A Christmas Affair (32 page)

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Authors: Joan Overfield

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Romance, #Regency, #Historical Romance, #Holidays

BOOK: A Christmas Affair
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As if sensing his indifference, she leaned forward to lay her hand over his, her fingers lightly caressing his tanned flesh. “Oh, please, don’t be so depressingly formal! You must call me Deidre, or else I won’t feel free to call you Justin,” she chided, expertly shrugging her shoulders so that her already shockingly cut gown of green silk slid even lower, exposing the white swell of her breasts.

“Very well, ma’am,” he replied, taking a perverse delight in vexing her. “Although I trust you will forgive me if I am a trifle formal in my manners. As a colonel in his majesty’s army, I tend to be somewhat rigid on occasion. Amanda is forever taking me to task about it.”

At the mention of his fiancée, Lady Deidre’s slender shoulders stiffened perceptibly, and the look she shot Amanda was filled with resentment. “Ah yes, the little bride,” she said, raising her glass of champagne to her lips. “How charming she looks. But did I hear you call her Amanda? How odd. I would have sworn he said her name was Amelia.”

“Amelia is her sister,” Justin responded, remembering Edward had mentioned telling Lady Deidre of his engagement. “I’m afraid my letter to Edward wasn’t as clear as it should have been.”

“Mmmm,” Lady Deidre murmured, glancing from Amanda to Justin. “But wouldn’t it make an interesting
on-dit
if it turned out you were engaged first to one sister, and then the other? The gossip-mongers would adore so juicy a tidbit.”

Justin’s sense of amusement vanished at the threat implied in the woman’s drawling tone. “I don’t know about an interesting
on-dit,”
he said, making no attempt to hide his icy displeasure, “but it would make a dangerous one. I wouldn’t want to be the person caught uttering it.”

For a moment Lady Deidre’s cheeks paled with fright, but she was quick to mask her expression. “Oh, pooh, Justin,” she said, managing a credible laugh. “You mustn’t be so disapproving! All of society gossips; it is the very staff of life to us.”

“Perhaps,” he agreed, his voice still edged with warning, “and so long as it is not my wife they are wagging their tongues about, they may say what they will. But if I hear even a breath of gossip attached to Amanda’s name, you may be very sure that I will act fast to protect what is mine.”

Lady Deidre gave another laugh. “I fear your fiancée has the right of it, my lord,” she said, seeking refuge in her wine. “You are in sad want of civilizing, and I wish her joy in the attempt.”

Justin glanced at Amanda’s animated features as she sat listening to her dinner partner. She looked so alive to him, her beauty so vital and real that it made Lady Deidre’s ample charms seem tawdry in comparison. “Aye,” he said softly, his mouth curling in a knowing smile as he thought of their coming wedding. “And a true joy it will be.”

Following the sumptuous meal, Lady Rayburne led the ladies into the drawing room while the gentlemen lingered over their brandy and cigars. After making sure Amelia was settled with a young lady close to her own age, Amanda made her way to the corner where her hostess was holding court. “Are you feeling better, my lady?” she asked, her eyes lingering on the countess’s sulky mouth. “I’m quite sure His Grace meant no offense.”

“No offense!” the countess exclaimed, fanning her cheeks with unladylike vigor. “No offense when he tells me he was late because he completely forgot my dinner party? And pray, Miss Lawrence, how can such a slight be anything
but
offensive?”

That was so, Amanda admitted, wishing that Edward
had been a little less forthcoming with his hostess when he had finally made his appearance. He’d arrived just as the servants were removing the fish course, and after making his apologies to the countess, he’d commandeered the chair next to Amanda, regaling the other guests with the details of his latest investment.

“Steam power!” Lady Rayburne cried, her ire increasing at the memory of the duke’s long-winded conversation. “Have you ever heard of a more ridiculous notion in all your days? And to go on and on about it as he did . . . ! Well, duke or no duke, that is the last time I shall ask him to dine with me. At least until he can think of a more suitable topic of conversation,” she added grudgingly.

“Yes, Edward can be a trial,” Lady Deidre agreed with a knowing laugh, her eyes flicking over Amanda. “Tell us, my dear, is his brother just as prosy? He was my partner at dinner, and I must say I found him quite delightful.”

So I noticed,
Amanda thought, her brown eyes narrowing at the memory of the other woman clinging to Justin’s arm. Although her experience of society was limited, she wasn’t so green that she hadn’t guessed the true stamp of the lady’s character.

“I have always found Justin’s conversation to be most stimulating, my lady,” she replied with a regal tilt of her chin. “As I have found Edward’s.”

Lady Deidre’s lips thinned at the subtle set-down. “Yes, but coming from the country as you do, I daresay you are unaccustomed to polite conversation,” she said with a condescending smile. “You must look to acquiring some town bronze, my dear, else you risk being taken for a bumpkin.”

Amanda’s cheeks grew warm. The viscountess’s catty remarks cut all the deeper because she greatly feared they contained an element of truth. Listening to and observing the other guests tonight had made her realize just how much she had to learn, and not for the first time she found herself questioning her ability to learn it.

The gentlemen returned, and several of the guests, including Lady Deidre, left to attend other parties. The viscountess’s departure lightened the atmosphere considerably, and Amanda began enjoying herself. Amelia and Charles were sitting with another young couple, and watching them she couldn’t help but be moved by the love that radiated from them like a soft, golden light.

“They look happy together,” Justin commented, handing her a glass of champagne as he joined her on the settee. “Maxfield’s a good lad; he’ll make her a good husband . . . especially if he knows what is good for him.”

Amanda hid a quick smile. “You sound just like an overly-protective papa,” she teased, lifting the sparkling wine to her lips. “I shudder to think of what you’ll be like when Belinda makes her bows.”

“To say nothing of our daughter,” he replied, accepting her gentle ribbing with a surprising feeling of complacency. He’d never given the matter of a daughter much thought, but now he found he was rather taken with the idea.

At the insistence of some of the ladies, the dinner party adjourned to the ballroom for some informal dancing. Edward gallantly offered his services as a musician, and Justin led Amanda out onto the polished floor for the opening dance. “Do you know this is the first time we have danced together,” he said, his hand tightening about hers as he guided her through the intricate steps of the polonaise. “You dance very well.”

“Thank you, sir,” she returned, hiding her nervousness as she concentrated on keeping time with the stately music. She’d never considered herself particularly graceful, but Justin’s smooth movements were easy to follow. After they made their second turn about the floor without a misstep she risked sending him a pleased smile.

“You’re also most accomplished,” she teased, her cheeks gently flushed with exertion. “But then, I have heard it said that Wellington chooses his officers as much for their danc
ing skills as for their prowess as fighters.”

“Vicious lies spread by his detractors,” Justin assured her, expertly moving to the other side of her. “We were much too busy chasing the French to bother with such nonsense, I promise you. Besides, with whom would we have danced? Each other?”

The image of battle-hardened soldiers capering about in time to martial music made Amanda laugh out loud, and she brought her foot down on top of Justin’s. “Now see what you have made me do?” she scolded, although she was enjoying herself too much to care.

When their dance had ended, she was quickly besieged by partners, including Edward, who’d been replaced at the pianoforte by an elderly lady who played with more passion than skill.

“Sorry I was late to your party,” he said, leading her over to a corner of the room where a liveried footman was waiting with glasses of chilled punch. “I’d planned to leave early but. . . .” He shrugged his shoulders in a gesture that was oddly reminiscent of Justin.

“Think nothing of it, Your Grace,” she answered soothingly. “I am only glad that you were able to come.”

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” He dabbed at his face with a rumpled handkerchief. “Justin’s m’brother after all, and I want to know that he is happy. He’s not had it easy, you know. Our father was a dashed cold fish who barely tolerated him.”

Amanda was shocked by the duke’s candor. “I . . . I thought as much,” she began cautiously, hoping she wasn’t betraying Justin’s trust. “It’s not so much as what he has said as . . . as . . .”

“As the way he is,” Edward finished for her, his expression rather solemn as he studied her. “I know. That is why I’m so relieved he is marrying someone like you. I’ve never seen him so relaxed as he is with you.”

Amanda’s cheeks grew rosy with pleasure. Her feelings
for Justin were still too confusing to bear close scrutiny, but she was fond of him, and more than anything she wanted him happy with the bargain they had struck.

“May I ask you a question?”

“Of course, Your Grace.” She glanced up at him curiously. “What is it?”

“Edward,” he corrected, shaking his head at her. “I have told you, I prefer that you call me Edward.”

“What is it, Edward?”

“Would it matter to you if Justin was rich? I mean . . . rich as a nabob or some such thing? Would you love him the better for it?”

“Of course not!” she exclaimed, feeling slightly indignant. “My feelings for Justin have nothing to do with the depths of his pockets! Besides,” she added with a flash of her blunt honesty, “you must know that Justin is already far wealthier than I.”

Edward nodded. “I know he is marrying you so that he might care for you and your family,” he said with equal bluntness. “And I know that he had to blackmail you into accepting his offer. I just want to know that you care for him above the material goods he can provide for you and the others. Do you?”

There was no need to search her heart for the answer. “Yes,” she said quietly, “I care very, very much.”

To her surprise Edward pressed a warm kiss to her cheek. “Then all will be fine,” he said, drawing back to give her a gentle smile. “So long as I know Justin has someone to care for him, I shall be more than content,” and with that he tucked her hand in his arm, guiding her back to the corner where Justin stood waiting for them.

Justin watched them approaching, his face carefully blank of emotion. In light of the gossip he’d been hearing, he was grateful Edward was being so singular in his attentions to Amanda. His brother’s approval would prove invaluable if they were to carry this thing off with any degree of success,
he thought, his eyes narrowing with carefully controlled fury. The sooner society accepted his marriage to Amanda, the sooner all this talk and speculation would end.

“Now, Justin, you needn’t look so threatening,” Edward said, his eyes twinkling as he smiled at his younger brother. “I have returned your fiancée to you, safe and sound. Do say you won’t be calling me to account; you must know I am a wretched shot.”

Justin’s expression relaxed at Edward’s gentle teasing. “I suppose I might be persuaded to overlook it this time, providing you don’t repeat the offense,” he replied, placing a hand on Amanda’s arm and drawing her firmly to his side.

Midnight came and went amidst the pealing of bells and much laughter. The countess had more champagne brought out and called upon Justin to make a toast.

“To my fiancée,” he said, holding up his glass to Amanda, “may this be but the first of many New Year’s we shall share together.” They clinked their glasses together and drank a solemn toast, and then with the crowd looking on, he bent his head and brushed a warm kiss across her mouth.

Following a midnight buffet there was more dancing, and Amanda had another dance with Edward. He escorted her back to Justin and then took his leave, claiming the press of business. After he’d gone, Justin turned to her with a slow smile.

“So, what do you think of my elder brother?” he asked in a seductive whisper, his eyes taking in her flushed appearance with smug appreciation.

“He is wonderful,” she whispered back, enjoying his warm perusal. She’d had several glasses of champagne, and a heady sense of daring filled her. She tilted back her head and sent a challenging smile. “It is easy to see where you get your charm, sir, although ’twould seem His Grace has received the lion’s share of that particular commodity.”

“Really?” He was delighted by her reply. “In that case, perhaps we ought to excuse ourselves from the company for
a few minutes until I have raised your estimation of me.”

She gave a soft laugh, her eyes taking on a wicked sparkle. “It would take more than a few minutes to accomplish that, Colonel Stockton,” she informed him airily, and then turned her pretty shoulder on him. “Now, do behave, I wish to enjoy the music.”

Justin hesitated, weighing his options with the sureness of a commander trained in battle. On the one hand Amanda was a lady, and as a gentleman he was honor-bound to protect her reputation. But on the other hand, the saucy minx was his fiancée, and certainly that entitled him to a few privileges. Reaching a swift decision, he grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the room, ignoring her laughing protests.

“You are always dragging me off,” she complained once he had closed the library door behind them. “Hasn’t it ever occurred to you to ask my permission first?”

He pushed himself away from the door, the gleam in his eyes growing more pronounced as he slowly advanced on her. “Indeed,” he murmured, his voice husky with passion. “And pray what would your answer be if I were to say, ‘Please, Amanda, would you come with me so that I might steal a kiss from you?’”

“I-I should tell you no,” she stammered, some of her courage deserting her when his hands cupped her face. She remembered standing beneath the mistletoe with him on Christmas Eve, trembling in anticipation of his kiss. Then she’d been bound by convention, unable to respond to her sister’s fiancé. But he was
her
fiance now, she thought dizzily, her eyes fluttering shut as he bent his head closer to hers.

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