It Happened One Christmas (16 page)

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Authors: Kaitlin O'Riley

BOOK: It Happened One Christmas
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17
Long Lay the World in Sin
Thursday, December 11, 1873
 
Quinton Roxbury climbed the steps of the Duke of Wentworth's massive town house the next afternoon. Although the house was impressive by any standard, he thought the place a bit too large and believed the architect should have scaled the size to be more proportional. Mentally comparing and redesigning buildings was a habit Quinton indulged in whenever he saw them. He learned something new from every structure he studied and filed it away for future reference.
After the Wentworth butler showed him in, he walked with more than a little reluctance to the blue drawing room to see Lady Emmeline Tarleton. This was not a visit he looked forward to, but one that was a necessity. Of late he had been rather neglectful of his future bride and he needed to make some reparations.
“Why, Quinton! This is a surprise!” Emmeline exclaimed upon seeing him.
She was seated at an elegant writing desk and immersed in penning a letter when he entered, but she rose to her feet and came to meet him. A rare smile lit Emmeline's heart-shaped face, and she seemed genuinely pleased to see him.
He took her hands in his and gave them a light squeeze.
“I was not expecting you,” she said with a bit of nervousness in her voice. “Will you have some tea with me? I had just sent for some.”
“That would be fine,” he said, escorting her to the chair near the tea service and taking a seat nearby. He had never been particularly at ease with Emmeline before, but now he felt terribly uncomfortable with her.
She poured a cup of hot tea and handed it to him.
“Thank you, Emmeline.” He placed the full teacup on the side table, having no wish to drink it. “It's good to see you.”
“Is it?” she questioned. Her dark eyes narrowed at him and she studied his expression carefully, causing him to feel even more ill at ease.
“Yes, of course,” he insisted, making an attempt to smile in her direction. Shouldn't smiling at his future wife be effortless and not something he reminded himself to do? He did not have to force himself to smile when he was with Lisette Hamilton.
“I haven't seen you since before your business took you to Brighton,” she said, her voice calm as she stirred her tea. “Did you have an enjoyable trip?”
“Yes. Everything went well. I met with Lord Eaton and drew up a rough sketch for his new house, but the final plans won't be finished for another week or so. I'm still working on them, but he is quite pleased with my design ideas so far.”
“Yes, Penelope Eaton said her father was thrilled with your new plans, and I thought how amusing it is to have a fiancé who dabbles in construction.”
“I do not ‘dabble' in construction, Emmeline. I'm an architect,” he corrected her, concealing his irritation. Now he regretted coming to visit her. He gave her a hard look. “And you were well aware of that fact when we first met.”
“Oh, yes,” she said, not meeting his eyes. “Forgive me for overlooking that little detail.”
He had forgotten how difficult Emmeline could be sometimes and how disinterested she was in most things other than herself. She would be happy enough to see him rise to the top politically and would be more than a willing partner to him socially, but she made no pretense that she would prefer not to hear about his buildings and his cause to help the poor. She usually was polite enough to feign interest in his doings, yet today he detected a biting edge to her words that was not normally present.
“Penelope also mentioned that she saw you while out shopping one afternoon in Brighton,” Emmeline uttered in a cool tone before taking a sip of her tea. “Did you see her?”
In that instant he knew without a doubt that Emmeline had been told, and he experienced more than a twinge of guilt over his inexcusable behavior. He wanted to regret kissing Lisette Hamilton, but no matter how hard he tried, he simply could not. He regretted only that they were seen together.
“I am sure Penelope Eaton told you all you needed to know and then some,” he said dryly. Emmeline could suspect the worst, but Penelope saw nothing definite. He had not kissed Lisette in the curio shop that afternoon, although he had wanted to and had come achingly close. Still they had done nothing but stand too near each other. Emmeline had only rumor and suspicions, and they could be easily dismissed.
“Whatever do you mean, Quinton?” Emmeline asked, her lashes fluttering in mock innocence.
“I take it you believed Penelope's story?”
“Should I not have?”
“I'm quite certain it has been embellished.”
“Why don't you tell me what happened then?”
He shrugged. “There is nothing to tell.”
Emmeline's teacup rattled in her shaking hand. She set it down. “Well, then answer me this, Quinton. How would you feel if one of your closest friends said he saw me in an intimate embrace with another man in a public place?”
He sighed in weariness. Emmeline had a point, but still, nothing happened in the curio shop. “I don't know what Penelope thinks she saw that day, but I assure you it was misinterpreted.”
She cleared her throat. “So you were not kissing Miss Hamilton?”
“No. I was not.” Not in the shop that day anyway. He could at least answer that question truthfully.
Emmeline became very quiet, and neither of them spoke for a minute before she said softly, “She is very beautiful, your Miss Hamilton.”
“She is not
my
Miss Hamilton. She merely agreed to ask her brother-in-law, Lord Waverly, to donate to my building project,” Quinton said, his conscience pricking him like the devil. He had hurt Emmeline and her anger was justified no matter how he tried to trivialize it. “I apologize if my behavior caused you any worry or concern.”
“Should I be worried?” Her eyes locked on him, almost pleaded with him.
He paused before answering, so tempted to say something he should not. To say what was in his heart. Instead he told his future wife exactly what she wanted to hear. “No. There is no need for you to worry.”
Her expression softened in relief. “Then I shall believe you.”
“Thank you.”
They sat in silence again, neither drinking the cups of tea that had grown cold. Quinton felt terrible, because he had wronged her and she now believed that he had not. For all her indifference to his passions and interests and lack of concern about anything in the world outside her own pampered existence, she deserved his respect if only as his betrothed. She would be his wife just after the New Year and she should not be distressed that he had been seen with another woman. Having a mistress in private was one thing. He and Olivia Trahern had always been circumspect in their dealings with each other, and no breath of scandal had touched them, especially after he became engaged. But to publicly embarrass Emmeline was not well done of him. His behavior was reprehensible. He was about to confess the truth to her and beg her forgiveness.
Emmeline's whisper of a voice finally broke the strained silence between them. “Do you still wish to marry me, Quinton?”
He held his breath at her question. Did he still want to marry Lady Emmeline? Was it even a matter of what he wanted anymore?
Quinton observed his fiancée's face carefully. She was not smiling. It suddenly occurred to him that he rarely saw Emmeline smile. Her dark hair fell around her attractive heart-shaped face, her nose upturned ever so slightly, her soft brown eyes watchful. She was dressed fashionably and attractively this afternoon, as she usually did, in a gown of expensive silk in a striking jewel tone. But her mouth was drawn into a thin, hard line, as it was so often. When he had first agreed to marry her, he had not noticed this about her.
In fact, he had found that Lady Emmeline Tarleton had quite suited his needs.
Choosing her as a bride had been a stroke of good luck. She would be an asset to him socially, possessed an extremely generous dowry from her father that would allow him a life of privilege, and would be a suitable mother to their children one day. That she did not inspire romance or love sonnets from him did not matter. Having the Duke of Wentworth as a father-in-law would open doors for him that he'd never imagined.
Quinton's building plans would finally become a reality and his political aspirations could take shape. As he saw it, their union benefited him more so than it did her, for as the only daughter of the Duke of Wentworth, Emmeline Tarleton could have had her pick from many wealthy and titled men. But Quinton knew why Emmeline had set her cap for him, a mere younger son of an earl.
She fancied herself in love with him. Which was only natural for a fiancée to feel for her future husband. But Quinton held no such illusions about her.
Quinton had not even been in the market for a bride when he'd agreed to wed Emmeline. The duke approached him with the idea of marrying his daughter last summer. The enticement to make her his wife was the promise of the duke's financing of Quinton's building projects and his support of his political career. Quinton had not grown to love Emmeline since the engagement either, but most marriages were not based on love anyway. More often than not, marriages were a business arrangement and a financial transaction, an exchange of property. Quinton had to marry at some point, and Emmeline was good wife material. She would be a gracious hostess, manage his household smoothly, and help promote his projects. Love had never entered his thoughts, for he had not given marriage itself any thought beyond the ceremony of it and how a well-connected wife could facilitate his political career.
However, things had changed somehow. Now the beautiful visage of Lisette Hamilton haunted his every waking moment and tortured him through sleepless nights.
Now when he thought of marriage, a real marriage, he saw himself with Lisette and not Emmeline. When he thought of a woman he wanted to build a life with, create a home with, raise a family with, and share a bed with, he pictured Lisette Hamilton.
Did he
want
to marry Emmeline? His wants were not a priority. Even if he wanted to, it was far too late to call off the wedding at this point. The ridiculously lavish reception that her parents had spent more than a small fortune on planning was only three weeks away. There was no decent way out of it without causing untold grief for her and her family and an unforgettable scandal that neither of them would ever live down.
To his mind a better question was, “Do you still wish to marry me, Emmeline?”
She took her time before answering him, and her response was not at all what he expected.
“There are hundreds of guests coming to our wedding, Quinton. The invitations went out weeks ago. We cannot disappoint them.”
“No. I don't suppose that we can.” And that, he supposed, was that. He rose to his feet, anxious to be on his way.
“Remember that we are to attend the Duke of Rathmore's Christmas Ball next week. Everyone will see us there together and any rumors will be laid to rest by then.”
“Yes, of course.” He made a move toward the door.
“If you wish any chance of a successful future in Parliament, a scandal with another woman and renouncing your bride just before your wedding would not be the wisest way to begin a political career, Quinton.”
Her icy words sent a chill through him and he paused, slowly turning back to face her. “I am well aware of that, Emmeline.”
She gave him a pointed look. “Are you?”
There was an implied threat in her words. It did not sit well with him to be threatened, although she did nothing but speak the complete truth. If his behavior with Lisette Hamilton were to be known publicly and Lady Emmeline were to call off their wedding, the disgrace would be such that his ambitious dreams would be ruined before they even began and all his hard work and careful planning would have been for naught. Emmeline knew this quite well. For all her disinterest in anything other than herself, she possessed a keen social acumen that would be a necessary asset to him in the political world he wished to enter.
He said in a low voice, “I understand completely what you are saying.”
Yes, he understood all too well. Emmeline Tarleton had the power to destroy all that he had worked for and dreamed of.
18
Strike the Harp and Join the Chorus
Friday, December 12, 1873
 
Devon House was in a state of joyous upheaval. At long last, Juliette had returned home, bringing with her a trunk full of exotic and extravagant gifts, her handsome American husband, and the surprise of all surprises, her infant daughter.
Lisette cradled her tiny niece in her lap as she swayed gently back and forth in the rocking chair. The feel of a baby in her arms almost made her cry, she wanted one of her own so very much. “Oh, Juliette, how could you not even have told us you were expecting?”
“I was afraid something bad would happen, so until my child arrived in this world safely, I wasn't risking anything,” Juliette, her blue eyes gleaming, explained with her usual breeziness. Her long dark hair hung loose around her, giving her the appearance of a gypsy.
The Hamilton sisters were all gathered in Colette's sitting room late that afternoon, happy to be reunited.
Not hiding her sarcasm in the least, Paulette demanded, “When did you become so superstitious?”
“Since I began spending time with sailors.” Juliette smiled cryptically at her four sisters. “And they are a very superstitious lot, I can assure you. They may seem brave and hearty, but they will quake in their boots at the slightest sign of bad luck.”
They nodded in understanding then, for Juliette's husband was a sea captain and she'd spent the last two years sailing around the world on his ship, the
Sea Minx
.
“Harrison thought I was a little overzealous in my wariness,” Juliette continued, “but my daughter was born without a bit of trouble. You'll never guess where!”
“Where?” Colette asked.
“At home! After all our traveling, I thought for sure my first child would be born in China or on an island in the Pacific somewhere, but no. She was born at our home in New Jersey. Can you believe it?”
The girls chuckled at the irony of their world traveler of a sister.
“Well, we are very glad to have you all here in time for Christmas,” Lisette said, still holding the sweet baby girl in her arms. “Especially this little angel,” she cooed to the sleeping infant.
Yvette, always impatient, asked, “Must we wait for Christmas to open your gifts, Juliette?”
“Yes, I am afraid we must!” Juliette declared emphatically, happy to torture her youngest sister. “It's why we call them
Christmas
presents.”
“Do you know that this is the first time all five of us have been together since Juliette's wedding?” Paulette mused as she lay sprawled on the divan, her delicate chin resting on her hands.
“It's nice, isn't it?” Lisette asked with a smile.
Colette, her hand on her burgeoning belly, agreed. “It's wonderful.”
“We've come such a long way since the days we lived above the bookshop,” Juliette reflected, watching her daughter sleeping in Lisette's arms, while she cuddled her nephew Phillip in her lap. Phillip had been delighted to see his Aunt Juliette, for she had brought him a miniature ship.
“And now we have darling little Sara to join us,” Lisette whispered. The baby was beautiful and looked like a more peaceful version of her mother. Lisette placed a soft kiss on her niece's delicate forehead.
“And another one on the way,” Colette added with a little laugh.
“Mother will be arriving tomorrow, won't she?” Juliette asked.
“Yes, and won't she be surprised that you are here already ! We didn't know when to expect you and Harrison,” Lisette said. “And she will be thrilled to learn that she has a granddaughter!”
“Oh, Juliette!” Yvette exclaimed, twirling her blond tresses with her finger. “Lisette has some exciting news, too!”
Juliette noted Lisette's blushing cheeks. “Wait, don't tell me. Let me guess. Old Henry finally got around to setting a date!”
The girls' bright laughter floated around the room, but Lisette did not join in their levity. She had been the object of her sisters' teasing on the subject of her courtship with Henry Brooks for years. Long enough to know that their gentle mockery was good-natured and they meant no harm by it. She usually laughed with them, because she knew Henry loved her and would come around when he was ready.
Yet this time their laughter struck an emotional chord deep within her and she was not quite sure what triggered the change in her feelings, but she did not feel like laughing.
She responded in a quiet tone. “Yes, we've set a date for June.”
Juliette gave her a quizzical glance. For all her apparent thoughtlessness, Juliette was surprisingly astute in noticing the feelings of those she loved. “That is happy news, Lisette.” She congratulated her. “I shall make sure that Harrison and I return to England in time for your wedding.”
Still stretched out on the divan, Paulette piped in, “Henry even gave her an engagement ring.”
“Oh, let me see!” Juliette exclaimed in excitement.
Lisette cringed. She and Henry were supposed to visit the jeweler to have the ring adjusted to fit her finger. They had both forgotten. She must make a point to remind Henry. She was determined that they would go together tomorrow. “I don't have it with me at the moment,” she explained. “Henry has it. It's too big so we need to have it sized to fit me.”
“Oh, well, I suppose you will show it to me later then,” Juliette said.
“Yes, of course.”
Their conversation turned to plans for Christmas but Lisette was lost in her own thoughts. She suddenly felt uncomfortable with her sisters for the only time she could ever recall. She had not met Colette's eyes when they talked of her engagement ring. She couldn't. Not after everything she had told her about kissing Quinton Roxbury.
“Do you think we shall be able to attend the ice-skating party the Fontaines are hosting next week?” Yvette asked. “Their pond is completely frozen, so it should be nice. Besides I have a new fur-lined cloak I would love to wear.”
“Yes, that sounds like fun,” Juliette added. “Let's all go skating together.”
“Well, I certainly shan't be ice skating!” Colette declared, causing them all to laugh again.
This time Lisette laughed with her sisters.

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