The Christmas Carrolls by Bárbara Metzger Page A

stays secret in a place like this, by Jupiter.”
    “And who will broadcast our shame, now that Oliver has been silenced? No one will wash our dirty linen in public, Bradford, so there is no need for you to concern yourself. Or me. Do not, I beg of you, mention that... that child again.”
    He leaned over, but she was out of reach, stiff and unyielding. “Ah, Bess, I thought you forgave me.”
    “I did, Bradford, I forgave you then, and I forgive you now for letting that... that affair almost ruin Joia’s life, and all of our reputations. But I cannot forget, my lord, and you must not remind me. For that matter, I do not need to be reminded that you are left with your cousin’s boy as heir because I did not manage to provide you with a son. I tried, my lord, so help me I did. I wanted more than anything in this world to give you what you wanted.”
    “Now, Bess, I never held you responsible for that!” he exclaimed, dismayed to see tears in his beloved’s eyes again that night. “May as well blame my brother Jack for dying before he left an heir, or my father, for not having more than the two sons to carry on the title. I never, ever blamed you.” He held his arms out, but she did not return to his embrace.
    “No, you never said anything.” The countess spoke softly, remembering old pain. “But I could tell how discouraged you were each time I presented you with a daughter.”
    “Deuce take it, I’d not trade a one of my angels for any number of bothersome boys, and you know it.”
    “I also know how disappointed you were when the doctor said he didn’t think there’d be any more children after Meredyth. And when he was proved right. I know you despise Oliver, Bradford, and would do anything to cut him out of the succession. I don’t even blame you, after what he’s done. But you cannot! Certainly not with ... with that woman’s son, so please do not speak of him to me again.” She stood and gathered her robe more closely around her, pretending there weren’t tearstains on her cheeks. “And now I have the headache, my lord. I know you will understand and excuse me. It has been a long day.”
    The earl understood all too well: he’d be sleeping alone tonight, confound it. Lord Carroll had a few good years left in him, and by George, he meant to spend a goodly portion of them in his wife’s bed.
    She’d come around soon enough, he knew. Bess’s tempests blew themselves out quickly. By tomorrow she’d be rapt in her lists of what to purchase in London, what to have refurbished at home, consulting with him when they all knew Bartholemew made all the decisions. The hidden hurt would remain forever, he supposed in regret, but she’d bury tonight’s anger in the depths of tomorrow’s details.
    But the earl couldn’t forget about the child, or his plan to bring him home. His Bess had a warm heart, he knew she did, and big enough for one little boy, if only he could reach it. Meantime, his own bed loomed all too big, and all too cold.
     

Part Two

 

Beaux of Holly
     

Chapter Twelve
     
    Holly pushed the spectacles farther up her nose. Joia might be correct that her sister looked better without them, but Holly definitely saw better with them, especially nearby things like the chess set. Besides, no one was here to notice her looks one way or the other except Papa. Usually Holly needed every advantage she could find when playing against her father, but today the earl did not seem to be concentrating. “What is it, Papa? Is your foot bothering you again?”
    “What’s that, poppet, my foot? No, no, just wool-gathering. I expect we should have stayed on in London.”
    “You’re missing Mama, is all. You know she had to stay in Town for the final fittings of Joia’s wedding gown and to purchase the rest of her trousseau. There is the party at Princess Lieven’s, also. Mama couldn’t very well slight the Russian ambassador, could she?”
    “Of course not, when the do’s in Joia’s honor.