Snowflakes and Scandals

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Every morning when Adrian woke, he told himself he would go see Gwen that day. And every morning, something happened to prevent it.

His family had all come to Highvale. His oldest sister was married now with two small children; he’d not met either. His younger sisters alternated between tears at the impending loss of their grandfather, and eager whispers to him about the young men they’d met lately. They made him take them into Bury St. Edmunds to shop for Christmas gifts, where they passed a shop with a blue bonnet with green ribbons in the window that caught his eye and made him wonder if Gwen would like it.

His mother seemed determined to mother him as much as she could, and Adrian remembered Gwen saying how anxious his mother must be to have him home safe and sound. It struck him that his mother had also buried too many, including her husband and firstborn son. He wished he could tell Gwen that she’d been right, and also ask her how he should react. He had been a soldier for so long, he’d forgotten how to be a son.

It hit Adrian that he was the head of the family now, a sobering and abrupt realization. He’d never even been called Lord Westley before. That had been his uncle Louis, before his death eight years earlier, and then his brother Henry, until he died while Adrian was on campaign in Portugal. Now he was Westley, soon to be Wroxham, not only master of Highvale but responsible for his sisters’ marriages and his mother’s security.

His grandfather’s health fluctuated. Some days Wroxham seemed revived and wanted to spend an hour instructing Adrian on some point or other about the estate. Other days he was much worse, until Adrian had to talk his weeping mother out of sending for the vicar, as his grandfather rasped that he didn’t want “that damned priest” in his house until he was actually dead.

At times, it felt as though he’d left one battlefield for another.

After a morning when Mama and Gabrielle, his older sister, had broken down in tears over the funeral arrangements, Adrian had had enough. He slipped out of the house and saddled his own horse, as if he were still just Captain Fitzhugh, and headed toward Larkspur Cottage. The storm had long since blown out to sea and left brilliant winter sunshine in its place. The snow and ice that had so hampered him and Gwen in their race to Blackthorpe had condensed into a mere inch of snow packed hard underfoot.

His spirits rose as he turned down the lane to the cottage. Children’s voices rang out, and he caught sight of two boys sword-fighting with sticks, just as he and Henry used to do. Two other figures were outside, both female. One was a child, and the other was Gwen.

He sat up straighter without thinking. He’d missed her even more than he’d realized. And he should have been here sooner.

The two boys came running as he drew near. He swung down and answered their breathless queries about the horse, then offered them a shilling each if they’d take care of the beast for him.

The older boy nodded knowingly. “Aye, sir, you’ll want to stay a while. Hot gingerbread, they’ve got in there. Mrs. Maitland’s a dab hand in the kitchen.”

He smiled. “Is she?”

“The best gingerbread in all of Suffolk!” declared the younger boy, who was petting the horse’s nose. “I wish Mam could make it so good!”

His brother cuffed him lightly. “Mam does make good gingerbread.”

“Ow! She does, only Mrs. Maitland’s is better!”

Adrian told them what to do and finally turned toward Gwen. She still stood by the house, though the little girl had run to join her brothers. The brim of an old-fashioned bonnet concealed Gwen’s expression, but Adrian’s heart lifted just seeing her again.

“Good morning,” he said when he stopped an arm’s length from her.

She curtsied. “Good morning, Captain,” she said, then hastily corrected, “my lord.”

He winced at the unfamiliar title. “I wasn’t trying to hide that.”

“Of course not,” she said. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, unlike stealing a cat.”

He stifled a surprised laugh. “See, that’s why I didn’t tell you, an intrepid liberator of felines. I feared to appear a pasty-faced wastrel in your eyes.”

“Never,” she replied. “No one who buys a hungry stranger tea and soup could be a true wastrel.”

Adrian paused. “What would you have thought of me, if you’d known then?”

She pondered it, rolling her lower lip between her teeth. Adrian tried not to stare. “That you were something of a liar,” she finally said. “Not only concealing your title, but cricket injuries do not make people sneeze, though cats sometimes do.”

He affected indignation. “Did I say cricket? No, it was a war wound. How can you question that?”

Her mouth quivered. “A war wound?”

“Yes, it was a French… hedgehog,” he invented, watching as she tried valiantly not to smile. “Hiding in my trunk to ambush me. I shan’t regale you with the gruesome details, but suffice to say I cannot set eyes on any creature with quills without bursting into the most violent sneezing.”

She choked, ducking her head. Her shoulders shook. “Cats don’t have quills,” she said, her voice trembling.

“And it wasn’t your cat that made me sneeze,” he replied with dignity. “There must have been a hedgehog in that travel chariot at one time.”

She put a hand over her mouth and glanced up at him, her eyes glowing with tears of laughter. “You’re a wretched liar,” she managed to gasp.

“I am,” he agreed. “I dislike lying, which is why I came to apologize.”

Her amusement died away. She dabbed her eyes with her fingers, avoiding his gaze, then darted a look at the cottage.

“First allow me to return something of yours.” He dug the small bundle of her hairbrush and nightgown from the pocket of his greatcoat and offered it.

She blushed scarlet as she realized what it was, and stuffed it into her basket. “Thank you, my lord.”

My lord . Oh God, he was making a mess of this. “I’m sorry,” he blurted out. “I should have come sooner, but it’s all uproar at Highvale, and I’ve only made it through by telling myself every night that tomorrow I would come, only for some new disaster to spring up on the morrow, until finally today I snuck away from everything to come tell you… well, that I’m sorry for not coming sooner.”

“I see.” Head still averted, she was quiet for a long moment. “I was walking out to gather some evergreens for decoration. Would you care to walk with me?”

Relief flooded him. “I would be delighted.” Beyond measure.

She didn’t take his arm, but they walked side by side toward the woodland that ran between the cottage and the road.

“Very well,” she said as they reached the shelter of the trees. “I am sober and composed now, if you have something serious to tell me.”

Adrian opened his mouth to explain, to ask forgiveness, to ask about her family, and what he said was, “I’ve missed you.”

Gwen’s eyes darted toward him, wary and doubtful.

“I have,” he confessed. “Perhaps I’ve no right to say that, but your company made a trip that had promised to be grim and melancholy into an adventure that made me smile and laugh. You were on the same urgent purpose as I was, not knowing what you would find when you arrived, but you faced it with grace and charm and the most stubborn good humor I’ve ever encountered.”

He darted a look at her, to see how this was being received. She was listening, her face pale.

“I sent you the cup of tea and soup merely to be kind, with no expectation of anything. But when you thanked me, it felt as if I’d been waiting my whole life to hear your voice. I walked out of that inn and couldn’t manage three steps before I knew I was taking a wrong turn. It was as if an alarm had been raised inside my head, warning me not to walk away from you. And… I still feel that way.” He took a deep breath, because she still hadn’t said anything. “So I’ve come to apologize for taking another wrong turn, for leaving when you wished to speak to me. I felt very guilty for what happened that night?—”

“Don’t,” she said softly.

“But neither did I wish you to be forced into something you did not want, with a perfect stranger,” he went on, even though his heart had begun to throb with hope. “You asked me for discretion, and of course you have it. But if you are willing to consider more from me… I would like it very much.”

Gwen’s mind had disconnected from her body. Physically she stood poised and still, listening to Adrian confess his feelings. Mentally she was a mess, her thoughts running in wild loops and circles.

She had no idea why she’d trusted him that day in the Two Owls inn. Respectable, sensible Gwen would never have dreamed of getting into a carriage with a strange man. Now that he’d said it, though, she realized that was why: he hadn’t felt like a stranger. He never had. That night in the Kittridges’ spare room, he’d felt achingly familiar and dear to her.

In the cold light of day—literally—her behavior seemed mortifying. She’d tried to think why she did it, and had considered in turn the gooseberry wine, the strain and difficulty of the journey, and the fact that she’d lost her post and felt a bit mad. All those had been discarded. Deep down, she knew she’d turned into his arms and welcomed his kiss… and more… because she’d felt an instant attraction and connection to this kind, handsome gentleman with the faintly impish smile.

Even today, when she’d felt awkward and unprepared to face him, they had instantly fallen into easy conversation. French hedgehogs, indeed. Just the thought of it made her lips curve. “What have you come to offer, in the way of more?” she asked softly, trying to force her scrambled thoughts into order.

He cleared his throat. “I would like to call on you and your grandmother. Take you to meet my mother and sisters, who will be wild to make your acquaintance. Perhaps take you driving in a carriage, or in a sleigh if I can locate another.” He hesitated. “What more would you permit me?”

More than meeting his family and introducing him to Gran. Clutching her basket, she turned to face him. “I felt it, too,” she confessed. “That you were someone I wished to know. Someone I could trust, and be easy with.” Someone I could love.

His dark eyes grew brighter. “Then may I ask a terribly great favor?”

Breath shallowing, Gwen nodded. “Yes. Kiss me.”

Surprise flashed in his face, but before she could react, he stepped forward, cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her.

She went up on her toes, kissing him back. She had to grip the front of his coat for balance, until his arm went around her waist. By the time the kiss ended her bonnet had fallen off, his coat was mostly around her, and the basket had fallen into a drift of snow.

“Goodness,” she gasped, flustered. “Gran will think I’ve walked halfway to Norfolk for greenery!”

Adrian just laughed. He still held her close, as if he couldn’t bear to let go of her, and Gwen unabashedly pressed into him.

“What was the favor you meant to ask, before I begged you to kiss me?”

“I have no idea,” he said, his lips brushing her temple. “It was nothing to the one you offered.”

She laughed. “Will you come in and meet my grandmother and great-aunt?” she asked shyly.

“I would be delighted. I’ve got it on good authority that Mrs. Maitland makes excellent gingerbread, and I’m devilishly fond of gingerbread.”

“She does. She’s my great-aunt.” Gwen sobered. “I should have asked. How is your grandfather?”

Adrian sighed silently. She put her hand on his chest in sympathy. “Not well. But curiosity about you has revived him. He’s been prodding me to come see you.”

She pulled back to look at him in alarm. “You told him?—!”

“That I had met a lady he would like very much,” Adrian finished. “He told me to hurry back here and hope you forgave me for ever leaving.”

“Oh. He’s not…?” Gwen stopped, unsure. An earl was discussing her. “We only just met?—”

“He knew my grandmother was the one for him after a single dance. Comparatively speaking, our acquaintance is long-standing. He likely thinks I’ve dithered too long as it is.”

She gave him a sideways look. “Nonsense.”

Adrian held up both hands. “Don’t look at me to argue with him.” He paused. “If you are willing… He asked to make your acquaintance, too.” He spoke cautiously, as if asking some tremendous favor.

A favor, on behalf of an earl. From a cat-thief governess.

Gwen resolved never to mention stealing Reggie, ever again. “I would be honored,” she said softly, and was rewarded with another kiss.

“Here.” He stepped back and bent to retrieve her bonnet. “Is this…?”

She gave a gasp of laughter as he fell silent, regarding Gran’s ancient bonnet. “It’s Gran’s. The sleet on the journey here, alas, inflicted a fatal injury on mine.”

His face eased as he handed it back to her. “Good.” He looked up with that impish twinkle in his eye that had gone right to her heart, within the first hour she’d known him.

She laughed as she tied the ribbon. Adrian grinned, and retrieved her basket, with the bundled nightgown but still empty of greenery. “Come with me.”

He took her hand and led her out of the trees, around to the small stable where Gran and Maisie kept their pair of goats. There he bade her wait outside a moment while he went in and spoke to the Hayden children, who had taken his horse there. Gwen stood and listened to the even rumble of Adrian’s voice, and the eager replies of the two boys. After a few minutes, Mary, their little sister, ran out and stopped short when she saw Gwen.

“I’m to go ask if there’s any more gingerbread,” she said. “The gentleman says he’s come to visit and hopes it’s not all gone.”

Gwen smiled, startled. “I’m sure Aunt Maisie has made enough for a regiment, but do go ask her to save some, Mary.”

The girl grinned shyly. “He gave me a shilling,” she whispered, showing Gwen the shiny coin. “And he gave Bobby and Sam one each, too, for watching the horse.”

“How marvelous,” exclaimed Gwen. “You must have all done a wonderful job.”

Mary gave her a wide, gap-toothed grin, and took off toward the house again.

Adrian stepped out of the stable, a bulky package in one hand. “I brought you a gift.”

Her mouth fell open. Oh no. She hadn’t expected to see him again, let alone today, let alone hear him say that he’d missed her and had been waiting his whole life to meet her. She had nothing for him.

As she stood gaping, he peeled the cloth off the object in his hands and held it out to her. Topped with a white bow, it was a beautiful peach-colored box.

A hatbox.

“I saw it in Bury St. Edmunds, when I took my sisters,” he said. “It made me think of you.” His faint smile flashed. “Everything made me think of you, but this especially.”

Gwen set down her basket and took the box. Inside was a bonnet of deep blue velvet with pale green ribbon trim and a delicate white plume. “Oh,” was all she could say as irrational happiness spilled through her.

“Your bonnet was ruined, and I thought, in case your grandmother hadn’t time to get you one…” He looked down. “Happy Christmas, is what I meant to say.”

She looked at the bonnet, and at the man who had listened to every word she said, and then she put down the hatbox and flung herself back into his arms and kissed him. His arms closed around her and he lifted her off her feet, and for several minutes Gwen completely forgot that she was kissing the heir to an earl in plain view of Gran, Maisie, and all the visitors at Larkspur Cottage.

“You like it, I take it,” he murmured, his lips brushing her temple.

Gwen smiled, kissing the side of his jaw. “You remembered my favorite colors!”

His laugh rumbled in his chest. “They weren’t even my favorite thing to remember about you.” He caught her hand and kissed her knuckles. “I don’t want to remember you, darling. I want to know you.”

You do , she thought as her heart fluttered. “I don’t have anything for you…”

He squeezed her hand. “That welcome was worth more than twenty of the most fashionable bonnets Bury St. Edmunds has to offer.” Gwen gasped with laughter. Adrian grinned. “Allow me to overcome my poor first impression with your family. I’m very keen to win their approval.”

She shook her head. “Poor impression! Maisie was in a flutter, and Gran will smother you with gratitude for bringing me safely home.”

Adrian made a face. “The bare minimum a gentleman could do.”

She touched his coat, smoothing the lapel she had so recently crumpled. “No. It was extraordinary. And I told them so.”

They walked back toward the house, her arm in his this time. She had the hatbox in her free hand, and Adrian carried her basket. There would be no greenery at Larkspur Cottage this year, but Gwen suspected no one would miss it now.

At the cottage door, she paused. “This is going to sound mad to everyone. Are we mad?”

He stopped and faced her, wearing the same faint smile he’d worn the first time she spoke to him, only a few days and yet a lifetime ago. “Of course it’s mad. It was mad of me to offer a place in my cramped travel chariot to a woman I’d never met. It was even madder of you to accept. It was mad to ride through a storm to spend the night at a stranger’s home, and mad to agree to share a room, and mad to take a sleigh across frozen country to get home.” He leaned toward her, his dark eyes intent. “It’s barking mad of you to allow me to call on you at all, after I left you without a word of explanation or apology.”

She squeezed his arm. “Nonsense. That’s the most sensible thing I’ve ever done.”

His eyes warmed. “Oh, I rather like this sort of madness. I hope you never get over it. I certainly don’t intend to.”

I think I’m in love, Gwen thought with a startled laugh. The very thing she’d thought, that first night in the Two Owls. Adrian grinned at her, as if he somehow knew her thoughts, and her heart swelled.

She’d been right about him from the start. I am in love , she thought, and led him inside to join her family.