The Earl’s Mistletoe Bride (14 page)

‘There, it is just as I said. You are still frozen to the marrow. I cannot imagine why you chose to ride when you could have travelled in your comfortable carriage, with hot bricks for your feet.’

‘I needed the exercise, Mama.’ A half-truth. After London, he had known it was wisest to avoid Beth’s company. ‘Spain can be cold in winter, too, you know,’ he quipped.

‘I’m sure it can, my dear.’ She glanced towards the
door. ‘Is your wife not planning to join us? I thought we might have tea, just the three of us. We have had no time for real conversation since you arrived.’

‘Beth is tired after travelling all day, Mama. I told her to rest before dinner. I knew you would understand.’

His mother gave him a very quizzical look. ‘If she is fatigued, then she must certainly rest. Pull the bell, Jon, if you please.’

The butler arrived almost instantly with the tea tray. As was her wont, Jon’s mother sat silent and immobile until Goodrite had bowed himself out. It was partly from her that Jon had learned the importance of protecting his privacy. Gossip, whether from servants or gentry, could be the very devil.

The Dowager calmly poured tea and handed Jon his cup. She had remembered exactly how he liked it. She had always been a consummate hostess. Beth would be learning from the best possible teacher.

‘If you are warmer now, perhaps you would sit down? I find that looking up so far creates a pain in the neck.’

Jon gave a snort of laughter, but he did as he was bid.

‘Your wife seems a delightful girl, Jon. You met her at Fratcombe, I collect?’ When he nodded, she continued without a pause. ‘I see now why you were so eager to return there. You said, if I recall correctly, that you were returning to meet a challenge you relished. If Miss Aubrey was the challenge in question, I can quite understand your haste. She has a…a certain quality that would draw a man.’

Jon started back, took a deep breath through his nose
and let it out very, very slowly. He did not dare open his lips, lest he insult his mother by telling her precisely what he thought of her tasteless remark. Was she actually daring to suggest that Beth had led him on in some vulgar fashion? That she was a practised seductress?

His silent fury must have been obvious, for she quickly became contrite. ‘Forgive me, I did not mean to say anything in her dispraise. She is, as I said at the outset, a delightful young lady. I would not, for the world, pry into the details of your courtship, Jon. It is enough for me that you are married, and content.’

‘Thank you, Mama.’ He must have mistaken her meaning, he decided. She would never malign the wife he had chosen. And she would help Beth to find her feet at Portbury, too. ‘I hope that you and Beth will soon become like mother and daughter. After all, you never had a daughter of your own, did you?’ Alicia did not count. She had been a failure as a wife, and also as a daughter-in-law.

‘No, I did not,’ she said, with a slightly tight smile. ‘If your wife becomes like a daughter to me, I should be more than glad.’

It irked him suddenly that his mother would not call Beth by name, even though she knew it perfectly well. ‘Her name, Mama, is Beth.’

‘Elizabeth?’

‘She prefers Beth.’

‘Then so it shall be.’ She leant towards him a little, smiling broadly. ‘By the way, I sent out all the Christmas invitations in the normal way. I knew your wife—I knew Beth would not arrive here in time to do them.’
She preened a little. ‘The first guests will arrive in about a week.’

Jon swore inwardly. The Portbury tradition of holding a grand Christmas house party was the last thing he wanted to continue. He should have told his mother to cancel it this year, but he had totally forgotten about it. So he could not blame her for what she had done. Indeed, she had been trying to be helpful. He managed to exclaim as if he were delighted. ‘I had no right to expect such exertions from you, Mama, especially now that I have a wife at my side to act as hostess.’

‘As I said, there would not have been time. If the invitations had been late, there would have been gossip.’ She sniffed. She detested gossip about her family. ‘I was happy to do it. And Miss Mountjoy helped. In fact, she has made some remarkably useful suggestions.’

Miss Mountjoy. He should have guessed. No doubt, her suggestions had served to increase the guest list and lengthen their stay. The Mountjoy woman was both clever and dangerous, with a slyly malicious tongue, but as long as she was his mother’s confidante, there was nothing Jon could say, not even to Beth.

Hetty slipped into Beth’s bedchamber and crept across to the bed.

‘I am not asleep, Hetty. I feel much refreshed and my headache has gone.’ That was a blessing, since she had misled Jon, saying only that she was weary.

‘Miss Mountjoy is here, m’lady. With a message from her ladyship.’

‘Miss Mountjoy? Here? How very strange. I will come at once.’ Miss Mountjoy had been introduced by
the Dowager as a neighbour from the village, yet here she was, running errands as if she were a menial. Moreover, although she did not live at Portbury Abbey, she clearly knew the house intimately. Beth was at a loss to understand what was going on, but good manners prevailed; she slipped her arms into the wrapper Hetty was holding and followed her maid into the sitting room that divided her bedchamber from Jon’s.

Miss Mountjoy’s eyes widened as Beth came into the room. She stared for several seconds too long, before dropping a brief curtsy. For some reason, it made Beth uncomfortable to be meeting this odd woman when so informally clad. ‘I am a little cold, Hetty. Fetch my shawl, please.’

‘Hetty?’ Miss Mountjoy said as the maid disappeared. ‘What a curious name for a lady’s maid.’ She clapped a hand to her mouth to cover a high-pitched titter. ‘Oh, pray forgive me, my lady. I did not mean to sound impertinent. But I thought— That is, her ladyship said you would be bound to engage a high-class dresser while you were in London. Seeing someone so…er…young and small was something of a shock.’

Miss Mountjoy might be the Dowager’s bosom bow, but she was certainly not going to be Beth’s! Insufferable woman! How dare she?

Beth waited for Hetty to wrap the heavy Norwich shawl around her shoulders and return to the bedchamber before she spoke. She was the Countess of Portbury now. She would not be outfaced by a woman like this. ‘My maid said you had a message from her ladyship. It was not, I collect, about my choice of dresser?’

Miss Mountjoy’s nostrils quivered for a second. Then
she smiled too broadly. ‘No, indeed, my lady, I— His lordship’s lady mother was concerned to learn that you were so fatigued after your journey, especially after travelling in such extravagant comfort. We thought you might perhaps be…er…ailing. She knows I have some knowledge of attending to ladies when their health is…er…delicate.’ She raised her chin proudly. ‘That was before I came to King’s Portbury, of course. If there is anything I might do to assist your ladyship…?’

Good grief! Jon’s mother was sending this…this toady to enquire if Beth was breeding. It was beyond insult. It was utter humiliation. Was this how her life was to be at King’s Portbury?

‘Hetty!’ The maid appeared instantly. She must have been just behind the door.

‘Thank you for your concern, Miss Mountjoy, but I shall not be needing your assistance.’ Let her make what she would of that! ‘Hetty, show Miss Mountjoy out.’ Without so much as a nod to her unwelcome visitor, Beth turned on her heel and marched back into her bedchamber.

‘How much of that did you hear?’ Beth demanded when Hetty returned.

‘I…I beg your pardon, m’lady. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but I knew I should be on hand in case—’

Beth cut off the excuse with a wave of her hand. ‘We will not discuss Miss Mountjoy’s insinuations about my…er…state of health.’ She swallowed hard, determined to master her emotions, even though only Hetty was there to see. ‘But her comments about you are another matter.’

Hetty reddened and stared at the floor.

‘Hetty?’ When the maid did not reply, Beth began to suspect there was something more at work than Miss Mountjoy’s vitriolic tongue. ‘We have been here less than a day. What has happened to upset you?’

Hetty did not move or look up. At last, she whispered, ‘Countess Alicia had a very superior French dresser, according to the housekeeper.’

‘I see. And she implies that you are not equal to the task?’

‘Not in so many words, m’lady. No one does. There are just…er…looks and whispers. And I might have imagined those.’

Beth was fairly sure that Hetty had not been mistaken. And if the servants were gossiping behind Hetty’s back about the new mistress’s choice of maid, what were they saying about the mistress herself? For Hetty’s sake, Beth would find out the truth of all this. And then she would nip such rebellious behaviour in the bud.

‘Ignore them, Hetty. Remember that you are maid to the mistress of the house, if you please. For now, it’s probably best for you to remain rather aloof. Just as a superior French maid would do.’ Beth smiled encouragingly down at her maid.

‘I’ll do just as you say, m’lady. Your ladyship chose me to serve you and I am proud of the fact, no matter what Miss Mountjoy may say.’

‘Miss Mountjoy? Has she been sowing mischief below stairs? But how? She is not a servant.’

‘She used to be, after a fashion. She were Countess Alicia’s paid companion for more than ten years, so I were told, m’lady. Now she lives in a fine cottage in the village. His lordship gave it to her, they say.’

‘Whatever they
say
about his lordship, Hetty, you will
not
repeat.’

Hetty blushed an even fierier red than before. ‘No, m’lady. Begging yer pardon, m’lady.’ At Beth’s nod of dismissal, she fled back into the bedchamber.

Beth began to pace up and down the sitting room. Jon had bought a cottage for his late wife’s companion? Why on earth would he do that? She was clearly a mischief-maker of the first order. Sly, too. No doubt the mean backstairs gossip about Hetty had started with her. Beth would have to find a way of countering that.

But in the meantime, she had to understand about Miss Mountjoy and Jon. Years ago, before he went to Spain, the woman might have been an attractive armful for a man with a roving eye. Had she and Jon been lovers, perhaps? Jon was a passionate man. If he could not bed the wife he hated, would he bed her companion instead? Was the cottage given by way of compensation?

It was a hateful thought. Had Jon thought to resume his liaison with her on his return from the wars? Even if that had been his intention, surely he would not pursue it now that he had remarried?

But Miss Mountjoy had a proprietorial air that disturbed Beth a great deal. As if she had power in this house. As if she knew secrets.

T
he Dowager smiled complacently. ‘The first guests should arrive tomorrow, Jon.’

He was struck by a sudden uncomfortable thought. ‘I take it they do not include the young ladies from your summer party, Mama?’

Her haughtily raised eyebrows were eloquent. No duke would allow his unmarried daughter to attend a house party where there were no eligible male guests. George, even if he deigned to attend, was far from eligible, for he was only an impecunious younger son, and had a reputation as a rake, besides.

‘Beg pardon, ma’am. I should have known better than to ask.’

Mollified, his mother began to list names, while Jon made mental notes of what he needed to say to Beth about her house guests. Some of them, sadly, were much too high in the instep to be good company.

The butler appeared in the doorway. ‘Your ladyship
asked to be informed when the countess returned from her drive.’

‘Ask her ladyship if she will be good enough to join us.’

Before Goodrite could bow in response to the Dowager’s instruction, Jon was on his feet and making for the door. ‘No need. I will do it,’ he said curtly.

In the entrance hall, Beth was in the process of removing her heavy pelisse and bonnet. She turned at the sound of his step. Her cheeks were flushed from the chill wind, but her eyes were sparkling. He had clearly been right to send her out to take the air, to restore her bloom after several days of sitting at the Dowager’s feet, being tutored in her new role.

She smiled up at him. ‘Good afternoon, my lord,’ she said formally, though there was nothing in the least formal about the way her gaze softened when she looked at him. It reminded Jon, much too forcefully, of the way her eyes locked with his when they were making love.

One unwary memory, and desire was thrumming through him. He tried to say something innocuous, but he could not find the words. To cover his confusion, he took her hand and bowed over it, hoping that his extravagant gesture would make up for the words of polite greeting he could not utter.

She must have sensed something, for she ran her middle finger across his palm in a teasing caress. The unexpected touch rippled through his whole body. What on earth was she doing? It was the middle of the afternoon, and they were standing in the hallway, watched by the butler and two footmen. He dropped her hand like a hot coal and hurriedly stepped back.

‘That will be all, Hetty,’ she said, calmly nodding dismissal to her maid. ‘You wanted something of me, my lord?’

Oh yes! I want to carry you up to your bedchamber and ravish you until we are both mindless with passion!

Shocked by his own reactions, Jon assumed the haughty manner he always adopted when he was at risk of betraying his inner feelings. ‘My lady mother is waiting for us in the saloon. Will you join us, ma’am?’ As custom required, he offered Beth his arm, willing his flesh to remain totally numb. He was determined that there would be nothing for the servants to remark upon.

There was something very knowing about the way she smiled and laid her hand on his arm to be escorted to the saloon. For a woman who was only lately wed, she had learned extremely quickly how to drive a man to madness. Was that what it was? Or was he imagining it all?

‘How well you look, my dear.’ Jon’s mother smiled in welcome and waved them to the seats opposite her. Behind them, the butler closed the door without a sound.

Jon led Beth to the seat opposite his mother, but he did not take his place beside her. Better to observe her from a distance, he decided, throwing himself on to the far end of the Dowager’s sofa and trying to appear more relaxed than he felt.

Beth held out her hands to the blazing fire. ‘We had a delightful drive, ma’am. There was a sharp wind, to be sure, but the sun was shining and the sky was absolutely
clear. The park was quite beautiful, even though the trees were bare.’ She turned to Jon, raising her eyebrows a fraction. ‘Perhaps, when your business is less pressing, my lord, you might be able to join me, to show me more of the estate? I should so like to know about all the features here. At one point, I thought I saw an old stone building, half hidden by trees. Do you have a folly here, too?’

Minx! Her confidence was clearly growing by the day. She was roasting him. And in front of his mother, too! He ought to be cross with her, but he was finding it increasingly difficult to maintain his austere mask. In truth, he wanted to laugh aloud. And then to kiss her till she begged for mercy. He was going to have some very strong words with the new Countess of Portbury. Later, when they were safely alone.

‘Jon and I have been discussing the arrangements for the house guests,’ the Dowager put in tartly. ‘If the weather continues fine, Jon will be able to entertain the gentlemen with outdoor pursuits. I imagine some of the ladies might like to join them. I recall that some of the younger ones are excellent horsewomen.’ She turned to Jon, who nodded rather absently. ‘I imagine that you will prefer to rest quietly here at the house, Beth. In the circumstances.’

Beth blushed rosily and turned away to stare at the fire.

‘I see no reason why Beth should not go riding if she wishes to,’ Jon said, rather more harshly than he had intended. ‘She is a fine horsewoman, too, and she may have the pick of my stables.’

‘Thank you.’ Her response was very low and directed at the hearth.

‘Hmmph. I should tell you, Jon, that one of a hostess’s duties is to ensure that her guests are entertained. Beth may of course go riding, but only if all the other lady guests are doing so. If some of them choose to remain at the house, as I would expect, their hostess cannot desert them. We are agreed on that, are we not, Beth?’

Beth raised her head and turned to look directly at the Dowager. ‘None of our guests will have cause to fault the hospitality in this house, ma’am. Your lessons will not go unheeded.’

The Dowager nodded slowly twice, as if accepting due homage from an inferior. Jon found himself wondering just what had taken place during the last few days when his mother was supposedly helping Beth to assume her duties as mistress of Portbury Abbey. Was there a degree of friction between the two of them? He had blithely told Beth that, once she was his countess, no one would dare to malign her. But his mother, a dowager countess and the daughter of a wealthy and powerful family, had no need to mind her tongue. If she disapproved of Beth, she could certainly turn her life into a trial.

Jon stared across at his wife, trying to read her expression. Poor Beth. She was still far from secure in her new position. She was haunted by fears that ghosts might appear from her past to accuse her of wicked crimes. Sometimes, those fears had become so strong that she suffered appalling sick headaches. They were less frequent since her marriage, she said, but if his mother—

‘I must say that you seem to be quite an apt pupil, Beth,’ the Dowager said loftily. She ignored Beth’s sharp intake of breath and turned to Jon. ‘Your wife may have come to us with little knowledge of how to run a great house, Jon, but she is certainly trying to learn. I have no doubt that she will do extremely well. Eventually. Once she has had a chance to put my lessons into practice.’

That was exceedingly barbed, and quite unnecessarily hurtful. Jon looked at his mother with new eyes. He had thought her the pattern card of ladylike behaviour, but this…? What on earth did she have against Beth? His mother was a great lady, but she clearly lacked Beth’s kind heart and generosity of spirit. Beth did not deserve to be the butt of his mother’s sour tongue.

‘Beth, you are beginning to look rather pale,’ the Dowager continued, in slightly friendlier tones. ‘Are you sure you are quite well? Miss Mountjoy told me that she found you laid upon your bed last week. She had concerns that your health might be…er…delicate. She is quite experienced in such matters, of course.’

In the space of seconds, Beth’s slight pallor had changed to a fiery blush. She made to speak, but no words came out.

Jon was shocked and angered by his mother’s sly hint that Beth was not in robust good health. Apart from the occasional headache, she was blooming. He would not permit his wife to be tormented by Miss Mountjoy’s malicious insinuations, even at second hand. Equally, he could not rebuke his mother in front of his wife. ‘I am surprised to learn that Miss Mountjoy took it upon herself to venture up to my wife’s bedchamber. She is no longer employed here. As a visitor, she does
not
have
the run of my house,’ he finished firmly, looking directly at his mother.

The Dowager raised her chin a fraction and glared back at him. ‘I understood that Beth had invited Miss Mountjoy upstairs.’

Jon did not believe that for a moment.

Beth was shaking her head. ‘I fear you have been misinformed, ma’am. I did no such thing. Nor would I,’ she added, with unusual vehemence. ‘Miss Mountjoy told me that you yourself had sent her to offer me the benefit of her…er…experience.’

The Dowager clamped her lips together. Her eyes were flashing angrily.

Jon knew exactly where to place the blame. Miss Mountjoy was capable of almost anything in pursuit of her hatred for Jon. This time, he would certainly have to deal with her, but first he had to prevent a rift between his mother and his wife. ‘Beth, my dear,’ he said gently, crossing to where she sat and raising her to her feet, ‘I am truly sorry there appears to have been a misunderstanding over this. But Mama is right, you do look a little pale. May I suggest you rest this afternoon? You have been working so hard, preparing for the house party. And you will have precious little time to yourself once the guests start arriving.’ He clasped her hand firmly and led her to the door. She did not resist, of course. She was too well bred to argue with Jon in front of his mother.

‘I will deal with this, I promise,’ he murmured into her hair, as he ushered her into the hall and stood watching while she made her way towards the stairs. He tried to ignore the sway of her hips, but the motion was
exceedingly attractive to the eye. It was partly his own fault, since he had encouraged her to buy that expensive velvet carriage dress. Its every movement reminded him all too vividly of the body concealed beneath.

He was shaking his head when he returned to the saloon. He must stop enjoying his wife’s attractions and start thinking about how to deal with his mother’s apparent antipathy to her. What on earth could be the cause of it?

‘Was there something in particular you wished to discuss, Mama?’ he began innocently, taking the seat that Beth had vacated. ‘In relation to the guests?’

His mother seemed to have relaxed now that Beth was no longer in the room with them. ‘No, nothing in particular. I merely wanted to impress on your wife how important it is for this house party to pass off well. It is, after all, her first experience of acting as hostess since she became your countess. She has some rather…er…quaint notions of how to go on.’

Jon swore inwardly, but schooled his features into neutrality. ‘Indeed? I’m afraid I must have missed those, for I have seen nothing amiss. As a mere male, of course…’ He allowed his words to hang in the air, like a fly dancing on the surface of the water for the fish to bite.

His mother rose to the bait. ‘No, you would not. Men never do, I’m afraid. Your father was just as bad.’ When Jon said nothing, she continued, a little hesitantly, ‘I am hoping that your wife will come to appreciate the difference between her guests’ dressers and her own maid. I do not see that a chit from the workhouse, or wherever that girl came from, is at all appropriate to
serve as lady’s maid to a countess.
You
understand what is needed. Your own new man knows exactly what an earl’s consequence requires.’ The Dowager was starting to sound much more confident. ‘I wish your wife would take her cue from you and engage a proper dresser.’

Jon nodded curtly. ‘Thank you for your advice, Mama. I will ensure the matter is dealt with.’ He paused a moment to bring his seething anger under control. First Miss Mountjoy, and now this! ‘Was that the only thing you wished to discuss with me, ma’am?’

His mother looked for a moment as though she were about to make some other comment, but there must have been something in Jon’s expression that warned her to take care, for she pursed her lips and shook her head.

Jon smiled tightly. ‘I must thank you for all the help you have given Beth since we arrived, Mama. I am sure that, thanks to your tuition, she will do very well in her role as mistress of the Abbey. I know that you have found it irksome to be acting as my hostess over all these months, but I am very grateful. I imagine you will wish to return to the peace of the Dower House now that you have helped Beth to settle in?’

‘I…er…’ There was just a hint of a flush rising on the Dowager’s neck. She swallowed. ‘That is very considerate of you, Jon,’ she said tightly, ‘but I think it would be unwise for me to leave your wife alone quite yet. I am sure she will appreciate having a more experienced female at her side to act as…er…co-hostess. After all, she has had no chance yet to practise everything I have taught her.’

‘Quite so, quite so,’ Jon said, nodding. ‘And there will be other benefits of having two ladies to act as
hostess. For example, you will be able to remain here at the house to entertain the older ladies, while Beth rides out with the younger ones, will you not?’

‘I—’ For once, the Dowager looked nonplussed.

Jon leaned across to pat his mother’s hand. ‘It is very good of you to do this, Mama, and I know Beth will appreciate the extra freedom you are giving her. As do I.’

His mother nodded. She was clearly outmanoeuvred, but she was much too proud to say a word.

Jon rose and bowed. ‘I must ask you to excuse me, Mama. I have urgent letters to write and some other business that must be discharged today.’ With his jaw set, he made his way out into the hall where the butler was hovering. ‘Have a message sent to my land agent, Goodrite. I will see him here, in one hour.’ Without waiting for an acknowledgement, Jon made for the stairs. Dealing with his agent was important, but there was something else that had to be done first.