The Earl’s Mistletoe Bride

Chapter Fourteen

A fine carriage was bowling down the drive towards the house. Beth automatically took half a step back from her sitting room window, even though she knew that the passengers could not possibly see her up here. She did not know which guests these were, and she could not go downstairs to find out. The Dowager’s instructions had been absolute on the point. Her house guests expected to be shown to their bedchambers, so that they could refresh themselves and change their dress before they came down to greet their hostess.

Beth moved closer to the window in order to see down to the sweep where these first guests were about to alight. She had to stand on tiptoe and crane her neck to catch even a glimpse of what was happening.

As she stretched, warm breath shivered across her taut skin. The scent of horse and leather and warm man surrounded her, creating vivid, sensual pictures in her mind. Her body came alive instantly, tingling at the prospect of being touched. She felt herself softening, waiting.

‘Good morning, my lady,’ Jon said softly, his breath caressing the back of her neck. He was standing just behind her, almost kissing her skin with his words.

Beth took a deep breath, reminding herself sternly that Jon would not be feeling any of the excitement that was coursing through her veins. Outside her bedchamber, he was always perfectly correct and infuriatingly distant. She fixed a polite smile on her face and turned. ‘Good morning, my lord. I did not hear you come in. Did you enjoy your ride?’

Her movement forced him to take a step back. ‘I…’ There was something in his eyes, a hint of sparkling mischief, that Beth had not seen before, but his smile was as polite as her own. ‘Yes, it was splendid, thank you. The weather is remarkably fine for so late in the year. Indeed, you could-’ He stopped short.

Had he been going to ask Beth to ride with him? Her heart began to beat even faster.

A noise from below caught his attention. He ushered her closer to the window so that they could both see down. ‘Your first house guests, my dear.’ His voice was neutral, matter-of-fact. As it always was in public.

A small, rotund gentleman climbed down from the carriage, and turned to help an even smaller, rounder lady. They made for the door without waiting for the third passenger, a much younger lady who stepped down and stood for a moment, gazing round her. She was tall, but she lacked the elegance of movement that Beth always associated with tall ladies. In fact, there was even something a little awkward about her.

‘Sir James and Lady Rothbury, and Miss Rothbury,’ Jon murmured.

‘They have only the one daughter?’

‘Yes, but there is also a son. Rather wild. He declined the invitation. I will admit that I was glad to hear it. As it is, we must make do with the daughter who is not, I fear, the sharpest needle in the box.’

Beth stifled a shocked giggle. Goodness, he was becoming quite free with his opinions, even thought it was broad daylight and they were standing in the sitting room. Was this progress at last?

‘Look!’ Jon pointed down the long drive. In the distance, a second carriage could just be seen. ‘More guests, thank goodness. At least you will not have to entertain only the Rothburys, my dear. On their own, they can be something of a trial. They-’ He stopped to clear his throat. ‘Well now, if I am to help you to greet them all, I had better go and change my dress.’ He bowed slightly to Beth. ‘Excuse me. I shall be down to join you shortly.’ He strode through the door into his own bedchamber and closed it behind him. The confidences were at an end.

Beth hesitated for a moment. Should she wait for Jon? No, best to go downstairs so that she was already waiting in the drawing room when the first guests came down. The Rothburys might be the kind who could get changed in just a couple of shakes. It would not do for them, or for any of the guests, to find their hostess missing from her place.

She walked calmly into her bedchamber to check her appearance in front of the glass. Yes, she looked very well in her elegant silk morning gown. Jon had not commented upon it, but Beth knew the simple style suited her. Was that what had brought that stray sparkle to his eyes? Impossible to tell. She shook her head at her reflection, picked up her brightly patterned shawl and made her way along the corridor and down the sweeping staircase to the entrance hall.

Her timing was as wrong as could be. She arrived in the hallway just as the latest guests were shown into the house. How on earth had they arrived so quickly? They must have sprung their horses all the way down the drive. For a second, she stood stock still, horrified, searching for an avenue of escape. There was none.

‘My woman will direct the unloading of the luggage and- Oh!’ As the butler moved aside, the new arrival caught sight of Beth, marooned at the foot of the stairs. This rather gaunt lady lifted her chin, narrowed her eyes, and looked down a very long nose at Beth before dropping the smallest of curtsies. ‘Lady Portbury, I presume?’

Beth returned the newcomer’s tiny curtsy. She added a polite smile, too, since this unknown lady was her guest. ‘Welcome to Portbury Abbey, ma’am. I shall not attempt to detain you, for I am sure you will wish to rest after your journey. Goodrite will show you to your chamber.’

‘Thank you, my lady. We shall be-’ The newcomer frowned suddenly and pursed her lips. ‘How strange! Forgive me, ma’am, but have we met before? I was told not and yet… You seem familiar, somehow.’

It was all Beth could do to maintain a semblance of composure. Did this woman come from her past? If so, what did she know? Beth forced herself to glide forward a few steps and to smile condescendingly. ‘I think not, ma’am. I hope I should not have been so impolite as to have forgotten you if we had.’ She shook her head a little, to complete the effect.

‘Er…um, no. Of course not. Forgive me, I was clearly thinking of someone else. Pray excuse me, ma’am.’ She hurried towards the stairs.

Goodrite turned to one of the footmen. ‘Bring Mrs Berncastle’s valises to the yellow bedchamber,’ he said deliberately, ensuring that Beth would hear the lady’s name. ‘And be quick about it.’

Beth walked along the corridor to the morning room, trying not to look as though she were escaping. Berncastle. An unusual name, to be sure, but it seemed totally unfamiliar. Oh, why could she not remember? And what did Mrs Berncastle really know?

Quite possibly nothing at all, for where would Beth have met such a rich society lady? Beth had certainly been poor before she arrived in Fratcombe. Poor women did not mix with the likes of Mrs Berncastle.

Should she warn Jon? No, she would say nothing of this to anyone, for even if Mrs Berncastle had some lingering suspicions, she would never embarrass her hostess by giving the least hint. Such an insult could lead to a speedy departure for the guest in question, and a scandal, besides. Mrs Berncastle had come to enjoy a Christmas house party. She would never take the risk of being asked to leave.

Beth resolved to put the encounter behind her and to spend the rest of the day concentrating on welcoming more of her guests.

‘Your ladyship, I have such news!’ Hetty gasped the next morning. She dumped the ewer of hot water by the basin and turned, her face full of animation.

Beth straightened the wrapper over her nightrail and assumed a stern expression. ‘Do you mean news, Hetty, or gossip? You know that you are forbidden to spread gossip in this house.’

‘No, truly it is news, m’lady.’ Before Beth could say a word more, Hetty burst out, ‘His lordship has given notice to Mr Vernon.’

Beth tried to frown the girl down. What, after all, was so exciting about the departure of Jon’s top-lofty valet? Now that almost all the guests had arrived, Hetty should have better things to do. Beth certainly did.

‘But that is not the real news, m’lady. His lordship has sent for his old army batman to take Mr Vernon’s place. I’m told that her ladyship-his lordship’s lady mother, I mean-is fit to be tied.’

‘Now that,’ Beth said sternly, ‘is definitely gossip.’ It was, indeed, but Beth recognised that it was also likely to be true. She had found out that on Jon’s return from Spain, the Dowager had urged him to take on a top-o’-the-trees valet. Jon must have shared her view, for he had paid off his army batman, and engaged Vernon. It seemed that he had now changed his mind. But what did it mean?

No doubt the servants knew, but Beth could not possibly question Hetty, not after giving the girl such stern warnings about the evils of gossip. Did she dare to ask Jon himself? Well, why not? They were man and wife, after all, and he had asked Beth to run his household. He should have told her that he had engaged a new valet. He should have told her.

Since it was still very early, he would be downstairs in his library, working. Later, once the guests’ breakfast was over, he would be spending his time entertaining the gentlemen, but for the moment he would be alone.

She would finish dressing and then she would go downstairs to Jon’s library and ask him what he had done. And why.

The weak morning sunshine was struggling to illuminate Jon’s library. If his desk had not been near the window, he would have needed candles in order to work. At least there was not much correspondence to deal with. Possibly the last two days’ bad weather had delayed the post?

The door opened to admit the butler. ‘Miss Mountjoy has called and begs the favour of an interview with your lordship. She is waiting in the yellow saloon.’

So early? Jon continued to write. ‘Let her wait. In fifteen minutes’ time, you may invite her to join me here.’ He glanced up just in time to see a flicker of surprise cross the butler’s face. No, it was not how the Earl of Portbury was wont to treat a lady guest, but Jon was not at all sure that Miss Mountjoy deserved either title. He hurried to finish the instructions for his steward at Fratcombe. There was still much to be done there to remedy the damage done by his brother. George had a lot to answer for.

After some minutes, Jon sanded and folded the paper ready for dispatch. He checked the time by the long case clock. Any moment now.

Seconds later the door opened. ‘Miss Mountjoy to see your lordship,’ the butler intoned.

Jon rose politely but did not acknowledge his visitor. Instead, he held out the letter. ‘See that this is sent to my steward at Fratcombe Manor immediately, Goodrite. That will be all.’

As the door closed, Jon turned to Miss Mountjoy and favoured her with a cursory bow. ‘There was something you wished to discuss, Miss Mountjoy?’ He waved her to the chair opposite him. With a swift curtsy, she crossed the floor in an angry swish of silken skirts and took her seat. Jon leaned back in his chair, calmly steepled his fingers and set his facial expression to bland. Then he waited.

‘I imagine, Lord Portbury, that you were expecting me to call? In the circumstances.’

Jon raised an eyebrow. Otherwise, he did not move. The loud tick of the long case clock was the only sound to be heard in the room.

‘I have come to tell you, Lord Portbury, that I will not be abused and manipulated in this outrageous fashion.’

‘Outrageous, is it?’

‘You know very well that it is. When you settled that annuity upon me, and gave me the cottage to rent, it was in response to your wife’s last request. It was a sacred trust, yet now you would renege upon it.’

Jon allowed his hands to drop softly to the desk. ‘I have reneged on no promise, Miss Mountjoy,’ he said carefully. ‘Your annuity remains in place. Your cottage, however, was a mistake, about which I was not consulted. It is worth a rather higher rent than you are paying. Therefore, as my agent informed you, the rent will increase from the next quarter day.’

‘To a level which you know I cannot afford!’

‘That, ma’am, is not my concern. You have your annuity. You may always move to cheaper accommodation.’

‘You have ensured that there is none available, Lord Portbury. You take me for a fool, but I know you intend to force me to leave the district.’

‘If you know it, ma’am, why are you here?’ Jon said silkily.

‘I have come to tell you that I have no intention of quitting King’s Portbury,’ she snapped, ‘or the cottage I am renting from you. If you try to force me out, I shall fight you. I am not without ammunition, as you should be aware.’

Jon leant forward a little and allowed a sardonic smile to curl the corner of his mouth. ‘Indeed? Perhaps you would enlighten me? I do own your cottage, after all.’

‘I cannot stop you from evicting me, but I can ensure that your reputation, and that of your house, is destroyed if you do. If you proceed against me, I shall tell the whole world about your first wife’s preferences and why the Earl of Portbury was unable to sire an heir.’

Jon leaned back once more and sighed theatrically. ‘What a fascinating piece of gossip that will make, especially once your own role, as my late wife’s paramour, is made plain to all. I fancy your reputation might suffer at least as much as mine. Do you imagine you would be received after that?’

‘It is a price I would gladly pay for a victory over you, my lord. After all, I could always remove from the district later, perhaps even change my name. You, the great Earl of Portbury, have no such escape route. Once the world learns that Alicia preferred me to you, you will be the butt of every scandal-sheet in the land.’

Jon nodded slowly, as if considering her threat. ‘Do tell me about this escape route. If you move to another district, precisely what will you live on?’

She smiled then, for the first time, a confident, knowing smile. ‘Unlike the rental of my cottage, you cannot change my annuity, my lord. It was my deathbed gift from Alicia, a token of her regard. You merely executed her wishes. I find it gratifying that, even if I ruin your reputation, you will still be obliged to maintain me.’

‘Ah, I see. You believe your annuity renders you invulnerable.’ He pushed back his chair and rose. With one fleeting sideways glance at her, he strode across to the window and stood staring out at the garden with his hands clasped behind his back. ‘You know, Miss Mountjoy,’ he said evenly, ‘you really should read legal documents with more care.’ He heard her sharp intake of breath, but he did not turn. ‘If you had done so, you might have noticed the character clause I inserted in your annuity. It states, quite clearly, that if the beneficiary should lose her character, whether by criminal conviction or otherwise, her right to any payment will cease. I would wager a considerable sum that a woman who admitted to having a lewd relationship with the late Countess of Portbury would forfeit her character in the process.’ He turned slowly. ‘Shall we put the matter to the test?’

Miss Mountjoy’s hands had become claws, gripping the arms of her chair. Her face and neck had turned grey. In the space of moments, she had shrunk from a handsome woman to a desiccated husk. ‘You are a devil! I hope you rot in hell!’

‘And you are-’ He gave a snort of mirthless laughter and shook his head. ‘No, we will not discuss that. So…what do you propose to do now?’

‘What choice do I have?’

‘None.’

‘You wish me to leave King’s Portbury?’

‘I do.’

‘Very well. I will go. I will leave before the next quarter day.’

‘That seems an eminently sensible solution. And the other matter?’

She seemed to shrink even more. ‘I will say nothing. You leave me no choice.’

‘Quite so, ma’am. Let me add, however, that if any rumours should arise, from any quarter, about the conduct of my late wife, the annuity payable to Miss Louisa Mountjoy-wherever she is and whatever name she may trade under-will cease on the spot. Do I make myself clear?’

‘Yes,’ she said, in a small, crushed voice. ‘There will be no rumours, and no gossip. I shall not trouble you again.’

Jon crossed to pull the bell, but thought better of it. His first marriage had been a disaster, largely because of Louisa Mountjoy’s liaison with his wife. But, even so, he could not parade her defeat before the servants. ‘You are distressed, ma’am, which is understandable.’ He could not help his icy tone. The woman would have ruined him if she could. ‘I will leave you here to regain your composure. My butler will return in a quarter of an hour to show you out. I suggest we do not meet again.’ With a curt nod, he strode to the door and left her.

In the corridor outside, he almost fell over his wife. ‘Beth! I…I did not expect to see you down so early.’ She was looking remarkably alluring, in a gown of palest pink trimmed with flounces. Another one of those expensive fripperies he had encouraged her to buy in London. They all became her much too well.

She dropped him a curtsy. ‘Good morning, my lord. I wonder if I might have a word with you?’ She sounded unusually determined.

Jon wondered what had caused her change of mood. Last night, when they had been together in her chamber, she had been so soft, so yielding… Not at all like this stern young matron.

‘Might we go into your library? Where we may speak in private?’

That pulled him up short. ‘Er…no. Not the library. It is not- That is to say, Miss Mountjoy is in there.’

Beth stiffened and grew a little pale.

‘We were discussing a…a matter of business. She will be leaving in a few moments, once she has recovered-’ This would not do. He was tying himself in knots, and for no good reason. He refused to feel guilty about what he had just done to Miss Mountjoy. She deserved it all, and more.

Jon smiled down at Beth and tucked her hand under his arm. ‘The library is too gloomy this morning. Let us leave it to Miss Mountjoy. We can be private in the conservatory, and make the most of the light, besides. Madam, will you walk?’

Beth held herself a little apart as they walked through the house to the conservatory. She did not remove her hand from his arm-that would be much too confrontational-but she certainly could not relax into his touch.

Miss Mountjoy! He had been alone in his library with Louisa Mountjoy! What on earth had they been doing at this time of the day? And why did she have to be left alone there? To recover? From what?

The pictures racing through Beth’s imagination were far from comfortable. Although she had no reason to suspect that Jon and the Mountjoy woman were lovers now, she could not banish the suspicion that they might have been lovers once. Had she come to see him this morning, by appointment, before any of the guests was about? Before his wife was about? It did not bear thinking of. Beth fancied Miss Mountjoy was capable of anything, even seducing a married man.

In total silence, they walked through to the conservatory where Beth let Jon usher her inside. He had been right. By comparison with the rest of the house, it was full of light. It was warm, too, but the myriad of green leaves made it seem cool, and very restful to the senses. Jon pushed aside some of the overhanging branches and led her through to a small clear space where they could be private. There was a white painted bench to one side, but he did not invite her to sit. He simply stopped and faced her.

Now that they were alone, and the moment had come, Beth felt her courage ebbing away. How had she ever thought she could challenge Jon? She struggled to put a simple sentence together, but no words came.

‘You asked for a private word?’ His tone was gentler than she had expected. Was that because he was guilty about Miss Mountjoy?

The thought of that obnoxious woman in Jon’s embrace gave Beth a degree of courage that surprised her. ‘I understand you have engaged a new valet, sir.’ The words came out in a rush. ‘As mistress of your household, I should have preferred to learn of such a change from you, rather than from the servants.’

He flushed. ‘Good God! First my mother, and now my wife! Since when do I need permission from the women of my household to decide upon my own manservant?’

He was angry. Yet Beth was beginning to know him well enough to suspect that this show of temper was partly a cover for his embarrassment. He must know he was in the wrong over this.

‘Might I ask why you have decided to make the change, sir?’ Beth asked innocently.

Her tone had its effect. He took a deep breath and, when he spoke again, his anger had been replaced by gruffness, as if he were explaining a lesson to a rather stupid child and working hard to control justifiable impatience. ‘I no longer have need of Vernon’s skills. He should serve a single man, the kind of employer who wishes to cut a figure in society. All well and good when I was just returned from Spain, but no longer.’

He reached for Beth’s hand and, to her surprise, raised it to his lips for a gallant kiss. Was that by way of apology for his show of bad temper?

‘Now that I am married, I plan to spend more time in the country.’ His voice was almost normal again. ‘There is much to do here, and at the other estates. A country gentleman has no need of a man like Vernon. Joseph’s skills will be more than adequate, even when I am in town.’

‘You call him “Joseph”?’ Beth said, surprised into betraying herself. Was Jon’s relationship with Joseph as close as Beth’s with Hetty?

He shrugged. ‘We spent a long time together in the Peninsula. For some reason, everyone there used his given name. I fell into the way of it. I accept that it is improper, but- Well, let us see what happens once he has arrived.’

Jon watched the play of emotions crossing Beth’s expressive face. She was clearly intrigued by what he had done and would want to learn more of his relationship with Joseph. What would she think if she learned he had done it for her? His mother had taken it almost as a personal insult. She had even accused Jon of abandoning his station in life. But Jon’s plan had worked. The Dowager was now training her fire on Jon rather than on Beth. Her disdain for Beth’s choice of lady’s maid had been forgotten in her anger at her son’s deliberate flouting of the standards she had instilled in him.

Jon allowed himself an inward smile. He had promised his mother he would deal with the situation. And he had.

At that moment, he became aware that he was still holding Beth’s hand. Shocked at his own weakness, he dropped it. Too abruptly.

Beth flinched as if from a blow. ‘Is Miss Mountjoy ailing?’ Beth’s voice was cold. ‘Perhaps I should offer my help if she is feeling unwell.’

‘I am sure she will have recovered her composure by now.’ That was the truth, but it was not enough to restore Beth’s confiding mood. If he wanted that, he would have to unbend a little. ‘I must tell you frankly, Beth, that I do not think she would welcome an offer of assistance from either of us.’ There, it was done.

Beth’s eyebrows rose and her eyes widened in apparent disbelief.

In for a penny… ‘I do not wish to malign the lady. She was Alicia’s friend and they had…um…a great regard for each other. However, I find Miss Mountjoy’s continued visits here excessive.’

Beth glanced up at him in surprise and then quickly looked away. Strange. Surely Beth did not actually like the woman? There had been no sign that she did. Given the woman’s history with Alicia, Jon would much prefer to keep his wife and Miss Mountjoy as far apart as possible.

He drew himself up and said, ‘Miss Mountjoy will be leaving King’s Portbury before the next quarter day. I- She has decided that this area is no longer to her taste.’ He had betrayed himself, he realised. There had been too much venom in his voice.

But perhaps not? Beth’s shoulders were no longer so tense, and there was the beginning of a smile on her delicious mouth. The temptation was just too much, especially in a place like this where they could not be observed. Jon dragged her into his arms and began to kiss her.

She stiffened, but only for a second. Then she melted into his embrace and returned his kiss with more skill than he had thought she possessed. This was not the innocent nymph of the Fratcombe folly. His wife had become a practised and eager seductress.

He knew he should break the kiss, put her from him so that they could resume their proper, public relationship, but her response was so passionate that he could not. Just a little longer exploring her luscious mouth, stroking her hair, her skin, the curve of her breast…Just a little more of the scent and taste of her…

She groaned from deep in her belly and put her hands to the waistband of his pantaloons, fumbling for his buttons. In a moment, there would be no going back.

‘No, Beth.’ He did not recognise his own voice as he pulled away from her. Since the day of their marriage, he had been telling himself to keep his distance from her. Closeness made a man vulnerable, and weak. And closeness to a woman was the most dangerous of all.

She had blushed scarlet. The fingers that had been trying to undress him just a moment ago were now twisting together in embarrassment. She was mortified by what had happened between them.

It had been his mistake as much as hers. ‘Sit down, my dear,’ he said, as gently as he could.

She crossed a little unsteadily to the bench and took her seat. She looked up at him expectantly. Did she think he was about to join her? Poor Beth, marriage had taught her much, but she did not fully understand what drove a man.

He smiled and shook his head. ‘No, best if I stand,’ he said, keeping his tone light. He would focus on practical things until this interview was over. And then he would avoid Beth for the rest of the day.

‘Now that all our guests are here,’ he began, but stopped when she shook her head. ‘I beg pardon. I thought that-’

‘The Reverend and Mrs Aubrey will not arrive for a few days yet. Do you not recall? The rector wanted to be sure that his curate was not taking on too much of the Christmas burden.’

Jon had completely forgotten the Aubreys. Extraordinary that he should have done so, when he owed them so much. His preoccupation with his wife must be affecting his brain. He took a deep breath and began again. ‘Now that almost all the guests are here, we can direct the servants to bring in the greenery to decorate the rooms. The Yule log will wait until Christmas Eve, of course, but there is plenty of mistletoe to amuse the younger guests.’

Mistletoe. The word hit Beth like a blow. It registered vaguely in her mind that Jon was still talking to her, but she could no longer hear what he was saying. Mistletoe. The word was pounding in her head like the crack of doom. With mistletoe in the house, something terrible would happen. She could not explain it, but she knew, for a certainty, that it would be so.

She sprang to her feet and ran for the door.

‘Beth? What on earth is the matter? Beth!’ Too late. She was gone in a flurry of pale pink skirts. Jon slumped on to the bench where she had been sitting just moments before and tried to piece together what had just happened. He had been talking about the Christmas festivities, the Yule log, the mistletoe. He had warned her that he would be avoiding the mistletoe. Their kisses could easily become too passionate for any room but a bedchamber. It had happened here, only moments ago. If it happened in front of their guests, everyone would be mortally embarrassed.

Had she run from him because he refused to kiss her in public?