A Christmas Betrothal Read online

  Which only left the impishly troublesome Arabella Wynter as the possible source of the joke …

  ‘It is enough, Amelia, to say that I wish a few minutes of your time as soon as is convenient after dinner.’ Gray glowered down at her impatiently.

  She gave a gracious inclination of her head. ‘How fortuitous, when I wish for a few minutes of your own time “as soon as is convenient after dinner”!’

  Amelia had spent several hours alone in her bedchamber before it had been time to change for dinner. Time in which to go over that earlier conversation with Arabella Wynter.

  To question as to why Gideon had allowed her to continue believing the gossip she had heard about him.

  To wonder once again, in light of what Arabella had told her of Gideon’s having shot another man in defence of her life, exactly how he had come by those scars upon his chest and back …

  Chapter Nine

  Gray’s mood had not improved in the slightest by the time he and Amelia were at last able to slip away to the warmth of the heated conservatory, whilst the men enjoyed their brandy and cigars in the library and the ladies retired to the drawing room.

  How could it, when Gray had spent the past three hours watching as Amelia had been flattered and flirted with by several other men invited to the St Claire Christmas festivities? Jeremy Croft, son and heir of a neighbouring estate, for one. And several of the male St Claire cousins. Even the Earl of Whitney, Jane St Claire’s charming widowed father, had shown Amelia some marked attention.

  Gray, seated as far down the long dining table from Amelia as possible for him to be, had been forced to watch in brooding displeasure as she had obviously enjoyed those attentions. And why should she not? Was it not for this very reason that Gray had suggested giving Amelia a London Season? So that she might meet other men and enjoy their attentions?

  Perhaps it was—Gray had just not realised at the time how much he was going to detest having to sit back and watch!

  Several candles had been lit in the conservatory for those guests who wished to escape there for either peace or privacy from the festivities, and Gray now found himself glowering down at Amelia as she perched primly on the edge of one of several cushioned wicker garden chairs. ‘You appear to be enjoying yourself … ?’

  She gave a slight inclination of her head. ‘Everyone has been very kind.’

  Gray’s eyes narrowed. ‘Implying I have not?’

  ‘Implying whatever you wish it to imply,’ Amelia came back tartly.

  It did not take too much intelligence on Amelia’s part to know that Gideon was spoiling for a fight. He had been glaring at her for most of the evening, and he had made their excuses to the Duchess as soon as it had been polite to do so before dragging Amelia off to the quiet solitude of this conservatory. A place, presumably, where he might talk to her in private.

  His eyes glittered silver between those narrowed lids. ‘You have only been here a matter of hours, Amelia—it usually takes much longer for the St Claires to incite the same outspokenness in their guests as they themselves possess!’

  Amelia laughed softly. ‘They are truly wonderful, are they not?’

  ‘Wonderful is not a word I have ever before heard associated with the St Claire family!’ Gideon grimaced.

  ‘Well, you have heard it now,’ Amelia assured him primly. ‘I like them all very much. Arabella is especially engaging,’ she added softly as she watched him from beneath lowered lids. Gideon appeared as arrogant and imposing as the St Claire brothers, in his dark evening clothes and snowy white linen.

  ‘Yes … Arabella … ‘ He paused, his jaw tight. ‘Did you happen to mention, during your earlier conversation with her, the way in which the two of us met?’

  Ah. Amelia had only realised after Arabella Wynter had left her rooms earlier this afternoon that she had not extracted the other woman’s promise not to mention the shooting incident to anyone else. An oversight on her part, it would appear, that Gideon was now also aware of …

  Her chin rose challengingly. ‘I do not understand your—displeasure, considering I am the one who was at fault for shooting you.’

  No, Gray did not suppose that she did. Amelia could have absolutely no idea of the teasing that he, an agent of the crown who had in the past survived several attempts upon his life, was going to suffer at the sarcastic tongues of Darius Wynter and Sebastian especially for allowing a woman to pink him.

  ‘It did not occur to you that perhaps the incident might have been better kept to ourselves?’

  ‘Not in the circumstances the conversation came about, no.’ She continued to face him challengingly. ‘Arabella had just finished telling me how you had saved her life several weeks ago. How you have become a hero in her own and her family’s eyes.’

  Gray’s mouth tightened at the young Duchess’s indiscretion in having revealed even that much. ‘And reciprocating by confiding how you had shot me seemed like a natural response to that disclosure?’

  ‘No, of course it did not!’ Amelia stood up impatiently, those beautiful blue eyes snapping with anger. ‘You have deceived me and lied to me, Gideon. As I believe you deceived and lied to your own brother before he died. In other words, sir, you are not at all what you seem!’

  Gray’s breath caught in his throat at Amelia’s astuteness. At her ability, armed with so little information, to see through the charade his life had necessarily been these past seven or eight years. ‘You are talking nonsense, Amelia—’

  ‘No, Gideon, you are once again attempting to deceive. And I will no longer be deceived.’ She gathered up her gown before turning. ‘I have been pleased these last few days to see that your arm has obviously improved, but I have no wish to talk with you again—on any subject—until you are willing to tell me the truth!’

  With a swish of her skirts she turned on her heel and marched proudly from the room.

  Leaving Gideon to stand alone and frustrated in the conservatory …

  ‘You seem somewhat sad this evening, Amelia.’

  Amelia looked up to smile at Lady Grace, the self-confident and dark-haired wife of Lucian St Claire, as she paused to speak with her once the ladies had retired to the drawing room the following evening after another sumptuous dinner. ‘I am probably tired,’ she excused. ‘It has been a busy day.’

  ‘But an enjoyable one, I hope?’ the other woman prompted softly as she sat down beside Amelia on the chaise.

  ‘Oh, yes.’ It was the eve before Christmas, and first thing this morning Jane, Duchess of Stourbridge, had gathered all the ladies in the house to help her in delivering baskets of food and presents for all those on the estate. Something she had apparently begun upon her marriage to the Duke almost two years ago, claiming that the tenants and their children would appreciate the food and gifts more before Christmas rather than after it.

  Seeing the adults’ pleasure, and the excitement on the faces of the children as they received this largesse, Amelia could not help but agree with the Duchess.

  She had also spent an enjoyable hour before dinner in the nursery, not only with Jane St Claire, but the recently arrived Alice Wycliffe, Countess of Stanford, and Arabella’s sister-in-law, Margaret, Dowager Duchess of Carlyne. The older woman had no living children of her own to provide her with grandchildren, but she obviously doted on Alexander, the six-month-old Marquess of Mulberry. And, being pregnant herself, Alice Wycliffe had obviously enjoyed being around such a beautiful baby as Alexander.

  Amelia had also learnt, as she drank tea with Alice Wycliffe, that it was she and her husband whom Gideon had visited the day after his arrival at Steadley Manor. And that it was Alice Wycliffe who had suggested to Gideon, during that visit, that Amelia might enjoy a Season in London.

  It had altogether been an enlightening as well as a busy day for Amelia.

  But a day when she had seen nothing of Gideon …

  He and the other gentlemen had been busy cutting down and bringing in holly, mistletoe and boughs covered with berrie
s, so that the house was now filled with their beauty and festive perfume. A bittersweet reminder to Amelia that tomorrow was Christmas Day.

  ‘You know, Amelia—you do not mind if I continue to call you Amelia … ?’

  ‘Not at all,’ she assured her warmly; indeed she had become on first-name terms with all the female guests as they had rushed and bustled together throughout the day.

  ‘I do not profess to be knowledgeable when it comes to men—’

  ‘Oh, please—’

  ‘To be fair, Lucian is the only man I have ever desired to know really well,’ Grace continued, with obvious affection for her broodingly remote husband. ‘But I am sure that Lord Grayson has his dark side, too.’

  ‘I—Yes. Perhaps … ‘ Amelia was deeply uncomfortable with this conversation.

  ‘On the outside arrogant, and at times remote.’ Grace nodded. ‘But underneath a man of deep honour and loyalty.’

  Amelia grimaced. ‘I do not believe that Gideon would appreciate our discussing him in this way.’ She was all too aware of his displeasure concerning what he had obviously considered her indiscretion in speaking of her own rash behaviour five days ago, and Arabella’s in discussing the events of a few weeks ago.

  Grace tilted her head quizzically. ‘You call him Gideon?’

  She could feel the colour warming her cheeks. ‘He would prefer that I did not.’

  The other woman nodded. ‘But he has not forbidden you to do so?’

  ‘Not forbidden, no.’ Amelia gave a rueful shake of her head.

  Grace smiled briefly. ‘My husband tells me that Lord Grayson has allowed no one to call him by his given name since his older brother Perry—your stepfather—was killed at Waterloo.’

  ‘I did not know that.’ Amelia swallowed hard. ‘I have made so many mistakes, it would seem.’ She sighed, disheartened. ‘I believe I might go to bed now—if you think no one will mind?’

  ‘I am sure they will not. But you yourself might have cause to regret it … ‘

  She frowned. ‘Why so?’

  Grace rested her hand gently upon Amelia’s. ‘I noticed that Lord Grayson did not seem inclined for company this evening, either. He left the house as soon as we had finished eating,’ she explained, at Amelia’s questioning look. ‘I believe he walked in the direction of the boathouse. Without his hat or a coat.’ She glanced out of the huge picture window. ‘It has started to snow again, so perhaps you should take them to him?’

  Amelia gave the other woman a puzzled frown. ‘Why are you telling me these things … ?’

  Grace laughed softly. ‘Because tomorrow is Christmas, my dear Amelia, and no one should look as unhappy at Christmastime as you and Lord Grayson have looked this evening!’ Amelia grimaced. ‘I know Gideon is unhappy with me—’

  ‘It is himself he is unhappy with, not you,’ Grace assured her softly. ‘Several weeks ago Lord Grayson did this family a great service, for which we are all very grateful. Knowing the St Claire men as I do, I am sure that Gray has not confided those events to you?’

  Amelia frowned. ‘Gideon is not a St Claire … ‘

  ‘He is now,’ the other woman said with certainty. ‘As much a brother to Hawk, Lucian, Sebastian and Darius as any of them are to each other.’ She stood up, a slight and regally graceful figure. ‘Lord Grayson believes himself committed to silence on a certain subject. I am sure that I speak for all the St Claire family when I urge you to tell him we release him from any such commitment.’

  Amelia shook her head. ‘I really do not think—’

  ‘I have found that sometimes it is better to act than to think, Amelia,’ Grace urged firmly. ‘Pride is all very well, my dear, but it will not keep you warm on a snowy winter’s night.’ She gave a husky laugh. ‘And there is a warm and comfortable loft above the boathouse … ‘ she added softly, before turning to walk gracefully across the room to help Jane serve cups of tea to the other ladies.

  Leaving Amelia with many more questions in need of an answer …

  Gray stood in the shelter of the boathouse, looking out across the lake. The edges of that lake were frozen, and already covered in the snow that was once again gently falling. Not that Gray saw any of the beauty of that bright moonlit scene before him. His thoughts were all inward. Troubled and contradictory thoughts that only served to make him feel even more out of sorts than he was already.

  He had been unhappy for days with the way he and Amelia had parted the other evening. He liked even less the strained silence that now existed between them. Not that he had seen very much of Amelia throughout his day; she had been as busy as he with other things. But he had heard her husky laughter several times, and known that she was at least enjoying herself. Perhaps Gray should be satisfied with that. After all—

  ‘Gideon … ?’

  He turned sharply to see Amelia standing in the shadowed doorway of the boathouse, a cloak pulled up over her golden curls and about the slenderness of her body. ‘What the devil are you doing here?’ He frowned as he stepped forward into the boathouse. ‘Come inside at once, out of the cold! Do you not know better than to walk outside in the snow wearing only that thin gown and cloak and those dainty slippers?’

  She laughed ruefully. ‘Which question would you like me to answer first? But before I do—I have brought you a coat and hat.’ She held the two garments out to him almost shyly.

  ‘Never mind those now.’ Gray took the hat and coat and tossed them down onto an old rowboat that had been pulled out of the water and stored for the winter. ‘Why are you not back at the house with the other ladies, enjoying the warmth of the fire and drinking tea?’

  She looked up at him reprovingly. ‘That is three questions you have asked now, without letting me answer a single one of them!’

  Gray could see her quite clearly in the moonlight, her skin appearing more ivory than ever, her eyes clear and sparkling. He reached out to clasp both her hands in his as he saw her give an involuntary shiver. ‘There—I told you it was cold!’ He frowned down at her. ‘You must go back to the house immediately—’

  ‘Will you return with me?’

  To the confines of his bedchamber? Knowing that Amelia was somewhere in the house, as out of reach to him as that moon shining so brightly above them? ‘No, I am not ready to return just yet,’ Gray answered hardly.

  ‘Then I will not go back, either.’

  ‘Do not be so stubborn, Amelia—’

  ‘I am stubborn?’ She gazed up at him incredulously, her eyes blazing with temper now. ‘I have been assured by not one but two of the St Claire ladies that you are far from the rakish gambler you allow Society to believe. Have been told that the St Claire family all consider you to be a member of their family—an honour I do not believe they would have bestowed lightly. I am also told that you are a man of great honour and loyalty. That, furthermore, you are a hero. And you—you do not even attempt to tell me any of these things yourself, but prefer that I continue to believe every bad thing I have ever heard about you! You—’

  Her tirade was cut short by Gideon pulling her into his arms and bringing his mouth down firmly upon hers.

  Amelia gave a choked cry as she returned the fierceness of his kiss, her arms up about Gideon’s shoulders as she clung to him.

  By the time they broke apart, long minutes later, Amelia was crying and laughing at the same time, as the emotions she had held in check all day threatened to overwhelm her.’You—You—You man, you!’ She frowned up at him exasperatedly.

  Gray chuckled softly, his arms about her waist still as he refused to release her. ‘Is that the worst insult you can level at me?’

  ‘Probably not,’ Amelia allowed with an attempt at sternness. ‘But for the moment no doubt it will suffice. I insist that you tell me the truth, Gideon. Now.’

  ‘You insist?’ he repeated softly.

  She nodded firmly. ‘I do.’

  Gray gave a rueful shake of his head. ‘I knew that the St Claire women would be a bad influence on you!�
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  Amelia eyed him challengingly. ‘I do not believe that any of them can claim to have shot the man they love on their very first meeting.’

  ‘No, I—What did you say, Amelia?’ Gray stared down at her incredulously.

  Amelia gave a pained groan. ‘I spoke out of turn.’ She pulled out of his arms to turn away from him. ‘Please forget that I—’

  ‘Amelia, I have no inclination to forget, when I have loved you from the very moment you shot me!’

  ‘Do not tease me—please, Gideon!’ She huddled down in her cloak as she moved sharply away from him. ‘I believe I will go back to the house after all … ‘

  ‘Amelia, I assure you I am completely in earnest!’ Gray crossed the distance that separated them in two long strides and reached out to clasp the tops of her arms. ‘You have no idea how much I have regretted—how deeply sorry I am—that I frightened you the other evening with the depth of my … my passion.’ He gave a self-disgusted shake of his head.

  Her eyes widened. ‘Is that the reason you were so cold towards me afterwards? Because you believed me to have been frightened by what we had shared?’

  He nodded grimly. ‘I should not have touched you in the way that I did. You are a young and innocent young lady, completely unaware of—of such intimacies. A young and beautiful woman who deserves to be spoilt and petted by any number of men, your beauty appreciated and admired, before you make any choice concerning where you do or do not love.’

  Amelia looked up at Gideon searchingly, knowing by the fierceness of his expression that he believed the things he was saying. ‘You will dare to stand there and admit to deciding what I do or do not need without so much as consulting me on the subject?’ she demanded incredulously.

  ‘I am only thinking of you—’

  Her disgusted snort interrupted him. ‘For your information, Gideon, I received my first offer of marriage on my seventeenth birthday. From the eldest son of Lord Rotherford—perhaps you know of him?’ She could see by Gideon’s stunned expression that he had indeed heard of the wealthy Lord Rotherford and his estate in Norfolk. ‘I received my second offer a month later, from the Earl of Radcliffe. Perhaps you have heard of him, too?’ She gave him a scathing glance. ‘Shortly before my mother was taken ill and died I received a third offer, from Sir Charles Montague. I see by your expression that you have heard of him, too,’ she noted with satisfaction. ‘In the space of four months I received, and refused, three offers of marriage. You had not realised, had you, that although we lived so far from London, we were not lacking in social invitations?’ She gave an impatient shake of her head.