Page 45 of Snowbound Regency Christmas
Jane glanced up at him in surprise. In reality, his nieces didn’t appear agitated in the least: Eliza was entirely consumed by her fireside game and Maria dozed in a chair while Charlotte flicked quietly through a new picture book. It was difficult to imagine three children who looked anylessrestless, although to his immense relief his eldest niece came to his rescue.
‘Oh, yes! You must, Miss Stockwell.’ Charlotte slid down from her chair to kneel persuasively beside Jane. ‘Say you’ll come. I want to show you my new skipping rope, but Grandmama says I mayn’t use it indoors.’
‘I should think not,’ said Mrs Fitzjames sleepily from her own armchair. ‘Some of these ornaments are older than I am and I’d like to keep them intact.’
Jane was quick to surrender. ‘In that case, yes. Of course I’ll come.’
To Duncan’s unfortunately strong delight she rose from her crouch by the hearth. The girls’ nurse roused herself likewise, ready to get up from the sofa where she sat knitting, but he stayed her with a hasty hand.
‘There’s no need for you to venture out into the cold, Miss Vine. I’m sure Miss Stockwell and I will be able to manage between us.’
The nurse looked covertly pleased to be excused, although his mother’s expression as he ushered Jane and the children from the parlour was less easily deciphered. She watched him go with the faintest hint of a smile and he was damned if he could tell whether it was amusement or pleasure at the prospect of having half an hour to herself that prompted it—or perhaps something else altogether, her eyes following him closely until he left the room.
The park was far busier than he’d hoped it would be. It seemed that half of Wilton had decided to take a post-dinner stroll and he sensed Jane’s unease as they walked the central promenade, aware that many of the people they passed gave her veil a second glance.
The cold wind plucked at it and swiftly she pulled the lace back down over her face. ‘This breeze is a menace. Perhaps I shouldn’t have come.’
Duncan turned to her. ‘Do you want to return to the house? We can always go back.’
‘No, no. I wouldn’t interrupt while the girls are enjoying themselves.’
Right on cue, three small cannonballs flew past, one with a skipping rope dangling forgotten from a pocket. Several glovefuls of grey, mushy snow were traded and then his nieces ran off again, leaving only a trail of boot-prints and echoing giggles in their wake.
He watched their retreating backs as they charged away. ‘Hmm. I think there might still be some work to be done before they can be called young ladies.’
Jane huffed a laugh. It didn’t ring entirely true, however, and Duncan gathered his nerve.
‘I know something’s bothering you,’ he began cautiously. ‘I can tell. You’ve been quiet since we left church and not even finding a coin in your Christmas pudding made you smile for long. Do you want to talk about it?’
For a moment she didn’t reply. She carried on walking beneath the snow-covered trees, her shoulder almost brushing the sleeve of his coat, but then he heard her sigh.
‘I can’t stop thinking about having to leave Wilton,’ she murmured. ‘I like it here, and returning to Bristol will put my parents under more financial strain than they are already. Given the choice, I wouldn’t go back.’
Duncan nodded, intending to look thoughtful rather than show the breathless anticipation that had begun to simmer. ‘I suppose you reallyhaveto leave? It seems cruel you should lose your home too, so soon after your great-aunt’s passing, especially since it seems so against your wishes.’
A snort came from behind the screen of black lace. ‘I think you heard dear Cousin Franklin. My wishes are irrelevant. There’s no alternative but to go; I have no employment here so I couldn’t afford to take rooms, and besides, my mother would never agree to me living alone.’
She seemed to huddle into herself, her shoulders rising to touch the bottom edge of her veil. Usually, knowing she was unhappy made him want to take her in his arms and this occasion was no exception, although for the first time another feeling rose to challenge its supremacy.
His hands were clasped behind his back and he felt their palms prickle with sudden, anxious sweat.
He wasn’t going to propose, he assured himself resolutely. The risk was far too great: she’d turned him down before and the after-effects of her refusal had followed him across the sea, a constant source of sorrow that still sat inside him like a lump of ice. To ask again would be the act of a fool, but he was as human as anyone else and the need to be sure that his suspicions were correct refused to be ignored. Confusion and uncertainty were almost as bad as heartbreak and equally hard to withstand, and if he let the chance to shed such a burden slip through his fingers he would only have himself to blame.
‘What if there was a way for you to stay here in comfort and respectability?’ he muttered, hardly able to speak through dry lips. ‘If there was somewhere else you might call home?’
The turn of Jane’s head towards him was so sharp he wondered whether it had hurt her neck.
The inscrutable curtain of lace fluttered slightly. No words came from behind it but he knew she was staring at him, almost able tofeelher eyes boring into his.
‘I think I would be glad of it, although I can’t imagine how such a thing could be managed. Can you?’
His breath stalled. ‘I… I couldn’t say.’
Inwardly, he cursed his lack of transparency. She’d met his cautious hint with one of her own and he was no closer to understanding her, left with no choice but to take a more forthright—and dangerous—approach.
‘Come through here. Off the path.’
His heart was beating too hard to hear if she made any reply, although when he hesitantly reached for her hand, she took his so readily there was no need for words. The feeling of her fingers twining around his was more potent than the strongest wine and it made his head spin, only the knowledge that they were in public stopping him from lifting her veil and kissing her right then and there.
