Christmas Beau

Chapter 7

"Judith." Amy came bursting into her sister-in-law's dressing room the following morning after a quick knock. "Ah, you are up. His lordship is a magician or a prophet, I do declare. Have you seen?"

Judith had indeed seen and had had much the same thought. And also the thought that if it had only happened one day sooner, or better still, two, she might have been saved. She, not anyone else. Amy would have been disappointed and the children quite despondent.

"Yes," she said. "It must have been snowing in earnest all night for there to be such a thick covering already."

"And it is still coming down," Amy said. "Do you realize what this means, Judith? Snow for Christmas. It does not happen often, does it? Especially fresh white snow. It is going to be perfectly splendid for the children. Have you heard about the children? I do admire Lord Denbigh for doing such a thing. But will this snow impede their coming here tomorrow night, Judith? I do hope not, though of course it could be said that it is not at all the thing for such children to be brought into a house with guests. I think the idea quite charming, however. I hope you do not think it is in poor taste with Rupert and Kate here."

Amy was excited and enjoying herself already-Judith could see that. There was even a flush of color in her cheeks. The Misses Hannibal had taken her to their bosoms the evening before and Mr. Rockford had even tried flirting with her. Amy had never been made so much of in her own home.

"It will be a new experience," Judith said, swiveling about on the stool, her temporary maid having finished pinning up her hair. "I look forward to it. Shall we go down to breakfast?"

Amy's fears were put to rest very soon after breakfast. Rupert and Kate were very eager to be outside in the snow. Judith and Amy dressed themselves and the children warmly and descended the stairs. But when they emerged into the great hall, it was to find the front doors being opened and children of all sizes and descriptions pouring inside, all variously covered with snow, all seemingly talking at the same time. Two adults came in after them. The marquess was emerging from a downstairs room.

"Cor blimey," someone yelled, "it's three feet tiiick out there if it's an inch."

"Ow, luverly," someone else shrieked, "fires. Me fingers is froze off me 'ands." A thin girl detached herself from the mob and raced for one of the fires. Two others followed her.

"Ow, look," a tall and gangly boy said above the general hubbub of noise. " 'Oo are the nippers, guv?"

The Marquess of Denbigh stood with his feet apart and his hands clasped behind his back. "The nippers, Daniel, my lad," he said, "are Master Rupert Easton and his sister, Miss Easton. Could you children not have left at least some of the snow outside? Did you have to drag it all inside with you?"

A chorus of voices explained with varying degrees of coherence that there had been snowball fights to accompany the walk from the village.

"And Val got shoved in the snow by Toby," one of me larger girls said, "and Toby got shoved in by five of us girls and got 'is face washed in it too."

"Ah," the marquess said. "That explains it, then. Now, left turn the lot of you and march smartly into the salon. Mrs. Hines is having warm chocolate sent up for you."

"And cake too, guv?" Daniel asked, a cheeky grin on his face.

"Left turn," the gentleman who had arrived with the children said sternly. "And the 'guv' is 'my lord' to you, Daniel, as I have explained five thousand times at a conservatively low estimate."

As quickly as the hall had filled, it emptied again, leaving behind only the adults and Rupert and Kate.

"May I go too, Mama?" Rupert asked hopefully.

"Me too, Mama?" Kate tugged at her cloak.

"I shall take them in with me if you have no objection, ma'am," the lady who had come with the children said. She was plump and matronly and looked perfectly capable of dealing with the toughest urchin.

"Mrs. Easton," the marquess said, "Miss Easton, may I present Mrs. Harrison and Mr. Cornwell, the very capable and long-suffering guardians of the hurricanes who just passed through here?"

Mr. Cornwell was short and inclined to stoutness, though Judith guessed that there was a great deal more muscle than fat on his frame. Frost was melting from his sandy mustache and eyebrows. His fair hair was thinning.

"Ladies?" he said, bowing to them.

Mrs. Harrison curtsied. "Despite all the noise," she said to Judith, "the children are quite a harmless lot, ma'am. They will not gobble up your own children, I promise you." She smiled.

"I am afraid," Mr. Cornwell said, "that their elocution slips alarmingly whenever they get excited about something, Max. And this morning they are very excited." He turned and addressed himself to Amy. "One would hardly know that in the schoolroom they often speak something approximating to the English language, would you?"

"Go along, then," Judith said, relinquishing Kate's hand to the outstretched one of Mrs. Harrison.

The two children disappeared inside the salon. A moment later two maids followed them, each with a tray laden with steaming cups. A third maid was carrying a tray of cakes and muffins.

"Come into the library, Spence," the marquess said, "and breathe in some sanity for a few minutes. Ladies, will you join us? You are dressed for the outdoors, I see. I was about to send up to invite you and the children to accompany us once the party arrived from the village. This is the morning when we are to haul in the Yule log and gather the greenery for decorating the house. The task is now to be made more difficult and infinitely more exciting by the presence of the snow. Rockford should be down soon too."

Amy clasped her hands tightly and beamed. "Oh," she said, "this is so much more pleasurable than being in town, shopping at a market. We would be delighted to come, would we not, Judith?"

Lord Denbigh ushered them all into a large and cozy library. Looking about, Judith guessed that he spent a great deal of his time there. There was an open book on a table beside a leather chair, she noticed. The desk was strewn with papers. It was obviously a room that was used, not just a showpiece.

Both gentlemen had a drink. The ladies refused.

Amy had been a little divided in her feelings about the invitation to spend Christmas at Denbigh Park. The lure of a country home was strong and she liked the marquess and looked with hope on what appeared to be a budding romance between him and Judith. But there was also the fact that they must leave London so soon after she had finally gone there.

She no longer had any misgivings. From the moment of her arrival the afternoon before, she had felt like a person. Judith had always made her feel that way, of course, and the marquess in the past few weeks had been very civil. But now she was in a country home with several other guests and she was being treated with respect. That silly Mr. Rockford had even tried flirting with her the evening before.

Amy realized in full just how much less than a person she had always been considered at home.

She was enjoying herself immensely. And she was enchanted by the story of all the children and by her first sight of them. She was almost envious of Mrs. Harrison and was admiring of Mr. Cornwell.

"I do think it a splendid job you are doing, sir," she said to him now. "But what gave you the idea? Or was it his lordship's?"

He looked at her and smiled. He was quite as willing as the marquess and the other guests to take her seriously, she

thought in some surprise. He had a pleasant face. It was not at all handsome, but it was good-natured. It was the kind of face that would inspire trust in troubled children, she thought. Just as his rather solid frame would inspire respect and a sense of security.

"It was a joint brainchild, actually, ma'am," he said. "We dreamed up the idea one night, thought at the time that we must both have taken leave of our senses, and are even more convinced of the fact two and a half years later." He chuckled. "I have never been happier in my life."

"How wonderful it must be," she said somewhat wistfully, "to be able to devote one's life to children."

"Are you sure you wish to come gathering greenery, ma'am?" he asked. "It is a longish walk to the trees and there is bound to be a great deal of noise and foolery. I cannot assure you in all confidence either that the language will all be suitable for a lady's ears."

"I would not miss it for worlds," Amy said. "This is what Christmas is all about, sir-children and decorations and trudges in the snow. And company."

He actually winked at her as he set his empty glass down. "Never say I did not warn you, ma'am," he said.

Amy felt herself turn pink, reminded herself that she was thirty-six years old, and told herself not to be silly.

"I would imagine," the marquess said to Judith, "that by the time these children have finished gathering and decorating there will be more greenery inside the house than out. And a great deal more noise and chaos. I hope you will not mind. I was a little afraid last year that my aunts might have an apoplectic fit apiece. But they smiled and nodded and were enchanted-and horrified the boys by kissing all the girls. The boys thought that they would surely be next. Fortunately, my aunts had more sense of decorum."

Judith laughed, finding the situation and his humor amusing despite herself.

"I should have told you about the children," he said. His eyes were looking very directly into hers, a hint of a smile in them again. "But I was afraid that you would cry off if you knew. It was shameful of me, was it not?"

Judith felt a twinge of alarm. If she had not known him eight years before and again in the past few weeks, she might well be gaining a totally different impression of him than the true one, she thought. He seemed quite human suddenly. More than human. And there was a warmth in his look.

Yet there was something else too, something quite intangible and unexplainable.

"I have a feeling," she said, "that Rupert and Kate are going to be talking with nostalgia about this Christmas for a long time to come.''

"I hope so," he said. "And their mother too."

She was saved from having to reply, though she felt shivers all along the length of her spine, by the appearance of the butler at the door to announce that Mrs. Harrison, Mr. Rockford, and the children were ready to leave.

"We had better not keep them waiting a single moment then, Max," Mr. Cornwell said. "If the children are ready to leave, that means right now at this very moment if not five minutes ago."

Christmas had been a lonely time when he was a child and a boy. His father had sometimes had house guests and had frequently invited neighbors to various entertainments, but he had never felt the necessity of seeing to it that there were other children to play with his son.

Now he loved Christmas and loved to surround himself with people who might be lonely if he paid no attention to them-and with children. His and Spence's decision to open children's homes in the village had been an inspired if a somewhat mad one.

He had done this before-gone out with the children and Spence and Mrs. Harrison to gather the decorations for the house. And it had always been a merry occasion. But there had never before been the added festive detail of snow.

And there had never been Judith Easton on his arm. She had taken it with some hesitation when they had stepped out of the house. But there had been no excuse not to do so. The boys and Spence and Rockford were pulling the heavy sleds. Rupert was walking along with two older boys, Daniel and Joe, and gazing up at them somewhat worshipfully. Kate was holding Mrs. Harrison's hand-at least she was until Daniel stopped, made some comment about the nipper's boots, and hoisted her up onto his thin shoulder. Kate made no protest but sat with quiet contentment on her new perch. Judith drew in a deep breath and then chuckled.

Amy was walking between the two newest girls, sisters, talking cheerfully to them before taking them both by the hand. No, Judith Easton had no excuse for not taking his arm.

"They have been with Mrs. Harrison for only four or five months," Lord Denbigh said, nodding in the direction of the two little girls with Amy. "The mother was stabbed by a lover and both girls were dependent upon gin as a large part of their diet. Their first two months here were very difficult for Mrs. Harrison and a nightmare for them. They are still quieter than the other children, but they are coming around. If you had seen them four months ago, Judith, you would not believe the difference in them now."

"Poor little girls," she said, gazing ahead at mem. "They must have known more suffering in their few years than most people can expect in a lifetime. Imagine all the countless thousands who never know even such a reasonably happy ending as this one. I hate driving into London past the poorer quarters. Though that is a very cowardly attitude. The poverty and the suffering exist whether I can block them from my consciousness or not."

She was unbelievably beautiful, he thought, looking down at her. Far more so than she had been eight years before. He could not look at her without feeling the churning of old desires. Touching her was enough to catch at his breathing.

There was a sense of unreality about the moment. He was walking with her, talking with her on his own land-with Judith. And he was to have her with him over Christmas, for a full week. And while his main purpose had nothing to do with the peace and joy of the season, he had decided to allow himself some pleasure from her presence too. For despite his basic dislike of her, his opinion of her character, and his intention of breaking her heart as she had broken his, she was also the most desirable woman he had ever known.

He desired her. He wanted her. And since it did not at all contradict his purpose to do so, he would do nothing to quell the feeling.

"I believe that the mistake many people make," he said, "is looking at the whole vast problem of poverty and social inequality and feeling helpless and guilty. For there is nothing the average man or woman can do to solve a universal social problem. But all of us can do something on a very small scale. There are thousands of children in England suffering untold hardships at this very moment. But twenty children who would have swelled those numbers by only an infinitesimal amount are well fed and well loved, have their futures secured, and are at the moment having a boisterous good time."

The unfortunate Toby was having his face rubbed in the snow again by four screeching girls.

"That lad," the marquess said, "is going to have to learn something about diplomacy. Or something about running fast."

"Why did you do it?" she asked, looking up at him, frowning. "Just because your friend needed the financial backing?"

"Partly, I suppose," he said. "And partly because I was a lonely child."

"Were you?" Her frown had deepened.

"An only child," he said. "It was a terrible fate. Perhaps it was not my parents' fault since my mother died when I was an infant. But I have always vowed that when I married I would have either no children at all or half a dozen."

Her flush was noticeable even against the rosiness that the cold was whipping into her cheeks. Those children might have been yours too, he told her very deliberately with his eyes. Ours.

"It would be dreadful to have no children," she said. "Mine have been the light of my life for several years."

"Even before your husband died?" he asked her quietly.

Her eyes wavered from his and fell for a moment to his lips.

"Was it all worth it, Judith?" he asked her. "Were you happy?"

She looked ahead of her again. He heard her swallow. “It was my choice," she said at last. "I chose my course and I remained committed to it."

"Yes," he said, "I believe you did. It is a pity sometimes, is it not, that it takes two to make a good marriage."

Her arm had stiffened on his. Perhaps he had gone too far, he thought. Perhaps he was moving too fast. Perhaps he should not have started calling her by her given name, though she had made no open objection to his doing so. Perhaps he should not have started yet caressing her with his eyes. And perhaps he should not have made any reference to the past or to her marriage, which was, after all, none of his business.

However, he was saved from the present situation when a soft, wet snowball collided with the back of his hat, tipping it forward over his brow, and he turned sharply to detect the culprit. One moment later he was darting after seven-year-old Benjamin, whose flesh had been so deeply ingrained with soot two years before when he had dropped down the wrong chimney in the marquess's town house to land in the study hearth when his lordship was occupying the room that it had been impossible to know even what color his hair was.

"Attack an enemy from behind, would you, Ben?" Lord Denbigh roared, grabbing the child about the middle. "There is only one fitting punishment for that: to be strung up by the heels and forced to contemplate the world upside down."

He dangled the shrieking and giggling child by the ankles while all the other children cheered and jeered and advised his lordship to drop Ben head first into the nearest snow drift.

Ben was hoisted onto the marquess's shoulders for the remaining distance to the trees. Judith had joined Mrs. Harrison.

Mr. Rockford volunteered to take the largest sled and the three largest boys to find and load a suitable Yule log. Kate, who was still on Daniel's shoulder, and Rupert went with them. Mrs. Harrison took some of the girls to find mistletoe. Mr. Cornwell took several boys and a few of the girls to gather holly. He needed people who would not squeal too loudly at pricking their fingers once or twice, he said.

"That excludes you, Val," he said cheerfully and winked at the girl.

"Violet, Lily, and I will come too," Amy said. "Holly has always been my very favorite decoration. There could not possibly by a Christmas without holly."

"Pine boughs for the rest of us, men," the marquess said. "Toby and Ben, haul a sled apiece, if you please. Mrs. Easton, if you would care to stay here, we should not be long. The snow is very deep among the trees."

"And miss the fun?" she said, smiling at him. "Never."

And they waded off through the deeper snow toward a grove of pine trees. Half an hour later their sleds were laden and their arms too, and they were at leisure to look about them for signs of the other groups.

Judith gasped suddenly. "Fire!" she cried. "Someming is on fire. Rupert! Kate!" There was panic in her voice. She started forward.

The marquess laid a firm hand on her arm and chuckled. "A cozy fire inside a gamekeeper's cottage," he said. "The children all know about it and visit it as often as they may. It is Rockford's group at a guess. I don't believe either Mrs. Harrison or Cornwell would allow the children to indulge themselves when there is work to be done. But one group is enjoying some warmth and some indolence."

Two young boys in their group whooped with delight and made off through the deep snow in the direction of the line of smoke.

"Kate and Rupert among them," she said, relaxing beneath his grip. "They are with Mr. Rockford's group."

"They will all be punished," he said. "They will miss the fight and be as furious as a pack of devils."

"Fight?" Judith asked.

"Snowball fight," he said. "We cannot expect all work and no play from such a large number of children, now can

we? A good fight is what everyone needs as a reward before we start back to the house."

"Oh, dear," she said.

But everyone else, emerging from the trees at about the same time, greeted the idea with wild enthusiasm.

"Men and girls against ladies and boys," the marquess announced. "Five minutes to prepare and then battle in earnest."

He grinned as the two teams lined up a suitable distance apart and began feverish preparations. The boys on the other side were building impressive ramparts and snow banks, which would be largely useless as they would all be unable to resist coming out in front of them to fight when the action started anyway. His girls were busy making a reserve supply of snowballs.

The missing party, newly warmed from their rest at the gamekeeper's cottage, arrived before the five minutes were at an end and joined in the preparations with enthusiasm.

"Time up!" the marquess yelled when the five minutes were over, and the air rained snowballs. There were squeals and yells and bellows and giggles, and sure enough, his girls had the early advantage as the boys abandoned their fortifications and were forced to make their weapons while defending themselves against continuous attack.

Miss Easton, he saw, flanked by two of the larger boys, who were certainly as large as she, was engaged in a duel with Spence. Mrs. Harrison was defending herself against attack from a group of her girls. Rockford, laughing and clearly enjoying himself, was allowing a group of little boys, including Rupert, to score unanswered hits on his person.

And then a large snowball shattered directly against the marquess's face.

"Oh, no," Judith Easton yelled as his eyes locked on her. She was laughing helplessly. "I have lamentably poor aim. I was throwing at that little boy who just hit me." She pointed at Trevor.

He bent and scooped up a large handful of snow, not taking his eyes from her despite the fact that two more snowballs hit him, one on the shoulder and one on the knee. He molded his snowball very deliberately.

"You would not," she called to him as he strode toward her, and she stooped down to scoop snow harmlessly in his direction and then turned to dart behind the snow hills thrown up by her boys.

He followed her there. She was still laughing. And looking damned beautiful, he thought. He would not allow himself for the moment to think anything else. He was enjoying himself.

"Don't, please," she said, setting her hands palm out in front of her. She could not stop laughing. "Please don't."

He reached out with one booted foot, caught her smartly behind the ankles, jerked forward, and sent her sprawling back into the snow bank. Beyond the bank there was a great deal of noise and a great barrage of snowballs still flying in both directions.

"How clumsy of you," he said, stretching down his free hand for one of hers. "Do allow me to help you up, ma'am.''

"Oh, most unfair," she said. "I am going to be caked with snow."

"In future," he said, drawing her to her feet when she set her hand in his, "you must be careful about allowing your feet to skid on the snow." He drew her all the way against him and held her there with one arm about her. "You could easily break a leg, you know."

The laughter was dying from her face, only inches from his. A great awareness was taking its place in her eyes. He could feel his heart beating in his throat and in his ears. He moved his head an inch closer to hers, his eyes straying down to her mouth. Her lips were parted, he saw.

The temptation was great. Almost overpowering. One taste while everyone's attention was distracted and they were partially shielded anyway by the snow bank. One taste, though it was far too early for such familiarity. But he had a plan to follow. A plan that called for greater patience and caution.

"Revenge can be very sweet sometimes," he told her in a low voice, keeping his eyes on her mouth as he brought

his hand from behind her and pressed his snowball very firmly against her face.

"Argh!" she said, sputtering snow.

He laughed and turned away. "Time up!" he yelled. "I have penetrated the enemy defenses, as you can all see, and declare the men and girls to be the winners."

Shrieks of delight from the girls and high-pitched insults hurled at the boys in place of snow. Loud protests and bloodcurdling threats from the boys.

"Back to the house," the marquess said. "If we cannot have luncheon and rehearse for the Christmas pageant soon enough, there will be no time for skating on the lake afterward."

Skating! The word was like a magic wand to set everyone scurrying in the direction of home. Most of the children had skated the year before during a cold spell and remembered their bruises and their triumphs with an eagerness to have them renewed.

"I can skate like the wind," Rupert Easton told the marquess, falling into step beside him and reaching up a hand to be held, forgetting for the moment that he was six years old and a big boy.

"Then I will have to see proof this afternoon," Lord Denbigh said, taking the hand in his. Judith, he could see, was walking with Rockford. He, inevitably, was doing all the talking.

The marquess was still regretting that he had not after all kissed her before making use of his snowball.