A Christmas Affair (25 page)

Six forty-five; Justin bit back an oath as he closed his eyes again. The last time he looked at the stately clock on the mantle it had been a quarter after three. No wonder he felt as if he’d only just closed his eyes! Perhaps if he offered them no
encouragement, the twins would leave, he thought hopefully, inching the blankets over his head.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Joss shouted, bending over to insure Justin could hear him. “Cook’s got breakfast waiting.”

Justin didn’t bother holding back his next oath, although he did temper it somewhat. He opened his eyes and met the twins’ eager l ooks. “You’re not going to leave, are you?” he asked resignedly.

“Well” — Jeremey shifted uneasily — “Mandy did say we couldn’t open the presents from you ’til you was there. And since you did give us ever so many things, it could take a long time. . . .”

“And what with the pageant for the villagers this afternoon, we really shouldn’t dally,” Joss concluded when Jeremey’s eloquence failed him. “It wouldn’t be right to open them in front of the townsfolk, you know,” he added in a reproving tone.

“No, I suppose it would not.” Justin was amused by the twins’ mendacity, despite his exhaustion. He’d often gone on forced marches and then into battle with little or no sleep, he reminded himself as he threw back his bedcovers. Ignoring their excited chatter, he pulled on his robe and was about to ring for his valet when something stayed his hand.

“Pageant?” he asked, swinging around to face them.

Jeremey nodded. “We always have a pageant,” he said in a proud tone. “It’s about King Henry—the fat one and not your Henry — and about how he granted the first Lawrence title to this house.” He cocked his head to one side and studied Justin.“Course you won’t need so much padding as Daniel, but I think you’ll make a dashed fine king.”

“I will?” The reason for Amelia’s jest was suddenly readily apparent.

“Oh, yes,” Joss seconded his brother’s words of praise. “And you’re almost as old as him too; we won’t need to draw wrinkles on you! Oh, this is going to be a wonderful Christmas!” And he clapped his hands in eager anticipation of the day that lay shining before him.

The exchange of presents occupied the better part of the morning, as each present had to be dutifully admired by each family member. As Amanda predicted, Stephen was delighted by his book on ballooning, although both Amanda and Justin were careful that the twins didn’t get too close a look at it. The doll he had selected for Belinda was quickly set up as her “bestest doll,” and he was deeply touched by the shy kiss she pressed on him, along with the packet of crudely hemmed handkerchiefs. Amelia had given him a lovely charcoal sketch of the family which he promised to have framed, and Amanda’s gift of gloves was highly praised. Exhausted by all the merriment, he was about to settle back with a cup of chocolate when the twins suddenly appeared carrying a huge box between the two of them.

“For you, Justin,” Jeremey said, puffing slightly as he stepped back. “We made it for you all by ourselves!”

“Yes,” Joss added, preening with self-importance, “and it was all my idea!”

“Thank you, gentlemen, I am most deeply touched,” Justin replied, giving the package a cautious poke. Knowing the twins, the package could contain anything from some sort of explosive device to heaven only knew what else. He glanced up and saw both Amelia and Amanda watching him with varying degrees of curiosity. “I may need help opening this,” he said, directing his statement to Amanda. “Any volunteers?”

“Oh, not me.” She gave him a quick smile. “I am needed in the kitchen to check on final preparations for our meal. Amelia is your fiancée; she will help you.”

“Coward.” Amelia gave a delighted laugh, but moved forward gracefully to kneel beside Justin’s chair. The action reassured him somewhat, as he knew Amanda would never intentionally place her sister in any danger, and within a matter of moments, they had the package ripped open. He ex
tracted the large piece of metal, with strips of leather crudely hammered to the sides, and examined it in silence.

“It’s a piece of armor,” Joss explained, noting Justin’s perplexed expression. “And there’s a sword, too,” he said, diving into the box and emerging with a length of metal which he began waving a bout. “See?”

Justin took the crude weapon from him before he could do any harm, his fingers shaking as he turned the sword over in his hand.

“We was worried you might have to go back into battle,” Jeremey said, uncertain as to the gift’s reception. “When you was reading us about Henry’s soldiers and their armor, we thought it might protect you. . . . Do you like it?”

Justin had to swallow twice before he could answer. “I like it very much,” he said, his voice husky with the tears that burned in his eyes. “Thank you.” He glanced back up at Joss. “You were right lad. This is going to be a wonderful Christmas.”

As the villagers and other invited guests would be arriving in late afternoon, the family ate their holiday meal shortly before midday. They had just finished with the fish course when Linsley appeared in the doorway leading into the kitchen. “We are ready, Miss Lawrence,” he intoned in his most impressive accents.

“Thank you, Linsley,” she said, turning to Justin with a set smile. “When you mentioned you had studied at Oxford, my lord, I was reminded of a ceremony my father once mentioned as being part of that school’s holiday tradition. When I was no more than Belinda’s age we even celebrated it ourselves, and so now in honor of your visit here, we should like to observe it again. Stephen?” She glanced at the schoolboy expectantly.

The lad, resplendent in his new finery, stumbled to his feet, clutching the lapels of his first dinner jacket as he began:

Caput apri defero

Reddens laudes Domino

The boar’s head in hand bring I.

With garlands gay and rosemary.

I pray you, all sing merrily

Qui estis in concivivio.

The last note had scarcely died when the footman appeared carrying a large silver platter on which the boar’s head was displayed, a wreath of rosemary draped rakishly on its head and a lemon stuck squarely in its mouth. He solemnly carried it twice about the room before setting it down in front of Justin with a low bow.

“Oh, I say that was infamous!” Joss exclaimed, his blue eyes shining with delight. “
I’m
going to Oxford if that’s the sort of thing one gets to do!”

“Me too,” Jeremey said, then cast the boar’s head an uneasy look. “Er . . . do we actually have to eat it?” he asked worriedly.

“No,” Amanda assured him, although she was certain the servants would suffer from no such scruples. “We are having goose, remember?”

Justin remained silent, staring down at the platter and struggling manfully to swallow the lump that had lodged in his throat. He hadn’t the heart to tell Amanda that he’d never participated in the ritual himself, although, of course, he had heard of it. The thought that she should have gone to such trouble for him was quite touching, and it was several seconds before he could trust himself to look at her.

“Thank you,” he said, his eyes glowing as he gave her a smile that was not as steady as he would have liked. “I shan’t ever forget this. You have all been so good to me.”

The rest of the meal passed in a merry fashion as everyone joined in the festivities. The
pièce d’résistance
was the plum pudding, presented in all its flaming glory by a beaming Linsley. After devouring the traditional delicacy, the other family members rushed upstairs to slip into their costumes, leaving an uneasy Amanda alone with Justin.

“Er . . . Justin, about this afternoon’s pageant” she began, nervously fingering her napkin. “There is something I’ve neglected to tell you.”

“Oh?” he asked coolly, secretly delighted to see her squirm.

“Yes.” She moistened her lips, unable to meet his gaze. “ ’Tis the custom at each pageant to present a small play about how Lawrence Hall came to be in my family’s possession. It was a gift from Henry the Eighth, you know.”

“Was it? I had no idea.”

She cringed at his polite tones, feeling like the worst hypocrite alive. Perhaps she should have said something earlier, rather than springing it on him like this, she thought, casting him a worried look from beneath her lashes. The knowing grin on his face brought her head snapping back up.

“You beast!” she exclaimed, tossing her napkin at him with a rueful laugh. “You’ve known all along, haven’t you?”

“Not all along,” he admitted, catching the napkin one-handed. “But Amelia’s hint last night was rather difficult to miss, and then this morning the twins told me how happy they were that I am to play Henry. I wouldn’t need nearly so much padding as Daniel, they said, nor would it prove necessary to draw wrinkles on my face as I already had them.”

Amanda covered her burning cheeks with her hands. “Brothers!” she muttered in a strangled voice.

“Yes, they are a trying lot, aren’t they?” Justin agreed, but if the smile on his face was any indication, it was not a situation he found displeasing.

Damn but this wig was uncomfortable, Justin thought, tugging impatiently at the stiff arrangement of horsehair and felt. And the red beard Amanda and the twins insisted he don for his part in the play was certainly the most insidious instrument of torture ever devised. He cast a quick glance about him to make sure no one was looking and then slipped into the parlor, hoping for a few moments respite from the crowds.
Much to his relief it was deserted, and he wasted no time in pulling off the offending wig. He was about to do the same with the beard when he heard the doorknob rattling behind him.

Not another damned villager offering his thanks, he thought with a sudden flash of irritation. He’d already spent the better part of the afternoon playing the congenial host, and his store of patience was at an end. Without pausing to consider his actions, he quickly secreted himself behind the faded velvet drapes, hoping that whoever it was would have the good sense to leave upon seeing the room was vacant.

“There’s no one inside,” he heard a familiar male voice say as the door was carefully shut. “We can talk in here.”

“Oh, Charles, I really do not think this is a good idea.” Justin stiffened as he recognized Amelia’s hesitant tones. “What if someone should see us?”

“They won’t,” Charles replied, “and even if they did, what can they say? There is nothing wrong with a man taking his leave of a neighbor. Not even your haughty fiancé could object.”

The haughty fiancé took seriously leave with this and was about to make his displeasure known when something stayed him. Perhaps it was the caution that had been won so hard on the battlefields, or perhaps it was vulgar curiosity, but whatever its cause, Justin was suddenly reluctant to reveal himself to the two young people. It was obvious they were unaware of his presence, and he realized that if he but waited, he would finally have the answer to the question he had posed to Amanda on their return from the village. Calling on the skills learned in combat, he forced himself to stand perfectly still, listening with increasing grimness as the little drama unfolded before him.

“I-I wish you would not call him that,” Amelia said, her eyes filling with unhappy tears as she glanced away from Charles’ face. “He has been so very good to us.”

“I know.” Charles’ smile grew bitter. “He is a fine gentleman
and a commendable officer, but that doesn’t mean I hold the fellow in any particular esteem. How can I, when he is about to marry the woman I love?”

Amelia’s heart thrilled to his words, only to break seconds later as she considered the impossibility of their situation. “Please, dearest, I would that you not speak of . . . of what can not be,” she said, turning back to gaze up at him. He looked so handsome and yet so stern in his regimentals, and she knew that she would carry his image to her grave.

“Then, why did you ask me to come today?” he demanded angrily, crossing to take her into his arms. “Damn it all, Amelia, what game is it that you are playing? I thought that you loved me, but —”

“I do love you!” she interrupted, abandoning all propriety as she flung her arms around him. “And I’m playing no game. I-I had to see you one last time, even if it was only from a distance.” Her fingers gently explored the planes of his face as if committing them to memory. “I needed to know that you will be all right, that-that you will be happy.”

He captured her hand in his and pressed it to his lips. “Happy? Never that, my love. You are my heart, and a man can not live without his heart. Oh I shall survive,” he added as her blue eyes grew wide with fear, “I shall exist, after some fashion. But I will never truly be alive again.”

“Nor will I,” Amelia admitted, brushing her fingers against his warm mouth. She thought there was no pain left to feel, but she was wrong. The agony she was feeling was almost unendurable, but she knew that she would endure it somehow. She had to. For her family’s sake if nothing else.

“I would sell my soul to kiss you again,” Charles said, his voice shaking with emotion. “But I will not. If I can not have my heart, I will have my honor.” He stepped back, his hard body trembling visibly at the effort it cost him. “Come, my love, ’tis time I escorted you back. Your fiancé is certain to be looking for you.”

Amelia could only stare up at him, overwhelmed by the love
that she felt. For a moment she wished Charles was not so decent, but she quickly dismissed the thought as unworthy. Charles’ honor and innate goodness were two of the reasons she loved him, and she would not change a single thing about him. Making a futile attempt to wipe the tears from her cheeks, she accepted the arm he offered her.

“You are right, Charles,” she said, drawing on his strength. “It is time we were going back,” and she accepted his escort from the room, her blond head held high with determination.

The moment the door had shut, Justin stepped out from his hiding place. “Damn it to blazes!” he exclaimed, his eyes flashing with fury. “Just wait until I get my hands on that minx!” He stormed out of the room, a look on his face that would have sent the most battle-hardened men in his command scurrying for cover.