A Seasonal Pursuit (Regency Christmas Brides #1)

Chapter Seventeen

CHAPTER 17

W as it in terribly poor taste for Rose to be at the Rixton family fox hunt on St. Stephen’s Day instead of the one at Fairview? No one had quite explained the rules of a house party to her in such matters, but she did not believe she would enjoy following a hunt of that many men. The Rixton party would boast less than a dozen involved in the hunt, including women following, and she liked those individuals involved a great deal more in general.

And a few in particular.

After her dance with Webb last night, she’d been more conflicted than ever before on any subject or person in her life. Breathless as well as exhilarated, replete from the experience and craving more of the same, wanting nothing more than to spend the rest of the night in his company even if they said nothing at all. And then he had said he needed to walk in the night air and left her to listen to the music on her own.

Not before kissing her hand, which had sent fire directly to her heart, but he had left her all the same.

And then she had not seen him for the rest of the night. And without Webb beside her, joining her in an unnecessary commentary that would have them both snickering, all of the music, and enjoyment of it, had paled a little compared to what it could have been.

Finding a note slipped beneath her door this morning inviting her to join the fox hunt at Downing House had immediately lifted the spirits that had been low from the night before. Everything from the neat slanting of the words to the perfect “W” signing at the bottom of the note had her skipping about her room and flinging herself on her bed, just as she had done upon her arrival at Fairview. Now she was in her one good riding habit, praying it suited her, and had Emily beside her for company while the men were up ahead as part of the hunt.

“I am so relieved you came,” Emily told her now as they rode along. “Bertram told me he wasn’t certain if any other women were going to come, and my brothers would have howled about tradition and my role as their sister if I hadn’t gone.”

Rose smiled easily at that. “Is it really so dreadful?”

“With proper company, no.” Emily laughed at once. “Alone? Psht.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes dramatically. “I have done that once, and I never will again. Would you believe that three grown men are willing to make a great show of themselves just to impress their sister? Their sister, Rose. The person who likely cares less about most of the things they do than anyone else.”

“Even Webb?” Rose asked, having some significant doubts about that.

Still, Emily nodded, her chin very firm in its motion. “He’d never do it on his own, and possibly not even if only one of the boys were with him, but when they are both here? He becomes a more stupid version of himself, far more competitive and reckless, even if it is still not as wild as what Fred and Bash get up to. They bring that out in him, and it’s both hilarious and ridiculous at once. ”

Rose considered that, even between laughter at imagining it. “I suppose I can understand that. I become a lighter version of myself when I am with my sisters. It is mostly pretend, as I am trying to match them in some way, but not entirely. Their combined positivity, which grates on me most of the time, is somehow contagious anyway.” She shrugged a little, now laughing at herself. “It is certainly contagious with their children. They all smile and laugh near constantly.”

“That’ll change,” Emily assured her quickly. “And I am certain they are on best behavior in your company.”

“True enough, I suppose.” Rose inhaled deeply, loving the scent of nature on a brisk day and the freshness that filled her lungs with every breath. And the grounds at Downing were even more wonderful than she’d anticipated from what she’d seen so far. How did one spend any time indoors living in a place like this?

“Are you all right?” Emily asked with some concern when Rose exhaled on a long sigh. “That seemed particularly heavy.”

Rose tossed her head back, laughing merrily. “Yes! I was just relishing the air of being out in nature, and among these grounds… My sisters adore London, so my parents almost never go home to Derbyshire, which means I do not get to go home to Derbyshire. The country is just exhilarating, and were we not on this hunt, I would beg to ride hard across the grounds just for the pleasure of it.”

“You and Webb,” Emily murmured, shaking her head even as her mouth curved in a smile.

The breath in Rose’s lungs disintegrated at once, threatening to collapse those lungs in an instant.

“Wh-what about us?” she inquired with a light laugh she did not feel a jot.

“Oh, you are simply very similar in that regard.” Emily looked ahead towards the men, a fond smile on her lips .

Relief hit Rose in waves, and she did her best to look attentive without showing any of that relief on her face.

“Webb has always been the best rider of any of us,” Emily went on, straightening in her saddle, “but more than that, he is the one with the most interest in the country and this estate. It is fortunate that he is the eldest and thus inherited the estate and title, since none of us could possibly love this place more than he does.”

Rose couldn’t help it, she looked at the men ahead of them and picked out Webb from among them, even through the coats and hats. She couldn’t study his riding from this vantage point, but she imagined him as the most capable rider, the most relaxed in this situation, the one who might inhale the air just as she had done. The sudden image of racing against him across these gorgeous hills and stretches of green, both of them pushing hard on their horses, hair whipping wildly about them, laughing just as recklessly on the wind…

She wasn’t in her riding habit in this race, just an average day dress, and free of a bonnet. Webb wasn’t in a jacket and hat on this ride, he was in a linen shirt with sleeves rolled to the elbows, looking years younger without the formal clothing to accompany him. It was the most attractive picture of him she had ever seen, and it only existed in her mind.

Why? Why was that an image her imagination had conjured up and why did she positively ache for it? It was as though her soul was keening for it, taking her heart in hand and steering it hard in whatever direction might bring it out. She had to stop herself from rubbing at her chest, a physical twinge of the aching making itself known.

“But then, Webb loves everything fiercely.”

Rose jerked to a more perfect posture at these words, her throat clenching. “Everything?” she repeated, somehow finding a laugh at her disposal. “He does not love charades, ghost stories, or excessive eating, I can tell you that much.”

Emily laughed as well and gave Rose a quick grin. “That is not what I mean! Goodness sakes, can you imagine someone who actually loves every single thing?”

“I have sisters who seem to,” she grumbled, relieved that they could possibly move off the subject of Webb until she was more settled. “Harriet in particular.”

“She loves everything?” Emily looked rather dubious at the claim. “I doubt that very much.”

“Perhaps not, but she acts like it.” Rose took a moment to look at the trees in the distance, collecting her thoughts. “Harriet does not like to express a contrary opinion. She thinks it makes her disagreeable, and the last time she was disagreeable, in her eyes, she worried about it so much that she broke out in a rash.”

Rose rolled her eyes at this, as it had all been very dramatic for Harriet, but all had cleared within a matter of hours and there had been no lasting harm to anyone. Her sister had been all but fifteen at the time, but Rose, for one, had not seen her frown since.

At all.

“She was perfectly well,” Rose went on, realizing that she needed to complete the story adequately. “But it seems to have forced her into believing that anything other than being content at all times will make her ill, or some such. She will only express an opinion if it is the majority, such as my coming to this house party at Fairview and bringing a maid with me.”

“You did not want to come initially?” Emily inquired with a sympathetic click of her tongue.

How much had Webb told his sister? Did she know anything about Rose’s situation and what had prompted her to come to Fairview at all? What would Emily make of the scheme, if she learned of it? Could a woman as happily married and situated as Emily possibly understand Rose’s motivation for it? And beyond that, what would she make of Webb’s involvement ?

“Not really,” she eventually admitted with a sheepish smile. “It was my aunt’s idea for me to come. She believes I need to marry and wanted me to find someone at this house party to wed. If I did that, she would grant me a quiet cottage in the countryside, and a stipend to keep it up. Knowing how I have always wanted a quiet country living, she knew I would be tempted into action by the prospect.”

There, she had just admitted what exactly had brought her here. Let her think of it what she would and make whatever assumptions she would.

Emily was staring at her with a confused expression, faint creases between her brows. “If you find someone to marry…at this house party…you can go off and live quietly in a cottage? What is the point of a marriage if you are going to live on your own in solitude?”

Rose burst out laughing, loving that Emily’s mind went in that direction rather than something critical of Rose or Webb.

“I am in earnest!” Emily insisted, not laughing nearly as much as Rose, but finding some amusement in her reaction. “Take it from a happily married wife, Rose: There are easier ways to exist. What does she want you to be married for? Independence? Security?”

“She says love,” Rose confided before she could stop herself. “But she also believes I am difficult and prickly, so I am beginning to think she has set me on a course to prove a point. If I were in love, why would I want to live alone in her offered cottage? She specifically forbade a marriage of convenience, which would make far more sense. So either she wishes me to have a broken heart, or she has no intention of giving me the cottage.”

Emily exhaled in an irritated burst of air. “I have so many questions for this aunt of yours.”

“That’s almost exactly what Webb said, if I recall.” Rose smiled. “I had been thinking of asking someone to marry me and simply act as though it were a love match to satisfy my aunt.”

“I can understand that reasoning, certainly.” Emily nodded in approval, then stopped. “Would it be dreadful if we waited to see how far they get before following at pace?”

“I don’t think so, no,” Rose quipped.

They shared a quick smile, not encouraging their horses in the slightest.

But talking of Webb, even a little, and imagining him riding, had brought Rose’s mind back to something his sister had said before, and she could not let go of it.

“Emily,” she began carefully, “what did you mean when you said that Webb loves everything fiercely?”

Emily glanced over at her, the faint crease appearing between her brows again. “Oh, that was just a sister exaggerating about her brother. Don’t mind me.”

It was an obvious attempt to minimize the subject, but Rose couldn’t let it go. “Please,” she said softly.

Emily watched her for a long moment, then sighed. “Webb is… intense, I suppose, in the way he loves and cares. What he loves, he loves with everything he is. I have no doubt that if I were ever in trouble, either in my marriage or financially, Webb would move heaven and earth to save me somehow. There is a great beauty in that, but it also means that I take great care in what I tell him. My marriage is not in danger, and I have no financial problems—those were just examples, you understand.”

Rose nodded quickly, hoping Emily would continue to enlighten her.

“After Mary died,” she went on, “Webb threw himself into the lives of his children. He had always been an active, engaging, loving father, but he suddenly became consumed by his role. He turned his grieving into excessive attention for them, as though he needed to become mother and father in one so they would not feel any loss at all. I have no way of knowing how he grieved in private, I can only speak to what I saw, but we were all quite concerned. He refused to be apart from his children because they would miss him. I think the truth of it was that he would miss them, and he was too afraid of losing something else he loved.”

A faint burning began in Rose’s eyes, and her throat constricted a few times, trying to force a swallow. She could almost picture the desperation in Webb that Emily was describing, his face constantly etched with concern that he prayed his children wouldn’t see. He would have done everything in his power, if not beyond it, to make his children smile and be happy just to spare them the hurt and the tears.

She began to hurt again, deep within her soul, for the man riding far ahead of them. For the loss he had endured and the losses he feared, for the grief that altered him, for the depth of his pain…

“Everything is fierce and intense for Webb,” Emily told Rose, looking at her quite steadily now. “Nothing is superficial. Genuine friendship, genuine concern, genuine anger, genuine love, and he does nothing halfway. It is a great blessing and probably also a curse, but it is the essence of Webb.”

Sensing she was being advised, in a sense, Rose nodded very slowly. Whatever Emily wanted her to take from the information, she couldn’t say, but she suspected it was a deeper insight than she might have received on her own.

And yet…she could feel that in Webb. His humor was always real and genuine, his consideration much the same, and his attentiveness to Rose at the house party showed a real dedication to their odd friendship in spite of the scheme that had brought her across his path.

Then there had been that waltz…

There had been so much— so much —in that single dance. So much that she had felt, but also so much that she had seen in Webb. Things that had confused her and excited her, things that frightened her and things that awakened her, and it created this bewildering battle of nothing in her life making sense and suddenly everything making sense as well.

She was rapidly losing interest in any sort of list or comfortable arrangement for her own independence. Would it be possible for her to simply enjoy the rest of the house party and her time with Webb? Ignore everything that Aunt Edith had promised her, relish every second she could with this man, and then go back to her father’s original promise of her dowry at five-and-thirty? She would know herself so much better after this experience, and who knew what the future could bring?

It was impossible to ignore her feelings, but it was also impossible to identify them.

What did she want? That was the question that haunted her at the moment. She had spent so long wanting to be left alone, after years of regularly being forced into a long series of events that always ended in disappointments, that it had never occurred to her that anything else was possible. She had convinced herself that the only solution for her happiness was that escape she had clung to.

What if there was something else after all?

Somehow, Rose managed conversation with Emily during the rest of the ride, and they did eventually catch up with the gentlemen as they raced after the hounds. Even with the brisk galloping to do so, she felt only half-aware of her surroundings.

It was a quiet ride back to Downing House, and Rose could not be sorry for that. She needed time to think, and thinking would not best be done here. The family would have more to do as tenants and servants were gifted their annual measures, and Rose could return to Fairview and rejoin Lady Standhope’s party. Or, more likely, hole up in the library and distract her mind away from complicated thoughts with a good book.

Webb, as host of the foxhunt, was up at the head of the riders, his brothers and Bertram mingled among the group, and Emily had chosen to ride with them on the way back, no doubt to continue their bickering. She would bid them all farewell if needed, but it would be so much the better to slip away with the rest of the guests. If she were drawn into engagement with the full family again, she might never leave.

Ever.

And that was a terrifying thought. And a lovely thought. And one she could not presently contemplate.

There were just enough guests and riders at the foxhunt for her to dismount at the stables without any sort of fanfare or notice by the Rixtons. She awkwardly tied the skirts of her riding habit up behind her, then twirled her crop a little as she walked back to the house, her eyes on the ground before her, head beginning to ache with her swirling thoughts. The line of riders streamed steadily into the kitchen for warm drinks and a light repast, and given the majority of the servants were not working on this day, there would be plenty of room for them all.

Was it usual for riders and hunters to see the kitchen of such an estate? The very informal nature of it was refreshing to Rose, and likely comfortable for the guests who were of the poorer landed gentry or tenants, but it also seemed to be very much the air of the Rixton family and how they interacted with others. Plenty of familiarity, plenty of comfort, plenty of humility, and all warmth and openness.

The large kitchen boasted a roaring blaze in a large stone fireplace, and many of the riders were helping themselves to a bowl of steaming punch on a sturdy wooden table. The conversation was energetic and light, everyone cheery and laughing as befitted the Christmas season. It was impossible to be in the same space and not smile along with everyone else, and Rose was not even participating in any of the discussions.

She took note of the position of all four Rixton siblings and Bertram, seeing each was actively engaged with their guests and neighbors. It would be presumptuous for her to intrude and call attention to herself, which she certainly did not wish to do, especially among strangers. They had things to do, and she did not want to interfere with them.

Without meeting any eyes, Rose ducked into the saloon beside the kitchen, making her way towards the front of the house, as far as she could tell. This seemed to be the way she had been led in that morning, but as she had not explored Downing House with the same thoroughness that she’d been afforded at Fairview, she could not be certain. Still, if she came across any servants or Lady Downing, she could always ask for directions.

Fortunately, the corridor off the saloon led directly to the anteroom and entrance hall of the ground floor, and Rose heaved a sigh of relief at seeing it.

Crosby, the family’s butler, was there and seemed to be heading in the direction Rose had just come from. His eyes brightened as he saw her and he smiled quickly, pausing for a deep bow. “Miss Portman, is there something I might help you with?”

Rose returned his smile. “Yes, Crosby. I don’t wish to trouble the family while they have so many friends and neighbors still about, and with the boxes to be distributed after. Would it be possible to have a carriage called to take me back to Fairview?”

“Of course, Miss Portman. I will see to it at once.” He nodded firmly and continued on his way, disappearing from her sight in a moment.

She began to walk slowly around the space, looking at the sculptures, pillars, and sets of furniture on either side of it. The ceiling was adorned with some lovely plasterwork, almost brocade in style and touched with gold paint in some places. The paint was worn in other spots, clearly a factor of age and decay, but all of it still well-kept and clean. It was an oddly comforting sight, those imperfections.

Relatable, even.

“See anything delightful or fascinating up there?”

Rose’s heart leapt and skipped at Webb’s voice and she turned to face him, smiling entirely without intending to. “Quite. It’s lovely artwork.”

Webb strode easily towards her, looking practically boyish with his hair in slight disarray and still dressed in hunting attire. “I shall pass on the compliments, though I think the descendants of the artisans have stopped caring.” His smile softened and his brows rose. “Were you going to leave without a word?”

“You were occupied,” Rose murmured with a faint gesture towards the back of the house. “I didn’t want to impose.”

“It wouldn’t have been an imposition. Surely you know that.” He came over to her and, without warning, took a hand in hers. “You won’t stay?”

Something burst with a startling heat right where Rose’s heart lay, and she shook her head, her smile almost ticklish now. “No, I’ll go back to Fairview. You have so much to do with your guests back there, and with the boxes later… I won’t be any help with that, and you should really enjoy those traditions with your family. Perhaps Lady Standhope has something planned for her guests that I can take part in.”

Webb laughed very softly, his thumb running over Rose’s hand. She still had gloves on, but it was no matter. She could feel his touch like a combination of fire and ice, each pass of his thumb spiraling the sensation deeper and deeper into her skin. “You mean to tell me that you’ll volunteer for her arrangements?”

“Well, it depends on what they are,” Rose conceded with a wrinkle of her nose, allowing a faint laugh to escape. “There is always the library otherwise.”

He nodded in response—either in understanding or approval, it was difficult to tell. Or perhaps it was just the feeling of his thumb distracting her from clarity of thought.

“It means a great deal that you came today, Rose,” Webb told her, his voice lower than before as he stepped even closer. “I know we didn’t talk or spend any time together, but…I am so glad you came.”

“I enjoyed myself,” she whispered, nodding for no apparent reason. “I love being here. I love this place. I love…” Her voice caught on whatever she was going to say next, wherever her words were going to tumble, and there was nothing left but the breath in her body and all that was unspoken.

Webb’s eyes were dark and focused, intent on her, his lips holding just the slightest curve to them. Then he ran a finger of his free hand over her cheek, just the back of it smoothing over the chilled contour of her skin in the gentlest caress.

“I love you being here,” he told her, the combination of words and touch making her shiver. “I love this place more when you’re here.”

“Don’t t-tease me,” Rose pleaded on a faint breath, her eyes fluttering.

Webb shook his head just once. “I’m not.” Then his mouth was on hers, his finger sliding beneath her chin to tip her face up, closer to his own. The kiss was slow and grazing, the lightest caress of lips, less of hesitation and more of subtlety.

Rose, who had never been kissed before in her life, felt some guttural sound curling in her throat, mingling with a pant as her fingers gripped at the hand holding hers.

Something similar seemed to come from Webb, and his lips were on hers again. This time, she leaned into it, that sound sending power into the arches of her feet and raising her up. Webb cradled her face with one hand, the other never leaving hers, and his lips passed over hers with a thorough tenderness that seemed designed to unravel the entire fabric of her being thread by painstaking thread. She had never felt anything like this, as though light were filling her body and jolts of energy were screeching their way into her limbs. Her heart roared its beat into her ears, practically crashing from one pulse to the next like waves against steep cliffs. Crashing and rolling and colliding, breath and beats and an all-powerful burning from those lips all she cared about.

Webb pressed a final whisper-kiss against her cheek, his breathing unsteady against her skin. He nuzzled ever so slightly against her, releasing a rough, rumbling exhale.

“Mistletoe?” Rose breathed.

“Don’t say anything, Rose,” he whispered, his lips catching on her skin with the words. “Not a thing.”

She felt him swallow, felt the pressure increase on her hand, and then he was gone, walking back towards the kitchen without looking back, his hands clenching and unclenching by his sides.

Rose stared after him, long after his back had disappeared and long after her trembling had stopped.

Webb loves everything fiercely.

Her throat clenched at the reminder of Emily’s words. Whether that was what was taking place here or not, Rose was suddenly filled with more fear than she had ever felt in her entire life. She could not do this. Could not break his heart. Could not pretend that she was a match for him. Could not…

Could not.

Crosby appeared through the doorway and nodded at her. “The carriage is out front, Miss Portman. This way, please.”

Rose tried to return his nod, glancing up at the ceiling and finding no mistletoe. With a gasp, she followed Crosby and gripped at her collar ever so slightly, wondering if it were possible for clothing to strangle the wearer in protest.

She needed the solitude of Fairview more than ever. She had to know her own mind before anything else happened.

She had to.