Spending Christmas in Hell (Diamonds of London #8)

Chapter Fourteen

December 24, 1818

Christmas Eve morning

Timothy stood in the entry hall as he waited for Ashlynn to join him. Hopewell held out his greatcoat, and when he slipped his arms into the sleeves, he frowned.

This afternoon, he’d planned to walk through Hyde Park and its environs in search of an evergreen tree in the Bavarian style to have at home. It wasn’t widely accepted as a tradition for Christmastide, but he felt in his heart that if someone of importance were to do such a thing it would soon be all over England.

And he would do this for one simple reason—Ashlynn wanted it.

If he were honest with himself, the past week had changed his way of thinking on many different things, all due to her influence. He wanted to continue growing and changing, to be a better man in the hopes that she might look upon him with respect, admiration, and if he were fortunate, love.

So they could make inroads into starting their lives together without wondering.

To the butler, he said, “Were you successful in finding the watch pin I’d asked you about the other day?”

“I was, sir. Lady Dashfield’s maid located the piece in a jewelry coffin among her things. I took it upon myself to take it to a watch repair shop on Brook Street. It should be ready to pick up this afternoon, which I will do while you’re out.”

“Excellent.” He intended to give the repaired watch to Ashlynn for a Christmas present. “I appreciate the effort.”

“You’re welcome. Lady Dashfield deserves to have a happy Christmas.”

“She does, indeed.” Then his wife moved along the corridor toward him, and his heart squeezed, for she was gorgeous. “Dear heavens,” he whispered to the butler.

Hopewell snorted softly. “You are a fortunate man, Sir Timothy.” He turned away to the coat closet as she joined them.

“That is one of the new gowns you ordered?”

“It is.” Her face lit with her grin as she smoothed her hands down the front of the red velvet gown. The bodice was lined with white rabbit fur. “I figured it was festive enough for this outing and the day. Of course, I’ll change into something else for Mr. Ridgeway’s dinner party, but I wanted to wear this as well.”

“You are fantastic in that gown.” Skimming his gaze over her décolletage, he couldn’t wait to take her into his arms. “The strand of pearls is a nice touch.” In that moment, he knew one thing for certain: he didn’t want his marriage in name only any longer.

“Thank you.” A blush stained her cheeks. “They aren’t the best quality, but my parents gave the strand to me for a birthday shortly before my mama died.”

“I wouldn’t have any idea if you hadn’t told me.” After the quick, intense coupling last night in Covent Gardens, he was thoroughly enchanted with his wife, and he wanted her in every way a man should. He desired this woman at his side in every sense of the word, for the rest of his life.

There was no sense in denying it to himself any longer—he was in love with Ashlynn.

She nodded while holding his gaze. “I’m not all that grand but I do like to feel finished.” When she regarded the butler with a smile, Timothy’s world tilted to one side again. “Thank you for choosing the pelisse, Hopewell. It will go splendidly with the gown.” Then she slipped her arms into the white and gold brocade garment, and as she did up the frog fasteners, the long coat covered the gown with the exception of the lower few inches of the garment’s hem.

“I thought it was the sensible choice,” Hopewell said as he exchanged a look with Timothy. “Best of luck finding an evergreen tree today.”

“Thank you.” Excitement sparkled in her eyes. After she put her bonnet on her head—a white and red confection that matched her gown and coat—she tied the ribbons into a bow beneath her chin. “I can hardly wait.” Then she turned to him. “Ready?”

“Yes.” He nodded. She was the personification of Christmas in his opinion. “Ready.” For everything if she would allow it. With a speaking glance at the butler, he led her out of the house. At the curb, he assisted her into the closed carriage. “Hyde Park, if you please, Robert.” So saying, he swung himself into the vehicle, and as the driver put up the stairs and closed the door, he settled on the bench next to his wife. “Warm enough?” Overnight, the temperatures had dropped a handful of degrees.

“I am. Perhaps overly so, but that will change once we’re wandering around outside.” Apparently giddy, she scooped up his hand and threaded their gloved fingers together. “Thank you for doing this for me. I truly appreciate it, and our drawing room will prove so cozy.”

“It already looks wonderful thanks to your decorating.” Every so often, his back would give him a twinge of pain, and his head wasn’t as tender as it was when he’d first received the bump, but otherwise, it was as if the incident with the ladder hadn’t happened.

“I suppose it has served as a bit of a distraction. For so long, I was alone and mired in grief, but then you came along.” Her smile faded as she transferred her gaze out the window. “At that point, I didn’t know what I would do.”

Did that mean the only thing she felt for him was gratitude? He didn’t want that, certainly didn’t want a future where that was the basis for their relationship, for it would soon skew everything. “What of the spark between us?” Surely, she felt that each time they shared a kiss or embrace and coupling.

“That is what makes our marriage unique and exciting, don’t you think?” Finally, her gaze went back to his. Honesty clouded those emerald depths. “I have enjoyed each day since we’ve married. I thought you might bring out my annoyance and anger more than you have, but oddly enough, the more I understand you, the more I know the man I originally met is merely a facade. So you won’t be hurt.”

Shock plowed into his chest. “How do you know that?”

When she shrugged, her shoulder brushed his and set off crisp awareness throughout his body. “Because I have the same defense and am still battling those old fears.”

“Such as?” How incredibly interesting.

“Abandonment. Being alone for the rest of my life. Never having love or giving it.” The answer was surprisingly open. “Everyone has things they don’t want others to see. My father used to say I was like the sun and the moon. And though he might know when each of those might rise, there was no telling when my moods would shift.”

“What does that mean?”

“On some days, I can act bubbly and sunny as if I don’t have a care in the world. On others, I feel dark and withdrawn, only glowing if I have a reason… and the past six months, there has been very little reason to glow.”

More of the clouds hiding her from him cleared away, and everything he saw about her, the truth of her, made him love her even more. She was just as vulnerable and unsure about the world as he was, and they’d been dancing around it all for far too long.

“It matters not how you glow, Linnie, just make certain that you do.” He slipped an arm about her waist and pulled her into his side. “It makes a difference.”

Tell her how you really feel, old man. Don’t keep it inside!

Yet a sliver of fear tamped on that urge. What if he was wrong? What if they were wrong together as a couple? What if they would always be mere acquaintances, no matter the direction of his feelings?

So instead, he remained silent, content in the moment to sit beside her and enjoy the warmth of her at his side.

Eventually, the carriage rolled into Hyde Park, and he stirred. “Speaking of sunlight, I have always thought the perfume you wear is a mixture of roses and sunshine.”

“Oh?” She half-turned toward him and when her leg brushed his, heated tingles went up his leg to his knee. “It was my mother’s perfume, but I liked it so much, I kept it.” When she smiled, his whole world lit.

“Was it made in Ireland?”

“I don’t think so. My father bought it for her after they’d moved to the new shop when he had more coin to throw around.” The carriage rocked to a halt. “It’s wild roses, the same kind she grew back home, blended with a hint of vanilla and a touch of orange blossom.”

“Ah.” That explained it. “Well, it suits you.” And he would scour the perfumeries in London until he found the exact one who made the scent. Perhaps Floris in the St. James area. “It makes me… hopeful each time I smell it.” He would need to send Hopewell on another errand for him as soon as they arrived home.

“That is what I feel as well. And it reminds me of my mother. That is a good thing.”

“It is,” he said and at the same time, Robert opened the door. Once he put down the steps, Timothy sprang out of the carriage and turned to assist her. “Let us find the tree you need.” Then he retrieved an axe from the floor of the carriage. To the driver, he said, “We shouldn’t be longer than an hour. Feel free to seek out the nearby mews or entertain yourself in the park.”

“Thank you. If you should need assistance hauling the tree back, give me a shout.”

“I will.” With his wife’s hand on his arm, Timothy escorted her along the walking paths and deeper into the park.

Though it wasn’t quite cold enough for the slender side of the Serpentine to freeze over, it was nearly so, and the more curious young men were out there testing the strength of the very thin ice layer sitting atop the water.

“Should we attempt to find a large tree or a small one?” The excitement in her voice and her eyes as she met his gaze was nearly palpable.

“Let’s start with small, since we’ll put it into a pot for a table.” He lost another piece of his heart to her over this one tiny thing.

The first four trees weren’t what she was looking for. The next two were decidedly too “skinny yet full, if that makes any sense.” But the tree after that, found in a forlorn section of the park, near the other entrance, was apparently exactly what she’d dreamed about.

“You’re certain?” he asked as he moved debris from the base of the short, squat but full, dark green fir tree.

“Oh, yes.” Ashlynn clasped her hands in glee while she looked at him with something he didn’t dare try to identify lest he be wrong. “Thank you for this.”

“My pleasure.” Then he gestured with a hand. “Stand back. I don’t want you injured by flying pieces of wood or bark.”

She watched as he made short work of chopping down the tree that was barely over two feet tall. “Not many men would agree to this, let alone cut the tree themselves.” When a soft expression stole over her face, his next swing missed the trunk and threw him off balance. “To think I didn’t know you existed over a week ago,” she said quietly, as if she were musing about just that.

“I like to think I’m different.” Would it make her think of him with more than gratitude?

“You are.” She nodded, and then her eyes took on a faraway look as he finished his work.

When they arrived back at the townhouse, Hopewell met them at the door.

“Ah, Lady Dashfield, I just put a parcel from your modiste into your bedchamber. The woman was quite pleased to deliver it, just as Sir Timothy had asked.”

“Oh?” She frowned as she handed over her outer garments. “I already have all the garments she made for me. How odd.”

Timothy couldn’t help but grin. It was no doubt the gown he’d ordered for her. “Why don’t you go upstairs and take a peek? I’ll be in the drawing room setting up your tree.” Then he shifted his gaze to the butler. “Please have a tea tray brought in? My extremities are nearly frozen.”

“At once, sir.”

“And have one of the footmen bring a stout bucket and some earth to put the tree into.” Timothy glanced at Ashlynn. “I’ll just find something to do with this, hmm?”

“You can walk up with me to the second floor,” she said with a look in her eyes that felt as if she were seeing him for the first time.

Was she?

While she continued up the stairs, he went into the drawing room. His wife wished to have the tree in a spot where anyone in the room could see it, so he thought to set it up on a table behind one of the low sofas. When a footman came in with the required supplies, between the two of them, they “planted” the tree into the bucket. The earth wasn’t enough to keep the decoration upright, so he grabbed one of the crocheted blankets from where it rested on the arm of a sofa, and after he’d stuffed it around the freshly cut trunk, the tree looked loads better.

“It will look stunning once Lady Dashfield gets ‘round to decorating it, hmm?”

The footman nodded. “Magical, I expect.”

Then she came into the room with the silver gown draped over her arms. “Timothy? Was this your doing?” Such awe went through her voice that even the footman glanced her way.

“If you will excuse me, sir? I have my duties,” the younger man mumbled before he rushed from the room, leaving them alone.

“Yes.” He couldn’t help his grin. “I ordered it for you when the modiste was here last. A gift for you. Do you like it?”

“I adore it. Look how wonderful it is.” As she came toward him, she held the confection up against her front. “It’s ethereal, like moonbeams.”

The silver silk was as if water ran through her fingers. Hundreds of tiny clear glass beads had been sewn all over the skirting. Splashes of them lined the low bodice and the bottom of the short, puffed sleeves. A white satin ribbon went ‘round the waist with enough leftover to tie into a bow at her back. Silver embroidery decorated that sash.

“Does it remind you of the gown you wanted as a young girl?”

“Oh!” Surprise jumped into her eyes. “Is that why you ordered this?”

“Yes.” He nodded. Damn, but he couldn’t wait to see her in that gown. Alternately, he couldn’t wait to have her out of it and see it pooled on the floor in the actual moonlight. “I knew as soon as you told me that story you should have a gown like that.”

Tears welled in her eyes, made them luminous. “You are quite sweet, Timothy. This is a lovely gift. Thank you.” Seconds after she draped the garment over the back of a chair, she closed the distance between them, looped her arms about his shoulders, stood on her toes, and then pressed her lips to his. “I have never had such a lovely gown.”

“I’d hoped you might wear it to the dinner party tonight,” he said between kisses as he put his arms around her. There was no hope of stopping the slide now, for he never wanted to return to his past life. “Since it is a bit festive.”

“I absolutely will, but first, I want to kiss you, unless you offer a protest?”

The second that dark eyebrow lifted in question and her kiss-swollen lips parted in a grin, he was utterly and completely lost. “There is nothing I would rather do.” There would be enough time later tonight after the dinner party for him to tell her what was forming on his heart.

“Oh, and don’t forget,” she said between kisses as they moved toward the fireplace. “We need to drop by that Seven Dials neighborhood this afternoon, since you promised the children. I can’t wait to watch you charm your way through them again.”

“I haven’t forgotten, and as soon as I’ve had my fill of my wife, we shall go.” And he kissed her again, because he could.