a
pitiful eye toward Lord Reginald. "If you insist that
I wear pearls, I shall, Grandpapa," she declared,
with a slight exaggeration to the trembling in her
voice. "Above all else, I wish to please you and make
you proud of me."

"Oh, my dearest girl, of course I am proud of
you. No grandfather in the world is luckier than
I." Lord Reginald moved closer and Charlotte flung
both arms around his neck, sinking into the comfort and love of an embrace she had grown up depending upon. "You know that all I have ever
wanted is for you to be happy," he whispered.

"I know." She heard him sigh and mutter under his
breath. Charlotte pulled back and glanced up, then
smiled inwardly with triumph as the stern set of his
jaw and mouth softened. "May I wear the diamonds?"

Lord Reginald's lip tipped into a grin, and a mischievous twinkle entered his eyes. "I shall tell
anyone who dares to comment that you are wearing
the necklace at my command."

"Thank you."

After a final adjustment to her coiffeur, Charlotte
wove her arm through Lord Reginald's. Her stomach fluttered with excitement. This was the first
evening event of the house party and above all, she
wanted her entrance to be noteworthy.

They had arrived at Farmington Manor two days
ago, part of an elite group of guests invited to
attend the holiday celebrations of the earl and
countess of Worthington. The Worthingtons were
old and dear friends of Lord Reginald's, but Charlotte was very aware there was another reason for
this invitation.

Now that she had reached a marriageable age,
her grandfather had hinted quite broadly that he
was very much in favor of a match between her and
the earl's oldest son and heir, Edward. In truth,
Charlotte had no particular reaction to her grandfather's scheming. Though she had not seen
Edward in several years, she had been in his company often when they were children and remembered him as a polite, well-behaved and usually
cautious boy who seemed to know everything.

Lord Reginald insisted that Edward had matured
into a fine, handsome, steadfast young man, which
Charlotte feared might mean he was stuffy, formal and
a bit dull, but she was willing to give him a chance.

She was not, however, about to drop into Edward's
clutches like an overripe piece of fruit falling from a
tree. Charlotte was shrewd enough to know her worth
on the marriage mart. Her grandfather was the
brother of the Duke of Shrewsbury, her mother had
been the sister of the Earl of Huntingdon.

She was her grandfather's sole heir, and a portion
of her mother's dowry was also held in trust, to be
given to her upon her marriage. With her lineage,
looks and impressive dowry, Charlotte knew she
would have her pick of any of the eligible wealthy and
titled gentlemen of society. And she had decided
long ago that she would marry a man of her own
choosing, under her own terms, or she would not
marry at all.

Charlotte took in her surroundings as they negotiated the numerous hallways on their way to the
party. Farmington Manor, the ancestral home of
their hosts, was a sprawling mansion. The original
section of the house was built during the reign of Henry Tudor, but extensive remodeling and additions had been commissioned over the years.

The result was an odd blend of several different
architectural styles, and Charlotte marveled at how
all the pieces fit together, creating an impressive
display of aristocratic heritage and wealth.

Yet even for all of its grandeur, Charlotte decided
she preferred the atmosphere of their own home,
Quincy Court. It was smaller in size than the manor,
but just as luxuriously furnished. Her grandfather
had excellent taste and a seemingly unlimited
supply of funds with which to indulge his passions.
And his greatest passion was creating a stylish, comfortable home for his granddaughter.

Finally Lord Reginald and Charlotte reached the
main staircase. Descending arm in arm, they followed the noise and entered the main salon, a cavernous room with gilded columns, gold brocade
sofas and urns filled with an unusual mix of bright
evergreen branches and blooming red hothouse
roses. They were the last to arrive, but the happy
chatter and murmur of voices rumbling beneath
the strains of music told them the party had clearly
begun without them.

Since this was an informal event, there was no receiving line. They paused a moment to get their
bearings and Charlotte surveyed the room with
what she hoped was a casual air.

Many of the other guests were close to her grandfather in age, but there were a few younger people,
enough to make things interesting. Charlotte had
been introduced to all the houseguests the previous day, but felt no desire to join the small group of
young ladies gathered near the fireplace.

They had all been polite toward her, especially
Miranda Chambers and her twin sister, Elizabeth,
but Charlotte was not overly comfortable in the
company of women. Since entering society this past
spring, it had been her experience that females and
more often, their mothers, were stiff and judgmental toward her. She was unsure if they envied her
looks, her money or her confident air.

Whatever the reason, Charlotte had decided it
was unimportant. She would make no major concessions to win the approval of anyone, especially
a group of tight-lipped women. Tonight she was
going to have fun and Charlotte was determined to
ignore any frowning faces sent her way.

"Lord Reginald! Miss Aldridge!" Rosemary Barringer, Countess of Worthington, glided toward
them. "I am so glad that you have finally arrived. I
was beginning to worry that I would have to send a
footman out to search for you. More than one
guest has found themselves hopelessly turned
around, especially on the upper floors. These hallways can seem like a rabbit warren to those unfamiliar with them."

Was the countess trying to be witty? Or was she
scolding them for being tardy? Charlotte was
tempted to ask if they had misplaced a great
number of houseguests over the years, but the
pleading glance from her grandfather made her
hold her tongue. He so wanted her to make a good
impression. And she truly did strive to please him.

"It seems like a splendid party, my lady," Lord
Reginald said. "I greatly look forward to the dancing later this evening and I insist you save not one,
but two dances for me."

"I would be honored," the countess replied,
blushing slightly. Then she turned her attention
toward Charlotte and looked her up and down with
thoughtful eyes. "The earl and I have greatly valued
your grandfather's friendship over the years. It is
my dearest wish that our two families become even
closer, hopefully through the younger generation."

Charlotte willed herself not to move a muscle,
unsure if she should feel flattered or annoyed. The
countess was certainly being presumptuous and
hardly subtle. What if Charlotte decided she did
not want to marry her son?

"Ah, so there you are at last. I have been despondent for over an hour, pining away in the corner
like a lost dog. I was beginning to lose hope that I
would ever set eyes upon you again, and now, finally my diligence has been rewarded."

Charlotte recognized the male voice. She turned
and gifted her rescuer with her most dazzling smile.
"Mr. Barringer. How truly delightful to see you."

Jonathan Barringer was the earl and countess's
younger son. At twenty-one, he was a handsome,
fun-loving rogue, with a biting sense of humor. As
a boy, he had been daring, athletic and surprisingly
sensitive. He had matured into a fine-looking man;
blond, blue-eyed, with a tall, strapping body. Charlotte had always liked him.

"I do not understand why you persist on referring
to me as Mr. Barringer," he grumbled. "We have
known each other for ages." He lifted her gloved
hand, turned it palm up and kissed the sensitive
bare flesh on the inside of her wrist. "I insist you call
me Jonathan."

Charlotte's smile widened at his obvious charm and
teasing flirtation. He always made her feel special.

The countess sniffed with disdain. "Miss Aldridge
is acting like a proper young lady, displaying her
good breeding and manners. Unlike you. Everyone
knows that first-name familiarity should be reserved
for family members."

"Such as a husband and wife?" Jonathan asked
with an innocent smile. "Are you suggesting that I
marry Miss Aldridge, just so I may hear my Christian name uttered by her luscious lips? Goodness,
Mother, that is a bit forward, even for you."

The countess's eyes widened with shock. Two
spots of color appeared high on her cheeks, but
before she could scold her younger son, he whisked
Charlotte away.

"You are a very wicked man, Jonathan Barringer,"
Charlotte declared with a laugh the moment they
were out of earshot.

"She almost makes it too easy for me,"Jonathan
replied with an answering grin.

Charlotte nodded, but said nothing else. Though
he might tease her mercilessly, she knew Jonathan
loved his mother and would tolerate no criticism of
her from an outsider.

"Come, let's mingle, "Jonathan suggested.

After only a slight hesitation, Charlotte rested her
hand on the sleeve of his coat. She would rather
stand off by herself and wait for people to come to
her, but she understood Jonathan's responsibilities as
a host. So for his sake she smiled politely and greeted
the other guests, and even managed not to squirm
when several of the women looked her up and down
with the scrutiny of a cat sizing up a mouse.

Their slightly raised eyebrows made her doubly
glad she had insisted on wearing the diamond
necklace. The jewels felt warm against her skin,
bringing her comfort and confidence. They set off
the details of her gown to perfection and Charlotte
knew she was the prettiest girl at the party.

"Have I told you yet how marvelous you look?"
Jonathan asked, almost as if reading her thoughts.

You have not, sir," Charlotte replied, playfully
tapping her closed fan on his forearm.

"Forgive me, fair maiden. You are truly a vision
tonight."

"So it was worth the wait?" Charlotte wanted to
know.

"More than you will ever know."

Charlotte lowered her eyelids, then gazed up
through her long lashes. I simply had to look my
best this evening."

Jonathan drew his face closer to hers. "Why?"

"Because you are here."

They both laughed. It was marvelous, harmless
fun to flirt with Jonathan. She had long held a deep
affection for him, similar to what she believed she
would have felt if she had been lucky enough to
have had a brother.

Jonathan snatched two champagne goblets from a
passing servant and handed her one. Charlotte
smiled, pleased he remembered how much she liked
the bubbly nectar. The evening progressed and Charlotte found herself beginning to relax and enjoy herself, thanks to Jonathan's witty companionship.

A sudden rustle of interest from a few of the
women sitting near them caught Charlotte's attention. Fans were raised to cover their mouths as whis pered conversations began. Charlotte turned in the
direction they looked and saw Lord Edward Barringer standing beside his mother. She had heard
that he was due to return home from London
sometime this evening and was not expected to
arrive at the party until much later.

Charlotte had not seen Lord Edward for several
years and she could understand why he was now the
center of so much female attention. He cut a dashing figure in his black evening attire. He was tall and
broad-shouldered, lean yet muscular in stature.

His curling dark hair was neatly trimmed to the
edge of his shirt collar. His white cravat made his
skin appear tanned and healthy and emphasized
his uncompromising jaw, and bold nose. Though
she could not clearly see his eyes, Charlotte remembered they were an unusual amber-gold color.

There were other attractive, eligible men in attendance, yet judging by the reaction of the
women, both married and single, Lord Edward was
the most sought after.

Charlotte wondered if he was still cautious by
nature. And sincerely hoped he was not.

The music started again. This time the guests
began to pair off for dancing, with the earl and
countess in the lead. Playing the part of host, Lord
Edward first partnered the older women who desired a turn on the dance floor and next began escorting the younger ones. To Charlotte's great
annoyance, he barely glanced in her direction.

"Dance with me, Jonathan," Charlotte insisted, becoming tired of standing on the sidelines and waiting
to be noticed by the high-and-mighty Lord Edward.