Page 65 of An Earl's Christmas Seduction
“She was willing to risk her own reputation for him; for my father and me,” he said, looking up at Harry, who nodded.
“I feared there would be something terrible revealed in the letters. A woman murdered, a maid cast out into a poor house, or your whole legitimacy called into question, but the letters did not contain anything like that. It seems the only hold Constance had over you was threat. Nothing more. You now hold the riposte in your hand,” Harry said, smiling at Nicholas, who breathed a sigh of relief.
It was as though a great burden had been lifted off his shoulders. Now his only thought was of exposing Constance for her lies and declaring his love for Amelia. He smiled, pointing to the decanter of brandy on his desk.
“A toast, I think; to a good friend,” he said, and rising to his feet, he poured two glasses of brandy, giving Harry the larger measure.
They toasted one another, and Nicholas folded the letters carefully into his pocket. He was ready for the moment to reveal them to Constance and to the others.
***
“Has anyone seen Amelia? She’s going to miss luncheon,” Amelia’s mother said. But no one had seen her, and Nicholas glanced around the drawing room in surprise.
“She wasn’t here this morning for the carols, either,” Lord Thornton said.
“I haven’t seen her since breakfast,” Isobel said. Suddenly there was a general murmuring about Amelia’s whereabouts going around the room.
The gong sounded for luncheon to begin.
“She’ll be missin’ out on a good meal. The smells from the kitchen are delectable,” the viscount said, as the others rose to their feet.
“She didn’t look well at breakfast. Perhaps she’s lying down. I could have a tray sent up to her,” Constance said.
She had been playing hostess at the sherry party, making herself out to be mistress of the house. Nicholas had allowed it, smiling to himself at the thought of what was to come. But he was concerned at Amelia’s absence, just as he had been concerned by her strange behavior at breakfast, and Branston’s report of the strange occurrence outside in the snow.
“We cannae delay the luncheon,” the viscount said, glancing at Edgar and Hugh, who nodded.
“My stomach’s rumbling with anticipation, and the servants won’t like it. She’s probably just tired,” Edgar said. The general consensus was to make their way to the dining room without or without Amelia.
“But we must find her. I’ll go and knock,” Amelia’s mother said, glancing worriedly at Nicholas.
“She’ll turn up when she’s hungry,” Lord Thornton said, and the other guests filed out of the drawing room.
Nicholas glanced at Constance, fearing she knew more about Amelia’s absence than she was letting on.
“Do you know where she is?” Nicholas asked, as Constance insisted on taking his arm in hers.
She smiled.
“No, I don’t. I was hoping she’d be here for the big announcement. It would be such a shame for her to miss it. I’m sure she’ll be ever so happy for us, Nicholas,” she replied, turning to him, and raising her eyebrows.
Nicholas made no reply, even as he was desperate to put an end to the matter there and then. But Constance had played enough games with him, and it was time for her comeuppance. She was waiting for the announcement, and an announcement is what she would get after the guests had enjoyed their luncheon.
***
“A splendid bird, birds,” the viscount said, hiccoughing, as he sat back in his chair with a sigh, the button on the middle of waistcoat popping off and flying over the table, where it landed in Mrs. Bennett’s lap.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, and the rest of the company roared with laughter.
“That’s good luck, Mrs. Bennett,” Lord Thorton said, and Mrs. Bennett blushed.
“Well…” she said, glancing across at the viscount, who was now unbuttoning the rest of his waistcoat, his stomach expanding after what had been a truly magnificent feast.
The carcasses of four geese stood proudly on the table, picked clean of their meat, next to empty dishes and tureens, which had earlier been piled high with all manner of different vegetables. The gravy boats were empty, and only a single slice of baked ham remained. Both Edgar and Hugh were eyeing it.
The never-ending supply of roast potatoes was diminished to a few final remainers. The plum pudding had been demolished, brought in with ceremony and set alight, much to the delight of the guests, and a magnificent wheel of stilton was now a memory, a few crumbs of the cheese being all that was left.
“Will anyone have another glass of port?” Lord Thornton asked, holding up a near empty bottle.
