“I enjoy being Thomas Bowman.”

“I’m glad of it. But I don’t think I would enjoy it.”

Thomas stared at him for a long moment. His face softened, and for once, he spoke in a near-fatherly tone. “I’m trying to help you. I wouldn’t ask you to do something I believed to be against your own interests. My judgment about Swift and Daisy was correct, wasn’t it?”

“By some miracle of God, yes,” Rafe muttered.

“It will all get better, easier, once you start making the right choices. You must build a good life for yourself, Rafe. Take your place at the table. There is nothing wrong with Bland-ford’s daughter. Everyone wants this match. Lady Natalie has made it clear to all and sundry that she is amenable. And you led me to believe that you would go through with it as long as the girl was acceptable!”

“You’re right. At first it didn’t matter whom I married. But now I find myself unwilling to pick a wife with no more care than I would exert in choosing a pair of shoes.”

Thomas had looked exasperated. “What has changed since you arrived in England?”

Rafe didn’t answer.

“Is it that brown-haired girl?” his father prodded. “Lady Natalie’s companion?”

He looked at his father alertly. “Why do you ask?”

“It seems you’ve gone more than once to listen to her read at night to a group of children. And you care nothing for children or Christmas stories.” The heavy mustache twitched contemptuously. “She’s common, Rafe.”

“And we’re not? Grandmother was a dockside washwoman, and the devil knows who your father was. And that was just on your side of the”

“I have spent my life trying to elevate this blighted family into something more! Don’t use this girl as a way to avoid your responsibilities. You can have as many of her kind as you desire after you’ve married Lady Natalie. No one would condemn you for it, especially in England. Seduce her. Make her your mistress. I’ll even buy a house for her, if that will please you.”

“Thank you, but I can afford my own mistresses.” Rafe threw his father a glance of dark disgust. “You want this marriage so much that you’re willing to finance the corruption of an innocent girl to accomplish it?”

“Everyone loses their innocence sooner or later.” As Thomas saw Rafe’s expression, his eyes had turned cold. “If you foil everyone’s expectations, and embarrass me in the bargain, I will cut you off. No more chances. You will be disinherited, and renounced.”

“Understood,” Rafe had said curtly.

CHAPTER 13

…and it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God Bless Us, Every One!

Glancing upward as she finished reading A Christmas Carol, Hannah saw the rapt faces of the children, their eyes shining. There was a brief silence, the shared pleasure of a wonderful story tinged with the regret that it had to end. And then they were all standing, moving about the room, their faces sticky with milk and cookie crumbs, their small hands clapping enthusiastically.

There were two imps on her lap, and one hugging her neck from behind the chair. Hannah looked up as Rafe Bowman approached her. The rhythm of her heart went wild, and she knew her shortness of breath had nothing to do with the small arms clamped around her neck.

His gaze strayed to her disordered clothes and tousled coiffure. “Well done,” he murmured. “You’ve made it feel like Christmas. For everyone.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, trying not to think of his hands on her skin, his mouth

“I need to talk to you.”

Carefully Hannah dislodged the children from her lap and disentangled the arms from her neck. Standing to face him, she tried in vain to straighten her dress and smooth her skirts. She took a deep breath, but her voice emerged with a dismaying lack of force. “I…I don’t see how any good could come of that.”

His gaze was warm and direct. “Nevertheless, I’m going to talk to you.”

The words from his letter drifted through her mind. “I want to kiss every soft place of you …”

“Please not now,” she whispered, with her face flushing and an ache rising in her throat.

Reading the signs of her distress, he relented. “Tomorrow?”

“I need too much of you …”

“Yes,” she said with difficulty.

Comprehending how deeply his presence unnerved her, Rafe gave her a slight nod, his jaw firming. It seemed there were a dozen things he wanted to say, words hovering impatiently on his lips, but something…compassion or pity perhaps…afforded him the necessary self-restraint.

“Tomorrow,” he repeated quietly, and left her.

NANNIES AND NURSERYMAIDS CAME TO COLLECT THE CHILDREN, and Hannah went out into the hallway in a daze of misery.

No one had ever told her that love could make every cell in one’s body hurt.

She was becoming fairly certain that she would not be able to attend Rafe and Natalie’s wedding, that all the events of their married life, the births of children, the celebrations and rituals, would be impossible for her to tolerate. She would stew in jealousy and despair and resentment until she disintegrated. The common wisdom for a woman in her situation was that someday she would meet another man, and she would forget all about Rafe Bowman. But she didn’t want another man. There was no one else like him.