Ria smiled at the children, then looked back at Mrs. Ford. “As it is Christmas Eve, I had a special basket made up for you.”
Turning to Luc, she introduced him, hoping he would not take offense when she named him merely as Luc Adair, omitting all mention of his title. He had done the same thing in the cemetery when he’d introduced himself to her, so she thought it unlikely he’d mind.
As she suspected, he seemed unconcerned. He politely greeted Mrs. Ford as he removed his greatcoat. Jacketless, dressed in buckskin trousers and white shirt, he seemed far less intimidating but no less attractive. In fact, he took her breath away.
Trying to hide her involuntary reaction and most of all not think about his invitation to have an affaire, Ria opened the basket.
The children crowded around as Ria showed Mrs. Ford the contents, their eyes lighting up when they saw the Christmas pudding. One boy licked his lips and reached out to touch it. With a smile, his mother lightly slapped his hand away. “That’s for tea, Timmy, so you will have to wait a little longer.”
Looking at Ria, she added, “I’d best be putting this all away before the children help themselves. Thank you so much, Mrs. St. James. We will have a fine Christmas indeed.”
As Mrs. Ford went to put the baby down, Ria held out her hands. “I’ll hold her if you like.”
“Thank you, madam. I won’t be a moment.”
While Mrs. Ford put away the provisions, Ria sat down beside the fire.
Balancing the little girl on her knee, Ria watched the earl from the corner of her eye. Timmy walked up behind him and tugged on the bottom of his shirt. As he turned, the boy showed him one of the small wooden soldiers his grandfather had carved for him for his birthday. Within minutes, the earl was on the floor with all five of the boys, playing soldiers.
Luc, though playing with the boys, had positioned himself so he could watch Mrs. St James. When she’d removed her pelisse, his hands had ached to stroke her. Her body was lush and ripe with generous curves. She reminded him of peaches and cream on a warm summer’s day. His mouth watered at the thought of tasting her.
He’d seen the quick glance she gave him as she made the introductions and understood why she omitted his title. Mrs. Ford would have been far less relaxed in his company if she’d known he was an earl. Truth be told, it was refreshing being in the company of a family who did not know.
Luc couldn’t help but compare Mrs. St. James—Ria—with his mother. Whenever his mother had visited tenants, she was very much the lady of the manor distributing bounty and made sure the tenants treated her like royalty. She would certainly never touch any of the children or allow them to touch her. Nor had she ever displayed the genuine care and attention Ria was showing Mrs. Ford.
Once Mrs. Ford finished putting away the basket contents, she offered them refreshments. With a quick glance at him, Ria declined, explaining she was expected back at the manor shortly.
Once they left the Fords’, Luc turned to her. “May I escort you home, Mrs. St. James?”
She nodded, but to his hidden amusement made sure that the journey back was a silent one by setting a fast pace.
On arrival at the manor, as he expected, she once again obeyed the dictates of polite society by inviting him inside.
Smoothly he declined her invitation. “My host, Lord Lyons, is expecting me, so thank you but no.”
A look of surprise flitted across her face as she said, “That is a pity.” Then in strangled tones, the words seemingly forced out of her, she said, “We are going to church tomorrow morning and then having friends to dinner. It will be a simple Christmas, but you and Lord Lyons are welcome to join us.”
With a smile, he once again declined. He then remounted his horse and rode down the drive leaving her very much bemused. Just as he’d intended.
Keeping her unsteady, not knowing what to expect from him, was one of his key weapons in their engagement.
8
Little Bridgeton, January 1814
Mr. Perwick tugged at his cravat, then rubbed the back of his neck as he read the list of instructions she’d just handed him. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
Ria nodded.
After again carefully scrutinizing the instructions, her solicitor looked back up at her. “You are certain?”
“Yes.”
“It is my responsibility to point out that if the St. James estate is put into a trust, you will be left with very little.”
“I know, but it is something I feel I must do.”
“Well, I suppose one consolation is you now have the farm up north.”