“Of course I did. She’s family, no matter how delicate her… health.”
Interesting, that. Was she ill with a wasting disease? Had something horrific occurred in her life to relegate her to secrets and hushed conversations and furtive glances?
Royce sailed into the tension-filled silence that followed. He and Trey fell onto a settee situated the farthest from the hearth. “So, what have you got planned for Christmastide? Will we go out and gather greenery? Perhaps find some mistletoe for all the doors?”
“I don’t have a set schedule,” Drew replied. He crossed the room and pulled on two separate blue brocade ropes. “The purpose of having the family together was to build a lasting foundation, replace the one that crumbled years ago. My wish is to reunite the Stormes and go forward with a strong family connection.”
Jane’s brothers exchanged glances that fairly brimmed with trouble. Royce happened to catch Isobel’s eye and he grinned. “Then we’ll head up the outdoor entertainment. Two days to Christmas mean we need to start decorating these halls.”
“How fun!” Isobel peered at her mother. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Mama? Seeing the greenery, smelling the oranges and spices?”
“I must admit, I’ve been looking forward to the season this year, and I intend to enjoy it with everything that I am.”
Again, Finn frowned. The lady was too frail and sickly to be in full health. Would this perhaps be her last Christmastide? “I’m certain Drew will do everything in his power to make it one to remember, Aunt Patricia.” Then he sought out Jane’s attention. “Might I have a private word?”
“Of course.” While Drew spoke quietly at the doorway with the housekeeper and butler, Jane pushed Finn’s chair across the room to the windows. The snow outside hadn’t ceased in its intensity. Soon the roads would be covered, and the country lanes would end up more of a mess than the more travelled routes. “What’s amiss? Are you feeling well?” She dropped her voice and kneeled at the side of his chair. “Does being around your family tax your mental state too much? If so, we can retire upstairs…”
Christmastide had always been his favorite time of year, but having Jane at his side with her confidence and zest for life buoyed his own. Ideas popped through his brain like soap bubbles. Their marriage was still in the honeymoon stage, for they’d only been wed a few months. Since he’d thrown himself into authoring his book as well as working at the clinic alongside Jane, they hadn’t had much time to themselves. A wedding trip hadn’t been a top priority. Which was why he hoped this holiday house party would provide them the opportunity for intimacy.
“As much as I would adore doing just that, there is nothing wrong with my mind at the present moment.” He took one of her hands in his. “However, I suspect my aunt is struggling with ill-health and I rather think she’s not long for this world.”
“Oh? What should we do?” Jane refrained from glancing over her shoulder as they spoke in low voices. As it was, her brothers were doing a bang-up job of keeping everyone in the conversation regarding how they should decorate.
“I’d like to make this Christmastide as gay as we can, for her sake. And since Drew hasn’t arrived at the point of why he’s gathered us all together, you and I can do whatever we can to ensure my mother and William’s enjoy themselves. After all, they were the ones who married into the Storme family to begin with. I think they deserve a rest.”
“That’s a wonderful idea.” When she smiled, his gaze dropped to her lush lips. Damn, but he wanted to pull her into his lap and kiss her soundly. It had been a rather long trip from London, and the coach was crowded with their guests. “What did you have in mind?”
He shrugged. “We can talk about our options this evening. Perhaps draw Miss Bancroft into our circle. She seems rather left out at present.”
“True, yet did you see how your cousin William kept looking at her and how Fanny kept blushing? I wonder if there might be a match brewing.”
“Your guess is as good as mine.” He couldn’t imagine any woman willing to take a chance on a man who was so like Drew. “I don’t know much about William now, so be certain you caution Fanny if that’s indeed where the wind blows.”
“You worry too much. Besides, a bit of romance will enliven the house party wonderfully.”
“Finn, if you can manage to drag yourself from your wife, I’d like to give out room assignments and show everyone about the manor,” Drew called from across the room.
Jane huffed out a breath as she stood. “Beg pardon, Lord Hadleigh, but we are discussing important things here. Please go ahead with your tour.” She winked at Finn. “We’ll catch up.”
Besides, the logistics of moving around the manor and its stairs would take a bit of doing. He wasn’t embarrassed any longer about his dependence upon footmen, but he didn’t wish to advertise that fact so soon in knowing his extended family.
Was there any wonder why he loved Jane’s petite, voluptuous self to distraction?
“Well, this rather worked in our favor.” Finn couldn’t believe his fortune as the room slowly cleared. The echo of voices rang in the corridor beyond. Grabbing Jane’s hand, he tugged her into his lap so that her legs and yards of moss green skirting lapped over the side of his chair. “You’re going to play matchmaker, aren’t you?”
“Perhaps, if it suits me.” Her eyes sparkled with amusement and something much more wicked deep in the gorgeous depths.
“Then you ought to take another glance at Royce. I don’t like the looks being exchanged between him and Isobel.”
“Oh?” Her eyebrows rose with surprise as she slipped a hand to his nape. “Has she caught his interest? Royce has always claimed he’s too busy to court and that he’ll never tarry long enough to become caught in parson’s mousetrap.”
“Men always say that when they’re full of themselves and stupidity.” Finn slid a hand up her back and pulled her closer. “However, familial tensions are already high enough. Adding possible romance to the mix is certain folly.”
“What if they’re meant to be together?” The warmth of her breath skated along his cheek, and the slight weight of her against his chest nearly drove him to throw caution to the wind.
“Then fate will take care of it. We already have enough on our plates as it is.” Though his life was quite happy, and he’d never been so content, a frisson of worry wormed its way into his chest. No matter how many times they’d come together in sexual congress, those sessions hadn’t resulted in pregnancy. Perhaps they never would, and he’d need to square with that.
“Curmudgeon.” But her grin nearly stole his ability to breathe.