Christmas With His Wallflower Wife

Her heart leapt, then beat a tattoo in her chest. She might have accepted her love would remain unrequited for ever, but still she could not deny it.

Lord Alexander Beauchamp—tall, broad-shouldered and impossibly handsome, with those strong Beauchamp features shared by all the men of the family: the strong jaw, aquiline nose, lean cheeks, beautifully sculptured mouth and arresting eyes under straight, dark brows. He stood with his older brother Dominic, Lord Avon, slightly apart from the crowd, and Jane recognised that Dominic was attempting to pacify his fiery-tempered brother.

They looked so alike, other than their colouring: Dominic shared the black hair and silvery-grey eyes of the Duke—as did Olivia—whereas Alex had the thick mahogany-brown hair and amber eyes of his late mother. In temperament, however, they were opposite. Dominic had always been the dutiful, responsible son. Alex had, for as long as Jane could remember, rebelled against his father—one of the reasons he hadn’t been back to the Abbey for so long. The other, Jane knew, was the painful memory that haunted him whenever he returned…the memory of the day he’d found his mother’s dead body in the summer house by the lake.

Alex had never spoken to Jane about that day—he’d been seven years old and he hadn’t spoken at all for a year afterwards—but Olivia had long ago told Jane all about it and about the nightmares Alex suffered. Jane’s young, tender heart had gone out to him, but she had never been able to penetrate the barriers behind which he retreated whenever anyone ventured too close to his memories of that day, or to his feelings about what had happened.

He kept everyone—family included—at arm’s length.

While Dominic talked, Alex’s restless gaze swept the crowd and Jane felt the physical jolt when his amber eyes—tiger’s eyes, Dominic always called them—alighted on her. He grinned and beckoned her over. A blush heated her cheeks as she walked towards him and she schooled her expression, always afraid her feelings for him would shine from her eyes. A girl had to have some pride.

‘Janey! How lovely to see you! You still game for a swim in the lake like we used to?’

‘Alex!’ Dominic hissed. ‘For God’s sake, think before you speak, will you? Would you say such a thing to any other young lady of your acquaintance?’

‘I’d say it to Livvy.’ Alex winked at Jane. ‘Janey’s just like one of us…she doesn’t care about standing on ceremony, do you, Janey?’

Jane shook her head, stretching her lips in a smile. Defeat spread through her, settling like a lead weight in her stomach. There was the proof, as if she needed it, that Alex would never view her as anything other than his old childhood playmate.

‘Of course I don’t mind. After all, if I’m not accustomed to your teasing ways by now, Alex, I never shall be.’

Alex grinned again. ‘There! What did I tell you, Dom?’ He slung his arm around her shoulders and hugged her briefly into his side. ‘How’s the old witch?’

Dominic rolled his eyes. ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ he said. ‘Jane—please try to stop my reprehensible brother from upsetting anyone else. He’s already enraged Lord Wagstaff by ripping up at him over the state of his horses and I really must go and see if Liberty needs help…she’s been gone a long time.’

Liberty was Dominic’s new bride—they had met earlier that year in London, fallen in love and married, despite Liberty not being the perfect society lady Dominic planned to wed. Jane had met her in London, where they had married in June, and thought she was, in fact, the perfect match for Dominic, helping him to take life, and himself, a little less seriously.

‘Is there something amiss?’ Jane wondered why Liberty might need help.

‘That dog of hers,’ said Dominic. ‘Never have I known such a mischief-maker. He cannot keep his nose out of trouble for more than five minutes.’

‘Romeo?’ Liberty had rescued the dog as a stray in London earlier that year.

Dominic nodded. ‘He sneaked into the kitchens again, knocked over a cream jug and helped himself to a crock of butter, just when the servants are run off their feet with preparations for today. Liberty’s gone to catch him and shut him away. Why she insisted on bringing him here I’ll never know!’

‘You can’t fool us, Dom. You dote on that dog as much as Liberty does,’ said Alex, nudging his brother.

Dominic’s jaw tightened. ‘I do not dote on him. I merely tolerate him.’

‘Is that why he was sprawled across your lap last night when I arrived? He was fondling Romeo’s ears, Janey, and murmuring sweet nothings.’

‘Rubbish! I was doing nothing of the sort. I’ll see you both later.’

Alex watched Dominic stalk away, his mouth curved in a smile that managed to be both mischievous and satisfied at the same time, before switching his attention back to Jane. She tore her own gaze from his lips, that telltale heat building again in her cheeks.

‘How does it feel being back after all this time?’

Alex’s top lip curled. ‘Same as ever. I arrive and then I can’t wait to leave.’

‘You can’t mean that, Alex. It’s years since you’ve been home. And the entire family is here…surely you want to spend time with them?’

His eyes roamed across the crowd as Jane spoke and she noticed them pause as they reached his father, the Duke, his gaze turning wistful as it often did when he watched his father. She suspected he longed to have the same easy rapport Dominic had with their father, but that he simply did not know how to change—their relationship had been tetchy for as long as Jane had known him. That wistfulness didn’t last long. His expression soon hardened.

‘I do mean it. This is no longer my home. Foxbourne is. Let’s not talk about that, Janey. Tell me, how is Pippin?’

Jane’s throat tightened, aching at the mention of her beloved mare. ‘She died, Alex. Last year.’

Genuine shock and sympathy played across Alex’s features. ‘Last year? Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘When would I tell you? You are never here and, in London…it’s not the same somehow.’

‘But… Oh, God, Janey. I’m sorry. What are you riding now?’

Horses had always been their shared passion and they were the love of Alex’s life. He bred and trained horses at Foxbourne Manor and had built a solid reputation for producing first-class riding and carriage horses.

‘Sandy.’

‘Sandy?’ Alex burst out laughing, but quickly sobered. He searched Jane’s expression, a frown knitting his brows. ‘I thought you were joking, but you’re not. How can a plod like old Sandy be a suitable mount for a rider of your quality?’

‘Papa said it’s not worth me having a new horse when Sandy is there doing nothing.’

‘Your father said that? Now I know you’re gammoning me—he’s always been so proud of your skill as a horsewoman. It was the old witch, wasn’t it? What is her game?’

Jane burned with humiliation. Her stepmother’s game was to make Jane’s life so intolerable she would view marriage to Sir Denzil as preferable. But she wouldn’t discuss such a subject with Alex of all people.

‘Shall I have a word with your papa, Janey? I’ve got a filly at Foxbourne that would be perfect for you… I’d give him a good price. Half what she’s worth.’

Alex hadn’t changed. He’d always been ready and willing to take up cudgels on Jane’s behalf whenever she was treated unfairly. To see that protective streak still in evidence infused her with a warm glow. She might not have Alex’s love, but he did care for her. With that, she must be content.

‘I would rather you said nothing, Alex. He’ll only tell Stepmama and you know how cross she’ll be if she thinks I’ve been complaining about my lot. It’s not worth the upset, but I do appreciate the offer.’

‘You’re too forgiving, Janey. I’ve always said so. Look at the number of times you’ve forgiven me!’ He winked at her and they both smiled at the shared memories. ‘But I’ll not say anything if you prefer me not to. Now, I really ought to mingle. Not that I want to, but I did promise Aunt Cecily and my stepmother I would be sociable.’ Alex’s father had remarried five years before. ‘I’ll see you later, I expect.’

Off he strode, leaving Jane deflated and with a headache pinching her forehead. She rubbed it absently. The thought of joining one of the loudly chattering groups clustered around the lawn held little appeal. Stepmama was talking to Sir Denzil Pikeford and Jane turned away before Stepmama could wave her over. She really couldn’t face that bore with her emotions in such a raw state.

She slipped through a gate into the apple orchard next to the lawn and on into the copse beyond, on the far side of which was the Abbey lake where, it was said, the monks used to raise fish to supplement their diet. The fresher air by the water would hopefully help her headache. And no one would miss her.

Chapter Two (#u48d6278c-7148-5bd5-be34-4dac517973e3)

Tension gripped Alex as he made polite conversation with his father’s guests. He didn’t belong here. Even in this crowd, even among his family, he felt alone. Separate. For ever the outsider.

He hadn’t been back to the Abbey since Olivia’s wedding and was only here now because it was the first time in over four years the entire Beauchamp family had all been together under one roof. The rest had been here a month already and he had only finally agreed to attend the annual Abbey garden party because Dominic threatened to drive up to Foxbourne to fetch him. He’d arrived yesterday and fully intended to leave tomorrow.

An hour or more of small talk and sipping cider-apple punch was enough to try any man’s patience and Alex had less than his fair share of that. When dealing with people, at least. Horses…now that was another matter. There, his patience knew no bounds. With a smile and a gesture towards the house, he extricated himself from an in-depth conversation about last year’s appalling weather—still the main topic of conversation for country folk—and he slipped away, feeling his tension dissipate as he left the crowds behind. Once inside, he hurried through the library, and out on to the terrace that hugged the east wing of the Abbey. Down the steps, along the stone-flagged path that bisected the formal garden, through the arch cut into the beech hedge and out on to the path beyond. It took less than a minute to reach his goal: the small gate that opened into a copse of ornamental trees.

He closed the gate behind him.

Alone. As always. As he liked it.