A Very Scandalous Fairbanks Christmas (Those Very Bad Fairbanks #14)

Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

C aroline had only arrived in Penporth yesterday, and already the entire manor buzzed with energy. Christmas was still eight days away, yet the Fairbanks were in full celebration mode. Servants and family members alike were adorning the halls with pinecones, mistletoe, and garlands of ivy, all woven with brightly-colored satin bows that added a festive cheer. The air smelled of pine and lemon wax, a scent that brought back cherished memories of past Christmases spent here.

And, amazingly, almost everyone had already arrived. Julia and Aunt Margaret, along with their husbands and stepchildren, would be traveling down closer to Christmas. Several cousins with their husband, wives, children and expectant mothers filled the house with laughter and love. Caroline warmed at the sight, though deep inside, a whisper of longing curled in her chest. She had barely stepped into the drawing room when she spotted James indulging in a rather salacious kiss with his wife, Sarah. She giggled against his lips as he nuzzled her neck, oblivious to their public audience.

Caroline tossed her hands in the air. “Honestly, must you? I just left Richard and Poppy in the music room in a far more compromising embrace. I have no maidenly sensibilities left,” she said laughing.

Sarah gasped, her cheeks pinking though her eyes danced with mischief.

James, utterly unapologetic, grinned wickedly and pulled his wife closer. “If you are scandalized, dearest cousin, you are free to look away.”

Caroline scoffed, crossing her arms. “The Fairbanks have grown shameless, indeed.”

Sarah only laughed, her gaze softening with happiness as she brushed a hand over James’s cheek. “We should tell everyone this evening.”

He placed a hand to her belly, and Caroline felt a pang in her heart at what his actions revealed.

Was Sarah with child?

She swallowed down the ache rising inside her chest. Everyone was so happy. Blissfully so. She had never seen a family so full of love—faithful, passionate, and enduring. At five and twenty, Caroline had begun to wonder if such a love would ever be hers.

James was devoted to Sarah.

Colin worshipped Hermina.

Lizzy and Rannulf were inseparable, and Nicholas never let go of Cressida’s hand. Poppy and Richard doted on each other. Just moments ago, Caroline had left Phoebe in the drawing room, where she sat comfortably in the corner, her seven-months-pregnant form glowing with quiet happiness. One hand idly rubbed her rounded belly, while her husband, Gabriel, hovered close by, watching over her like a hawk—protective, ever attentive, as if ensuring no harm could so much as glance her way.

Caroline pushed the ache aside. This was a time for laughter, not for melancholy.

“Fanny and Ester have finished arranging the drawing room and invite you both to join us,” Caroline murmured.

She gathered herself and joined the others in the larger drawing room, where they had arranged themselves for an evening of charades and indoor games.

Lizzy was perched on the arm of her husband’s chair, smiling softly down at him when the butler stepped inside and cleared his throat.

“Your Grace,” the man said, bowing slightly. “There is a caller for you.”

Rannulf sighed heavily, but his gaze softened as he turned to Lizzy. Without a word, he cupped her cheek and kissed her—a slow, deliberate press of lips that had his duchess blushing furiously.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, must everyone be so affectionate?” Caroline grumbled, though she smiled despite herself.

Rannulf smirked as he rose. “It is Christmas, cousin. Tolerate it.”

Lizzy laughed as the duke strode from the drawing room, leaving them to resume their merriment.

Caroline turned to her youngest, twice-removed cousin, eight year-old Lily, and tapped her nose playfully.

“You, my dear, have grown into a beauty,” she mused, tilting her head as if appraising her. “In a few years, young beaus will be collapsing at your feet.”

Lily giggled, her vibrant green eyes twinkling with mischief. “I shall only marry a man like papa. If he is not just like papa, he will not do.”

The entire room erupted into laughter, including her father Simon, Viscount Havisham, who was sitting nearby with his youngest son cuddled against his chest.

“Well, darling,” he said. “I do set a fine example.”

“Arrogant,” Fanny gasped, laughing.

“That is just a part of the charm of besotted husbands,” he said with a wink at his wife. “My beautiful, clever, most amazing daughter to ever exist is correct.”

Lily beamed, preening under the praise.

Caroline shook her head in amusement, but before she could reply, the sound of returning footsteps caught her attention. She glanced up just as Rannulf stepped back into the drawing room. And at his side was a shadowy figure.

Caroline’s heart stopped.

No .

It could not be. The shadow stepped forward, his imposing form moving into the light. The world tilted. She gasped, her shock bursting forth before she could stop it. “Did you follow me?”

The room fell silent. Every single gaze swung between her and the Earl of Walcott. Brows lifted. Eyes widened. A scandalous pause stretched between them, thick with intrigue.

The Earl of Walcott did not look the least bit perturbed.

Instead, he smiled roguishly, the corners of his mouth curling with mocking amusement. “What a remarkable coincidence. Please permit me your name as I’ve not had the pleasure.”

Caroline’s face burned and her heart tripped.

A very bad sign.

Ester clapped her hands. “Oh, I sense a story!”

Caroline’s stomach clenched. Drat. Everyone was watching. She forced a light laugh, waving a dismissive hand. “Oh, it’s nothing at all. We merely had a chance encounter while shopping for Christmas gifts. I had no notion Lord Walcott would be a guest.”

The room remained unconvinced. Too many knowing glances. Too many smirks. Caroline desperately needed to leave. “Excuse me,” she blurted, rising far too quickly from her seat. “I have a time sensitive matter to attend.”

“Ah, are you to leave without an introduction?”

That silken drawl halted her retreat and the amusement in his voice sent a wild flutter in her belly. She stiffened as Ravenswood stepped forward, his expression unreadable.

“Caroline,” the duke said smoothly, “Lord Walcott is one of my good friends. I have invited him to spend Christmas with us for years, and he always declined. I am pleased he will be with us this year. Daniel, allow me to present my cousin by marriage, Miss Caroline Fairbanks. Caroline, the Earl of Walcott.”

Caroline’s stomach clenched even tighter. Years? She swallowed her surprise and forced herself to dip into a gracious curtsy. “My lord,” she said lightly, masking her unease. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

His low chuckle sent heat licking up her spine. It was a sound of pure disbelief. And Caroline could not bear to stay a moment longer. She needed to gather her composure—and she would not do it in front of him.

“If you will excuse me, everyone,” she said smoothly, forcing her voice to remain steady, “I shall return shortly.”

She felt his eyes on her as she moved past him—dark and assessing, wondering what she would do next. What would he say when he saw the wooden horse? Her pulse thrummed as she hurried from the room, her breath uneven.

She had stolen from him.

And now he was here.

Caroline slipped into the corridor, pressing her fingers to her flushed cheeks. What in heaven’s name was he really doing here? And why—why—did the thought both terrify and thrill her?