Christmas Beau

Chapter 5

During the next week she saw him four times in all. It was endurable, she told herself. Barely. Surely, soon he would remove to his country estate.

He was at Mrs. Colbourne's musical evening the day before he had agreed to take them to the Tower. She sat with Claude Freeman and a few other acquaintances, watching the pianist seated at the grand pianoforte in the center of the room, listening to his skilled renditions of Mozart and Beethoven, wishing that her fingers would obey her will as the pianist's did his.

And all the time she was aware of the Marquess of Denbigh at the edge of her vision to the right. He was staring at her, she thought, until her breathing became a strained and a conscious exercise and her concentration on the music disappeared almost entirely. And yet since he was on a different side of the room from her, it was just as likely that he was staring at the pianist. She could not bring herself to look at him.

She did dart a look finally, unable to bear the strain any longer. He was watching the pianist. And yet her look drew his and their eyes met for a moment before she withdrew hers.

Why was it, she wondered, that all the other guests within her line of vision seemed a blur of faces and color while he stood out in startling detail? He was not even wearing black tonight to make him noticeable. His coat was blue.

Was it that he was so much more handsome than any other gentleman present? Yet she had never thought of him as handsome. Quite the opposite, in fact. His face was thin and angular, his nose too prominent, his lips too thin, his eyes too penetrating, his eyelids too lazy.

No, he was not handsome. Distinguished looking, perhaps? Yes, definitely distinguished looking in a cold, austere way. She thought suddenly of the fortune-teller's prediction about a tall, dark, handsome man, and shivered. And the woman had told her that she knew the man already, that her love for him would come upon her quite unexpectedly. There had been children in her future too. Several of them. She had once dreamed of having a large family.

She focused her eyes and concentrated her mind on the pianist and his music.

The marquess came during the interval to pay his respects and to ask after the health of Amy and the children. He did not stay longer than a couple of minutes.

“You say that Denbigh escorted you and your family to the ice fair?" Claude said with a frown when the marquess had walked away. "I wish you had called upon me instead, Mrs. Easton. I would, of course, have advised against the visit. It is a vulgar show, or so I have heard. I would not have considered it desirable to have you rub shoulders with ruffians and thieves. And the children might have been in some danger. But then, I do not suppose Denbigh even so much as noticed your children."

She wished he had not, Judith thought, seeing again the image of Lord Denbigh with Kate on his shoulder and Rupert holding his hand.

"He was being civil," she said.

"I should watch his civility, if I were you," Claude said. "You have crossed his will once, ma'am, if you will forgive me for reminding you. I do not believe he would take kindly to its happening a second time."

Judith looked up at him indignantly.

"Pardon me," he said. "But people are saying, you know, that perhaps you are regretting your former decision."

"Are they?" she said, her voice tight with anger. "Are they, indeed?"

But she caught herself just in time and turned from him to resume her seat. She drew a few deep and steadying breaths. She closed her eyes briefly. She had been about to rip up at Claude in an appallingly public place, to tell him

exactly what she thought of his impertinent and interfering words and of the ton's foolish opinions.

And yet her anger was not really against Claude at all, or against the ton. It was against the Marquess of Denbigh, who had arranged all this, who was stalking her relentlessly, and who was intent on making her look a fool in the eyes of society. A rejected fool.

Well, let him keep on trying. She would never give him the satisfaction of showing anger or any other negative emotion in public. And let people say what they would. People would gossip no matter what. She had no control over that, only over her own behavior. And she supposed that a little gossip was no more than she deserved. She did deserve some punishment for her less than exemplary behavior almost eight years before.

She did not look at the marquess again that evening.

They visited the Tower of London the next day and St. Paul's Cathedral two days after that. If she really had been setting her cap at the man, Judith thought, or even if she had liked him, she would have to say that both afternoons were a great success. Amy and the children certainly thought so.

Amy and Kate, hand in hand, watched the birds in the menagerie while Lord Denbigh and Rupert lingered over their perusal of the lion and the elephant and other animals. The marquess answered Rupert's questions about them, about where they were from, how they would have lived in those countries, what they would have eaten, how they would have hunted. He delighted the boy by giving all the gory details while Judith stood helplessly and disapprovingly beside them.

But her disapproval was foolish, she told herself. Boys enjoyed hearing of some of the cruder realities of life. And those realities existed no matter how sheltered she wished her children to be from them. Andrew, she knew, would have wanted his son to grow up a "real man," as he would have put it. And so would Maurice and Henry.

It was doubtless good for Rupert to be with a man

occasionally, instead of" always with her and Amy. If only the man were not the Marquess of Denbigh! Perhaps she should have gone to Andrew's family for Christmas after all, she thought fleetingly.

Amy exclaimed over the Crown Jewels, and Kate, in Judith's arms, gazed at them silent and wide-eyed.

"Pretty, Mama," was all she said, pointing at a crown.

Judith looked at the armory and even at a few of the instruments of torture, which the marquess explained to Rupert and Amy. But she refused to look at the block and ax. She turned away with Kate while Rupert laughed and jeered.

"I should stay with you, Judith," Amy said. "All this is quite ghastly. But I must confess that it is also fascinating."

Somehow, as they were strolling away from the White Tower on their way back to the carriage, it happened that the children hurried ahead with Amy to gaze down into the moat and Judith was left walking beside the marquess.

"You have recovered?" he asked. "You looked for a few minutes as if you were about to faint."

"It is horrible," she said, "what human beings can do to other human beings."

"You do not believe, then," he said, "that criminals should be punished?"

"Of course," she said. "But torture? And execution by ax?"

"Many criminals have themselves used cruelty," he said. "Many have killed or betrayed their country. Do they not deserve to be treated accordingly? Do you not believe in execution, Mrs. Easton?"

"I don't know," she said. "I suppose I do. Anyone who kills deserves to die himself-I suppose. But what sort of an example do we set thieves and murderers when we return brutality for their brutality-in the name of law? It does not quite make sense."

"I would guess that you have never witnessed a hanging at Tyburn," he said. "Some people would not miss such an entertainment for all the world."

She shuddered and raised a gloved hand to her mouth.

And then her other hand was taken in a firm clasp and drawn through his arm.

"Your son loves animals," he said. "He was telling me all about his grandfather's dogs, particularly the one shaggy fellow which is allowed inside the house."

"Shaggy?" she said. "That is its name, you know. Sometimes it is difficult to know which end is which. There are a few dogs at home too, but I would not allow any to be brought with us because London is not quite the place for pets, I believe. Besides, my father would not have taken kindly to having his home overrun by the animal kingdom."

"It is one advantage of living in the country," he said. "A great advantage for children. Animals were almost my only companions when I was growing up. Your children are fortunate that they have each other."

She looked up at him, startled. He had just given her almost the only human glimpse of himself she had ever had. He had no brothers and sisters. She had known that. She had never thought of what that might have meant to him. Son of the late Marquess of Denbigh, his mother dead since his infancy. An only child. Animals had been his only companions. Had he been lonely, then? But she did not want to start thinking of him as a person.

And she realized that she was strolling with him, her arm drawn firmly through his, conversing just as if they were friends or at least friendly acquaintances. She was relieved to see the moat ahead and Amy and the children standing on the bridge looking down into the water. She used the excuse of Kate's turning to wave a hand at her to withdraw her arm from the marquess's and hurry forward.

At least Kate had not fallen beneath his spell that afternoon, she thought a little spitefully as the child lifted her arms to be carried the rest of the distance to the carriage.

But even that triumph was to be short-lived. When they were seated in the carriage, Kate wriggled off Judith's lap and climbed onto the marquess's. He continued naming to Rupert all the towers in the outer walls and pointing them out through the windows as they drove away. But he opened the top two buttons of his greatcoat, drew out his quizzing glass on its black ribbon, and handed it to Kate.

She played with it quietly for a while before lifting it to her eye and peering through it at her brother. Rupert shrieked with laughter.

"Look at her eye!" he said, and Amy and Judith laughed too as Kate gazed from one to the other, the glass held to one hugely magnified eye.

The children laughed and giggled for the rest of the journey. It was a merry homecoming.

Amy as well as Judith was one of Claude Freeman's party at the theater on the evening of the following day. The marquess was there too, and came to pay his respects between acts. Fortunately, Judith found, talking determinedly with Mrs. Fortescue, who was also one of their party, he directed his attentions and his conversation to Amy.

Amy was enchanted and as excited as any child being given a rare treat. She had never been to the theater before and had never seen so many splendidly dressed people all gathered in one place. Best of all, she thought, gazing about her, no one was staring at her. She was a very plain, very middle-aged lady, she told herself. Not a monster. Sometimes her family members had protected her-or themselves-so closely that she had felt as if she must be some freak of nature.

"I cannot believe all the splendor of it," she told the Marquess of Denbigh. "The velvet and gold and the chandeliers. And the acting. I was never so well entertained in my life."

"It is your first visit to the theater?" he asked, his eyes looking kindly at her.

And she realized that her reactions must appear very naive to him. But she did not care. The marquess, for all his splendor and very handsome looks and impressive title, would not laugh at her. He was a kind gentleman and she liked him excessively. If only Judith…

But Judith was pointedly talking to someone else and for some reason did not like the marquess. Or else she felt

embarrassed about what had happened all those years ago.

But Lord Denbigh had clearly forgiven her for that and was quite as clearly trying to fix his interest with her no matter how hard Judith tried to deny the fact.

She wished she had Judith's chance, Amy thought a little wistfully. Not with the marquess, of course. That would be ridiculous.

"The play is about to resume, ma'am," Lord Denbigh said, getting to his feet. "I shall take my leave of you and look forward to escorting you to St. Paul's tomorrow."

He took her hand and raised it to his lips. Amy felt ridiculously pleased. She felt even more pleased when he glanced toward Judith, although Judith was studiously looking the other way.

At St. Paul's the following day they wandered in some awe about the nave, dwarfed by the hugeness and majesty of the cathedral. Judith had never been there before. She had never been comfortable with heights, but the Whispering Gallery did not look too high up when one looked from below-the dome still soared above it-so she agreed to Rupert's persuasions and climbed the stone steps resolutely. Amy stayed down below with Kate.

But she felt the bottom fall out of her stomach when she stepped out onto the gallery, which circled the base of the dome. The nave of the cathedral looked very far down, the people there like ants. She did not even look long enough to distinguish Amy and Kate.

Rupert was running around the gallery, the marquess strolling after him. She stood against the wall, her palms resting against it at her back, willing her heart to stop thumping and her legs to regain their bones. She took a few tentative sideways steps. She looked nonchalantly about her but not down. It still seemed a very long way up to the top of the dome and the Thornhill frescoes painted there.

"It has nothing to do with cowardice, you know." She had not even noticed the Marquess of Denbigh coming back toward her. "It is an actual affliction that some people have. Your head can tell you that the gallery is broad and well

railed, that there is no possible way you can fall. But still you can be paralyzed with terror. A friend who suffers in the same way has told me that it is not so much the fear of falling as the fear of jumping. Is that right?"

He was standing in front of her, perfectly at ease, filling her line of vision. He spoke quietly, as he usually did. For once in his presence she felt her heart quieting.

"Yes," she said. "It is a very annoying terror. One feels like the typical helpless woman."

"The friend I spoke of," he said, "is a man and weighs fifteen stone if he weighs an ounce and is as handy with his fives as any pugilist one would care to meet. Take my arm. Your son, you will see, is across from us, waving down to his sister and his aunt."

Judith felt her stomach somersault again.

"He is perfectly safe," he said, "and will be delighted if we join him there. Walk next to the wall and imagine that we are strolling in Hyde Park. Look at my arm, if you wish, or at my shoulder. You have a lively and curious son. You must look forward to nurturing his curiosity."

No, she thought firmly as she told him of her own plans to employ a tutor for a few years and the plans of her brothers-in-law to send him to school when he was older-Rupert would after all be head of the family after the passing of his grandfather-no, she would not grow to like him. She would not mistake his behavior either here and now or briefly at the Tower for kindness.

There was no kindness in the Marquess of Denbigh. Only a cold, calculating mind. Only the desire to punish her by winning the affection of her children and by inflicting his unwanted company on her and by making her look foolish and rejected in the eyes of society.

She must not even begin to doubt what she had so strongly sensed from the first moment of seeing him again.

"Your son will want to test the theory that a word whispered at one side of the gallery can be clearly heard at the other," he said just before they came up to Rupert. "But since you must whisper with your mouth to the wall and listen

with your ear to it, that should pose no great problem for you."

Despite herself she found herself relaxing. His words were reassuring. Even more so was his tall strong body between her and the rail of the gallery.

He took them to Gunter's for tea and cakes before returning them home. He spoke of Christmas and his eagerness to return to his estate.

"There is nowhere quite like the country and a houseful of people for celebrating Christmas," he concluded, while Amy gazed wistfully at him and both children were unusually silent.

"There were always lots of cousins at Grandpapa's," Rupert said at last.

"But this year we will have each other," Judith said briskly, "and will be able to do just as we please all day long."

His words had been ill-considered, she thought. If his intention had been to make her feel guilt at having deprived her children and her sister-in-law of other company over the holiday, then he had succeeded. But it was one thing to hurt her, and quite another to depress the spirits of her family.

He had miscalculated. It was his purpose, surely, to win over the others. She felt an almost spiteful satisfaction at his one slip.

And an even greater satisfaction at the realization that he must surely leave for the country within the following few days.

It was snowing in a halfhearted way. Enough to whiten one's hat and shoulders and to blind one's vision as one rode. Enough to remind one of the coming season. But not enough to settle on the traveled thoroughfares and obstruct traffic.

Even so, the Marquess of Denbigh frowned up at the sky as he rode through the park. Perhaps he was foolish not to have gone into Essex before now. He had guests to prepare for, after all. And even if the weather should prevent the arrival of his guests, there were plenty of other people who needed his presence at Denbigh Park and would be disappointed if he did not arrive. All the children were to stay at the house for two nights-on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day-as they had the year before, and were looking forward to the treat almost as if he had offered them a month in Italy, according to both Mrs. Harrison's and Cornwell's letters.

It would not do to be stranded in town by snow.

But he had not wanted to jump his fences as far as Judith Easton was concerned. He had been proceeding with those plans as slowly as he dared. Too slowly perhaps. He was maybe seeing too much of her. And too much of her children and that good-natured sister-in-law of hers. He was becoming too fond of them.

One danger he had become particularly aware of in the past few days: He must not allow himself to like Judith Easton in any way. It was true-he had played on the fact-that she cared for the happiness of her family and hated to deny them pleasure. And it was true that she was a good mother, spending much of her days with her children instead of abandoning them to a nurse's care. He approved of the way she did not try to overprotect her children, especially the boy.

And there was something admirable about her courage. She had walked the whole circle of the Whispering Gallery at St. Paul's with him, even though he had known from the slight tremor in her voice that she had been terrified, and she had looked down at her son's direction and waved to her daughter and sister-in-law in the nave below. She had unconsciously gripped his arm a little tighter at mat moment. She had spent ten whole minutes testing the acoustics of the Whispering Gallery to please her son.

But knowing someone was courageous was not the same thing as liking that person or growing soft in one's intentions for that person. He had always known that she was a woman well in command of her emotions. Or at least, he had known it since that morning after the opera when her white-faced father had called on him to bring his betrothal to an end.

No, courage, control over emotions did not necessarily

make a person likable. And even the most vicious and degenerate of creatures were capable of showing mother love.

He rode in the direction of Lord Blakeford's home. The ladies would in all likelihood have returned from their afternoon's walk, if they had taken it in this weather. He hoped so, at least. This was the visit he had been building toward since his arrival in London. He drew some deep and steadying breaths. He hoped the children would be downstairs for tea. He would be far more confident of success if they were.

They were. In fact, the tea tray had not yet been brought in, and Lord Denbigh realized as he followed the butler into the drawing room that the ladies had only just risen from the floor, where a game of spillikins was in progress. Miss Easton was smoothing out the folds of her dress and laughing, rather flustered. Judith was busy sticking out her chin and clasping her hands calmly in front of her.

"Good afternoon, my lord," she said.

"How civil of you to call on us, my lord," Amy said. "Have you come to join us for tea?"

"I came to get myself out of the snow for a few minutes," he said, "and to assure myself that you are all well after our outing yesterday. But if I am being invited to tea, ma'am, I will most gratefully accept."

"Do you have Pegasus with you, sir?" Rupert asked.

"Yes, indeed," the marquess said, rubbing his hands together to warm them. “But he looked rather like a white-haired old man by the time we arrived here. He was quite covered with snow."

Kate chuckled. "Old man," she said.

Judith had no choice in the matter, as he had intended. Soon he was seated by the fire with Kate on his knee showing him some of the Christmas bows they had made already from the ribbons he had purchased at the river booth. Amy was telling him that they had forgone their walk that day in order to drive to Oxford Street to shop for their Christmas gifts.

"I bought Mama a-" Kate began.

"Sh," Amy said. "Secrets, love."

"-pair of scissors," Kate whispered in his ear, tickling it.

Judith was pouring tea from the tray, which had just arrived.

"She will be delighted with that," the marquess said, looking into the wide dark eyes gazing eagerly into his and resisting the urge to hug the child.

He let conversation flow of its own volition for a while. But matters were made easy for him. The children, and their aunt too, had Christmas very much on their minds.

"I do believe we will be able to buy greenery at the markets, my lord, will we not?" Amy asked. "It would not seem like Christmas without greenery. And we have several of the bows with which to decorate it made already. I regret that we will not be able to gather our own this year."

"Yes," he said, "I would find it strange too. There are masses of holly bushes at Denbigh Park. The soil must be very suited to them there. They are almost always laden with berries. And the pine trees are so thick that they do not miss the boughs cut from them. I have sometimes been accused of making my home look like an indoor forest at Christmas.''

Amy sighed. "I was very happy to come here witfi Judith and the children," she said, "and I know I will not regret my first Christmas away from home. But if there is one thing I will miss more than any other it is the caroling. There is nothing that more joyfully conveys the spirit of Christmas, I always think, than going from house to house singing the old carols and seeing the smiles on everyone's faces and tasting the wassail and the cider and the fruit cake. I have suggested that the four of us go caroling here, but every time I do so Rupert looks scornful, Kate will only smile, and Judith looks embarrassed." She laughed.

"There was never a strong tradition of caroling in my neighborhood," he said, "until a lady new to the area began it two years ago. It has taken well, but most of her singers are children. She is always pleading for new adult voices to help lead the singing."

Amy sighed again.

"Last year," Rupert said, "Rodney had a whole boxful of tin soldiers and we set them up in the nursery and had

a war that lasted for two whole days. You never saw such fun, sir. There were seven or eight of us playing all the time and sometimes the girls joined in too. My side won because we had Bevin playing with us. He is twelve years old."

Kate had found the marquess's quizzing glass again and was quietly playing with it.

“My house is going to be overrun with boys and girls this year," Lord Denbigh said. "Twenty altogether-ten boys and ten girls. They were there last year too, and I am quite confident in saying that it was the best Christmas Denbigh has ever known. Of course, my guests have to be warned. Some people do not consider such boisterous fun to their taste. But no one refused last year and no one has yet refused this year."

"Ten boys?" Rupert said wistfully.

"The youngest five and the oldest eleven," the marquess said. "I imagine it will be a very enjoyable Christmas for everyone who will be there, adults and children alike." He looked at Judith for the first time since he had sat down. She was looking at him tensely, her cup stranded halfway between her saucer and her mouth. Yes, my lady, he told her with his eyes. Oh, yes indeed. "Holly. Ivy. Pine boughs. Decorations. A Yule log. Good food and drink. Games. Dancing. Caroling and church going. Outdoor exercise. Skating. Perhaps sledding and snowballs if the snow decides to come in earnest."

"Skating," Rupert said, longing in his voice. "I can skate like the wind. Papa said so when we used to skate before he died."

Kate was patting the marquess's waistcoat with her free hand. He looked down at her.

"Yes, ma'am?" he said. "What may I do for you?"

"Can we come?"

"Kate!" Judith's cup clattered back into her saucer.

"Actually," he said, "my very reason for coming here today was to invite you. Would you like to come?" He looked from Kate to Rupert.

Rupert jumped to his feet. "Mama too?" he yelled.

"Aunt Amy too?" Kate asked.

"All of you," he said. "I cannot quite imagine Christmas without you. Will you do me the honor of coming, ma'am?" He looked directly at Amy. "Despite the shortness of the notice?"

"Oh." Amy clasped her hands to her bosom and looked across at Judith.

"Ye-e-es!" Rupert cried.

Kate looked fixedly up into the marquess's face.

"Ma'am?" Lord Denbigh looked at Judith, whose face had lost all color. "Perhaps I should have asked you privately? It looks as if your family will be disappointed if you say no and you would, very unfairly, seem to be the villain. But it will please me more than I can say if you accept."

"Oh, Judith," Amy said, "it would be so wonderful."

"Lord Denbigh's housekeeper will not be expecting four extra guests," Judith said in a strangled voice.

"My housekeeper is always ready for guests," the marquess said. "She has learned from experience that they may descend upon her at any time and in any numbers."

"But it must be your decision," Amy said. "I told you when I came to live with you, Judith, that I would go wherever you wished to go and do whatever you wished to do. I meant it."

Judith turned her eyes from the marquess's to look first at her sister-in-law's resigned expression and then at her son's tensely excited one. And at Kate, who was looking at her with wide, solemn eyes.

"Please, Mama?" Rupert said.

"It is extremely kind of you to invite us, my lord," she said. "We accept."

There was great jubilation in the room while she held the marquess's eyes for longer than necessary. Yes, my lady, he told her silently. Now do you begin to understand?

When he rose to take his leave five minutes later, she rose too and accompanied him from the room and down the stairs.

"Why?" she asked him quietly as they descended the stairs side by side. "Have you not punished me enough?"

"Punished?" He looked at her, eyebrows raised.

"You know what I mean," she said. "Please do not pretend innocence. You have stalked me ever since that evening in Lady Clancy's drawing room. You have done all in your power to make me uncomfortable, to make me the topic of gossip and speculation. And you have used my children against me. Today more than ever. Yes, of course you should have spoken with me about this invitation first. But you knew very well what your answer would have been. When is this punishment to end?"

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned to frown down at her. "Punishment?" he said. "Is that how you see my attentions, Judith? Is that how you always saw them? I have used your children, yes, and your sister-in-law. That is somewhat dishonorable, I will confess. But I will use all the means at my disposal. I have waited almost eight years for my second chance with you. I do not wish to squander it as I did the first."

He held her amazed eyes with his own as he took her nerveless hand from her side and raised it to his lips.

She was still standing at the foot of the stairs after he had donned his greatcoat and gathered up his hat and gloves. He looked at her once more before nodding to her father's butler to open the outer door for him.

And he stood for a moment on the steps outside, smiling grimly to himself.