Page 46 of It's a British Christmas

She raised her pert little nose in the air. “I will be delighted to have you join us, as well.” She stared at him, her expression almost challenging in nature.

Don’t challenge me, my dear, you will not win. You might be good at chess, but when it comes to seduction, I will declare checkmate in no time.

Why was he thinking along those lines? Eve might be ripe for the plucking, and she was obviously as attracted to him as he was to her, but anything between them could go nowhere. She was a lovely woman, destined to wed one of the young bucks in the village, who would fill her belly with many children.

Now that stung. The thought of another man holding her in his arms, removing her clothes, stroking his hand over her satiny skin and her womanly curves, of entering her body and feeling her moist warmth surround him, almost brought him to his knees.

He, on the other hand would have a very proper marriage with Lady Ann, and continue with his life as he always knew it would unfold. “Then I am delighted that you are delighted. I do not wish to make more work for your family, but for me to attend church I need a bath, a shave, and perhaps another patch. This time for my jacket.”

“Mama has already fixed your jacket. It does not look as it did when you first put it on, I am sure, but the dark blue fabric doesn’t show the patch very much.”

A duke attending church in patched clothes. He smothered his laugh because he did not want to offend his hostess. “Excellent.”

“I can bring you hot water in the morning for your bath.”

“No!”

She jumped at his tone.

“I am sorry, I did not mean to shout. I do not want you lugging water for my bath. You are not a maid.” It surprised him how angry the thought of Eve lugging water made him. “I will do well with a basin of warm water and a sliver of soap. And if I could borrow a razor from your Papa, that is all I will require to present myself at church.”

Eve put the finishing touches on her hair before picking up her best church bonnet. She’d drawn her hair back from her face and wove a thick braid at the back of her head that ended with a lone fat curl that fell over her shoulder. The lovely low-crowned straw hat with wide green ribbons that tied under her chin matched one of the flowers on the trim of her gown.

No matter how many times she told herself there was nothing special about this Sunday’s service, and the church supper following, she knew it to be a lie. Lord Manchester—Adam—would be attending with her and Mama.

She pulled on her best white gloves with only a small stitch in one of the fingers and left her bedroom. As she walked into the kitchen, Adam was just leaving the tiny bedroom. He closed the door and turned. Her breath caught and her heart pounded. Her eyes started mid-chest and then traveled up, past his freshly starched cravat, to his wavy black well-brushed hair.

He was so tall! He’d been bent over when she helped him to the wagon, and then into the house. Since then he’d been lying down, so she had no idea of the height he towered over her.

She could barely make out the patch Mama had sewn onto his jacket, which combined with his dark trousers, light blue waistcoat, and shiny black shoes made it impossible for anyone to doubt he was an aristocrat.

“Eve?” His deep voice startled her.

Oh, how embarrassing. She’d been staring at him all this time, most likely with her mouth open. He watched her with humor in his eyes. She felt like an utter fool, and wished for the floor to open so she could fall into the other end of the earth. Pulling herself together in an attempt to recover her dignity, she said, “I see you are ready for church.”

Brilliant, Eve. Maybe if you searched your extensive vocabulary from all the books you’ve read, you might think of something more banal to say?

“Yes, I am, and may I say that you are looking quite lovely.”

“Thank you.” The words barely made it past her dry lips. None of the men in the village who had attempted to pay her court had tied her up in knots like this man did. It was not good.

Still flustered, she turned and walked to the front door, with Adam following behind.

Once they stepped outside in the crisp morning air, she felt a bit better. Mama stood at the gate waiting for them. “Good morning, Lord Manchester.”

Adam nodded to her. “Good morning, Mrs. Allen. You look as splendid as your daughter. I am most fortunate to be attending church in such lovely company.”

Eve was happy to see her mama as flustered as she felt. The man seemed to have that effect on women in general, not just her. Adam placed his top hat on his head and once outside the gate, he extended his elbows to Eve and Mama. They tucked their hands in his arms, and they took the short walk to the church.

She knew with Adam alongside them, they would garner a great deal of attention, but she was not at all prepared for the gathering of young women who flocked to her side as soon as they reached the front of the church. Eve had no idea she was so popular!

“Good morning, Eve. I see we have a guest.” Miss Pickering, old enough to be Adam’s mother, tittered and giggled like a young girl.

“Good morning, Miss Pickering. May I present to you Lord Manchester.” She no sooner got the words out of her mouth when she remembered she was supposed to introduce Miss Pickering to Adam, since he was a peer, not the other way around. She sighed, inwardly.

Blast the ton and their stupid rules! But then, if one had nothing better to do than study everyone’s lineage and paint watercolors, those sorts of lessons were easy to fit into one’s day.

If Adam noticed her faux pas, or even cared, he never showed it. He lifted his hat, bowed, and greeted the woman. One by one, girls and ladies waited to be introduced, until Mama moved into the crowd and reminded everyone that the service was about to begin.