He sighed, then kissed her gently on the cheek to make his reluctant acquiescence a tad more graceful. “When do you want to begin?”
She hesitated for only a moment. “Tonight, on Christmas Eve. I have a feeling—”
“No more ‘feelings’ tonight,” he cut in with a moan.
She chuckled. “I didn’t say we have to write a lot tonight, just a beginning. Besides, I have another gift to deliver tonight that will take quite some time—in the delivering of it.”
It was the sensual look she was giving him that had him raising his brow with interest. “You do? Quite some time, eh? You, ah, wouldn’t consider delivering that present first, would you?”
“I could be persuaded to.”
His lips came to her cheek again, and then moved down her neck, sending shivers over her shoulders. “I’m very good at persuading,” he said in a husky whisper.
“I had a feeling you would say that.”
Chapter 27
Amy closed the journal for the last time with a satisfied sigh. It had been more than she could have hoped for. She was now fully at peace with her “gift.” It could just be incredible coincidence, how lucky she was with her wagering, but she preferred to think she had inherited her luck from her great-grandmother.
Not everyone had stayed for the full reading, which had taken three days. Roslynn and Kelsey took turns seeing to the children, so they only heard every other chapter or so, though they would catch up, now that they could have the journal to themselves.
Amy’s older sisters had decided to wait and read it at their leisure. Though they did pop in every so often to find out how the story was progressing, they mostly kept Georgina company, who was entertaining her visiting brothers elsewhere in the house. The rest of the Andersons didn’t come to England frequently enough to suit her, so when they did, she liked to spend as much time as possible with them.
James and Tony, those rogues, had interrupted repeatedly with droll comments about Christopher Malory, whom they had immediately likened to Jason. Jason had sat through the entire reading in pensive silence, not even bothering to scold his younger brothers for their drollery.
Amy’s mother Charlotte had been unable to sit for such long periods, and so like her other daughters, she decided to read the journal some other time. But her father, Edward, had stayed for all of the readings, and now came to kiss her brow before he took himself off to bed.
“I don’t look like her, as you do,” he told Amy. “But like you, I used to wonder why I was always such a good judge of people. That ‘insight,’ if you want to call it that, is what has aided my investments and made this family incredibly rich. But never being wrong makes one feel deuced unusual, indeed it does. Glad to know I’m not the only strange one. Indeed, much nicer to know there’s a good reason why we’ve been so fortunate in our many endeavors.”
Amy was amazed. Her father might have been the most jovial and gregarious in the family, but he was also the most pragmatic and realistic. She would have thought he’d be the last one to believe in a Gypsy’s gift.
Reggie, the only one close enough to have heard Edward’s quiet remarks to his daughter, said with a grin, “Don’t count yourself short, Uncle Edward. It still takes a certain genius to build the financial empire that you have. Being able to accurately judge the people you invest with helps, certainly, but you still did the picking and choosing. Now, look at me. Like Amy, I took after her in looks, yet I didn’t inherit any of these other gifts.”
Edward chuckled at her. “I don’t mind sharing the credit, puss. And don’t be too sure you didn’t inherit any gifts. Gypsy charm works its own magic. And have you yet to be wrong in any of your matchmaking endeavors?”
Reggie blinked. “Well, no, come to think of it, I haven’t.” And then she beamed. “Oh, just wait till I tell Nicholas that he never stood a chance, once I decided to matchmake myself to him.”
Reggie’s husband had gone to bed several hours ago, simply too tired to stay up to hear the “ending.” But the others in the room heard her delighted remark and started commenting, some with humor, some quite appalled…
Like Travis, who quickly said, “Just keep those matchmaking tendencies of yours away from me, cousin. I’m not ready to wear the shackles just yet.”
“I am,” Marshall said, smiling at her. “So do feel quite free to make me your next project.”
“Never really thought of it before, but the dear puss really has had quite a hand in matchmaking a lot of us, myself included,” Anthony put in. “She did fill my Roslynn’s pretty head with nothing but good things about me, expounding on all my good qualities.”
“That must have been bloody hard to do,” James remarked dryly. “Considering how few good qualities you possess, old man.”
“Look who’s talking.” Anthony snorted. “Can’t imagine what George ever saw in you. But then she has come to her senses, hasn’t she?”
That was hitting rather low, considering it was quite a raw spot for James at the moment, that Georgina still wouldn’t talk to him about what was really bothering her, and their bedroom door was still being locked tight against him—especially since Anthony was having no such extended difficulties with his own wife.
So it wasn’t the least bit surprising that James replied, albeit with his usual lack of expression, “That black eye of yours is starting to fade, brother. Remind me to rectify that in the morning.”
“Not bloody likely. I’ll be catching up on quite a bit of lost sleep tomorrow, if it’s all the same to you,” Anthony retorted.
James merely smiled. “It’s not. And do be assured that I can wait until you’ve caught up. Wouldn’t want you in less than top form.”
Chagrined, Anthony mumbled, “You’re all heart, you bloody ass.”
“I’d prefer you two did not go at it again,” Jason said as he stood up to take himself off to bed. “Sets a bad example for the children.”
“Quite right,” Anthony agreed with a grin, then to James, “At least some of the elders around here are possessed of wisdom.”
Considering James was Anthony’s elder by a year, there was little doubt that Anthony was getting in yet another subtle dig against him. James might have let it pass if his mood hadn’t gone sour with the reminder that his wife was still annoyed with him.
“Which is fortunate,” James said, giving his brother a sage nod. “Since some of the infants around here are possessed of none a’tall.”
Derek, standing next to his father and seeing one of his stern frowns forming, whispered aside to him, “You know once they get started like that, there’s no stopping them. Might as well ignore them. I get the feeling it’s going to continue like this until Aunt George is smiling again.”
Jason sighed and replied in an equally soft whisper, “I suppose I should have a talk with her. From what I’ve heard, her anger seems quite overdone.”
“It does, don’t it? Seems to indicate there might be something else that’s put the bee in her bonnet, that she ain’t fessing up to.”
“You’ve hit the nail squarely. But James has already come to that conclusion himself—not that it’s helped any.”
“Obviously, since he still ain’t himself. Course, he never is, when he and George are having a tiff.”
“Are any of us?”
Derek chuckled, likely remembering some of his own tiffs with Kelsey. “Good point. Deuced hard to analyze the situation when you’re knee-deep in the doldrums.”
Jason was ready to conclude that that might have been his own problem where Molly was concerned. The logic she had always used on him, while valid, always made him rage inwardly that it was valid. The situation, as it had stood, was frustrating beyond endurance, and who could think clearly mired in such emotional muck? Yet he now had hope, thanks to his grandmother’s amazing gift.
Jeremy drew his attention back to the current barb slinging by remarking cheerfully, “Well, this ‘baby’ is taking himself to bed. At least I didn’t inherit an
y sorcery-type silliness with these blue eyes and black hair that I got from the grand-mère.”
Derek rolled his eyes at that and said in mild disgust, “No, you just cast the most potent spell of all, cousin, in having every woman who looks at you fall hopelessly in love with you.”
Jeremy beamed. “I do? Well, hell’s bells, I’ll settle for that.”
Anthony chuckled, putting an arm around Jeremy’s shoulders to confide, “They’re just jealous, puppy, that all the charm in this family fell on us black-haired Gypsies.”
“What rubbish.” James snorted. “You’ve about as much charm as the backside of my—”
Jason cleared his throat very loudly. “I think we’ve all been up far too long today,” he said, and then sternly, “Go to bed, the lot of you.”
“Would if I had a bloody bed to go to,” James mumbled on his way out the door.
Anthony frowned and did some mumbling of his own. “Can’t believe I’m feeling sorry for him. Gads, I must be exhausted. G’night, all.”
Jason looked at Edward and shook his head with a “what can you do?” sigh, then turned to Amy to ask, “Do you need help, m’dear?” He indicated Warren, who was fast asleep with his head on her shoulder.
She smiled lovingly at her husband. “No, he wakes very easily.”
She shrugged her shoulder to demonstrate, and Warren sat right up, blinked once, then said, “All done for the night, sweetheart?”
“All done for good,” she replied, and handed the journal to Jason for safekeeping. “I’ll tell you in the morning what you missed.”
He yawned, stood up, and pulled her to his side. “I’ll let you know, by the time we get upstairs, whether I can wait until morning or not to hear how they handled those snooping townsfolk.”
She moaned a bit, but then chuckled as she put an arm around his waist. “Same way you probably would have. They told them to mind their own bloody business.”
“Excellent, the American way,” he replied as he walked them out the door.
They left more’n one English groan behind them.
Chapter 28
James paused by his wife’s bedroom as he did each night, to see if the door would open. Tonight he was annoyed enough not to bother even trying. She’d been utterly unreasonable in her anger, utterly uncommunicative as well, refusing to discuss it. He really was at his wits’ end on how to set things right with her, particularly when he hadn’t done anything wrong to be setting right.
He needed a miracle to get out of this mess. That thought reminded him of the conversation he’d had with Jason the night the younguns had snuck into the parlor to open The Present. Before Anthony had found him in Jason’s study and they’d started their commiserative drinking, James had found Jason there doing some drinking himself.
“I hope you’ve got more of that on hand, because I could use a full bottle myself,” he told his brother when he entered the room.
Jason nodded. “Fetch a glass on the sideboard and start with this one.”
James did, then took the seat across from Jason’s desk, waiting for him to pour from the near-empty decanter next to him. When he did, he said pointedly, “I know why I’m drinking, but why are you?”
Jason didn’t answer that, said instead, “James, you confound me. You, out of all of us, have a certain unique finesse in handling women—at least, you always did in the past. Where’s it gone to?”
James leaned back in his chair and took a long swill of his brandy before answering, “Easy to handle women when you aren’t emotionally involved with them, quite another thing when you love one to distraction. I’ve used every means I can think of to get George to at least discuss what’s bothering her, but George is, well, George, and she won’t budge until she’s bloody well ready to. It’s got nothing to do with Tony or Jack. I’ve at least narrowed that down. She merely used them as a convenient excuse to explode—at me. I’m the problem, but since I haven’t done a single thing out of the ordinary that might have set her temper off, I’m bloody well in the complete dark.”
“It sounds like she just hasn’t figured out yet how to approach the matter with you, whatever it is. That could be part of the problem, her own frustration in being unable to express it,” Jason suggested.
“George? Having trouble expressing herself?” James all but rolled his eyes.
“Not ordinarily,” Jason agreed. “But this doesn’t sound like an ordinary problem, or it would be out in the open already, wouldn’t it?”
“Possibly,” James allowed thoughtfully, then, “Bloody hell. I’m done with trying to figure out what’s wrong. Everything I make a guess at just points out more clearly that this makes no sense a’tall.”
Jason, staring at the glass in his hand, snorted. “Women make sense when they’re upset? When did they ever?”
James chuckled at that, since it reminded him of the realization he’d come to a few years ago, yet he’d never broached the subject with his brother. It also gave him his answer to why his brother might be in need of a fortifying brandy or two. In a word, women problems.
So he asked baldly, “How long have you been in love with Molly?”
Jason glanced up, but his expression didn’t show the surprise that question should have brought. “Since before Derek was born.”
James couldn’t quite conceal his own surprise at that answer and the obvious conclusion it brought. “Good God…well, damn it all, Jason, why the deuce have you never told any of us?”
“You think I didn’t want to? I’d shout it from the rooftops if it were my choice, but it’s not. Molly had valid reasons for wanting the truth about us kept secret, even from Derek—at least she managed to convince me those reasons were valid. I’m not so sure anymore, but that’s a moot point after all these years of secrecy.”
“Why don’t you just marry the woman and have done with it?” James said reasonably.
Jason laughed without humor. “I’m trying to. I have been trying to since the divorce from Frances, but Molly won’t budge in her refusal. She’s got this gigantic scandal imagined in her mind and she refuses to inflict it on the family.”
James raised a golden brow. “On the family? When has this family not had a scandal brewing of one sort or another?”
Jason raised a brow himself. “True, to which you, for one, made sure of.”
James chuckled at his brother’s censorious tone. “Let’s not get into that. I’m reformed, don’t you know.”
Jason shook his head bemusedly. “I still can’t credit how that came about.”
“Love, of course. It does produce amazing miracles. Speaking of which, it’s looking like I’ll need one of those to get out of this confounding situation with George. If I find one, Jason, I’ll be sure to pass it along, since you seem to be in need of a miracle yourself as well.”
Remembering that conversation with his brother, James had a feeling that Jason might have found his miracle, thanks to their grandmother, yet one hadn’t dropped into his own lap yet. But enough was enough and tomorrow he’d tell his wife so. Tonight he was simply too tired. Tonight he’d probably say something he’d end up regretting, and then he would have something to apologize for.
He walked away, but no more than three steps were taken before he spun about and pounded on her door. To hell with waiting. He was tired, yes, but he was even more tired of sleeping alone.
From inside the room he heard, “It’s open.”
James frowned down at the doorknob, tried it. Damned if it wasn’t open. Bloody hell. It would have to be open the one time he made a racket pounding on it rather than just checking it first.
He entered the room, closed the door, then leaned back against it, crossing his thick arms over his chest. Georgina was sitting on the bed, wearing the white silk negligee and robe that he’d given her last Christmas. She was brushing her long brown hair. He always enjoyed watching her do that—another thing he’d been denied lately.
He raised a brow at her and asked dryly,
“Forget to lock the door?”
“No,” she said simply.
The golden brow lifted just a bit higher. “Don’t tell me you’ve gotten all maudlin over the elders’ love story and decided to forgive me because of it?”
Her sigh was loud enough to hear across the room. “Maudlin, no. Finally realizing that putting this off isn’t going to make it go away, yes, their story did help me to see that the unavoidable can’t be avoided. So you may as well know, there’s nothing to forgive you for, James.”
“Well, I always knew that, but what the devil d’you mean by nothing?”
She lowered her gaze and mumbled something that he couldn’t make out. This had him crossing the room to stand in front of her. He lifted her chin. Her large brown eyes were inscrutable. She’d learned how to do that from him.
“Let’s try this again, shall we?” he said. “Now, what d’you mean, there’s nothing to forgive me for?”
“I was never angry with you. The way I’ve been behaving had nothing to do with you—well, it did, but not for the reason I let you think. I was already upset about something else when Jack said what she did. I used that as an excuse, because I wasn’t ready to fess up to the other. I didn’t want to upset you.”
“I hope you know, George, that you haven’t made one bloody bit of sense. Didn’t want to upset me? Do I look like I haven’t been upset?”
His frown answered that question quite satisfactorily. She actually smiled.
“Let me rephrase that,” she suggested. “I didn’t want to upset you with what was really bothering me, which was not wanting to upset you at all.”
He made a sound of frustration at that point. “I know it’s American reasoning that makes what you say sound like gibberish to the English mind, but do try—”