Christmas Beau

There was still a great deal of laughter from the children, especially from one group of them behind Judith and Lady Clancy, but they continued to converse with each other and did not look to see what was happening.

" 'Ere, guv," someone yelled. There were smothered giggles from some girls.

"I can still feel some of my bruises," Judith said. The marquess was striding toward them. She could feel the familiar breathlessness and tried to continue the conversation, her face expressionless, her voice cool.

But she turned her head with sudden suspicion as he drew closer. One tall boy, gri

"May I?" he asked.

What could she do? Give in to a fit of the vapors and swoon at his feet? Say no? With all the children and the adults too either smiling at her or convulsed with merriment? She nodded almost imperceptibly.

And then his hands came to rest lightly on either side of her waist and as she drew breath his lips touched her own.

Briefly. Only for the merest moment. But she felt as if she had been struck by a lightning bolt. Sensation sizzled through her. And she felt as if it would be quite impossible to expel the air she had just drawn into her lungs.

"Aw, guv," the boy who was standing behind her said, and she became aware at the same moment of jeering voices about the ballroom, "carn't yer do better than that?"

"Certainly," the marquess said, and Judith stared into his heavy-lidded eyes and felt that she would surely die. "I merely raised my head because I remembered that I had forgotten to wish Mrs. Easton a happy Christmas."

Somewhere, youthful voices were cheering. Lady Clancy was chuckling close by. Someone behind her whooped and whistled. Judith's fingertips came to rest against a muscled chest, warm beneath the silk of his shirt, and she fought desperately to detach her mind from what was happening.

It was not an indecorous kiss under the circumstances. She told herself that. He touched her only at the waist, holding her body a few inches from his own. And his mouth was light on hers. His mouth. Not his lips. He had parted them slightly over hers so that she was aware of warmth and softness and moistness.

Andrew had never kissed her so, she told herself, deliberately keeping up the flow of an interior monologue. There had been only an increased pressure to show his heightened passion. After the first year he had rarely kissed her at all.

She had never been kissed just so.

It lasted only a few seconds. Ten at the longest, she guessed. An eternity. The world had turned right about. The stars had turned, the universe. She was being indescribably foolish.

"Happy Christmas, my lord," she said coolly.

"You see, Joe?" Lord Denbigh said, turning his head and raising his voice. "No slaps, and the lady even wished me the compliments of the season. That is the way to do it, my lad."

He released her waist finally and turned away to organize a tidy-up.

"Little rascals," Lady Clancy said with a laugh. "Max is a better sport than I would have expected. And you, too, my dear. I must say that both Clement and I were disappointed when you married Mr. Easton instead of Max. He was always a favorite with us, shy though he was-and still is to a certain degree. He disappeared for a whole year after your marriage. No one seemed to know where he was. He went walking in the Lake District and Scotland, apparently- all alone. But that is old history and I do not wish to embarrass you. I am glad that you have been able to bury your differences. I wonder if luncheon is ready. It must be very late already."

"Yes," Judith said. "I imagine all these children must be ravenous. They have done a good day's work already."

After luncheon, Mrs. Harrison and Mr. Cornwell took the children into the drawing room for a rehearsal of their pageant. Amy had been invited to go with them. She took Rupert with her while Judith took Kate upstairs to the nursery for a sleep.

All the children had parts, Mrs. Harrison explained to Amy. There were no scripts.

"Most of our children ca

"Would you like to be a shepherd, lad?" Mr. Cornwell asked Rupert, laying a hand on his shoulder. "We can always use more shepherds."

Amy smiled gratefully at Mr. Cornwell as Rupert raced off to join a small group of boys.

“You do not by any chance have some skill at playing the pianoforte, ma'am, do you?" he asked her. "Mrs. Harrison declares that she is all thumbs, but I am afraid that even my thumbs would be useless. Our angel choir ca

Amy laughed and flushed. "I do," she said, "and would gladly relieve Mrs. Harrison if she wishes it."

"If she wishes it?" He took her by the arm. "Eve, come here. Christmas has come early for you."

Amy was soon seated on the pianoforte bench surrounded by the angel choir.

"Cor," one of them said, "you got a luverly voice, missus."

"Thank you," she said. "Maureen, is it? And so do all of you if you will just not be afraid to sing out. Sing from down here." She patted her stomach.

Mr. Cornwell came and stood behind the bench when the full rehearsal started. He chuckled.

"Can we keep you, ma'am?" he asked. "What would you ask as a salary? That sounded almost like music."

"This is such fun," Amy declared a moment before clapping a hand over her mouth as the i

"Not the head, if you please, Peg," Mr. Cornwell said firmly. "The shoulder maybe? And not too hard. Remember that you are just acting." He added in a lower voice, for Amy's ears only, "The angel did not wait for the glory of the Lord to shine around about the shepherds during our first rehearsal. She kicked them awake."

Amy stifled her mirth.

And she remembered suddenly a dark tent on the River Thames and the prediction about children. Lots of children. And about a comfortable gentleman of middle years whom she would soon meet.

But how foolish, she thought, giving herself a mental shake. How very foolish. Mr. Cornwell would surely run a million miles if he could just read her mind. Poor Mr. Cornwell.

And her father would have forty fits if she ever decided to fix her choice on a gentleman who worked for his living caring for and educating a houseful of ragamuffins from the London slums.

It sounded like rather a blissful life to Amy.

Silly! she told herself.

The marquess joined his aunts and Sir William in a game of cards in one of the smaller salons.

Soon enough it would be time to skate. The children, Lord Denbigh thought, would not allow him to forget that promise despite the fact that they had had a busy day and faced the walk home at the end of it.

There was a large box of skates he would have taken out to the lake. No one who needed a pair would find himself without, though he remembered from the previous year that many of the children preferred to slide around on the ice with their boots. He had already had a portion of the lake cleared of snow.

"What a delightful child little Kate Easton is," Aunt Edith said.