Louise Allen - His Housekeeper's Christmas Wish

‘Hmm.’ Alex shot her a quizzical look, but she dropped her gaze to her scratched wrist and began to wrap her handkerchief around it. ‘I do not buy my sisters or my mother presents, and I am not married.’

‘No, I suppose I should have deduced that you were not.’ Tess tied a neat knot in the handkerchief and looked up.

‘Indeed?’ His eyes narrowed and she discovered that relaxed, amiable Lord Weybourn could look very formidable indeed. ‘And how did you arrive at that conclusion?’

Chapter Four

‘How did I deduce that you were not married?’ Tess swallowed. She had strayed into dangerous personal territory and she could only hope he did not think she had been fishing...that she had any ulterior motive. She fought the blush and managed a bright smile. ‘It was easy from what you said about Christmas. If you were married, your wife would not allow you to spend it cosily beside the fire with your brandy and books. You would be out visiting your in-laws.’

‘So you imagine that if I were to be married I would live under the cat’s foot, do you?’ The relaxed, rather quizzical smile was back again.

‘Not at all. But visits to relatives are what happens in families.’

‘I wouldn’t know. I am out of practice with them.’

‘That is a shame.’ She dreamed about being part of a family, a real family, even if there would be bickering about whose turn it was to entertain the awkward relatives for the holiday season. It was a long time since she had experienced a Christmas like the ones she had enthused about in the carriage. A long time since she had known a family, and this man had that gift and was apparently happy to throw it away.

‘A shame? Not at all.’ Alex moved away as the landlord, followed by a maid, started to bring in their dinner. ‘It is freedom.’

They said no more until they were alone again. Tess ladled soup into bowls while Alex shredded roast chicken into a saucer and put it down for the kitten. ‘There you are. Now leave my boots alone. What are you going to call him?’

So I’m going to have to keep him, am I? Trust Alex to give me a kitten, not a bonnet. ‘Noel,’ she decided, adding a saucer of milk beside the chicken. ‘Because he is a Christmas present.’

‘You really are an exceedingly sentimental young woman.’ Alex passed her the bread rolls. ‘Butter?’

‘Thank you. And I am not sentimental, it is you who are cynical.’

‘Why, yes, I cry guilty to that. But what is wrong with a little healthy cynicism?’

‘Isn’t it lonely?’ Tess ventured. It was ridiculous, this instinct to hug a large, confident male. Perhaps that was how lust seized you, creeping up, pretending to be some sort of misguided, and unwanted, compassion.

‘What, forgoing gloomy evergreen swags, tuneless carol singers, bickering relatives and enforced jollity? I will enjoy a period of quiet tranquillity and then my friends return to town eager for company.’

Tess set her empty soup bowl to one side and waited in silence while Alex carved the capon. There was something very wrong within his family, obviously, if he did not give his mother and sisters presents and he preferred solitude in London to a festive reunion. She bit her lip and told herself not to probe. The atmosphere of plain speaking between the nuns that prevailed in the convent was not, she suspected, good training for polite conversation in society.

Alex passed her a plate of meat and she reciprocated with the vegetables, racking her brains for what might be suitable small talk. ‘I do not remember London at all well.’ Or at all. ‘Is your house in Mayfair?’ That was the most fashionable area, she knew.

‘Yes, in Half Moon Street, off Piccadilly. Just a small place because I travel so much.’

That appeared to have exhausted that topic. ‘Your valet does not travel with you?’

‘I sent him on ahead, along with my secretary and several carriages full of artworks. It was a most successful trip this time.’

Tess thought she detected a modest air of self-congratulation. Was that simply the pleasure at a successful chase or was Alex reliant on the income from his dealing? It seemed a precarious existence for a viscount. Maybe he could not afford lavish celebrations and entertainment at Christmas, she pondered, in which case she had been unforgivably tactless to have pressed him about it. Although he certainly seemed to spend money on his comforts without sign of stinting. Perhaps that was an essential facade, or he ran up large debts.

‘Have I dropped gravy on my neckcloth?’ he enquired, making her jump. ‘Only you have been staring at it for quite a while.’

‘I was thinking that your linen is immaculately kept,’ Tess admitted. ‘Your neckcloths and your shirts.’

Alex choked on a mouthful of wine. ‘Do you always say what you think?’

‘Certainly not. Should I not have mentioned it?’ But it had been a compliment...

‘Perhaps not comments about gentleman’s clothing?’ Alex suggested.

‘Goodness, yes, of course. The outside world is such a maze, full of pitfalls.’

‘Are you nervous of what you will find in London?’ He put the question in such a straightforward way, without any show of sympathy, yet she sensed he understood just how frightening this was. Mother Superior had certainly shown no such insight, only the expectation that Tess would obediently accept her lot in life despite the blow she had delivered.

‘Terrified,’ she admitted baldly. ‘But there is no point in giving way to it—that will only make it worse. I will soon find my way around my new world. I did with convent life after all.’

Alex watched her over the rim of his goblet, his hazel eyes intelligent, and not, for a change, mocking. ‘It must have been a shock to find yourself there. Wine? This is very good.’ He refilled his own glass from the decanter.

‘Thank you, but, no. I’ve hardly ever had it before and I do not think I should start now.’ Tess scrutinised her conscience and admitted, ‘You are offering me too much temptation as it is.’

The air went still, as though someone had taken a deep breath and not let it out. ‘Temptation?’ Alex said with care, as he set down his knife and fork.

‘Food, servants, luxury,’ she explained.

‘Ah. The temptations of comfort, you mean.’ He picked up his glass again and turned it slowly between long fingers. The heavy signet ring on his left hand caught red highlights from the claret. ‘This is not luxury, although it is very civilised. You are tempted by luxury?’

‘I do not know. I obviously have no concept of it if this is merely comfort. ’

‘What are your expectations of your new employment then?’

‘Simplicity, I have no doubt. After all, I will be somewhere between a poor relation and an upper servant in the scheme of things. Mother Superior explained that very clearly.’ Along with everything else. ‘But I will be in a home and that is the important thing.’

‘It is? I would have thought that salary and security would be the highest priority for someone in, forgive me, your position.’

‘No, not for me. Being able to earn my own living and to have some security is essential, obviously. But being within a family is what is most important. If I am caring for children that is assured, but an elderly lady or an invalid will have family, too, people who care for them.’

There was movement around her skirts and Noel climbed up, claws pricking her thigh, before he settled down into a small, warm ball on her lap. Tess cupped one hand over him, felt his little belly tight as a drum with chicken and milk. The vibration of his purrs was soothing. ‘Warmth. I want warmth.’

The maid came in with an apple tart and cleared the used dishes. Alex watched in silence while Tess served them both, then took the cream with a murmur of thanks. ‘You will miss that from the convent, I suppose. The close community.’