Page 50 of A Winter Scandal

“It’s ridiculous, of course, and it’s only just whispers and sideways glances now. But you must realize how such things grow and become rumors, and then before long everyone is talking about it.”

“But it’s absolutely absurd! How could it even be possible? Lord Morecombe only arrived in Chesley a few weeks ago! I had not even met him before the Squire’s party! And exactly how could I have carried this baby for nine months, then delivered it six months ago, all without anyone in the village knowing about it? Or even suspecting anything? How could I possibly have kept such a thing secret for the past year? When would I have carried on some mad affair with a London nobleman? I mean, really, I ask you, when would I have delivered a baby in secret? I never go anywhere. I have never lived anywhere but this village. When have I ever done anything but take care of all the little problems of St. Margaret’s and its parishioners? Everyone in Chesley knows everything there is to know about me. They have seen and remarked on each detail of my life down to what shoes I wore to church last Sunday and to whom I nodded on the street yesterday. I have no secrets! In short, I have no life!”

“Thea!” Daniel hissed, casting a pained glance in the direction of the kitchen. “Have a care! Keep your voice down. Everyone in the house can hear you. Mrs. Brewster is the soul of discretion, of course, but that nursemaid is bound to gossip.”

“What does it matter?” Thea shot back. “According to you, everyone in the village already thinks I’m a doxy! Why should I care if they decide I’m a shrew as well?”

With that parting shot, Thea whirled and stomped up the stairs, leaving her brother staring after her in slack-jawed amazement.

The afternoon turned grayer and the clouds more lowering as the day wore on, and the main topic of conversation at the Nativity rehearsal that night was the possibility of snow for Christmas. The rehearsal consisted of little except putting on their costumes and being placed in the positions in which they would stand on Christmas Eve, for there was no dialogue, but it seemed to take an inordinately long time and a great deal of conversation. Thea was greatly relieved when the whole thing was over and she was able to go home to the vicarage and sit down with a nice cup of hot tea in the kitchen. Mrs. Brewster had already left, but the kitchen was still warm and spicy with the aromas of her holiday baking. The next day was Christmas Eve, and Mrs. Brewster would be baking and cooking more or less without pause.

The house was quiet. Matthew was sleeping in Lolly’s room tonight since Thea had been out for much of the evening, and the two of them were already upstairs fast asleep. Daniel was, of course, in his study reading. Thea thought about going in to talk to him, but she was still feeling a trifle ruffled from their less-than-amicable discussion this afternoon. Instead, she finished her cup of tea, thinking idly about the list of things she had to do the following day. Christmas Eve was always busy at the vicarage, what with the arrival of the Yule log and the poor of the parish coming to the door for gifts of food, not to mention making the plum pudding and other dishes for the feast the next day.

When Thea went upstairs to her room later, she could not resist walking quietly down to the small room at the end of the hall and peeking inside. Lolly was asleep in the narrow bed, the covers pulled up to her ears. The baby’s basket lay between her and the door, and Thea tiptoed the few steps to the basket to peer down at the baby sleeping inside. The sight of him tugged at Thea’s heart as only sleeping babies can, and she stood for a long moment, simply looking at him.

Finally she turned and slipped back down the hall to her bedroom. She undid the ties of her dress in back and pulled it off, then untied the ribbon of her chemise and removed it as well. As the material slid across her bare breasts, she could not help but remember this afternoon and the way Gabriel had touched her breasts, his fingers expert and sure. Her nipples grew taut just at the memory. Thea curved her hand over one of her breasts as he had done, and she wondered how it had felt to him. Had he found her small and unsatisfying, or had the weight of her breast in his palm sparked desire in him as it had in her?

Thea turned to the mirror and studied her naked chest. She wondered how her body would appear to Gabriel, and she feared that he would find her narrow and unwomanly. She felt a little guilty to be gazing at herself naked. No doubt it was a sin. But she did not turn away. Instead, she untied her petticoat and pantalets and slid them down so that she stood fully nude. She stared at her long, slender legs and the swell of her hips, the flat plain of her abdomen. Her curves were womanly though not lush. If Gabriel saw her this way, would he think her desirable or would he find her lacking?

A shiver ran through her at the thought of Gabriel looking at her naked, and her nipples tightened perkily. She thought of his dark eyes gliding slowly down her body, aglow with passion as they had been when he kissed her today. Thea closed her eyes as she raised her hands and let them drift down, smoothing over her breasts, her fingers circling her nipples and feeling them tighten into hard little buttons in response. There was pleasure there, but not the same as it had been when Gabriel touched them. She moved downward, sliding over the bony outcroppings of her ribs and onto her waist and stomach, her fingers slipping ever nearer to that magical center that Gabriel had found and ignited into passion. She stopped as her fingers touched the springing curls there, and she pulled her hand away quickly.

Whatever was she doing? Thea whirled away from the mirror and picked up her nightgown, pulling it over her head and thrusting her arms into the long sleeves. She buttoned it up to the very top, then pulled her dressing gown on top of it as if she were donning armor. However, the clothes did not stop the persistent little ache that had started between her legs. She was shamefully aware that the only thing that would ease it was the touch of Gabriel’s fingers there again. Thea blushed at the thought and began to take down her hair. She brushed it out, feeling it crackle and curl around the brush, wild as it always was in the winter.

Normally she would have plaited her hair into two thick braids to keep it from tangling as she slept, but tonight she did not. She was too restless, too unsettled. Even that restraint seemed bothersome. Finally, she simply tied it back with a ribbon at the nape of her neck.

Blowing out her light, she knelt on the little steps beside her bed to say her nightly prayer, finding it both lengthier and far more jumbled than usual, before she climbed into bed. It was dark and she was tired; she should have gone to sleep easily. But tonight sleep was a long time coming. As soon as she closed her eyes, thoughts of this afternoon flooded her mind, with nothing to distract them or pull her away. She remembered each kiss, each touch. The sounds and scents and tastes teased at her senses again, tempting and taunting her.

Scold herself as she might for the wanton thoughts and hungers that surged in her, Thea could not rid herself of them. She turned her face to her pillow, cool upon her heated skin, and wished that she did not feel the things she did. No … she was honest enough to correct her thought. The problem was not that she wished she didn’t feel the way she did. The problem was that not only did she enjoy this feeling, she wanted to feel it all over again. And more.

Thea let out a groan and turned over, pulling the pillow over her head as if she could block out her thoughts. It did not work, and finally she simply gave up and turned her mind over to the rush of memories.

She was unaware she had finally fallen asleep until she awoke. Groggily she blinked, then glanced around her room, making out the shapes of the furniture in the darkness. She wasn’t sure what had awakened her. Clearly it was still nighttime; no trace of light seeped in around the draperies. Thea tried to snuggle back into sleep, but something nagged at her, and finally she slipped out of bed, throwing on the dressing gown that she had laid across the foot of her bed and thrusting her feet into her soft house slippers. Putting on her spectacles, she padded over to the window and pushed back the edge of the drape, peering out into the night.

“Oh!” She sucked in a sharp breath of wonder.

Moonlight lit the landscape gently, and in the light she could see the falling flakes of snow. She leaned her head against the edge of the wall, gazing out at the softly swirling, floating snowflakes. It could not have been falling long, for only a frosting of snow was on the ground and along the bare, dark branches of the trees. Thea smiled, thinking how perfect it would be to have snow for Christmas. She hoped that it would continue to fall long enough to last through the next two days.

A faint thud sounded, jerking her out of her dreamy contemplation of the snowfall. She turned around, frowning, and crossed the room to stick her head out into the hall. Something pricked at her consciousness, some memory or thought that was gone before she could grab hold of it. She glanced up and down the dark hallway, seeing nothing unusual, and for a moment she contemplated simply going back to bed. However, she knew that she would be unable to find sleep unless she had gone downstairs and found what caused the noise. Turning, she went to the fireplace and lit a twist of paper from the still-hot coals. She used it to light the small oil lamp on her dresser and carried the lamp out into the hallway.

It was cold downstairs, which was always true, but tonight a distinct breeze curled around her ankles beneath her dressing gown. Holding up the lamp, she turned toward the front door. It was standing open a few inches.

She stood frozen, staring, and as she did so, a little gust of wind pushed the door open and it swung back to thump lightly against the wall and rebound almost closed again. Snowflakes drifted in and landed on the floor, melting almost instantly. Thea shivered, and the movement seemed to wake her from her trance. She hurried forward and pushed the door closed. Her heart was hammering in her chest, though she told herself there was no reason to be afraid. No doubt the door had simply not been well shut and the wind had blown it open. After all, no one would be out creeping into houses on a night like this, would they?

For her peace of mind, Thea made a quick tour of the downstairs, looking into each room to make sure it was empty. Then she started back up the stairs. Halfway up the stairs, she paused, looking at the little wet spot on the stairs, illuminated in the light of the lamp. She moved the lamp back and forth, peering down more closely at the stairs. Here was another little damp spot on the wooden stair beside the cloth runner. And a drop of moisture was trembling on the stair rail. As she stood there, staring, something dropped into place in her brain, and she realized what thought had eluded her drowsy mind earlier when she left her bedchamber. She had stepped through her open doorway when she left the room—and she was certain she had closed her door last night before she went to bed.

Her pulse began to race, and Thea ran up the remainder of the stairs. The corridor stretched out in front of her, and she hurried down it, making as little noise as she could. An indefinable fear clutched her chest, driving her straight to the nursemaid’s room at the end of the hall. Lolly’s door, too, stood open, and Thea had to swallow hard to hold back a choked whimper. She knew she had closed the door to Lolly’s room, as well, after she had checked on the baby.

At a glance she saw that Lolly still lay in the bed, snuggled deep in her covers. Thea tiptoed to the basket, holding the lamp up. There was nothing there but the pillow that formed Matthew’s bed. The baby was gone, blanket and all.

Eleven

Lolly! Lolly!” Thea shook the girl’s shoulder. “Lolly, wake up! Where is Matthew?”

“Wha—” Lolly sat up groggily.

“Where is the baby? What’s happened to Matthew?”

Lolly blinked at her. “What? Miss? Why—he’s in his bed.” She pointed over at the basket.