Regency Christmas Proposals Page 25

  So it was that by the time the two coaches turned into the gates of Mulberry Hall, late on the third afternoon, relations between Amelia and Gideon were still tense and unresolved. Unless, that was, one accepted that this coldness, the remoteness that now existed between them, was how their relationship was to be in the future…

  The driveway to the house itself seemed never-ending, and Amelia’s eyes widened once the coach had come to a stop and she stepped out to look up at Mulberry Hall itself. It was a veritable mansion, huge and at least four floors high, with extra wings having been built onto the east and west walls.

  ‘How beautiful!’ she gasped breathlessly. ‘You did not tell me we were coming somewhere so—so magnificent, Gideon.’ She turned to him reprovingly as he alighted from his own carriage.

  Gray gave a derisive smile as he moved to Amelia’s side and took a firm hold of her arm. ‘No doubt you will find the St Claire family equally as magnificent. The Duke of Stourbridge can be especially—imposing,’ he acknowledged with a grimace. And he intended having a conversation with Hawk St Claire at that gentleman’s earliest convenience. A conversation during which Gray would no doubt learn—and deserve—exactly how imposing the Duke of Stourbridge could be…

  Amelia’s response was to clasp her cloak more tightly about her. ‘A duke?’ She shook her head, her eyes wide. ‘You did not say— You should not have brought me here, Gideon—’

  ‘What else was I to do with you?’ Gray eyed her exasperatedly.

  Amelia’s chin rose defiantly. ‘I have lived at Steadley Manor without the company of family or friends for some two and a half years; I have no doubts I could have continued to do so for another Christmas!’

  Gray gave an impatient nod. ‘No doubt you could. I, on the other hand, decided otherwise.’

  Her cheeks flushed. ‘You—’

  ‘Could you save any more arguments for later, Amelia?’ Gray rasped grimly as the front doors of Mulberry Hall were thrown open and the St Claire family began to emerge—the three St Claire brothers and their wives, their sister Arabella and her husband Darius Wynter, and aunts, uncles and cousins too numerous to mention. ‘Or, alternatively, forget them completely!’ he added with hard dismissal as he turned to greet their hosts.

  The cutting reply Amelia had been about to make remained unspoken on her lips as she stared up at the imposing body of people coming down the steps to greet them. Well…to greet Gideon; the St Claire family had not even known of her presence until now.

  Amelia was sure she had never seen such handsome men as the three St Claire brothers and the blond-haired Adonis who accompanied them down the steps. The haughty and aristocratic Hawk nevertheless gave her a charming smile when they were introduced, and the darkly brooding Lucian gallantly kissed her hand. The rakishly handsome Sebastian St Claire stood on no such ceremony, but pulled her into a friendly hug, and the man who had the appearance of a Greek god—Darius Wynter, the Duke of Carlyne and husband to Arabella—kissed her warmly on both cheeks.

  The wives of these overwhelming handsome men were, as might be expected, all as beautiful as their husbands were handsome, from the tall and stately redhaired Duchess and the mischievous dark-haired beauty who was married to the brooding Lucian, to the serenely lovely Juliet, wife of the rakish Sebastian. But Arabella, Duchess of Carlyne, a young woman who appeared to be of a similar age to Amelia herself, was without doubt the loveliest of them all, with her gold and molasses curls and impish dark eyes.

  Within minutes Amelia felt totally overwhelmed at being surrounded by so many handsome men and such beautiful women.

  ‘No doubt you will wish to freshen up before joining us for tea,’ Jane, Duchess of Stourbridge, remarked kindly once they had all finally entered the magnificent marble entrance hall.

  ‘May I be allowed to escort Amelia to her bedchamber, Jane?’ Arabella proposed warmly as she appeared at Amelia’s other side. ‘The Blue Suite, do you think…?’

  ‘Of course.’ The Duchess affectionately gave her permission.

  ‘I am not sure…’ Amelia turned in search of Gideon, and saw him standing a short distance away, talking softly—and obviously privately—in conversation with Hawk St Claire.

  Gray sensed rather than saw Amelia’s slightly bewildered gaze upon him. As he had been aware of everything about her these past three days as they had travelled through the snow covered countryside to Mulberry Hall. Most especially the pallor that remained in Amelia’s cheeks. The guarded expression in her eyes now whenever she looked at him beneath those silky long lashes. Her complete silence unless he deliberately engaged her in conversation.

  All of them, Gray knew, were caused by his unbridled—frightening?—show of passion three evenings ago.

  Dear Lord, Amelia was aged but nineteen years—a protected and innocent nineteen years—whereas Gray was eight and twenty, with a wealth of experience behind him both in and out of the bedchamber. His actions three evenings ago, the intimacies he had subjected Amelia to, must have scared her witless!

  He excused himself to Hawk St Claire before striding over to Amelia’s side. ‘Is something wrong, Amelia?’ he asked softly.

  ‘No. I—’

  ‘I believe Amelia only wished to make you aware that I am taking her upstairs to her bedchamber,’ the feisty and beautiful Arabella teased.

  Gray was not sure that allowing Amelia to become too well acquainted with the self-willed and forthright Arabella Wynter was in his best interests, but in the circumstances he had little choice in the matter. Especially as Amelia herself appeared to have nothing to say on the subject. ‘Yes, by all means go upstairs with Her Grace, Amelia.’ He scowled his impatience with her inability to even look him in the eye. ‘The Duke and I have some business that we need to discuss,’ he muttered distractedly, before striding off to talk to Hawk St Claire in his study.

  Just as if she were his dog or his horse, to be dismissed and then forgotten, Amelia inwardly fumed as she glared after Gideon’s retreating back. Or perhaps not… If Amelia had learnt anything this past three days then it was that Gideon took a far greater interest in the comfort of his horses than he did her own!

  ‘Men can be so impossibly boorish when in the company of other men, can they not…?’

  Amelia turned her attention back to the patiently waiting Arabella Wynter, Duchess of Carlyne. ‘I am sorry, Your Grace. I have no idea—’

  ‘You shall call me Arabella, as I intend to call you Amelia,’ the other woman announced imperiously. ‘And you know very well what I meant,’ she continued, her arm still tucked warmly into Amelia’s as the two of them began to ascend the wide staircase. ‘My darling Darius is perfectly manageable when the two of us are alone together, but once he is in the company of any or all of my brothers he seems to feel that he has to demonstrate how capably he manages me. When, in reality, it is the other way around!’ Arabella gave an unladylike snort.

  Amelia had trouble envisaging the golden godlike creature who was Arabella’s husband as ever being in the least manageable!

  ‘I insist you tell me everything, Amelia!’ Arabella’s eyes lit up conspiratorially. ‘Gray has made absolutely no mention of a ward until today…’

  Amelia’s explanation as to how she had come to be Gideon’s ward was made in as few words as possible, by which time the two women had arrived at and entered a beautiful bedchamber decorated predominantly in blue with touches of gold—exactly Amelia’s own colouring.

  ‘How beautiful.’ She looked about her raptly. ‘I—’

  ‘Do not change the subject, Amelia!’ Arabella laughed reprovingly. ‘I absolutely refuse to allow you to leave me with so little information to relate to my sisters-in-law when I return downstairs. You know, of course, that Gray is our guest of honour?’

  Amelia’s eyes widened. ‘He did not say…’

  Arabella gave another of those inelegant snorts as she dropped down upon the bed. ‘He is a man—his sense of pride would not allow him to do so!’ She patted t
he bed beside her invitingly. ‘Gray is my hero. He is the whole family’s hero! And we shall be forever in his debt,’ she added softly.

  Amelia sat down abruptly, more bewildered than ever. ‘That does not seem to fit with the stories I have heard of his behaviour in Town…’

  ‘A word of advice, dear Amelia.’ The other woman patted her lightly on the hand. ‘Ignore whatever gossip you may have heard about him. Especially gossip that has been deliberately nurtured by the man himself,’ she added enigmatically. ‘I am not allowed to relate all the details, because I do not wish to hurt the feelings of innocents, but several weeks ago a madman attempted to take my life—and would have done so, I am sure, if Gray had not shot him dead first.’ Those beautiful brown eyes glowed with satisfaction.

  ‘Gideon shot a man dead…?’ she repeated faintly.

  Arabella’s smile widened. ‘It is all perfectly true, I do assure you, Amelia.’

  She shook her head. ‘I did not doubt your word—it is only…As I have already told you, Lord Grayson and I have not been acquainted for very long—only a matter of days.’ Though it seemed so much longer to Amelia. It seemed, in fact, as if she had known Gideon all her life. ‘But on the night we met I am afraid that it was I who shot him!’

  Arabella Wynter sat back in surprise. ‘Truly?’

  ‘Truly.’ Amelia nodded miserably.

  Arabella’s attempts to hold back a smile totally failed her as first she smiled, and then chuckled, before bursting into joyful unrestrained laughter. ‘How wonderful! How truly wonderful!’ She continued to chuckle, her brown eyes aglow with merriment. ‘I believe, Amelia, that you and I are going to be the best of friends!’

  Amelia saw absolutely nothing to laugh about. In fact she was totally bewildered.

  Arabella Wynter’s advice to her was to dismiss any gossip she might have heard of Gideon. The other woman had described him as a hero. As the man who had saved her life.

  Amelia felt as if she understood Gideon even less than she had previously…

  ‘You and I need to have a private talk as soon as dinner is over, Amelia!’ Gray took a firm hold of his ward’s arm in order to escort her into the dining room as she reached the bottom of the staircase, wearing a silk and lace gown the same blue as her eyes, and a single strand of pearls about her throat.

  She looked up at him from beneath lowered lashes. ‘A private talk concerning what, Gideon?’

  Gray had joined the other gentlemen in the library several minutes ago, with the intention of enjoying a relaxing drink before joining the ladies for dinner. After the awkwardness of his earlier conversation with Hawk St Claire he had felt as if he could drink a whole decanter of spirits and not even notice!

  It had not taken Gray long, however, to realise that his friend Sebastian, his two brothers, and the dashing Darius Wynter all seemed to be sharing a joke at his expense.

  He had wondered at first if perhaps Stourbridge had revealed the details of their earlier conversation, but one look at that austerely handsome face had reassured him that Hawk was not a man who broke his word. And the Duke had given Gray his assurances earlier that their conversation would remain private between the two of them.

  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 y
oung 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.