His Housekeeper's Christmas Wish (11 page)

There was a tap on the door, the modest yet definite knock he was learning to associate with his temporary housekeeper.

‘Come in.’ Yes, it was his little nun with her confounded notebook. He got up from the sofa where he’d been sprawled and waved her to the chair opposite.

Not such a little nun now
, he thought as she settled her well-cut skirts into order. With good food and a warm house she had lost that pinched, cold look. Taking command suited her, put a sparkle in those blue eyes and a determined tilt to that pointed chin. And the food had done more than keep her warm, it had given her curves that were most definitely not nun-like.

My staff, my responsibility
, he reminded himself, sat down and dumped the Christie’s catalogue firmly onto his lap.

‘Are you all right, my lord? I thought you winced just now.’

‘Alex, for goodness’ sake.’ He smiled to counteract the snap. ‘And it was just a touch of...er...rheumatism.’

‘Rheumatism?’

He shrugged and the catalogues slid helpfully, painfully, into his throbbing groin. ‘What can I do for you, Tess?’

‘Christmas presents,’ she said. She flipped open her notebook, produced a pencil and stared at him as though expecting dictation.

‘Whose Christmas presents?’

‘For the staff. The men, of course, Dorcas and little Daisy. And Annie. I think Annie should stay for a few nights, I don’t like to think of her having to go back to that lonely lodging house.’

‘Who the blazes is Annie? The scullery maid? No, don’t answer that. Do what you want about staff meals, but why presents? I give them all money on St Stephen’s Day.’

‘Of course you do and I am sure it is very generous. But Christmas presents are special, don’t you think? Personal.’

Alex considered a range of things he could say and decided it was probably safer not to utter any of them, not when faced with a woman armed with a notebook. ‘I’ll give you some money and you can buy them.’

‘I think the staff would really appreciate it if you chose them yourself.’ He could feel himself glowering and could only admire her courage as she continued to smile. ‘It is more in the Christmas spirit, don’t you think?’

‘Tess, you know perfectly well what I think about Christmas spirit. Codswallop. Humbug. Ridiculous sentimentality.’ Anyone else would have backed down in the face of that tone and his glare. All the men he knew certainly would have done. They obviously raised them with backbones of steel in convents.

‘But I know you value your staff,’ she said in a voice of sweet reason. ‘We could go out this afternoon unless you are very busy.’ By not so much as a flicker did her eyes move towards the pile of discarded journals, abandoned catalogues, crumpled newspapers and the other evidence of a lazy morning. ‘It isn’t raining. And I have a list.’

‘I’ll wager you have.’ Alex got to his feet. ‘I surrender. Wrap up warmly, I’ll get the carriage sent around.’

* * *

Half an hour later when he met her in the hall she was wearing a smart mantle that matched a deep-blue bonnet and she had decent gloves on.
How pretty she is with the bruise gone and that bonnet framing her face.
‘Where is Dorcas?’ he snapped.

‘Daisy was fretful and Dorcas has a lot of work on her hands hemming petticoats for me and it would only distract Annie from her work if she has to watch the baby, as well. We don’t really need Dorcas, do we?’

The innocent question, the questioning tilt of her head to one side, got to him every time. He just wanted to kiss her silly.
Which is not going to happen.
‘Not if you feel comfortable alone in a closed carriage with me.’ Alex kept his voice neutral, but she still turned a delicate shade of pink.

‘Of course I do. We discussed...that. I thought we had forgotten about it.’

Forgotten that kiss? Forgotten that you admitted that the attraction wasn’t just one-sided? When you become prettier and happier with every day that passes? When hell freezes over.
Alex wasn’t going to lie to her. ‘I think we are doing a very good job of pretending it doesn’t exist,’ he said drily. ‘Best put that veil down in case anyone sees you. Now, where to?’

‘A music publishers first, there’s one in Albemarle Street. I want music for MacDonald and Phipps—good tunes, ballads, dances. MacDonald can play the violin and read music and Phipps plays the flute, but only by ear, so MacDonald’s going to teach him to read music. They’ve only got one or two pieces now.’

* * *

Alex helped her out of the carriage and into the shop, his ears ringing, while Tess talked. He had learned more about his footmen in ten minutes than he’d known in five years, he realised as he stood back to let her go through the door into the shop in front of him.

Chapter Eleven

‘T
hat was easy,’ Tess said fifteen minutes later as she gave a satisfied pat to the brown paper parcel on the carriage seat. ‘Now then, tobacco jars for Perring and Hodge. John Coachman says he’ll not be responsible for his actions if he has to deal with two grooms squabbling over which tobacco is whose much longer. And he takes snuff, so a new box for him, don’t you think?’

Alex directed John to Robert Lewis’s tobacconist shop in St James’s Street and sat back to digest the discovery that he was actually enjoying himself. Part of it, of course, was Tess’s company. Her enjoyment of the shops, her enthusiasm and cheerful goodwill was infectious, and he found he had no objection at all to the image he saw reflected in shop windows of the two of them arm in arm. But strangely, it was more than that.

‘Do you know, I find this oddly satisfying, like working out the attribution of a painting,’ he confessed as they emerged later from Gray’s the jewellers with a coral-and-silver teething ring for little Daisy. ‘Are we done now?’

‘Not yet.’ Tess looked back over her shoulder as she got into the carriage.

Alex closed the door behind him and then stayed on his feet to shift parcels on the seat. ‘More?’

‘Well, yes. There’s—’ Tess began as the carriage started off, then stopped with a lurch.

Alex twisted round, caught his balance and lost it again as the vehicle jerked forward, accompanied by a vigorous exchange of curses from on top of the box. He just missed the seat; Tess grabbed for him and he hit the floor with her on top, one sharp elbow planted firmly in his midriff.
‘Ough
.
’

‘Alex? Oh, I am so sorry, I’ve hurt you.’ She was sprawled down the length of him, the two of them wedged on the floor. He looked up, through eyes watering from the impact, into her face, so close. The tip of her nose was pink from the chill, her lips were parted, her eyes were wide with concern.
Adorable. She’s adorable.
And outrageously arousing with every inch of her pressed to him.

‘Winded...’ he managed. ‘That’s all.’ He closed his eyes the better to enjoy the sensation of her curves, the erotic, impossibly innocent, scent of plain soap and a dab of lavender water.

‘Alex! Alex, can you hear me?’ She squirmed, trying to get to her feet without, he supposed, trampling all over him. ‘Have you hit your head?’

Alex groaned, opened his eyes and found himself still nose to nose with Tess.
This is more than any man can be expected to withstand
, he told himself, gritting his teeth.

With a dolphin-like heave she got herself up at the expense of no more than an inch or two of skin scraped from his shin bones. ‘I am so sorry I squashed you, Alex. Just lie still. I’ll pull the cord and tell John Coachman to drive direct to your doctor.’

‘No need.’ He found his voice from somewhere and sat up before Tess observed the interesting effect her squirming had produced on his body. ‘I’m fine. Just...’
Hanging on to my self-control by my fingernails.
Alex put both hands on the squabs and pushed himself up and onto the seat next to her. ‘Winded, as I said. What were we talking about?’
Something, please God, dull and non-inflammatory.

‘A donkey!’ For a moment he thought she meant him, which was nothing but the truth, given that he was an experienced man about town reduced to a quivering mass of sexual frustration by a chit from a nunnery.

‘Oh, isn’t it sweet?’ Tess pointed out of the window to a costermonger’s barrow pulled by an improbably fluffy little donkey.

‘Yes,’ Alex agreed cautiously. It was not the word he would have used. ‘But we do not need a donkey.’ The way she collected things he could expect to come home to find an ass and an ox in the stables, just for Christmas. He wouldn’t put it past her to go to Pidcock’s Menagerie and borrow a camel for atmosphere.

Tess smiled at him, apparently able to read his mind. ‘Of course not.’

Alex was seized with a contrary urge to buy her one, just to see that smile again. He repressed the whim. ‘Now where?’

‘A toyshop. I want a doll for Daisy.’

* * *

The shop, whose owner had obviously stocked up well for the approaching season, was a treasure trove. Alex restrained himself from buying a full set of lead soldiers just to arrange on the study mantelshelf. The display of dolls was astounding, and he blinked at the array of miniature femininity. Tess was studying the far corner where the plainest examples were arrayed.

Alex made for the most magnificent, complete with real hair and elegant clothing. ‘There’s no need to stint, I don’t expect Dorcas can afford to give the child many toys.’

‘She’s too young for one, really, but I think it is nice if she grows up with a doll who will become an old favourite. But a baby needs a simple, soft doll, like those.’ Tess lifted down a medium-size rag doll, then turned back to the counter past a row of wooden dolls, their hair and features painted on. She stopped and touched one, just with the tip of her finger, and something in her smile sent a cold shiver down Alex’s spine.

‘What’s wrong, Tess?’

‘Nothing. Only memories.’ Her hand hesitated for a moment over the brightly coloured skirt, then she gave herself a little shake and took the rag doll across to the counter. ‘I had a doll like that once.’ Tess was looking at the wooden dolls again. ‘Mama gave it to me for Christmas when I was six.’

‘What happened to it?’

‘The nuns took it when I went to the convent.’

‘But you were, what, twelve by then?’

‘Thirteen, and far too old to play with dolls, of course. I didn’t play with her, though, I talked to her. She was my friend,’ Tess said simply.

When they were outside on the pavement she blinked as if she had been miles away. Or years, perhaps, Alex thought. ‘Did you not have friends?’

‘Not really.’ Her expression went blank. ‘We moved an awful lot. And not when we were travelling, of course. I was perfectly happy,’ she said hastily when he opened his mouth. ‘I had Mama and Papa. But you know what it is like when you are a child, you need an ear to whisper your secrets into, someone to tell your troubles to. Some children have imaginary friends, Patty was my confidant, that is all.’

Yes, I know. Peter was all of that to me, but he was real. Friend, confidant, someone to tell my troubles and my secrets to. Only he hadn’t been able to tell me his biggest secret and because of that, he’s been cold in the ground these ten years.

‘Where do you want to go next?’ Alex asked and fished out his clean handkerchief for Tess.

She blew her nose briskly, stuffed the linen square into her reticule and said, ‘A bookshop. Dorcas enjoys novels.’

* * *

Alex left Tess browsing amidst the stacked tables in Hatchard’s in Piccadilly. ‘Will you be all right here for half an hour? I’ve just remembered something I need to do.’

By the time he came back she had accumulated a pile of six books, two new notebooks and some sheets of wrapping paper with gold stars stamped on it. ‘The notebooks and two of the books are for me,’ she explained as he carried them to the counter for her. ‘You must take those out of my wages.’

‘Don’t be foolish.’ Alex looked at the spines. ‘Cookery books and notebooks are essential housekeeping equipment.’ He waved aside the assistant waiting to carry the parcel out to the carriage. ‘Now we are going to Bond Street and Madame Francine’s.’

‘Madame—a modiste?’ Tess stopped dead on the pavement. ‘I am not going to help you choose garments for your light of love, my lord!’

‘Foolish,’ he repeated, marching her firmly towards the carriage. ‘Garments for you. Hannah gave me a list, said that she had not finished outfitting you.’

‘She had. I have everything I need.’ She was beholden to him enough.

‘What do you know about it, little nun?’ He waved a folded sheet of paper under her nose.

‘But—’

‘But nothing. Here we are.’ He helped her down, swept her into the shop, deposited her firmly in a chair and proceeded to charm the pantalettes off Madame Francine, as Tess said bitterly to Dorcas later.

She was taken off to a fitting room, measured, clucked over and finally allowed back to where Alex was waiting, perfectly at his ease on a spindly gilt chair, his nose in a copy of
La Belle Assemblée.

‘All will be ordered as you desire, my lord.’ Madame Francine glanced at the list. ‘We have taken foot tracings so the shoes will be delivered at the same time.’

Tess knew better than to make a scene in the shop, but she began to protest as soon as they reached the carriage. ‘Alex—my lord—I cannot have you buying me more clothes. It is not at all proper, beside any consideration of the cost.’

‘Do I appear to be poverty stricken? Unable to afford a modest wardrobe for a lady housekeeper?’

‘No, but that is not the point.’

‘Those old crows sent you out into the world dressed like a skivvy. Do you expect me to leave you like that?’

‘You outfitted me as you would have a footman with his livery. That is understandable. And what you gave me was quite sufficient.’

‘
Sufficient
is a mean, tight, word. You are a pretty young woman, Tess, not a footman. It gives me pleasure to see you dressed nicely. You bring colour to the house.’

She felt the blush burn upwards and with it the anger. ‘Pretty. I see. You expect me to show my gratitude, I suppose? Madame Francine knows you very well, doesn’t she? I suppose that is where you take all your mistresses.’ As soon as she said it she knew she had misjudged him.

‘Yes, I have taken mistresses there before. You think that is how I regard you? You think that of me?’ Alex’s face was an expressionless mask.

‘No. No, I do not. I am sorry, I reacted without thinking. I hate the idea of some sort of financial transaction, but... You want me. I may be inexperienced, but when we fell on the floor of the carriage...’ Her vocabulary failed her.

‘You noticed I was aroused?’

It was possible that a thunderbolt might strike, or the carriage horses bolt or the king pass by in procession. No miracle occurred to save her. Tess jerked up her chin and made herself look Alex in the eye. ‘Yes.’
Yes, I did notice that hard ridge of flesh pressed into my stomach. Yes, I do know what it means and, no, I was not shocked. I was excited. Shamefully, achingly, excited.

‘You may also have noticed that I did nothing about it.’ Now his voice was as colourless as his expression. ‘I would have to be...a completely different kind of man not to be aroused by you. I can ignore this, just as any gentleman can. We are not all the victims of our animal natures like Dorcas’s previous employer.’

‘I know.’ She kept her chin up, even though she wanted to bury her face in the carriage rug. ‘It is on my mind because...’
Because I wish you were not such a gentleman
. Impossible to say it. Tess closed her eyes and swallowed. ‘I wonder why you are not married.’

‘I do not intend to marry,’ Alex said, as calmly as if he was stating that he had no intention of visiting Germany.

That snapped her eyes open. ‘You don’t intend to marry? But that’s ridiculous!’

‘So is being quizzed on the subject by a convent-reared gentlewoman in my own carriage.’ There was a definite edge to his voice now and colour up over his cheekbones. If he resembled any of the mythical creatures of Sister Moira’s fairy tales, it was no longer a benevolent one. ‘Why is it ridiculous that I do not intend to marry? Are you of the opinion that everyone should?’

‘Of course not. In my case, for example, it should be obvious that I will not wed.’ One dark brow lifted, but she pressed on. ‘I am a penniless nobody with a living to earn. You are an aristocrat, heir to a title. Surely marriage is expected of you?’

‘Exactly. I do not choose to do the expected.’ There was an unfamiliar, bitter twist to his mouth now.

‘Then, it is simply a self-indulgent whim?’

Alex turned those slanting hazel eyes on her. ‘Throwing brickbats now I have made you uncomfortable, Tess? It is not a whim, it is a deliberate act by someone who is otherwise powerless to avenge a crime.’

His father. Hannah said someone died that Christmas ten years ago.
‘You are depriving your father of the hope of the succession, aren’t you? But you have a brother.’

His lips curved into a smile that sent cold chills down her spine. ‘Indeed I have. Let us just say that if I were a stockbreeder I could not hope for a more willing stallion nor fear having one who has proved so unproductive so far. According to gossip Matthew has spent his wild oats over three counties without so much as one bastard to his name.’

‘I do not think I like you very much in this mood, Alex Tempest.’ Tess dragged the carriage rug close around her legs.

‘Nor do I,’ he said, the dangerous smile vanishing. ‘I do not think I have ever come across a lady who is prepared to speak as frankly as you, Tess.’

‘Perhaps I just see the future more clearly. I will not marry and I am unlikely ever to find myself in a situation where I can discuss such subjects so openly with a man. I will be gone soon after all. Hannah will return after Christmas and I will have to take myself off to the employment agencies.

‘Are you not cutting off your nose to spite your face? After all, you are not a virgin, are you, my lord?’ There was a woman in the carriage who looked like her, sounded like her. The Tess Ellery who was listening to what this other Tess was saying, who seemed to be able to see her through Alex’s eyes, shrivelled inwardly with shock.

A sudden, surprised gasp of laughter escaped him. ‘No.’

‘I thought not, not after the mention of mistresses. Nor a monk, either, I imagine?’

‘No, not a monk, either.’

‘So you are not proposing a life of sacrificial celibacy. You will punish your father and wallow in sin at the same time.’

‘Wallow in sin? Tess, what
have
you been reading?’

‘No doubt I am very naive, but I do not think you are happy.’

‘And marriage would make me happy? I very much doubt it. I haven’t the models for doing it right, besides anything else. If I’ve inherited anything from my father, it is probably an ability to make an appalling husband and father. Don’t look at me with those great innocent eyes, full of righteous indignation, Tess.’ He studied her face for a moment, then smiled, a smile free from the bitterness and mockery. ‘Are you by any chance attempting to seduce me into happiness by using sweet reason?’