A Christmas Scandal. Jane Goodger

She refused to go aboard the ship. We had a boatload of servants who all refused to go with us. Does that make you happy, Mama?”

      “Excessively so,” she said, smiling rather coyly for a woman in her forties.

      “They are here,” Elizabeth said, hurrying as fast as her growing belly would allow to her husband’s study. “How do I look?” she asked, standing in front of the Duke of Bellingham and smiling.

      “Like a cow,” Randall said dryly, standing immediately when she entered the room.

      “Better a cow than a peacock,” Elizabeth said pertly, eying his jewel-toned vest with mock horror.

      “You said you liked this.” He looked down at his rich-looking vest with doubt.

      “And you,” Elizabeth said, edging around his desk and coming up to him to kiss his freshly shaved jaw, “told me I was beautiful just this morning.”

      “You are and you know it,” he said, drawing her close. “I’ve noticed you getting a bit full of yourself lately. It’s decidedly unfashionable for a woman about to give birth to look so beautiful.”

      Another kiss. “You just said I looked like a cow.”

      “A lovely Hereford.”

      She gave him a gentle smack on his shoulder as he continued to smile down at her.

      “Excuse me, Your Graces,” Tisbury, their butler, said after clearing his throat. “Miss Pierce and Mrs. Pierce have arrived.”

      Elizabeth clapped her hands, completely overjoyed at the prospect of having her greatest friend with her. How she had missed Maggie. No one knew her better, was a greater champion—except, perhaps, her new husband. Joy bubbled up her throat and came out as laughter. Maggie had always been the one to cheer her up, but she was undoubtedly more happy than she’d ever been and didn’t need her friend’s effervescent personality about now. Perhaps when she was in the throes of labor she would need Maggie’s incessant happy chatter.

      “Where are Lord Hollings and Lady Matilda? And the children? They should be here,” Elizabeth said, dragging her smiling husband along. “Tisbury. Are Lord Hollings and Lady Matilda coming? And the children?”

      Tisbury, one of the most efficient of men, was not affronted by the question. He simply nodded and said, “They are all in the grand hall, Your Grace.”

      “The flowers. Did the maids check the flowers? They were looking a bit droopy and—”

      Suddenly, Elizabeth found herself being kissed soundly. “Stop. Everything is perfect. And if it is not, I hardly think your Miss Pierce will notice. Your stomach will block out any view of the flowers.”

      Elizabeth laughed, then scowled. “I don’t know why I laugh at you when you are perfectly horrid to me.” He bussed her cheek and looked down at her with such utter love, Elizabeth could not maintain her scowl for more than a few seconds. “It’s just that Maggie is not used to all this. I’m not used to all this yet. I still cannot believe this is where I shall live for the rest of my life.”

      “She’ll be fine, Your Grace,” he said, tucking her arm against him.

      “You’ll be fine, Mama,” Maggie whispered harshly to her mother, who hadn’t stopped her panicky monologue since the moment they’d peeked out of the carriage window and seen their first glimpse of Bellewood.

      “We’re pretenders,” Harriet whispered in her ear as they walked up the shallow steps that led to the grand entrance of the enormous palace. Elizabeth’s descriptions had not done the place justice. It was far grander than any private home Maggie had ever seen. One could hardly call it a home at all. “We don’t belong here. We were always pretenders. How do you think your poor father ended up where he is today? Because we were trying to be something we are not. Oh, my goodness, I do believe I’m going to faint,” her mother said, waving a hand in front of her face.

      “You are not going to faint,” Maggie said sternly, as if saying it in such a tone would prevent her mother from keeling over. Harriet’s face was quite flushed, Maggie had to acknowledge, but just now her mother’s chatter was more irritating than anything else. She knew, more than anyone, what being a pretender meant.

      Before they reached the top step, Maggie looked up to see Elizabeth breaking away from her husband and rushing toward her, completely unmindful that she was a pregnant woman rushing headlong toward a set of hard marble stairs. The two friends embraced, and it was so strange to feel Elizabeth’s belly protruding. Elizabeth had always been so painfully thin, thanks to her mother’s strict diet and stricter control. Both woman were laughing and crying and clinging together as if it had been years and years they’d been apart instead of just a few long months.

      “You look absolutely stunning,” Maggie gushed, meaning every syllable. Elizabeth, who had always been a beauty, had gained some much-needed weight. She had about her an air of exuberant health, the quintessential glow of pregnancy.

      Elizabeth stepped back, wiped the tears from her eyes using a handkerchief instantly produced by her husband, and placed her hands upon her belly. “Randall says I am a cow.”

      “A lovely Hereford, if I recall,” His Grace interjected.

      Maggie watched the miracle of two people who’d hardly known each other on their wedding day look at each other with such unabashed love it was almost painful to witness. Especially painful for a woman who knew she would never know such love.

      Just beyond the duke and duchess, a small commotion was growing, and it seemed as if a crowd was forming in Bellewood’s grand entrance. Maggie was vaguely aware of the sound of children, which didn’t quite make sense since there were no children at Bellewood, as well as a man and woman. Elizabeth was saying something to her, something about visitors and how she was certain she would be happy to have a familiar face here in England.

      That’s when she saw him, her very own earl, and realized with heartbreaking surety that she loved him still.

      Chapter 5

      It felt stunningly like being hit with a large and unexpected wave, slamming into her with such force Maggie literally stepped back from it. Lord Hollings was here. And he was standing next to a very pretty older woman with shockingly red hair. The two were surrounded by what appeared to be a brood of children.

      “You remember Lord Hollings,” Elizabeth said, stepping aside so she might get a better view of him. “And this is Lady Matilda, Lord Hollings’ step-aunt. And four of her children, Mary, Janice, Robert, and Nathan.”

      “Two others are all grown up and on their own,” Lady Matilda said with a musical laugh. “So glad to finally meet you.”

      Maggie concentrated on her, on the woman with her hand extended, on her pretty navy blue dress, that looked so lovely with her dark blue eyes and red hair. Don’t look at him, don’t.

      “Miss Pierce.” He said her name and it sounded exactly as in her dreams, deep and slightly rough, a sound that made her chest ache.

      Instead of immediately acknowledging Lord Hollings, Maggie grasped the woman’s hand. “So pleased to meet you, Lady Matilda,” she said, calling forth every ounce of social graces she possessed. She truly wanted to lift her skirts and run from the room, screaming like a banshee.

      Why hadn’t Elizabeth warned her? Why? Then again, why should she? No one had known, especially not Lord Hollings, how desperately she had fallen in love. But perhaps he had known and that is why he’d managed to leave New York on the first available ship, a man escaping a desperate spinster.

      Finally, she gathered the courage to turn to him. “Lord Hollings,” she said, proud that her acting skills were so intact. She gave him her warmest smile and grasped his hand briefly in greeting, glad she still wore her gloves and couldn’t feel the intimacy of his warm touch. “It’s so lovely to see you again.”

      “Likewise,”