Page 66 of The Widow’s Christmas Surprise

“He does, doesn’t he?” Elizabeth nodded.

“So I wondered if perhaps, because of that, you had found him attractive for a while but . . . not anymore.” Color had risen in Charlotte’s cheeks. “I hated to doubt you for even a moment, my dear. But I remember what Alan was like, how attractive he was.” She lowered her gaze. “How persuasive he was.”

“I noticed that the moment I met him, Charlotte.” Maria knelt by her friend’s chair. “Anthony even uses the same bergamot scent.”

Charlotte made a face.

“I know, it was awful. But I can assure you, his resemblance to Alan was the first thing about him I found unattractive.” She patted Charlotte’s hands and rose. “I would never have become intimate with him, especially not after I fell in love with Mr. Granger.”

“So what do you plan to do, my dear?” Fanny spoke up. “If he goes about spreading these lies, people who don’t know the truth will absolutely believe them. Society will judge that the child, if there is a child, is his.”

“Which is why I have decided that after Christmas I will go back to Kersey Hall, find Mr. Granger, and tell him what has happened, or what may have happened. If there is a child I shall know it for sure in a few months’ time. Then we will hopefully decide to marry.” That would be her nightly prayer for the next few weeks. “But whatever happens”—Maria looked around the room at the friends who would support her decision no matter what—“under no circumstances will I marry Lord Wetherby. Even if all Society believes the child to be his, I will not tie myself to such a dissolute man.”

“Well, let us all pray then that Mr. Granger can be found and persuaded that whatever the circumstances, he belongs with you.” Fanny rose, pulling her shawl around her shoulders. “And as we will all be going to church in the morning, I think we should take our leave now. Good night, my dear.” She bussed Maria’s cheeks. “Pleasant dreams. And Merry Christmas to us all.”

“Merry Christmas, Fanny.”

The chorus of Christmas cheer continued as her friends left her to seek their own beds.

Yawning, Maria closed the door, buoyed up by her friends’ wishes for her happiness with Hugh. That would be her primary prayer tomorrow in church, and every day thereafter until somehow she and Hugh could be together.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“It’s snowing!” Nose pressed against the window, one of Matthew’s young sisters pointed out the window as Maria came downstairs Christmas morning.

“I see it is. It’s very pretty, isn’t it?” The snowfall made the old sooty snow that had lingered around Town fresh and new again. A good omen for her, perhaps?

“Merry Christmas!” Maria called as she entered the full breakfast room. Every place seemed filled by her guests, who were chatting excitedly.

“Merry Christmas!” The deafening response reverberated down the corridor, making Maria smile as she took a seat just vacated by Lord St. Just.

“Do not let me run you away, my lord.” She nodded to a footman who had deftly cleared the marquess’s plate and brought Maria silverware and tea.

“I’m going to check on Georgie. She was feeling a bit queasy this morning, but is still hoping to be able to go to church.” Rob hurried away, a concerned frown puckering his brow.

Such devotion would have been nice during her own pregnancy. She shook her head and spread her napkin over her lap. Perhaps the next time would be different.

Breakfast was a merry affair, with spirited conversations punctuated by hearty laughter. The older children were ready for church, but more excited about the presents promised in the afternoon before Christmas dinner.

Maria sat back and drank in the good cheer all around her. It gave her hope that everything would work out for her and Hugh. She had to believe that if she was to be able to carry on each day.

The clock on the mantel struck ten o’clock and Maria rose. “I believe we will need to leave now in order to account for the snowy walk this morning.”

There was a flurry of activity as her guests called for maids, footmen, valets, and nursemaids in an effort to prepare for the outing. Within fifteen minutes, however, everyone was waiting in the entry hall. At last Rob escorted Georgie downstairs. She was pale and leaned on his arm, but she smiled and called, “Merry Christmas,” as they reached the ground floor.

Immensely proud and happy, Maria led the throng out into the snowy wonderland, her Christmas morning so far everything she could have wished for. The church service was solemn and beautiful, the message of the Christ Child forever familiar, and brand-new. As she had promised, she sent up a fervent prayer for Hugh and her to be together as husband and wife. When the bells rang, peal after joyous peal, at the end of the service, it proved the perfect benediction to the morning’s worship.

The walk back home seemed shorter, with the children running through the snowy streets, stopping to fashion and throw snowballs at each other. Jemmy and Rob joined in, pelting each other with a quickness that soon covered their jackets in snow. Their antics kept the whole party laughing until they turned the corner into the street where Maria’s house was located, to find a lone figure leaning against the railing.

Her first glance at the man’s figure made Maria’s heart give a huge thump and she gasped. Hugh had come after all. She darted forward, outdistancing the others only to pull up short when she recognized the lounging figure.

“Lord Wetherby.” Disappointment so sharp she could taste it filled her mouth. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Maria. I am invited to Christmas dinner, am I not? I left rather suddenly last evening and did not hear the invitation.” He had straightened and now stood smiling down at her with a smug grin.

“I would think the suddenness of your leaving would have given you a hint as to the answer to your question.” No sooner were the words out of her mouth than she regretted them. Here she had just come from church, from the message of peace on earth, and her first words spoken to someone were rude. Even if he deserved them, she was better than that. “I beg your pardon, Lord Wetherby. That was uncalled for on Christmas. It is early for dinner, but will you come in for a cup of wassail?”

“With pleasure, Maria.”