Page 146 of Snowbound Surrender
“It’s fine,” she assured him. “You’ve done enough.”
He looked as though he was going to argue with her, but she pushed the small package toward him. He glanced at her with hesitation in his gaze, but at her encouraging nod, he began to pull apart the twine. The paper fell away to reveal a small box. Upon opening it, a gold pocket watch peered up at him.
He paused for a moment before gently picking it up, turning it over in his hands as he stared at it.
Scarlett shifted awkwardly in her chair. Why wasn’t he saying anything?
“I’m not sure if you still want it, after what you said about never receiving one as a gift, nor choosing to carry one,” she began, trying to explain herself. “But I noticed that at our wedding breakfast, you were worried about the time, and you didn’t seem to have anything on you. I figured if you were a man of importance within the House of Lords, you should know what time it is so that you never miss anything. Although I suppose you have your servants to tell you, so maybe…”
“It’s perfect.”
His voice was so low she had to lean closer to hear him.
“Truly?”
“Truly.” His smile was hesitant, trembling, and yet warm. He seemed disarmed, and the slight blush that covered his face made him look nearly boyish, years younger than he was.
“I don’t know why I never carried one,” he mused, his eyes faraway now, looking over her shoulder at nothing and yet everything at the same time. “It was stubbornness, I suppose. I always thought a pocket watch was typically something you do receive as a gift, or as an heirloom passed down from one generation to the next. After asking for one and never receiving it, my father never deigning to give me such a thing, not when he could keep it for himself, and my mother not even thinking of us when it came to such things, well, I never did bring myself to buy one for myself. Silly, really.…”
His voice trailed off, as he was clearly lost in his thoughts, speaking to himself as much as he was to her.
“Anyway,” he said with more emphasis, coming back to himself and their conversation. “Thank you, Scarlett, truly. Ah, the time is even accurate!”
“I wound it for you,” she said, averting her gaze from his when it became too pointed, too intense. She cleared her throat. “Well, if you are nearly finished, let’s go out of doors now, shall we? The sun is shining merrily and while it will be cold, we can then have chocolate prepared for us when we return. Very well?”
“Very well,” he said, and Scarlett couldn’t quite read his expression as he sat back and looked at her. Finally, he simply cleared his throat. “Fancy a race?”
He had hardly finished his sentence when she was up, out of her chair, and already flying toward the stables. He chuckled and started after her.
CHAPTER 13
Hunter dressedwith immaculate care that night. Why, he wasn’t sure. Scarlett was already his wife — he shouldn’t need to go to great pains to impress her.
And yet, he longed for nothing more than for her to look at him with the same enthusiasm she did everyone else who came into her life — and that damn Yule log.
“You look very dapper, my lord,” said Spicer as he finished smoothing the final crease in Hunter’s cravat.
Hunter grinned at his valet. “Thank you, Spicer,” he said. “I have you to thank, of course.”
“I must say, that is a tremendous pocket watch.”
“It is, isn’t it?”
Hunter lifted the gold plated watch in his hand, turning it round and round. He noticed something then on the back of it, an inscription he hadn’t seen previously. He moved over to the sconce, holding the watch up to the candlelight.
December 25, 1813.
Today’s date. She had planned this long before she even knew he would be home, before she even knew his story of wishing for one. Guilt tugged at his heart then, for if the snow hadn’t fallen as it did, he would be back in London, leaving herhere alone on Christmas Day. Would she have given him the watch? Or sold it elsewhere? He could hardly ask her without breaking the little trust they were beginning to build. As it was, she had given it to him only to aid in his work in London, not to arrive home in time for dinner — for she apparently had no plans on being in his townhouse awaiting him.
He placed the watch back in his pocket, his heart warming at the first true gift he had ever received. He supposed Lavinia would have given him something in the past, had she herself been used to the custom of giving and receiving. But alas, that notion had never been a part of their cold childhood.
“You’ll be heading to church then?” Spicer asked, and at Hunter’s nod, he found his cloak and gloves and laid them on the bed.
“It’s become mighty cold, my lord,” he said, “but I believe the path is clear enough to the village for the horses and sleigh. Just have to hope it doesn’t snow much between now and then.”
“We shall have to hope, Spicer,” he replied and went out to find his wife.
Perhaps she was the one requiring a pocket watch, he thought minutes later as he waited for her in Stone Hall. If she took any longer, they would be late for the church service. He was about to find Mrs. Shepherd to ask her to collect his wife when he heard footsteps on the stairs above him. He looked up, at first noticing the step he heard was from her hard black boot, for it would be foolish to go out of doors in the little kid slippers she loved.
