Lady Crenshaw's Christmas Read online

  Once again his pain was much harder to bear than any of her own. She wondered if it would be the same with their child or if this shared ache was something known by only a husband and wife. Putting her arms around his neck, she pulled him close and whispered in his ear words meant for him alone.

  And, at long last, he kissed her.

  Chapter Two

  Fingers shaking with excitement and more than a little fatigue, Ginny donned her new ball gown and examined herself in the mirror. Was it altogether de trop? She was the first to admit that red velvet was a bit bold unless it lined a jewel box. Turning this way and that she felt sure the dress did indeed hide her pregnancy but it also seemed somewhat bare about the neck. The long, naked expanse simply cried out for a circlet of rubies. Was that not an appropriate gift for a man to give his bride their first Christmas together?

  There was only hours left until the ball. Should she wait patiently for a small box to arrive or go through her jewel box to find a suitable necklet of something else? But what? Pearls? Diamonds? She felt they were both so bland, yet emeralds seemed far too farouche as they would compete with the color of her gown.

  Feeling slightly ashamed at her expensive expectations, she consoled herself with the thought that Anthony had indeed dropped any number of hints. Lady Avery, a regular caller despite her clear disdain for Ginny’s lack of a title prior to her marriage, had also implied that jewels were exactly what any respectable husband gave his wife, especially those who were with child. Hadn’t Lady Avery’s earl gifted her with a diamond tiara, a ruby ring, an emerald necklace as well as sapphire eardrops, when he learned he was to become a father for the first time? Of this Ginny was quite sure, as Lady Avery had worn them, ensemble, no less, on any number of occasions when she came to call.

  Rubies or no rubies, Ginny must hurry if she were to ready her gift for her husband. Removing her gown with the help of her abigail, Ginny quickly changed into the first comfortable gown that came to hand and hurried down to the library to search for what she needed. Finding her husband ensconced by the fire, she nearly cried out in vexation. Instead she took a deep breath and suggested her husband might be needed elsewhere. “After all, you have been noticeably absent from the house for most of the day. It’s high time you did something to help,” Ginny scolded.

  “I was off in the woods shooting down mistletoe and have set the parlor maid to making up more kissing balls,” he replied, his tone wickedly calm. “One is hardly enough,” he added, “if I am to claim as many kisses as I expect.”

  “Anthony! Tell me you didn’t?” Ginny cried, barely noticing her husband’s flirtation. “I gave her explicit instructions to help with decking out the ballroom!”

  “Done! In point of fact, there is nothing left to do, making you utterly free to sit down and join me by the fire,” he said, patting the spot next to him on the sofa.

  Ginny, frantic to have him gone before time ran out, put her hands to her hips and gave him her sternest look. “I need you out from under my feet! Your grandmama is no longer young and would doubtless benefit from the observances of a silver-tongued lad such as yourself,” Ginny insisted. “But don’t spend too long with her. The last time we dressed up for anything but dinner, the tying of your cravat took the better part of an hour.”

  “I would have thought you had more than enough to do to prevent you from spying on a gentleman when at his work,” Anthony grumbled, rising to his feet. “And whilst we are on the subject of attire, please do relieve my anxiety and tell me this is not the gown you intend to wear to the ball!”

  Ginny looked down at herself and laughed. “I suppose my old night rail with the ink stains isn’t exactly ballroom fare.”

  “I should say not! Pray tell your new gown is arrived and perfect in every way?”

  “Yes, yes!” she said, laughing and pushing him towards the door. “Everything will be lovely, I promise!”

  She waited until he started up the stairs then, quick as she dared, pulled the door to and locked it. She then went to the bookshelves and began her hunt. The volume she was after fell into her hands far sooner than expected, whereupon, she sat at the desk, opened the book and began to write.

  In no time at all she was making her way up the stairs, contemplating when she would appear at the top, dressed in all her finery, heart beating fast in anticipation of that moment when Anthony, waiting for her below, would look up at her with that heart-melting expression, the one she couldn’t quite name but that always made her blood sing.

  Entering her room, her thoughts full of waltzing in the arms of her husband, Ginny was taken aback by the sight of a small box with a jaunty, red bow placed, just so, on her bed. “Oh,” she whispered. “You darling man!” She pulled the ribbon and lifted the lid to reveal not a necklet but a veritable collar of stunning rubies set in diamonds. There was also a pair of matching eardrops. With shaking hands, she pulled a scrap of paper from the bottom of the box and was surprised to read: Happy Christmas to my dearest Ginerva, your devoted Grandaunt.

  Hearing a knock at the door, she opened it to reveal the old duchess, herself, who wasted no time on formalities but opened her budget without a word from Ginny. “They are splendid, are they not? I wore them to my first Christmas ball, as did the Duchess of Marcross before me. They have been at the jeweler this age as the setting needed re-doing. The old one was a fright and not at all suitable for the flimsy fashions of today.”

  “Oh, Grandaunt, thank you so much!” Ginny cried. “They are just exquisite and will put my new gown to shame.”

  “Well, yes,” Grandaunt agreed, “and they are just the thing to draw attention away from that bump of yours.”

  Ginny had to laugh in spite of her indignation. “Grandaunt, I do believe you are absolutely correct!”

  “They have an added benefit in that they are sure to put more than a few noses out of joint!” Grandaunt said with a sniff.

  “Oh? Whose, pray tell?” Anthony had warned Ginny time and time again against horrid gossip but she could hardly let such a leading comment go unquestioned.

  “First off, that annoying Lady Avery with her affected airs and propensity for wearing every jewel she has, and for morning calls, no less! She will pester her husband to have a set of rubies just like these, mark my words!”

  “Poor Avery,” Ginny said. “He hadn’t the slightest notion of what was ahead for him when he married Lucinda. Is his the other nose you mentioned?”

  “No, I was referring to my daughter by marriage, the new duchess. Those rubies are entailed and by rights belong to her. Only, I am not ready to give them up,” Grandaunt said, her own nose in the air. “She’ll be as mad as a hornet when she sees them.”

  Ginny felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Perhaps I should not wear them, after all. If unwanted attention from both Lady Avery and Her Grace is what I can expect. . .”

  “There, there, Ginny, you mustn’t be downcast! You are sure to be tormented by them either way. You will bear it better whilst sporting the most magnificent jewels this side of the English Channel,” Grandaunt insisted.

  Ginny lifted the necklace with its trio of ruby and diamond pendants and held it up in the candlelight. “They are so very beautiful.” A new thought prompted her to ask, “But what of Anthony’s gift? Perhaps he has purchased a necklace to match my new gown?”

  “Never fear, my child, he is utterly aware,” Grandaunt said, placing her withered hand on Ginny’s smooth-skinned arm. “He must be exhausted, poor boy! He was up at the crack of dawn so as to claim these and get them back here in time for the ball.”

  “My poor Anthony!” Suddenly the gift Ginny had planned for her husband seemed woefully insufficient. Feeling more let down than a young bride about to give her first ball had a right to be, she rang the bell for her abigail. Grandaunt Regina took herself off to change into her own ball gown and, Ginny assumed, Anthony was in his rooms submitting to the ministrations of his man, Conte.

  Ginny spent t
he next hour in a fever of anxiety. Not even the donning of her gown, hose and dancing slippers, nor the new hairdo, a complex confection of curls and braids woven through with a red satin ribbon, could distract her from her worries. Would there be enough candles to allow a lady to recognize her dancing partner? Were there too many so that every sleeve and headdress was at risk of dragging through a flame and setting a lady or two alight? Was it a bit too much to adorn each ledge and frame with holly? Would there be enough food? Had the orchestra arrived in plenty of time to set up before the guests arrived?

  Would Lady Avery truly be envious and do her utmost to make Ginny’s evening a misery? And what of Her Grace the Duchess of Marcross? She was capable of saying anything no matter how unkind or cutting, and seeing the rubies around Ginny’s neck would surely make Her Grace angrier than ever.

  Finally it was time to appear at the top of the stairs and enjoy that breath-taking moment, the one no doubt or fear could touch. As she swept out of her room, however, Anthony was at the top of the stair, waiting for her. Ginny thought he had never looked so handsome, his dark hair slightly curling round his brow and the blue of his eyes complemented by a cerulean vest and a sapphire stickpin winking in the folds of his snowy cravat.

  Finally feeling that all was right with the world, Ginny went to her husband, her skirts rustling, and held out a gloved hand for him to take in his own.

  “My beloved wife . . .” Anthony murmured. “There are no words.” Refusing her hand, he swept her into his arms and carried her down the stairs.

  She wanted to demur, to insist she was perfectly capable of taking herself downstairs. Instead she put her arms around his neck and relaxed against his chest where she had an excellent vantage point to view his classical profile and breathe in the heady combination of starched cravat mingled with well-soaped skin and a hint of cologne. “Anthony,” she said, dropping her head to his shoulder, “perhaps we should fore-go the ball and retire early.”

  “Fie on you woman,” he growled. “As if you weren’t tempting enough.”

  Ginny lifted her hand to his cheek and turned his face to hers. “I love you so,” she murmured and was rewarded with a tender smile.

  “This is the happiest Christmas I have ever known,” he whispered in her ear, “and it hasn’t even properly arrived, yet.” Stopping mid-staircase, he shifted her in his arms, the better to lean in and cover her mouth with his own.

  “If you two can stop making eyes at one another long enough to arrive safely by my side,” Grandaunt intoned from the bottom of the stairs, “I should consider myself twice blessed.”

  “Well, if it isn’t Grandmama, come to spoil our fun,” Anthony said with a sly wink for his bride. “Might I present to you, my wife, the one and only Lady Crenshaw.” Anthony set her down, took her hand, and twirled her in a pirouette so that her skirts flared out in a sea of ruby red. “Is she not the most beautiful sight you have ever laid eyes on?”

  “She looks most becoming in red,” Grandaunt admitted with a nod that sent the feathers in her headdress bobbing about like a bird in flight. “I would be telling an untruth, however, if I didn’t give some of the credit to that collar of rubies around her neck.”

  “You aren’t wrong, Grandmama, not wrong. Red is her color from the tip of her toes to her alabaster neck.”

  Ginny barely noticed the flush warming her cheeks, so taken up was she with staying upright after being spun about like a top. She hoped the dancing wouldn’t make her dizzy, as well. She was so looking forward to waltzing with her husband but expecting a baby seemed to include many unexpected consequences.

  Deciding it was foolish to borrow trouble, she turned her attention elsewhere. “Grandaunt, you look a picture!” Ginny exclaimed, giving the old lady an affectionate hug. “No one will deign to notice me whilst standing next to either of you,” she said with a fond look for her husband. “I suppose it is time to take our places in the reception line and wait for our guests to arrive.”

  Taking an arm of each lady, Anthony followed the butler to the large double doors of the ballroom. Ginny felt so suddenly nervous she thought she might faint, but it was all for naught, for as the doors swung wide, she was caught up in the sheer beauty of the room. The light of the blazing chandeliers was reflected in the floor to ceiling mirrors that lined the ballroom on either side, each of them festooned with boughs of holly and sumptuous red ribbons. Hanging from the ceiling in front of each was a large kissing ball bursting with mistletoe. Both ends of the room boasted a fireplace, the mantel of each decked out in red candles and festive greenery while candelabra of varying heights flanked the doorway and lighted the corners of the room.

  “It’s enchanting . . .” Ginny murmured. “Oh, Anthony, could this room be any lovelier?”

  “No, my dear,” he answered with a tender look, “and you are the loveliest thing in it.”

  Ginny turned to Grandaunt Regina, hoping she was satisfied with the decorations and caught the grand dame wiping a tear from her eye. “It’s just as in the old days,” she pronounced. “One can’t expect anything better than perfection. You might have done a sight worse, my dear, a sight worse, indeed.”

  “Hadn’t we best take our places?” Anthony suggested. “The cream of the ton should be landing on our doorstep at any moment. I find I am very much looking forward to it.”

  The three of them hastened to stand in a line in front of the fireplace at the far end of the room, smoothed whatever might be awry, and took a deep breath. Within moments, the great double doors once more swung wide and Ginny felt her heart jump into her throat.

  “It’s all right, Ginny, it’s just Garner,” Anthony said. The elderly butler was alone as he entered and began his slow trek to the far side of the room. Anthony ran a finger along the inside of his cravat and Grandaunt Regina sighed. Ginny thought she might scream from the tension but, finally Garner came within hearing distance in order to ask if everything was ready.

  “Yes. Ready. Quite,” Anthony snipped. Taking a deep breath, he added, “That is to say, yes, there is nothing left to do but welcome our guests.”

  Garner bowed. “Very well, my lord. I shall be most happy to usher them to your side once they have arrived.” Turning, he made his laborious way back to the front hall.

  Ginny and Anthony exchanged a glance. “You did make out the invitations for eight o’clock, did you not?” he asked.

  “Yes, I think so,” Ginny said slowly. “Grandaunt thought perhaps nine a better hour to start but I believe, I, uh . . .” She turned to her husband and lowered her voice. “This was one of those points upon which she and I did not agree. She thought the later hour was best but I preferred starting at eight of the clock. I was hoping for plenty of time for dancing before supper is served. The trouble is, now I can’t recall if I made out the invitations for eight or nine,” she whispered.

  “A small setback at most, my love. People tend to come late whenever they are meant to arrive. Grandmama will simply assume everyone wants to make a grand entrance. With guests such as Lord and Lady Avery, His and Her Grace of Marcross and my mother, the potential for drama is rife.”

  “Do remind me why we invited a single one of them,” Ginny groaned.

  “Well, let’s see,” Anthony said, rocking back on his heels. “You claim Lady Avery is your most constant caller. Perhaps it is best we learn to get along with her.”

  “Yes, but that hand-clapping!” Ginny said with a sigh. “At least she seems to have abandoned the lisping.”

  “My uncle the duke and his wife require no explanation,” Anthony asserted.

  Ginny, finding no fault in this statement, merely nodded.

  “And my mother. . . would that she could find herself an Italian count and move to sunnier climes.”

  “It would certainly be sunnier for me,” Ginny murmured. “Perhaps they will all be quite tardy and I shall be too busy with my other guests to speak with them.”

  “And perhaps Her Grace will have your head on a pla
tter for breakfast,” Anthony said tartly. “As for Lady Avery, there is no escaping her. She has no other friends. I would be much surprised if anyone but yourself tolerates her for even a moment.”

  “I suppose I feel a bit sorry for her,” Ginny admitted. “I most definitely pity her husband! Poor Avery. I feel somewhat responsible for their ending up together.”

  “Whatever your sin might have been, must we pay for the rest of our lives?” Anthony asked with a nod towards the door through which the lady under discussion was even now emerging.

  Chapter Three

  Taking in the resplendent figure of Lady Avery, Ginny felt her heart quail within her. Lucinda, as Ginny thought of her, was barely nineteen years of age and had been a bride for only a few weeks longer than Ginny. However, she was at least a month further gone and did nothing at all whatsoever to disguise the impending birth of her child. She worse a flimsy gown, blue to match the cornflower of her eyes, wholly inadequate for both the frigid weather and the quantity of jewels pinned to the bodice. As if the tiara, eardrops, a ring on each finger, a large quantity of bracelets and at least three necklaces were not enough, dozens of brooches, pins and pendants in all colors adorned her gown, causing the neckline to sag and bunch in a most unbecoming way.

  Ginny felt Grandaunt grasp her hand and turned to catch the furious whispering in her ear. “Ginerva! Have you ever known me to being wrong? Well, take note! I implied that Lady Avery would be envious of your jewels but it would seem that is not to be the case.”

  Ginny chuckled. “I do believe you are twice right, Grandaunt. She looks a perfect fright, poor thing. It is very much too bad she doesn’t take into account her mother’s sensible advice.”

  “Does she yet try?” the old lady asked. “I would have given up years ago were I that child’s mother.”

  “Here she comes with Avery in her wake,” Anthony said in dismal tones as if warning of the imminent sinking of a ship. “We must endeavor to appear as if we notice nothing amiss.”