A Wallflower Christmas (Wallflowers #5)(42)

“And we’re not? Grandmother was a dockside washwoman, and the devil knows who your father was. And that was just on your side of the”

“I have spent my life trying to elevate this blighted family into something more! Don’t use this girl as a way to avoid your responsibilities. You can have as many of her kind as you desire after you’ve married Lady Natalie. No one would condemn you for it, especially in England. Seduce her. Make her your mistress. I’ll even buy a house for her, if that will please you.”

“Thank you, but I can afford my own mistresses.” Rafe threw his father a glance of dark disgust. “You want this marriage so much that you’re willing to finance the corruption of an innocent girl to accomplish it?”

“Everyone loses their innocence sooner or later.” As Thomas saw Rafe’s expression, his eyes had turned cold. “If you foil everyone’s expectations, and embarrass me in the bargain, I will cut you off. No more chances. You will be disinherited, and renounced.”

“Understood,” Rafe had said curtly.

CHAPTER 13

…and it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God Bless Us, Every One!

Glancing upward as she finished reading A Christmas Carol, Hannah saw the rapt faces of the children, their eyes shining. There was a brief silence, the shared pleasure of a wonderful story tinged with the regret that it had to end. And then they were all standing, moving about the room, their faces sticky with milk and cookie crumbs, their small hands clapping enthusiastically.

There were two imps on her lap, and one hugging her neck from behind the chair. Hannah looked up as Rafe Bowman approached her. The rhythm of her heart went wild, and she knew her shortness of breath had nothing to do with the small arms clamped around her neck.

His gaze strayed to her disordered clothes and tousled coiffure. “Well done,” he murmured. “You’ve made it feel like Christmas. For everyone.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, trying not to think of his hands on her skin, his mouth

“I need to talk to you.”

Carefully Hannah dislodged the children from her lap and disentangled the arms from her neck. Standing to face him, she tried in vain to straighten her dress and smooth her skirts. She took a deep breath, but her voice emerged with a dismaying lack of force. “I…I don’t see how any good could come of that.”

His gaze was warm and direct. “Nevertheless, I’m going to talk to you.”

The words from his letter drifted through her mind. “I want to kiss every soft place of you …”

“Please not now,” she whispered, with her face flushing and an ache rising in her throat.

Reading the signs of her distress, he relented. “Tomorrow?”

“I need too much of you …”

“Yes,” she said with difficulty.

Comprehending how deeply his presence unnerved her, Rafe gave her a slight nod, his jaw firming. It seemed there were a dozen things he wanted to say, words hovering impatiently on his lips, but something…compassion or pity perhaps…afforded him the necessary self-restraint.

“Tomorrow,” he repeated quietly, and left her.

NANNIES AND NURSERYMAIDS CAME TO COLLECT THE CHILDREN, and Hannah went out into the hallway in a daze of misery.

No one had ever told her that love could make every cell in one’s body hurt.

She was becoming fairly certain that she would not be able to attend Rafe and Natalie’s wedding, that all the events of their married life, the births of children, the celebrations and rituals, would be impossible for her to tolerate. She would stew in jealousy and despair and resentment until she disintegrated. The common wisdom for a woman in her situation was that someday she would meet another man, and she would forget all about Rafe Bowman. But she didn’t want another man. There was no one else like him.

I’m doomed, she thought.

With her head lowered, she plowed along the hallway, intending to go to her room, where she could mope and cry in private. Unfortunately, walking with one’s head down meant one could not precisely see where one was going. She nearly collided with a woman approaching from the opposite direction, someone who walked with a distinctively long, free stride.

They both stopped abruptly, and the woman reached out to steady Hannah.

“My lady,” Hannah gasped, recognizing Lillian. “Oh…I’m so sorry…I beg your pardon …”

“No harm done,” the countess assured her. “My fault, actually. I was hurrying to tell the housekeeper something before I had to meet my sister, and” She paused and stared at Hannah closely. “You look ready to cry,” she said bluntly. “Is something the matter?”

“No,” Hannah said brightly, and a few hot tears spilled out. She sighed and bent her head again. “Oh, bollocks. Forgive me, I must go”

“You poor thing,” Lillian said with genuine sympathy, seeming not at all shocked by the profanity. “Come with me. There’s a private parlor upstairs where we can talk.”

“I can’t,” Hannah whispered. “My lady, forgive me, but you’re the last person I can confide in about this.”

“Oh.” The countess’s eyes, the same velvet brown as her brother’s, widened slightly. “It’s Rafe, isn’t it?”