A Regency Christmas Treat: Moonlight and Mistletoe / A Mistletoe Masquerade
How could she not have realised yesterday? Had she been so overwhelmed by the house, so frightened by his sudden knocking? The man standing in front of her was not just extremely attractive—quite simply, he was her ideal. She had no need to do more than to look into those dark blue eyes with their crinkle of laughter lines at the corners, the lurking mixture of intelligence, humour and frank admiration in their depths, to feel a surge of heat in her blood and an indefinable sense of recognition.
He took her hand and her pulse began to thud so that she thought he must have felt it as he touched her. Hastily she retrieved her hand. ‘My lord, may I make known to you my companion, Miss Prudhome?’ He inclined his head with a smile and Prudy produced a gawky curtsy and an unintelligible twitter. Hester sighed inwardly and gestured towards the other chair. ‘Please, my lord, will you not sit down?’
Goodness, he was tall, and broad and…male. Not good looking, she decided, for his nose had definitely been broken, the planes of his face were strong rather than beautiful, his dark blond hair was too long…
‘Harrumph.’
Hester started. How long had she been staring at her visitor? Not too long, surely, for he did not appear discommoded. Jethro was standing by the door, looking abashed. His intended quiet throat-clearing had emerged as rather more of a foghorn than a tactful signal from a butler.
‘Ackland, please fetch us some refreshment. Would you care to take tea, my lord? Or perhaps some Madeira?’
‘Tea would be delightful, thank you, Miss Lattimer.’ She nodded to Jethro, who effaced himself silently.
The earl’s voice exactly suited him, she decided. So often a voice was a sad disappointment, but his was deep, pleasant and carried a hint of authority. He was watching her with composure, those blue eyes resting on her face, betraying no sign that he recognised her from the day before. To refer to it or not? Suddenly Hester felt she would make herself ridiculous in his estimation if she was missish about this.
‘I am sorry I could not receive you yesterday when you called,’ she began. ‘We had only just arrived and it was necessary to do more than I had anticipated to set the house to rights.’
‘My sister frequently tells me that the servant shortage is a difficulty,’ he observed urbanely. Yes, no doubt about it, he did recognise her as that dishevelled ‘maid’.
‘Oh, it is not that, my lord. I have chosen to bring only a skeleton staff from London and I will hire locally. But just now we are a small household.’ Hopefully that sounded as though she was used to commanding a staff of four times the number.
‘But, until then, it is intolerable to have to put up with cobwebs?’ The corner of his mouth quirked and Hester could feel her own twitching in response. There was nothing for it but to be frank and trust to his goodwill.
‘Indeed. It was most remiss of me to have opened the door without thinking. Goodness knows what you must have thought.’ Now that was a foolish thing to have said, inviting him to agree with her.
‘I thought that the new arrival in the village had excellent taste in domestic servants.’ Now what did he mean by that? Surely not that he considered her attractive? She found she had no objection to the earl holding that opinion, but for him to say so was the outside of enough.
‘I should have called my butler,’ she said repressively.
‘Your butler? Surely you do not mean that youth who showed me in?’
‘But certainly, my lord. I should tell you that Ackland has the intention to become the best butler in England,’ Hester retorted warmly as the door opened. ‘Ah, thank you, Ackland, please put the tray here. I was just telling his lordship that you have great ambitions to rise in your profession.’
‘To be the best butler in England, I understand.’ The earl half-turned in his seat to regard the gangling youth, showing no sign he had noticed the freckles, the pimples or the fact that the coat sleeves were already half an inch too short. Hester, who had been holding her breath, expecting him to snub the lad and wishing she had kept her mouth shut, could have kissed him.
‘Yes, my lord.’ Jethro blushed, but managed to keep his face and voice in order.
‘Well, Ackland, I have to tell you that the best butler in England is Mr Parrott and he is in my employ.’
‘Here, my lord? In this village?’ Now he sounded fourteen and not the seventeen Hester guessed him to be.
‘Certainly he is here. I shall mention you to him; perhaps one day, when he is not too busy, he will unbend enough to give you some advice on your chosen profession.’
Jethro had gone so white Hester was certain he was about to swoon. ‘That is most kind of his lordship, Ackland. You may go now.’ Bless him, his feet would not touch the ground for a week.
‘That was most kind of you, my lord,’ she said as the door closed behind the youth. ‘He is so very serious about this, despite his age. A single lady’s household is no training ground for him and I suppose he should be seeking a footman’s post as a start.’
‘But you need him here,’ the earl said with a smile. ‘Let us see what Parrott advises.’ He saw the question in her eyes and nodded. ‘Yes, I will make sure he spends some time with the lad.’
Hester poured the tea and wondered when her visitor was going to broach the reason for his call. Surely it was not purely social? ‘Is the countess with you, my lord?’ she enquired, passing the tea cup.
‘My mother died some months ago.’ Her eyes must have flickered over the dark blue long-tailed coat he wore, for he added, ‘She abhorred mourning, so after the first month we all left it off. I do not feel that wearing unrelieved black for months on end helps one remember the departed any more fondly.’
‘No, indeed,’ Hester agreed. ‘I myself—’ She broke off. This was one area she did not wish to explore.
‘You have suffered a recent loss too?’ His voice was sympathetic and she almost said more than she should.
‘Yes. I was a companion to an invalid for almost two years. The end was not unexpected.’ If that left the false impression that she had been the companion to an elderly lady, then so much the better.
‘It does not lessen the loss.’ He put down his cup and saucer and recrossed his long legs. ‘That was most refreshing. Miss Lattimer, I cannot pretend that this is a social call; I wish to discuss with you a matter of business.’
‘Business?’ Hester made no effort to hide her surprise.
‘Perhaps I should address myself to your man of affairs? If you would give me his direction, I will be happy to do so, although I feel this is a matter upon which he would immediately have to consult you in any case.’
‘Then perhaps you can broach the matter and I will refer you to him if necessary.’
‘Very well. Miss Lattimer, I wish to purchase your house.’
Chapter Three
‘You wish to purchase my house?’ Hester echoed blankly. ‘Which house?’
‘Why, this one.’ His lips quirked again. This time Hester felt no inclination to smile back. ‘Do you have another?’
‘No! And I have absolutely no intention of selling the Moon House. I have only just bought it myself and I have been resident in it but one night, my lord.’
‘I am aware of that, which is why I have called so close upon your arrival. I have no wish to disrupt your life, but you will not have had time to grow attached to the place and, as your heavy luggage has not yet arrived, I imagine you are far from settled.’ He sat back more comfortably into the chair, his hands clasped, a picture of ease.
Hester was beginning to move from bemusement to anger. He was keeping a close eye upon her movements indeed! ‘I am firmly attached to this house, my lord, which is why I bought it.’
‘I agree it is a very pretty place,’ he acknowledged sympathetically. ‘You show admirable taste in selecting it, Miss Lattimer.’ Hester narrowed her eyes, she was not going to be charmed, patronised or cozened out of the Moon House, it was ridiculous for him to try. ‘I will put another house at your disposal until you have decided where you want to live. I have houses in London—’
‘I have just moved from London.’
‘Or Oxford, if you prefer another town. Or I am sure my agents can find you a country home you would be charmed with.’
‘But I am already charmed with this one, my lord. I have no need, no desire and absolutely no intention of moving from it.’ Hester took a reviving sip of tea and set her cup down with emphasis. Why did she feel Guy Westrope would quite happily take root here in her drawing room and persist until she gave in out of sheer weariness? The flame of attraction she had felt for him was rapidly becoming quenched under a douche of puzzlement and irritation. And he was so uncompromisingly large and male it was very difficult to ignore him.
‘I will naturally pay you well in excess of your purchase price to compensate for the inconvenience, and my agents will undertake all the arrangements for you.’
Lord Buckland was regarding her calmly as though he had not the slightest doubt that she would eventually agree with whatever he wanted. Presumably if one was a wealthy, titled, personable aristocrat with one’s fair share of self-esteem, one normally experienced little difficulty in obtaining what one desired. It was time he learned this was not an inevitable state of affairs.
‘My lord, I have said no, and no I mean.’ That appeared to make no impression. ‘Why do you want the Moon House so badly?’ she asked abruptly and was rewarded by a sudden flash of emotion in those blue eyes. Ah, so he was not as unreadable as perhaps he liked to think.
‘I am not at liberty to say, Miss Lattimer. Might I ask why you are so attached to a house you scarcely know?’
‘I am perfectly at liberty to tell you that, my lord,’ Hester said, matching her cool tones to his. ‘But I have absolutely no intention of doing so.’
His expression this time was of amusement and, she thought, a grudging respect. ‘Touché. I shall just have to see if I can change your mind, Miss Lattimer. Doubtless some of the inconveniences of the house will become apparent over the next few days as the first charm wears off. All old houses have their…peculiarities.’
A little shiver went through Hester. The dressing room— could that be described as a peculiarity? To hide her sudden apprehension she continued to attack. ‘And meanwhile you intend to camp out in that hideous barracks of a house opposite while you attempt to wear me down?’
‘How do you know that is not a favourite family home?’ he enquired, steepling his fingers and regarding her over the top of them. Hester could not help but admire their length and the restrained taste of the heavy gold signet that was their only adornment.
‘Because I looked at your card and then I checked the Peerage,’ she retorted tartly, dragging her eyes away from his hands.
He nodded in acknowledgement of her hit. ‘Most wise of you, Miss Lattimer. But my hideous barracks has one great advantage.’
‘And what might that be?’
‘The view is so much better from my windows than from yours.’ He got to his feet with the natural elegance of a very fit man. ‘Thank you for the tea, ma’am. It was a pleasure meeting you.’
Exasperating man. How could she ever have thought him attractive?
Hester rose and reached out to tug the bell pull sharply. It resisted, then the whole thing came away in her hands, showering her with a light dusting of plaster and dead flies. Prudy gave a cry of alarm. Hester stood stock still, clutching the fraying rope and trying to resist the temptation to swipe at the dust covering her gown. It would be undignified and would most certainly make marks. Possibly the floor would open up and swallow her, but she doubted anything so helpful would occur.
The earl stepped forward, an immaculate white handkerchief in his hand. ‘Please allow me, Miss Lattimer, you have plaster dust on your lashes. It will be most painful if it goes in your eye.’
It appeared that nothing was going to stop him. With a noise like an cross kitten Hester closed her eyes and let him flick the fragments away. She opened her eyes again cautiously, only to find him still standing close in front of her.
‘Did you know your eyes change colour when you are angry?’ he asked conversationally. ‘It must be those gold flecks.’
Taken aback, Hester spoke without thinking. ‘They also change when I am happy.’
‘I am sure they reflect your every emotion,’ his lordship rejoined. ‘A fascinating phenomenon; I must watch out for it. Closely.’
A series of possible retorts ran through Hester’s brain, each one censored by good manners. She was going to hang on to the character of a gentlewoman if it killed her. ‘I am sure you would rapidly become bored, my lord. I imagine I have exhibited my full range of emotions this afternoon.’
‘Do you think so, Miss Lattimer?’ He regarded her quizzically. ‘I so very much hope you are wrong. Good afternoon. Miss Prudhome, ma’am.’
Jethro must have been standing with an ear to the door, listening for approaching footsteps, for he whisked it open before the earl reached it. ‘Your hat, my lord.’
The door closed and Hester plumped down in the chair, the unwise force raising a cloud of dust. ‘Infuriating man!’
‘Oh, Hester!’ Prudy hurried over and looked nervously from Hester’s stormy face to the white-spotted gown. ‘Shall I fetch the clothes brush?’ She hesitated. ‘Was the earl flirting with you?’
‘Yes, do please call Susan to fetch the clothes brush, but wait until his lordship has gone. And I am not sure what he was doing other than trying to throw me off balance so that I sell him this house. If he thinks he can do it by flirting, then he is in for a big surprise.’
‘Well, I do declare!’ Susan bustled in unsummoned as the sound of the front door closing reached them. ‘Look at the state of you, Miss Hester.’
‘Oh dear, oh dear!’ Miss Prudhome was staring at Hester aghast, her pince-nez crooked. ‘He was flirting with you and I should have stopped him, hinted him away. My first duty as a chaperon and I have failed!’
‘The nerve of the man! And him an earl too—is he one of those London rakes they talk about, Miss Hester?’
‘Probably,’ Hester said vaguely. ‘Fetch me the clothes brush, please, Susan. Prudy, do sit down and compose yourself, no harm has been done.’
The maid hastened out, leaving Hester regarding her own clasped hands. Slowly she raised them, bent at the wrists in a gesture to push away an unseen figure. He had been so close. Her palms tingled as though from the imagined friction of superfine cloth against skin.
Hester rubbed her palms together briskly. That cool, polite manner and then that moment of quite shocking intimacy as he had gazed into her eyes! His closeness—the implication of his words—if not his tone—was suggestive of his desire for even greater closeness. Hester shook herself; he had wanted to throw her off balance and he had succeeded, that was all. It was nothing she was not perfectly capable of dealing with. Why, then, did she feel so disturbed, so…apprehensive?
Jethro reappeared, looking pleased with himself, Susan at his heels. ‘That was very good, Jethro. Your first member of the aristocracy and you carried it off well. Oh, thank you, Susan, I think it will brush away easily enough.’
‘I didn’t drop his gloves nor nothing.’ Jethro met her eye and carefully corrected himself. ‘Or anything. Do you think his lordship meant it when he said I could talk to his butler? I mean, that wasn’t something he just said because he was making up to you, was it, Miss Hester?’
‘That is a most unsuitable expression, Jethro. I am sure Lord Buckland will be a man of his word.’ Again that ripple of apprehension lapped at her nerves. He had said that he wanted the Moon House and somehow that had seemed not a request, but a statement of what was going to happen. Surely he would not stoop to attempting to suborn her staff? Oh, if only Prudy would stop snivelling; she could hardly think.
Susan was whispering urgently to Jethro. When they realised she was looking at them they fell silent and regarded her apprehensively. Finally Jethro said, ‘Are you going to sell the house to him, Miss Hester?’
‘Certainly not. This is our home now and I am not going to be turned out of it by some town buck because he has a whim to own it.’ Their relief was palpable: already they were beginning to put down roots here.
Lord Buckland’s departure left a flat feeling of anticlimax behind it, but Hester could not find the energy to change her clothes again and tackle any more housework.
‘We will take the rest of the day as a holiday from housework,’ she announced briskly. ‘The heavy luggage should arrive tomorrow, so let us explore outside and look at the garden and yard. Yes, you too, Prudy, I know it is cold, but at least the rain has stopped. Some fresh air will do us all good.’
Susan ran for their bonnets and cloaks, Jethro swathed himself in a vast baize apron to protect his finery and they set to exploring the back yard.
Hector the cob watched them curiously over his stable door as they poked about in the outbuildings lining the yard, one or other of them emerging from time to time with a treasure from amidst the cobwebby jumble. A coal scuttle, a flower basket, a large bag of clothes pegs full of woodworm.
‘It is too dirty to move anything, and it is getting dark,’ Hester announced after they had investigated the last lean-to. ‘I think we must definitely find a man to do the rough work and clear the garden and perhaps two women to finish the cleaning in the house. If they prove suitable, perhaps we can retain one of them as cook. I do wish the vicar would call, then I can ask his wife if she could recommend anyone.’
Jethro cleared his throat meaningfully and Hester turned to find a portly man in clerical black regarding her benevolently over the folds of a heavy scarf. He doffed his hat. ‘Good day, madam, I trust you will excuse my calling without notice and at rather a late hour, but my parish duties have kept me somewhat occupied today. However, I could not let the sun set without welcoming a new parishioner to Winterbourne St Swithin. My name is Bunting, Charles Bunting, and I am the vicar of this parish.’
Hester spared one despairing thought for the state of her skirts after dragging the coal scuttle out, and held out her hand. ‘Good afternoon, Mr Bunting, how very kind of you to call. I am Hester Lattimer, this is my companion, Miss Prudhome.’
She was aware of his quick downward glance at her ringless left hand as he took her right.
‘Then welcome to St Swithin’s, ladies. I do hope you will be able to join us in church on Sunday; I have taken the liberty of bringing a small pamphlet with our hours of service to which I have appended a few notes on the history and antiquities of the parish. Others have been kind enough to say they found it of interest.’ Hester took the proffered leaflet with suitable expressions of thanks and assurances that her household would most certainly be attending services. ‘And is there any other matter with which I may assist you, ma’am?’
‘Well, yes, in fact there is. But please, do not let me keep you standing out here, Vicar, may I offer you refreshment? A cup of tea, perhaps?’
‘No, no, Miss Lattimer, thank you. I must decline the pleasure today as I have a sick parishioner to visit shortly. In what way may I assist?’
‘I was hoping that perhaps Mrs Bunting might recommend some reliable women for the heavy cleaning work and perhaps a man for clearing the grounds and outbuildings.’
‘But of course! My wife will be most pleased to call with some names; there are many deserving families hereabouts who would welcome the work. And as for the outdoor duties, there is no one better than Ben Aston—he does odd jobs all around the village. I will send him along to see you. Good day to you, ma’am.’ And with a neat doff of his broad-brimmed hat he was off into the twilight at a surprisingly quick pace for such a rotund gentleman.
As he reached the gate he stopped and hurried back. ‘Forgive me for asking, Miss Lattimer, but are you quite comfortable in the Moon House? If you are taking on staff, I assume you intend to stay? I only ask because it has been empty for so long and, well—’ He broke off in confusion. ‘I should not have said anything, the villagers do gossip so. Good day, Miss Lattimer.’
‘Well,’ Susan said roundly as he vanished from view, ‘and what did he mean by that, other than to make us all uncomfortable?’
‘I have not the slightest idea.’ Hester’s brow wrinkled. ‘I think he spoke without thinking, then realised that the direction he was taking led to something he could—or should— not discuss.’
‘But you are staying, Miss Hester?’ Jethro persisted. ‘I mean, you said you weren’t sure yet whether we could afford any staff?’
Hester suppressed a smile at Jethro’s unconscious use of ‘we’: he and Susan were ‘family’ indeed. ‘Certainly we are,’ she said firmly, marching towards the back door. ‘I do not care whether I can afford the extra help or not; I intend demonstrating to my lord the earl that I am here to stay and an increased household will make that point very plain.’
Chapter Four
‘No good, Miss Hester, this dratted stuff won’t shift. I’ll need a longer stepladder and some shears.’
Jethro jumped down from the folding steps set somewhat askew on the flags before the front door and glowered up at the mass of ivy, which obscured half of the façade of the house. ‘Why don’t we wait until that chap Vicar said he’d talk to comes round? I ’spect he’s got his own ladders.’
Hester stood beside him, hands on hips, head tilted back to regard the frosted green tangle. ‘Ben Aston? Yes, he can do all of the rest of the front, I just want to see what is over the door. There is something, you can just glimpse the odd bit of carving.’
She had woken that Saturday morning with a restless urge to imprint herself on the house that even the prospect of the heavy luggage arriving did not satisfy. Prudy had agreed to venture into the village with a shopping list of considerable length (looking as though she was setting forth for deepest Africa, as Jethro whispered to Susan). Susan had set to with a broom to sweep the front path and then polish the brass knocker and door handle and Hester had put Jethro to cutting back the mass of dead foliage that overhung the path and crowded the front door. With that clear, the weight of ivy over the transom was even more apparent.
Of course, finishing off cleaning inside and deciding where everything should go was far more important than getting cold and dirty in the wintry garden, but there was something very satisfying about being here in plain view of passers-by—whoever they might be—making it quite clear she intended to stay.
Hester had spared not a single glance at the house over the road, had ignored the creak of the gates opening earlier and even disregarded the sound of trotting hooves. Two horses, her sharp ears told her. The earl and a groom or two grooms out exercising his hacks?
If she were his lordship, she would stay well away from the Moon House for a day or so, build up the suspense over what his next tactic would be. Being able to see this so clearly was surprisingly no help in suppressing that suspense. When would the earl call, and what would his approach be? And how was she going to react to him if he tried to flirt with her again? She was annoyed that she was looking forward to the prospect. Doubtless it was simply the anticipation of an intellectual battle of wits.
‘Do you want me to try and find some shears, then, Miss Hester?’ Jethro was still waiting patiently, the tip of his nose red in the cold.
‘Yes, please.’
‘I’ll likely be some time.’ Jethro made off round the side of the house, leaving Hester trampling briskly on thoughts of Lord Buckland. She stepped closer to the door to try to see what peering up from beneath would reveal. Yes, there was definitely a carving.