A Seasonal Pursuit (Regency Christmas Brides #1)

Chapter Thirteen

CHAPTER 13

C hristmas Eve had always been a time of decoration and games for Rose in the past, and the occasional ball, but as they had all attended the ball at the assembly rooms the night before, Lady Standhope seemed content with letting the day be one of feasting and entertainment. There had been a brief trip for some to the church to set up decorations, but Rose had not gone along with them. Considerate as Mr. Alchurch was, she did not wish to pretend she cared how the place of worship was adorned for services in the morning.

It was a poor clergyman indeed who could make his parishioners more focused on the manner of decoration within the church than the sermon being given from its pulpit on Christmas Day.

While the church decorating had been going on, Rose had enjoyed some quiet reading in the expansive library at Fairview. It had been the most leisurely thing she had managed for the entire house party, and she loved the lack of outside participation required. She could ignore her own thoughts and lose herself in the world of her novel, and with every turned page, she felt her mind and body relax further and further still .

Perhaps if she spent the remainder of the house party reading, she would enjoy the entire thing more.

Truth be told, not all of it was dreadful. Webb had been a saving grace in so many respects, and she already owed him an immense debt for his actions the night before. He had calmed her so sweetly, so effectively, that it was as if he had known exactly what she needed, as if he had calmed her before. But she had never felt panic or overwhelmed like that before, so she couldn’t have told anyone how to help her, let alone someone she had only known for a few days. And dancing with him had been her favorite parts of the night, if she were to be perfectly honest. She did not have to watch her words or her steps, did not have to think strategically or be particularly observant.

She could just be .

Perhaps that was her favorite part about being with Webb. She felt like herself, and she felt safe enough to be herself. When had she last been able to say that about anyone? She was mostly herself around her siblings and her cousins, but even they did not know the whole of her.

Webb, obviously, did not know the whole of her either, but she wouldn’t mind if he did.

Rose shook her head now as her maid set her hair in a pinned coif of curls. She was starting to plan significant portions of her day around Webb, and that was not going to help her find the husband she needed to for Aunt Edith. She needed to set aside her own enjoyment and focus on the task at hand.

Why was that so difficult to remember? She had given up the idea of a real marriage and of love, hadn’t she? Years ago, she had given it all up when it was clear that she was simply not the sort of woman who men viewed in such a light. Yet here she was, trying to craft the perfect marriage of convenience and unable to let go of the most girlish idea at the core of any woman in the world .

That had been what had set her off last night with her tears and panic, and tonight it was simply leaving her depressed and discouraged.

What would Webb have to say when he found out?

It would be as though he did not know Rose Portman at all, and he would probably consider her to be an overly emotional shrew who lashed out when provoked in even the slightest way. Even he would want to distance himself after that, and she would be left alone to try and manage this foolishness without help.

“Anything else, Miss Portman?” her maid asked, meeting her eyes in the mirror.

Barely looking at her reflection, Rose shook her head. “No, thank you. I shall go down now.”

The maid bobbed and left the room, leaving Rose with her thoughts.

She needed to ask Webb to tell her who wouldn’t want children among the group. She liked children immensely, but she did not want to have any of her own if there was no real affection between herself and her husband. It just did not seem fair to raise a family that way, not with how Rose wanted to live. And choosing to live that sort of marriage was well within her rights, as she saw things. Wives were allowed a certain level of independence, and that was all she wanted.

A good man with sensible prospects who wanted nothing of her.

That would save her from the heartache she feared, the rejection she had felt, and the vulnerability she wished to avoid.

With a nod, Rose picked up her gloves and slid the first on her right hand as she made her way out of the room, starting down the corridor.

She heard a faint hissing behind her and turned in surprise.

Webb was walking towards her, grinning and giving her a slight wave .

Why was that the most adorable thing she had ever seen in her entire life? And why was he so bleeding handsome that it actually hurt her chest when he smiled?

Her eyes widened at the realization, and she did her best to force a smile in spite of it.

Webb gave her a cautious look. “What? You look…something.”

“That’s an astute description,” Rose retorted, jamming her left hand into her glove awkwardly. “I look something. Although it probably ought to be ‘some way’ to be grammatically correct, don’t you think?”

“Undoubtedly,” Webb concurred. He seemed to relax slightly with her reply and offered his arm to her.

Rose looked at it for a moment, then met his eyes. “Why?”

Webb blinked. “Because…we’re walking and going downstairs to the others? Because we’re walking side by side and it’s a gentlemanly thing to do? Because we’re friends and you look lovely and I’d feel like a heel if I didn’t? Because…I want to?”

Now it was Rose who just blinked, staring at him and feeling rather like a heel herself. Were her defensive thoughts now going to make their way to defensive actions, even with him?

“Oh,” she eventually said, her voice dipping low. “All right, then.” She hooked her hand through his arm and started walking beside him.

“Do you always treat gallantry as offensive?” Webb asked her, seeming truly curious.

“I’m not offended,” Rose muttered, averting her eyes.

She heard a scoffing sound that made her cheeks burn. “You need to work on your acting skills, Rose. I thought you were going to strike me for offering you my arm. Heaven knows what you would have done if I’d thrown my cloak over a puddle in your path.”

As though determined to prove him correct, her stomach dropped and her heart lurched and her jaw tensed, her mind spinning on any number of retorts.

But then she felt the steadiness of his arm beneath her hand, inhaled the faintest scent of sandalwood, pine, and sage from him, and everything within her, from head to toe, was soothed in a gentle wave of warmth.

This was Webb. He was safe, and so was she. There was no need to overreact, and she ought to be working on doing as he suggested the night before and give herself some grace.

And breathing room to simply be, just as he did for her.

“I don’t hate gallantry,” she told him in a clear voice. “I hate the implication that a woman cannot do something or requires the assistance of a man. That I might need someone to steady me while I walk, for instance.”

“There are other reasons to offer a lady my arm,” Webb pointed out without any sort of defensiveness or spite.

Rose nodded as they turned the corner, moving towards the stairs. “I know. Sometimes it is simply for the purpose of escorting a body somewhere for politeness.”

“And sometimes it’s a mark of respect or deference,” Webb added, nudging her side with his elbow. “Sometimes it’s a symbol of affection. And sometimes…” He paused, looking around, and then leaned close. “Sometimes it’s because fashion requires the skirts of ladies to be so bleeding long that even the most graceful can trip on them if not mindful. Believe me, I’ve had to catch Emily on the stairs more than once because of skirts, and she is nothing if not graceful.”

There was something about Webb being closer to her and practically whispering that raised bumps along every inch of exposed skin, and a few inches of unexposed skin, cascading ripples along her entire frame as though she had been licked by a particularly poignant fire. A blissful, light, holly-and-mistletoe-bedecked fire.

And now the fire was racing into her cheeks, and it was difficult to breathe, let alone laugh at the image of Emily nearly tumbling down the stairs.

Still, she managed to choke out something that resembled laughter and fanned herself, not for amusement, but for the desperate need of a cooler breeze.

“Skirts,” Webb repeated, mistaking Rose’s guttural sounds for actual laughter. “Dangerous creations. So really, this is for your safety more than my own amusement. But for both our sakes, I’ll release your arm before we join the others. Neither of us need to have this mistaken for an understanding, do we?”

Rose shook her head, feeling rather stupid and slow, but as his words played over again in her mind, beginning to feel doused in chilled water. She shivered from the effects, a few stubborn embers still alight deep in the pit of her stomach, in spite of the dousing.

“No,” she said for emphasis. “Now we know there are two eager and sharp-eyed matchmakers in the house, it would behoove us both to be vigilant. Can you imagine what would happen if word leaked to the village about something between us? Fred and Bash would ride up to the house and demand an explanation of some sort.”

Webb chuckled even as his arm stiffened beneath her hand. “They would, but more because they would be finding out by rumor than from either of us. Those two have a more vested interest in gossip than any woman I have ever met.”

“I have always found that men are just as interested in gossip as ladies,” Rose told him with a sniff, starting down the stairs and gliding one gloved hand along the railing. “It is simply less spread about. I know very well that is what you all discuss in your clubs. ”

“No!” Webb gasped rather dramatically, making her snort with true laughter. “Who told you? We are sworn to secrecy from the moment we leave school never to reveal what goes on in there! Tell me his name, I’ll have his membership and his blade!”

Rose shook her head, retreating into the safety of pointless banter while she adjusted to the varied sensations coursing through her. “No, I am bound by the code of blood, and I shall not divulge the identity of my source.”

“Ah-ha! So they’re related to you!” He barked a laugh of faux superiority. “That will cut the list down by several counts. You have no brothers, and brothers-in-law are not bound by blood. Now I simply need to know how many uncles and male cousins you have, and I will work the culprit out and have my vengeance.”

“Oh, do calm down, it was probably Richard.” Rose laughed.

Webb narrowed his eyes. “Richard who? Tell me his surname, or I will be forced to seek out all the Richards in England.”

“You would make a terrible villain,” she told him, unable to keep the smile from her face.

Webb’s laughter was far more natural now. “Terrible as in…?”

Rose rolled her eyes. “As in not a very successful one. You would be incapable of villainy.”

“I very much beg your pardon.” Webb sniffed dismissively as they reached the bottom of the stairs. “I could be an excellent villain with the right amount of practice and a provoking motivation. I think anyone could be a decent victim with those, actually.”

“More than likely. But you’re not the villainous type, Webb.” Rose shook her head, smiling without feeling the need to look at him while she did so. “You are far too nice a person. Far too affable in genuine ways, and not at all inclined to think evil of anyone. I rather think you’d be the sort to save the world than to wish it ill.”

Webb was silent a long moment, and Rose wondered if she might have said too much or simply made him uncomfortable. She hadn’t meant to be effusive in praise, simply honest. And she honestly felt that way about Webb and his nature, but it was not the sort of thing that a lady usually said to a gentleman. Or a woman to a man. Even if they were friends, it might have been too much.

Rose might have been too much.

“I genuinely do not know how to respond to that,” Webb finally said, all traces of humor and teasing gone. “It may be the kindest thing anyone has ever said, and I would refute every point of it in the interest of self-deprecation, but I know your tendency to be honest rather than flatter, and if that is your perception of me… Rose, I don’t know what to say other than to thank you.”

He had not lowered his arm, but she had not released it either, and with the way her heart was pounding at the moment, it seemed unwise to try.

“I did not say it for your gratitude,” Rose murmured, her eyes flicking to him. “It is simply the truth.”

“Your truth,” he pointed out, smiling a little. “I cannot refute your perception, but do consider that reality may not match it.”

There it was. Webb would find some way to tell her she was wrong without actually saying so, and the neatly placed correction had been inserted with precision.

Rose let herself sigh in exasperation that was only superficial. “I choose to live in my perceptions, Webb. Heaven knows what I appear to be in reality.”

“Would you like me to tell you? ”

His offer came in a low, rumbling tone that reignited the fire in her, roaring to life across her skin and destined to make itself known on her face.

They were at the Grand Drawing Room now, where everyone was gathered for the beginning of the evening’s activities and entertainment, and still they were arm in arm. Rose was suddenly acutely aware of the exact distance between their bodies, and the sheer heat that emanated from him, practically burning the entire length of her.

“Later, perhaps,” she whispered, afraid to look him in the eye, unsure of what she would find there and what he might see in her eyes.

She was barely breathing, her pulse thundering in her ears, and the idea of hearing something that would possibly make those things worse…

She’d be torn between fleeing the evening entirely and retiring to her bedchamber and finding a comfortable spot of equal burning inside one of the fires in Fairview. It might be less painful than the vulnerability of moving forward.

“We should go in,” she continued quickly, removing her hand from his arm and clearing her throat in what could only be described as an awkward and obvious manner. “Heaven knows what awaits us, and I will need your assistance in narrowing the field. I must concentrate my efforts if I am to succeed.”

“Yes, you must,” Webb agreed as he reached for the door, his tone returned to his usual one. “Have you spoken with Lady Standhope at all? I’d hate to think what she is telling your aunt of her own volition.”

It occurred to Rose that she ought to have shuddered at the thought herself, but all she could feel at this moment was a desperation to not be aware of every fiber of her being and every freckle on her skin with shocking clarity.

“I should speak with her,” she murmured absently as they entered the room, her eyes immediately finding their hostess, who was wearing a sly smile. “Perhaps tomorrow.”

“Not right now?” Webb asked, clasping his hands behind his back.

Rose shook her head slowly, heart sinking. “I have a feeling she would be more inclined to mischief tonight, and mischief is the very last thing I need.”