Christmas Bliss (3 page)

Chapter Three

John had barely slept, but when the sun rose, he felt better
than he had in years. He didn’t wake thinking about the men in the House of
Lords whom he would argue with in the coming days. If fact, he had decided that
he would take some time off from that congregation. He did not know for how
long he would stay truant, but certainly until the problems of miss Trent and
her brother were resolved.

No, he did not wake thinking of the passing of new laws or
the revision of old ones. He woke thinking of a pair of blue eyes and full
lips. He woke thinking about the rest of his life and what he was to do with
that time. He woke thinking of his own happiness. That was the biggest
revelation of them all. John Scarborough knew how to make himself happy. Not just
happy, but ecstatically so.

“You are looking chipper, John,” His mother said.

He entered the breakfast room barely aware that his feet had
taken him down the stairs and across the house.

“Good morning, Mother. You look lovely this morning.”

Margaret raised her eyebrows and held back a grin. “Why
thank you, dear boy. Might a mother ask what has put you in such a state of
smiles and compliments?”

“I would tell you, but I suspect you already know the answer
and are just trying to tease me.”

His mother frowned then.

“I asked you last evening if you disapprove, Mother. My
intentions are quite honorable. I can assure you. You like Emma. You said
yourself that she is a fine girl.”

“I only worry that Drake Trent will make a hard life for
you, John. He can be a terrible enemy from the rumors about town. I’m not
saying that I believe Emma’s accusations that he would kill the little boy.
Still, there must be some truth behind her fears. She’s not the kind of girl to
make up such a story.”

“I agree. Emma believes it. I believe it best to err on the
side of caution. I would rather be a fool for overprotecting them than the one
who allowed them to come to harm. I would like to hear more about those rumors
when you have a few minutes today, Mother. But whatever he intends for his
niece and nephew, I shall handle him. Do not fear.”

“I do not care for the nursery, my lord,” Oliver Trent
announced from several feet inside the breakfast room.

Neither John nor the countess had noticed the child’s
arrival.

The countess recovered first. “I’m afraid it has been
unoccupied for quite some time. What did you find wanting, Oliver?”

His eyes were the same color as his sisters, but his hair
was brown and his little body sturdy. He wrinkled his nose. “There is a very
foul smell and the light is quite bad.”

“I see.” Margaret held back her grin and John could see she
was working quite hard to appear as serious as the boy. “Would you care to
break your fast here then?”

Oliver beamed and bowed very elegantly. “I would be
delighted.”

John and his mother exchanged smiles, but held back any
laughter. The boy spoke as if he were a young man who had been invited to a
ball.

“Dorsey, please find a suitable bolster for the chair for
Master Trent,” Margaret said.

The butler also hid a smirk and bowed to the young
gentleman. “I shall return at once, Master Trent.”

It took only a few moments for Dorsey to return with a large
pillow that he had pilfered from the front parlor. He placed it on the chair
near to her ladyship, then bowed to the young man. Oliver nodded and raised his
arms to the servant, who lifted him easily into the chair.

“Thank you, Dorsey.” Oliver gave his thanks before John
could get the words out.

“May I make up a plate for you, Master Oliver?” The butler
asked.

“Yes, please.”

“I must say, Oliver, I am impressed by your manners,” John
said.

The boy widened his blue eyes, his expression serious as he
lowered his voice. “Sissy is very cross if I have bad manners.”

“I see,” John said. “Impressive none the less.”

Oliver nodded his agreement and said no more as a plate of
coddled eggs, porridge and meats had been placed before him. He shoveled food
into his mouth. The boy appeared starved. The events of the night before must
have worked up his appetite.

Since the conversation John had been having with his mother
had now become inappropriate, the two of them watch Oliver eat. He hummed a
little tune as he stuffed his mouth full of meat. The entire process was filled
with joy, and John could not help smiling. He looked up and saw his mother was
also enjoying the boy.

Emma dashed into the room. She looked refreshed, and he
hoped that meant she had been able to sleep. Her hair was pulled up and tied in
a bun and he immediately missed the cascade of ruby locks of the night before.
Even the thought of seeing her in the dimly lit library caused the tightness in
his chest to return.

A wash of relief spread across her face when she entered the
room and saw her brother eating as if he was a starving dog.

“I checked the nursery,” Emma said, explaining why she
charged into the dining room as if there were invaders at her heels.

The countess smiled. “Yes. It seems that your brother was
not satisfied with the condition of that space. He requested a cleaner, more
functional place to eat. Of course, we have been delighted since his arrival.
Though as you can see, he is quite famished and has said little for some time.”

“Thank you for your indulgence, your ladyship. I afraid
meats have been limited at March House since my uncle took residence. He feels
it is an unnecessary and expensive extravagance.”

John’s mother waved off the thanks. “That explains quite a
lot.” She nodded toward Oliver, who continued to stuff sausage into his
overflowing mouth. “Did you sleep well, my dear?”

Emma nodded. “As well as can be expected. I have a lot on my
mind. I must find a way to get to Plymouth as soon as possible. My aunt will be
worried when she hears of our disappearance. I’m sure Uncle Drake will go there
first to try to discover our whereabouts.”

John watched her expressions go from concern to fear. His
breakfast threatened to return. He could not stand the idea of her being
afraid, any more than he could tolerate the notion of her leaving so soon.
“Then it is best you not go there immediately. I suggest, if I might, that you write
to your aunt and tell her only that you and Oliver are safe and with friends. I
can have the letter delivered quickly.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “My lord, I must find a way to stop my
uncle from making off with Oliver’s money. My aunt will assist. She has many
friends who can help us.”

“There is another way,” John insisted.

“What way is that, my lord?”

John looked at his mother. Margaret did not say a word but
watched the interaction with a raised eyebrow. He could almost hear her
repeating Emma’s question. He then looked over at the boy, and he too was
watching and listening to the conversation.

“You could marry,” John announced.

A bark of laughter escaped Emma’s lips. She immediately
brought herself under control and gaped at him. “Marry?”

The laugh didn’t bode well. He had hoped she would be
thrilled at the notion of marrying him. Evidently, she found it amusing in the
extreme. He’d spent his adult life avoiding just this situation, thwarting his
mother at every attempt to marry him off. He supposed it was a fitting
punishment that when he finally found someone who moved him, she though him
ridiculous. It served him right. Still, he would make his case. “A properly
situated husband would be able to take care of both you and Oliver. If he were
well connected, he could also resolve the problem of your thieving uncle.”

“I’m afraid I missed that opportunity several years ago, my
lord. I made my debut and had several offers. In my youthful ignorance, I
thought to not rush into marriage. I wanted another season of dancing and
theater. But then Father became ill and then he died and Uncle arrived, and in
the following season I did not have the time or the inclination to hunt for a
proper husband. Now I am on the shelf and who would have me?”

He had blundered the entire thing. “I would,” John said
firmly.

“You would what?” Emma’s eyes were wide and the set of her
mouth grim. She looked confused and annoyed.

I really have to work on my social skills.

Looking at Emma fogged his mind. He looked down at the empty
space where a footman had cleared his plate a few moments before and thought a
moment.
Why are these things always so awkward?

He stood up and rounded the table. It did not escape his
notice that every pair of eyes in the room were focused on him. Once he reached
Emma’s chair, he knelt down. His heart pounded, filling his ears. He knew he
was doing the right thing, the one thing that would make him happy. “Miss
Trent, Emma, would you do me the incredible honor of becoming my wife?”

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. John had never
seen anything so charming in his life.

“You’ve only just met me, my lord.” She finally managed to
sputter some words.

“I know all I need to know.”

The countess cleared her throat. “John, perhaps it would be
best if you and miss Trent retired to the library. Then you can explain to her
in a more private setting as to why she should accept such an impetuous
proposal.”

His mother looked from him to the small boy, who was
watching the theatrics with wide eyes.

“Of course, Mother, you are correct.” He offered Emma his
arm and the two of them moved toward the door.

“And John?” the countess said.

“Yes, Mother?”

“When you return, perhaps you will be kind enough to then
explain it to me.”

He nodded and escorted Emma to the library.

The boy looked at the countess across the corner of the
table. He had managed to find the time to chew and swallow during the preceding
excitement. “That was a surprise.”

“Indeed, Oliver, it was. But I think a good surprise rather
than the kind you have been accustomed to.”

He cocked his head to one side. “Do you suppose that Sissy
wants to marry the man?”

“We shall have to wait to find out.”

He nodded his cherubic little head and focused once again on
the tasty morsels left on his plate.

* * * * *

“You have run mad.” Emma’s words filled the room as soon as
the door was closed behind them.

He went to her and took her hands. “Do you object so
fiercely to the idea of marrying me?” He’d faced brilliant men who opposed his
views and angry mobs outside the House of Lords without fear. This simple
answer from this woman scared him where those things had not.

“You don’t even know me, my lord. Last night we were both
tired and perhaps the kiss went further than is proper, but that is no reason
for you to feel an obligation to marry me.”

She was clearly upset. His own pride was stung. When he’d
played the event out in his head earlier that morning, she had been happy, even
grateful. He’d known that was unlikely, but she appeared appalled by the idea.

He dropped her hands and walked toward the desk in the far
corner of the room. The desk became a barrier between them. His stomach churned
in a way it had not since the family dog had died when he was ten years old. “I
apologize for my mistake, Emma. It is obvious that marrying me is abhorrent to
you. I have not had feelings of this nature before. It is possible that my
enthusiasm overshadowed my good sense. I had thought perhaps that you shared my
revelation or had at least come to like me as I have you. It was foolish. I
hope you will forgive me.”

Her eyes were wide and he marveled at the thickness of the
dark lashes that surrounded them. Even as she was breaking his heart, he became
distracted by her beauty.

“I like you quite a lot.” She said it so softly he thought
he might have misunderstood her. She walked to the desk, but did not come
around to get closer to him. “I am not at all disgusted by the idea of marrying
you, John. That is the farthest thing from the truth. It is only that I do not
wish for you to marry me out of some warped sense of duty. I would not want to
marry anyone under those conditions. Surely you can understand that.”

Suddenly, the desk seemed an ocean separating them. He
rounded the object in a matter of a second. “Then you are not completely
opposed to the idea.”

She smiled and looked at him through her eyelashes in a very
coquettish way. “No. Not completely.”

His heart began to beat rapidly. “What can I do to convince
you that marrying me is the best course?”

Emma regarded him frankly. “You could tell me why you wish
to marry me.”

“Why?” What an odd question. Wasn’t it obvious?

“Yes, Why? What is it that has prompted you to ask for my
hand?”

He took her hand and she allowed him to pull her gently over
to a large overstuffed couch. She sat down, but he continued to stand, fisting
his hands. He felt as if he’d gone back to school and was facing the headmaster
for punishment. His neck was on fire and his heart beat so fast he could hear
it ringing in his ears. If she refused, he had no idea how he would resume his
normal life. He’d discovered something in the past twelve hours. He did not
have to be quite so practical and unhappy. If he let her leave, the House of
Lords and misery were all that would be left to him.

“I am thirty-one years old.” He watched her for a reaction.
Her face was serene and she said nothing. “Perhaps too old for you.” He waited
for her response.

“Go on.” Her expression was unreadable.

“I have seen dozens of my friends fall in love and marry. To
be quite honest, I thought them all idiots when they would come to me and tell
me how the girl’s beauty shone like the sun or her eyes were brighter than the
moon. I would laugh and congratulate them, all the while thinking that they had
lost their minds.”