A Wallflower Christmas Part 3

"He's quite manipulative, our Mr. Bowman. He knew you would tell me what he had done, and that I would be intrigued. And when I see him in Hampshire, he'll act the perfect gentleman in the hopes of setting me off balance."

"You shouldn't be intrigued, you should be appalled!"

Natalie smiled and patted her hand. "Oh, Hannah, you don't know how to manage men. You mustn't take everything so seriously."

"But courtship is a serious matter," Hannah protested. It was at moments like this that she understood the differences between herself and her younger cousin. Natalie seemed to have a more thorough understanding of social maneuvering, of the process of pursuit and capture, than Hannah ever would.

"Oh, heavens, the moment a girl approaches courtship as a serious matter is the moment she's lost the game. We must guard our hearts and hide our feelings carefully, Hannah. It's the only way to win."

"I thought courtship was a process of revealing one's heart," Hannah said. "Not winning a game."

Natalie smiled. "I don't know where you get such ideas. If you want to bring a man up to scratch, never reveal your heart to him. At least not early on. Men only value something when they have to put some effort into getting it." She tapped her forefinger on her chin. "Hmmn...I shall have to come up with a good counterstrategy."

Climbing off the bed, Hannah went to retrieve some gloves and stockings and other items that had been dropped carelessly to the floor. She had never minded tidying up after Natalie. Hannah had met other lady's companions whose charges had made their lives a misery, treating them with contempt and subjecting them to all kinds of small cruelties. Natalie, on the other hand, was kind and affectionate, and although she could be a trifle self-absorbed on occasion, it was nothing that time and maturity wouldn't cure.

Placing the personal articles in a dresser drawer, Hannah turned to face Natalie, who was still ruminating.

Natalie was a pretty sight, tumbled on the white ruffled bed, her hair falling in golden curls. Her blue-eyed sunny appeal had stolen many a gentleman's heart during her first season. And her delicately regretful rejections of her suitors had done nothing to dampen their ardor. Long after the season had ended, towering arrangements of flowers were delivered to the Blandford mansion, and calling cards piled up on the silver tray in the entrance hall.

Absently Natalie wound a lock of shimmering hair around her finger. "Mr. Bowman is betting on the fact that since I went through an entire season without settling on someone, I must have tired of all these bland, respectable lords of leisure. And since it's been months since the season ended, he also a.s.sumes that I am bored and eager for a challenge." She gave an abbreviated laugh. "He is correct on all counts."

"The proper way for him to get your attention is not to ravish your companion," Hannah muttered.

"You weren't ravished, you were kissed." Natalie's eyes twinkled mischievously as she asked, "Now confess, Hannah does he kiss nicely?"

Remembering the warm erotic sensation of Bowman's mouth, Hannah felt the d.a.m.nable color sweep over her again. "I don't know," she said shortly. "I have no basis for comparison."

Natalie's eyes widened. "You mean you've never been kissed before?"

Hannah shook her head.

"But surely Mr. Clark"

"No." Hannah raised her fingers to her hot cheeks. "He must have tried," Natalie insisted. "You've spent so much time in his company."

"I've been working for him," Hannah protested. "Helping with his ma.n.u.script and papers."

"You mean you've actually been taking dictation from him?"

Hannah gave her a bewildered glance. "What else would I have been doing?"

"I always a.s.sumed when you said you'd been 'taking dictation' from him that you were letting him kiss you."

Hannah's mouth fell open. "When I said I'd been 'taking dictation,' I meant that I had been taking dictation!"

Natalie was clearly disappointed. "My goodness. If you have spent that much time with him, and he has never once kissed you, I'd say that is proof of the fact that his pa.s.sion for his work will eclipse all else. Even a wife. We must find someone else for you."

"I wouldn't mind taking second place to Mr. Clark's work," Hannah said earnestly. "He will be a great man someday. He will do so much good for others"

"Great men don't necessarily make good husbands. And you're too dear and lovely to be wasted on him." Natalie shook her head in disgust. "Why, any of my leftovers from last season would be better for you than silly old Mr. Clark."

A troubling thought occurred to Hannah, but she was almost afraid to voice her suspicion. "Natalie, did you ever let one of your suitors kiss you?"

"No," Natalie said rea.s.suringly.

Hannah let out a sigh of relief.

"I let nearly all of them kiss me," Natalie continued cheerfully. "On separate occasions, of course."

Aghast, Hannah leaned hard against the dresser. "But...but I was watching over you . . ."

"You're a terrible chaperone, Hannah. You often become so absorbed in conversation that you forget to keep an eye on me. It's one of the reasons I adore you so."

Hannah had never dreamed that her pretty, high-spirited cousin would have let any young man presume so far. Much less several. "You know you should never allow such liberties," she said weakly. "It will cause rumors, and you might be labeled as fast, and then . . ."

"No one will enter an engagement with me?" Natalie smiled wryly. "Last season I received four proposals of marriage, and had I cared to encourage any more, I could have gotten another half dozen. Believe me, Hannah, I know how to manage men. Bring my hairbrush, please."

Obeying, Hannah had to acknowledge that there was good reason for Natalie to be so self-a.s.sured. She was, or would be, the ideal bride for any man. She gave the silver-backed brush to Natalie and watched her draw it through a flurry of rich blond curls. "Natalie, why didn't you accept any of those offers last season?"

"I'm waiting for someone special," came the thoughtful reply. "I should hate to settle for anyone ordinary." Natalie smiled as she added flippantly, "When I kiss a man, I want to hear the angels sing."

"What about Lord Travers?" Of all the gentlemen who had shown an interest in Natalie, the one Hannah had the highest regard for was Edward, Lord Travers. He was a sober, quiet gentleman, careful in appearance and bearing. Although his countenance did not lend itself to outright handsomeness, his features were strong and regular. He did not seem dazzled by Natalie, and yet he paid a close and respectful attention to her whenever she was present. And he was rich and t.i.tled, which, along with his other qualities, made him an excellent catch.

The mention of Travers drew a frown from Natalie. "He is the only man of my acquaintance who will not make an advance to me, even when handed a perfectly good opportunity. I chalk it up to his age."

Hannah couldn't help laughing. "His age?"

"He is on the wrong side of thirty, after all."

"He is mature," Hannah allowed. "But he is also confident, intelligent, and from all appearances, in full vigor."

"Then why hasn't he kissed me?"

"Because he respects you?" Hannah suggested.

"I would rather be regarded with pa.s.sion than respect."

"Well, then," Hannah said wryly, "I would say that Mr. Bowman is your man."

The mention of Bowman restored Natalie's good spirits. "Possibly so. Now, Hannah, tell Mama and Papa that Mr. Bowman was exquisitely well behaved. No, they won't believe that, he's American. Tell them he was quite presentable. And not one mention of the kiss under the stairs."

CHAPTER 5.

HAMPSHIRE STONY CROSS PARK.

Hannah had never expected to have the opportunity to see Stony Cross Park. Invitations to Lord West-cliff's famed country estate were not easy to obtain. Located in the southern county of Hampshire, Stony Cross Park was reputed to have some of the finest acreage in England. The variety of flowering fields, fertile wet meadows, bogs and ancient forests made it a beautiful and sought-after place to visit. Generations of the same families had been invited to the same annual events and parties. To be excluded from the guest list would have resulted in the most inconsolable outrage.

"And just think," Natalie had mused on the long carriage ride from London. "If I marry Lord Westcliff's brother-in-law, I will be able to visit Stony Cross Park any time I wish!"

"All for the price of having Mr. Bowman as your husband," Hannah said dryly. Although she had not told Lord and Lady Blandford about the stolen kiss, she had made it clear that she did not believe Bowman would be a suitable partner for Natalie. The Blandfords, however, had counseled her to reserve judgment until they all became better acquainted with him.

Lady Blandford, as blond and lovely and ebullient as her daughter, caught her breath as Stony Cross Manor loomed in the distance. The house was European in design, built of honey-colored stone with four graceful towers so tall they seemed about to pierce holes in the early evening sky, which was washed with an orange and lavender sunset.

Set on a bluff by the Itchen River, Stony Cross Manor was fantastically landscaped with gardens and orchards, riding courses, and magnificent walking paths that led through ma.s.sive tracts of forest and parkland. Owing to Hampshire's felicitous southern location, the climate was milder than the rest of England.

"Oh, Natalie," Lady Blandford exclaimed, "to think of being affiliated with such a family! And as a Bowman, you could have your own country manor, and a London house, and a villa on the Continent, not to mention your own carriage and team of four, and the most beautiful gowns and jewels . . ."

"Heavens, are the Bowmans that rich?" Natalie asked with a touch of surprise. "And will Mr. Bowman inherit the majority of the family business?"

"A handsome portion of it, to be sure," Lord Blandford replied, smiling at his daughter's bright-eyed interest. "He has his own wealth, and the promise of much more to come. Mr.Bowman the elder has indicated that upon your betrothal to his son, there will be rich rewards for both of you."

"I should think so," Natalie said pragmatically, "since it would be a comedown for me to marry a commoner when I could just as easily have a peer." There was no disparagement or arrogance intended in her statement. It was a fact that some doors would be open to a peer's wife that would never be open to the wife of an American manufacturer.

As the carriage stopped before the manor entrance, Hannah noticed that the estate was laid out in the French manner, with the stables located at the front of the house instead of being concealed to the side or behind it. The stables were housed in a building with huge arched doorways, forming one side of a stone-flagged entrance courtyard.

Footmen helped them from the carriage, and Westcliff's stablemen came to help with the horses. More servants hurried to collect the trunks and valises. An elderly butler admitted them into the ma.s.sive entrance hall, where regiments were going back and forth; housemaids with baskets of linens, footmen with crates and boxes, and others engaged in cleaning, polishing, and sweeping.

"Lord and Lady Blandford!" Lillian came to them, looking radiant in a dark red gown, her sable hair neatly confined in a snood made of jeweled netting. With her brilliant smile and relaxed friendliness, she was so engaging that Hannah understood why the famously dignified earl of Westcliff had married her. Lillian bowed to them, and they responded in kind.

"Welcome to Stony Cross Park," Lillian said. "I hope your journey was comfortable? Please excuse the clamor and bustle, we're desperately trying to prepare for the hordes of guests who will pour in tomorrow. After you refresh yourselves, you must come to the main parlor. My parents are there, and of course my brother, and" She broke off as she saw Natalie. "My dear Lady Natalie." Her voice softened. "I have so looked forward to meeting you. We will do everything possible to make certain you have a lovely holiday."

"Thank you, my lady," Natalie replied demurely. "I have no doubt it will be splendid." She smiled at Lillian. "My companion told me there will be a Christmas tree."

"Fourteen feet high," Lillian said enthusiastically. "We're having a devil of a...that is, a most difficult time decorating it, as the top branches are impossible to reach. But we have extending ladders and many tall footmen, so we will prevail." She turned to Hannah. "Miss Appleton. A pleasure to see you again."

"Thank you, my" Hannah paused as she realized that Lillian had extended her hand. Bemusedly Hannah reached out to take it, and gave her a quizzical glance.

The countess winked at her, and Hannah realized she was being teased. She burst out laughing at the private joke, and returned the warm pressure of Lillian's fingers.

"In light of your remarkable tolerance for the Bowmans," Lillian told her, "you must come to the parlor too."

"Yes, my lady."

The housekeeper came to show them to their rooms, leading them across what seemed to be miles of flooring.

"Hannah, why did Lady Westcliff shake your hand?" Natalie whispered. "And why did you both seem to find it so amusing?"

NATALIE AND HANNAH WERE TO SHARE A ROOM, WITH NATALIE occupying the main bed and Hannah sleeping in a cozy antechamber. The room was beautifully appointed with flowered paper on the walls and mahogany furniture, and a bed with a lace canopy.

While Natalie washed her hands and face, Hannah found a clean day dress for her and shook it out. The dress was a becoming shade of blue, with a dropped shoulder line filled in with lace, and long slim-fitting sleeves. Smiling in antic.i.p.ation of meeting the Bowmans, Natalie sat before the vanity mirror while Hannah brushed and repinned her coiffure. After making certain that Natalie's appearance was perfect, her nose lightly dusted with powder, her lips smoothed with rosewater salve, Hannah went to her own valise and began to rummage through it.

Lady Blandford appeared in the doorway, looking refreshed and poised. "Come, girls," she said serenely. "It is time for us to join the company downstairs."

"A few more minutes, Mama," Natalie said. "Hannah hasn't yet changed her dress or tidied her hair."

"We mustn't keep everyone waiting," Lady Blandford insisted. "Come as you are, Hannah. No one will notice."

"Yes, ma'am," Hannah said obediently, concealing a pang of dismay. Her traveling clothes were dusty, and her hair was threatening to fall from its pins. She did not want to face the Bowmans and the Westcliffs in this condition. "I would prefer to stay up here and help the maids to unpack the trunks"

"No," Lady Blandford said with an impatient sigh. "Ordinarily I would agree, but the countess requested your presence. You must come as you are, Hannah, and try to be una.s.suming."

"Yes, ma'am." Hannah pushed the straggles of loose hair back from her face and dashed to the washstand to splash her face. Water spots made little dark patches on her traveling gown. Groaning inwardly, she followed Natalie and Lady Blandford from the room.

"I'm sorry," Natalie whispered to her, frowning. "We shouldn't have taken so much time getting me ready."

"Nonsense," Hannah murmured, reaching out to pat her arm. "You're the one everyone wants to see. Lady Blandford is rightno one will notice me."

The house was beautifully ornamented, the windows swathed in gold silk edged with dangling gold tinsel b.a.l.l.s, the doorways surmounted by swags of beribboned evergreens and holly and ivy. Tables were loaded with candles and arrangements of everlasting flowers such as chrysanthemums and Christmas roses and camellias. And someone, slyly, had adorned several doorways with kissing b.a.l.l.s hung with evergreen ropes.

Glancing at the bunches of mistletoe, Hannah felt a stab of nervousness as she thought of Rafe Bowman. Calm yourself, she thought with a self-deprecating grin, glancing down at her disheveled dress. He certainly won't try to kiss you now, not even beneath a cartload of mistletoe.

They entered the main parlor, a large and comfortably furnished room with a game table, and piles of books and periodicals, a pianoforte, a standing sewing hoop, and a small secretary desk.

The first person Hannah noticed was Marcus, Lord West-cliff, a man with an imposing and powerful presence that was unusual for a man still only in his thirties. As he stood to meet them, Hannah saw that the earl was only of medium height, but he was superbly fit and self-a.s.sured. Westcliff carried himself with the ease of a man who was entirely comfortable with his own authority.

While Lillian made the introductions, Hannah shrank back into the corner of the room, observing the scene. She stared discreetly at the Bowmans as they met the Blandfords.

Thomas Bowman was stout, short, and ruddy, his mouth overhung with a large walruslike mustache. And his shining head was adorned with a toupee that seemed ready to jump off his scalp and flee the room.

His wife Mercedes, on the other hand, was whippet-thin and brittle, with hard eyes and a smile that fractured her face like cracks in a frozen pond. The only thing the pair seemed to have in common was a sense of dissatisfaction with life and each other, as if it were a blanket they both huddled under.

The Bowman children resembled each other far more than either parent, both of them tall and irreverent and relaxed. It seemed they had been formed by some magical combination of just the right features from both parents.

Hannah watched covertly as Lillian introduced Rafe Bowman to Natalie. She could not see Natalie's expression, but she had an excellent view of Bowman. His strapping form was clad in a perfectly fitted dark coat, and gray trousers, and a crisp white shirt with a neatly knotted black cravat. He bowed to Natalie and murmured something that elicited a breathless laugh. There was no denying itwith his unvarnished masculinity and bold dark eyes, Rafe Bowman was, to put it in a popular slang term, a stunner.

Hannah wondered what he thought of her cousin. Bowman's face was unreadable, but she was certain that he could find no fault with Natalie.

As everyone in the room made small talk, Hannah inched toward the door. If at all possible, she was going to slip from the room unnoticed. The open threshold beckoned invitingly, promising freedom. Oh, it would be lovely to escape to her room, and change into clean clothes and brush out her hair in privacy. But just as she reached the doorway, she heard Rafe Bowman's deep voice.

"Miss Appleton. Surely you won't deprive us of your charming company."

Hannah stopped abruptly and turned to find the collective gaze on her, just at the moment she least wanted attention. She longed to glare at Bowman. No, she longed to kill him. Instead, she adopted a neutral expression and murmured, "Good afternoon, Mr. Bowman."

Lillian called to her immediately. "Miss Appleton, do come forward. I want to introduce you to my husband."

Repressing a heavy sigh, Hannah pushed back the locks that dangled over her face and came forward.

"Westcliff," Lillian said to her husband. "This is Lady Natalie's companion, Miss Hannah Appleton."

Hannah bowed and glanced apprehensively at the earl. His features were dark and austere, perhaps a bit forbidding. But as his gaze rested on her face, she saw that his eyes were kind. He spoke in a gravel-in-velvet voice that fell pleasantly on her ears. "Welcome, Miss Appleton."

"Thank you, my lord," she said. "And many thanks for allowing me to spend the holiday here."