The Earl’s Mistletoe Bride

evening, Jonathan.’ He bowed briefly. ‘May I present your guest of honour, Miss Aubrey?’

There was only time for a single glance before she sank into a deep curtsy, a curtsy fit for a queen, not a mere earl. When she did not rise immediately, Jon stepped forward and took her hand to raise her himself. His eyes had not deceived him. She looked utterly radiant, as beautiful as the dawn. His breath caught. For a second, he could not find any words. How did you tell a woman that she had been transformed into a vision out of a fairytale?

Mrs Aubrey was gazing at Beth with pride in her eyes and a slight smile on her lips. But it was the rector who broke the silence. ‘Fit to grace any man’s table, I’d say. Wouldn’t you agree, my boy?’

Jon found his voice at last. ‘Rector, I have no doubt that your ladies-both your ladies-will outshine any in the county.’

By the time the guests were seated at the dinner table, Jon had more or less recovered from the revelation of Beth’s astonishing beauty. How had he failed to see it before? Had he stopped using his eyes once he decided she was a foundling in need of rescue? It was possible. In Spain, after the siege of Badajoz, many women had been attacked by drunken British soldiers. Jon and his fellow officers had been unable to save them from molestation, and worse. That failure still haunted him, so much so that he had sworn he would always defend a lone woman in distress. That was part of the reason he had made common cause with the Aubreys to support Beth, though it had suited his other purposes, too. Had he been so intent on securing his own place in Fratcombe society, that he had failed to understand she was not just a cause, but also a living, breathing woman?

He knew it now. The living, breathing body beneath that filmy gown was the stuff of a man’s dreams.

His heart was still beating faster than normal but he fancied he had hidden his physical reactions pretty well. He had even succeeded in escorting her to the dining room without betraying himself. She had rested her hand so lightly on the sleeve of his dress coat that he had had to check it was actually there. It was, but even then he was not totally convinced. Her fingers could easily have been hovering a fraction of an inch above his arm. Was she as aware of his body as he was of hers? He could not tell. But he must not allow himself to lust after her. She was far beneath him, but she was a lady. It was his duty to treat her as one.

The dinner was for a very select group-the Aubreys, Beth, Jonathan and the other couples who had done most to turn Beth’s stay in the district into a severe trial. Worst among them were the Fitzherberts, of course. Rank dictated that, while Jon had the pleasure of seeing the beautiful Miss Beth on his right hand, he had to suffer the gushing Lady Fitzherbert from his left.

The dinner progressed relatively smoothly. Knowing that Lady Fitzherbert was listening to every word, Jon began the first course by trying to draw Beth out on innocuous subjects such as books and music. Her responses were polite but unforthcoming. He could not blame her. What lady would want to offer up her opinions to Lady Fitzherbert’s vinegar-soaked tongue?

After Beth’s third murmured monosyllable, Jon began to feel thoroughly frustrated. What had happened to the girl who had even dared to sharpen her quick wits on him? He was beginning to think he preferred the rather dowdy poor relation, if the price of her physical transformation was to be the cowing of her spirit. Beauty, as he had discovered to his cost with his late and unlamented wife, was no guarantee of character.

‘Mrs Aubrey tells me you have made excellent progress at the village school. Perhaps I may pay a visit and see your teaching for myself?’ When that produced no response other than a rather startled glance, he continued calmly, ‘Do you have many pupils this year?’

It was like opening a sluice gate. She had hesitated to speak of herself, but the colour returned to her cheeks as she spoke more and more enthusiastically about her charges. ‘The most promising child is Peter. He has a bright, enquiring mind and is already reading very well for one so young. His figuring is good, too.’

‘So you foresee a golden future for him?’

She dropped her gaze to her plate and began to push some of the uneaten food around with her fork.

Something was troubling her about this child. After a moment’s pause, Jon said, ‘In my experience, the cleverest children are often the naughtiest. One of my cousins-I shall not name him, to save his blushes-was just such a one, always into mischief, and leading all the others astray.’

‘Oh no, Peter is extremely well behaved in school, and no more boisterous than the other boys outside. It is just that he-’ She took a deep breath. Her lush bosom rose alluringly against her tight decollete. Jon tried to keep his eyes from straying. He must remember his role as host.

‘I must tell you, sir, that his father is only a labourer. As soon as Peter is strong enough to work on the farm, his father will take him out of school.’ She sighed. ‘It is his right, of course. The family has many mouths to feed.’

They both knew it was not her place to interfere, however good her motives. It was no business of Jon’s, either. He should turn the subject. To his surprise, he heard himself asking, ‘Where does the father work?’

Her silence was eloquent, as was the look she gave Jon. She had huge, and very beautiful eyes, the colour of rich chocolate. Eyes to drown in. One more entrancing feature of an entrancing girl.

‘Ah. Do I take it that he is employed by one of my tenants?’

‘Er, no.’ Her voice was barely audible. ‘He works on your home farm.’

Jon almost laughed. Had the man been employed by one of Jon’s tenants, it could have been awkward, even improper, to make special arrangements for the family. But for a home farm labourer, the solution was in Jon’s gift. He would give the boy a future, in return for one more approving look from those beautiful eyes. ‘Estates need good men at all levels, Miss Aubrey. My agent will arrange it. If Peter continues to excel at his lessons, a place can eventually be found for him in my estate office. He will learn a good trade. Will that content you?’

She nodded to her plate. Then, when he said nothing more, she raised her head. Her peach-bloom complexion was glowing and the smile on her lips was beyond mere politeness. And her shining eyes were glorious. ‘Thank you, my lord. I had not thought that you could be so-Thank you.’

Jon started to reach for her hand. He wanted to show her that he truly approved of her motives. At that very moment, the butler ordered the footmen forward, to clear the first course. Jon’s hand dropped back to the table.

Just as well. What on earth had possessed him to do such a thing? And with Lady Fitzherbert watching, too? He must keep himself under tighter control. He must not allow himself to be beguiled by a pair of fine eyes.

Beth had begun conversing with the gentleman on her right, while Jon would now have to endure Lady Fitzherbert’s incessant chatter. He consoled himself that his penance could not last too much longer. Eventually, the cloth would be removed and he could turn back to Beth. With rather more care, this time.

The conversation round the table got louder and louder during the second course. No doubt, Jon’s excellent cellar was lubricating the guests’ throats, particularly those of the gentlemen. He listened with half an ear to Lady Fitzherbert’s boasting of her eldest son’s prowess on the hunting field. One lesson had not been enough to keep the confounded woman in her place, it seemed.

‘Very commendable,’ he said with a nod and a half-smile. Then he raised his voice a little, to be sure most of the other guests could hear, and asked casually, ‘I fancy Fitzherbert is not a common name. Are you, by any chance, related to Mrs Fitzherbert, ma’am? The Prince Regent’s former…um… friend?’

One or two of the guests gasped aloud. Lady Fitzherbert’s eyes goggled. She became so still she might have been stuffed. Eventually her mouth worked as she tried to speak, but no words came out.

Beth Aubrey’s clear voice broke the strained silence. ‘Is it possible your years in Spain have led you into error, my lord? Perhaps you were not aware that Mrs Fitzherbert is a Roman Catholic?’ She turned to fix big, innocent eyes on Jon, though there was nothing innocent in her neat defence of Lady Fitzherbert. Why on earth should Beth do such a thing for a woman who had wronged her?

Because, unlike Jon, she was kind, even to her enemies. Beth had absorbed the Aubreys’ goodness in a way that Jon, to his shame, had not. He suspected he must be looking a little self-conscious now. In an effort to recover, he said quickly, ‘You are right, of course, Miss Aubrey. My mistake. The Fitzherberts of Fratcombe are pillars of the established church.’

When he turned back to Lady Fitzherbert, he found she was glowering across the table at Beth, as if the insult were Beth’s doing rather than Jon’s. No sign of Christian charity there. But it was his duty to show that he had a little, at least. ‘I ask your pardon, ma’am, if my thoughtless remark has disturbed you in any way.’ He raised his eyebrows, waiting for her acceptance.

Lady Fitzherbert simpered and inclined her head, before pointedly changing the subject back to her children’s achievements. Their little spat was over. Unfortunately, her ladyship seemed to be even more set against Beth than