Page 28 of Christmas Comes to Little Valentine

“Bless you,” Meg said, a sudden rush of affection for her staunch support and admiration inducing her to give Betty a swift embrace.

There was a knock at the door, and Meg jumped.

“Oh, well, that will be Mr Ashford,” she said, attempting to sound cheerful at the prospect of seeing her beloved when all she wanted to do was dive under the bed and remain there until it was all over. “I shall see you later.”

“Yes, miss, have a lovely evening, and don’t fret,” Betty advised her.

Meg turned, smiling, and then wondered how Betty’s evening would be. “Are they nice to you? The staff here? You’ve been made welcome?”

“Very nice,” Betty said with a grin. “And the grub’s splendid from what I hear. I can’t wait for my dinner.”

Meg laughed, relieved, and opened the door. She went out, finding Nat had walked to the window and was peering out into the darkness.

“Good evening,” she said.

Hearing her voice, he turned, a smile on his lips that froze as he looked at her.

A swift dart of anxiety struck Meg as she wondered if she had unwittingly spilled something on her gown or her hair was falling down, but a quick check assured her all was well.

“My word, you look lovelier every time I see you,” he said, sounding so very surprised at this that Meg had to believe he meant it. “That gown is perfection.”

“It is lovely,” Meg agreed, quite able to believe his reaction was all to do with her ensemble and new hairstyle. “And Betty is a wonder with a needle and thread, and with hair, so you did better than you knew by fetching her for me. I feel like a princess,” she added, which was a ridiculous thing to say, but true all the same.

How many times had she daydreamed as a young girl, thinking about parties and pretty dresses and dancing with a handsome fellow, and about having friends and people to talk with? This was hardly the dream she had envisioned for herself, fraught as it was with the danger of discovery, but she ought to be grateful for all the wonderful experiences she was being given, like the beautiful gowns and staying in such a lovely place.

“You look like a princess,” Nat replied simply. “Everyone will wonder how the devil I managed it.”

Meg snorted, which was definitely most un-princesslike. “No, they will wonder what on earth you are doing getting involved with a woman with no connections and no money, but we shan’t squabble about it.”

“No, we shan’t,” he said, offering her his arm. “Because you are wrong. Now, are you ready to face the inquisition?”

“Well, I was before you said that,” Meg replied tartly. “Will it be so bad?”

“Nothing you cannot handle, but they are bound to be curious to know how you pinned down such a wild and wicked bachelor,” he said, grinning at her. “You remember our history?”

Meg sighed. “Every word, heaven help me, though I strongly believe I shall be sent to a place of great heat after this little escapade. Poor Betty just asked if I would keep her on as my maid once we are married. I wanted to sink into the ground, truly I did. She will be so disappointed.”

“I shall see Betty is settled too, and perhaps you will keep her on. You never know.”

She sent him a scathing look as they reached the staircase. “Oh, don’t be ridiculous, whoever heard of a governess with a lady’s maid?”

“Well, perhaps you will meet a friendly fellow here over Christmas. There’s bound to be a Christmas ball. You might be swept off your feet and married before the New Year. Stranger things have happened,” he said, winking at her.

“Not to me,” she replied under her breath as they made their way down the stairs. “And I hardly think anyone would dare to steal your fiancée from under your nose.”

Nat guided her through the house to a very formal sitting room. It was beautifully decorated in shades of green and gold, the walls covered in wonderful paintings that Meg longed to take a closer look at. A fire blazed in the elegant white marble fireplace, and the conversation of those gathered already halted as they entered the room.

Meg did her best to appear relaxed and to ignore the prickling sensation of scrutiny as they went to greet Nat’s grandmother.

“Well, Gee-Gee, now I see what you have been doing with this talk of renovations. This room was so dark and gloomy before. You have transformed it,” Nat said with obvious approval.

The dowager duchess, sitting rigidly upright in an elegant chair upholstered in rich green silk, looked no less splendid. Dressed to impress as usual, tonight she wore a high-necked gown of black and gold silk, with a multitude of glittering jewels about her throat and wrists, and a diamond tiara sparkling in her thick white hair. “I am pleased,” she admitted, looking around the room with satisfaction. “Now, make the introductions, and be quick about it. I want my dinner.”

“Certainly,” Nat replied, turning and giving Meg an encouraging smile as he turned her to meet the others in the room.

Meg took a breath and pasted a smile to her face as he led her first to an older man, perhaps in his early sixties. He had the look of the dowager about him, the same thick white hair and sparkling eyes, and appeared a rather merry fellow. “Uncle Charles, might I present my fiancée, Miss Magaret Bancroft. Meg, my dear, this old reprobate is Lord Charles Seymour.”

Meg curtsied, her nerves somewhat eased by the friendly way the fellow smiled at her. “My dear, what a delightful surprise this is. We had no notion. Why, you are a dark horse, sir, a very dark horse,” he said to Nat cheerfully. “Keeping such a beauty from us is sheer wickedness on your part. But we have her now and we shan’t let her go,” he said, offering her his arm and waving Nat away.