Chapter 30 #2
And everyone laughed again.
The genial family harmony flowed into Jewel like warm honey. She loved her family, loved the thought of creating her own new family to blend with all of her loved ones here.
For the first time in days, she was feeling happy. Relaxed. Content.
Young Rebecca found something next. “A thimble!” she exclaimed.
“A life of blessedness,” Jewel’s mother told her.
“Truly?” Rebecca’s twin, Marcus, raised a brow. “Then this whole thing is stupid, because everyone knows Rebecca is the least saintly person in this room.”
“Egad, Marc!” Aunty Violet chided. “What a thing to say about your sister. And at Christmas, no less.”
Well, maybe the family wasn’t precisely harmonious. But the bickering wasn’t ruining Jewel’s happiness. She loved the bickering, too.
“Look, I got the anchor,” Aidan announced. “Which is patently ridiculous,” he added beneath his breath.
“Because you made it?” Jewel whispered beside him.
“Because it symbolizes safe harbor, and the last thing I feel right now is safe.”
He’d said that a little too loudly. Jewel’s gaze shot to her mother. She looked upset. Or maybe she looked chagrined. Or she might be feeling a few other things, but it was quite clear that none of them were positive.
Jewel spooned more pudding into her mouth, feeling sympathy for Mama, but also annoyance that she was pushing Aidan into a life he didn’t want.
The annoyance might be stronger. She couldn’t quite decide; perhaps the mulled wine was making it hard to tell. But although she’d stayed out of her parents’ disagreement so far, as Aidan’s big sister she felt she should say something.
Then, before she could open her mouth to say she-didn’t-know-what, she bit into something hard and knew what it was immediately. “Oh, no,” she said instead, holding up the pudding-encrusted ring. “Someone else was meant to get this, given that I have no plans to marry anytime soon.”
Mama sighed, looking even more despondent.
Jewel hated seeing her so unhappy.
“No plans to marry? What a shame,” Rowan said in his obnoxious flirtatious tone.
Jewel’s teeth ground together. She wanted to wipe the smile off his face.
Looking between her mother’s crestfallen face and Rowan’s genial one, something came over her. Something rather mad—or perhaps mulled. “I was only jesting,” she found herself saying. “I was meant to get this ring. The Viscount Copthorne has asked me to marry him, and I’ve decided to accept.”
Excited gasps filled the air.
“He proposed before asking your father?” Mama burst out. But in opposition to her mood a moment ago, she looked thrilled.
“Well, he didn’t propose, exactly. He asked if I would object to him asking Papa.” Feeling lighter than she had in days, Jewel looked to her father. “Please don’t tell him I told you that. Allow him to ask you properly, I beg you.”
“There’s no need to beg, poppet. I’m happy to keep your secret. My little girl is to be wed!”
And with that, both of her parents jumped up and rounded the table to embrace her, and a hubbub of chatter and congratulations broke out once more.
A baby and a betrothal—what a momentous night this was turning out to be!
“Henry Breckenridge?”
One voice stood out among the commotion. Rowan’s. Jewel disentangled herself from her parents to find him staring at her.
Far from looking flirtatious, he crossed his arms. “You’re marrying Henry Breckenridge?”
The chamber went silent.
“Aren’t the two of you friends?” Baffled, Jewel blinked. “Didn’t you attend Oxford together? I’m nearly certain he told me that.”
“Yes, Oxford. And Eton. Yes, we are friends. Good friends.”
She shot a puzzled glance to her parents before looking back to him. “Why shouldn’t I marry Henry? What’s wrong with him?”
“Nothing. He’s just…not right for you.”
“How would you know what’s right for me, Rowan? I’m not the same girl I was at age ten.”
And Rowan sure wasn’t the same boy.
“I don’t know how I would know,” he mumbled, strikingly out of character with the smooth Rowan she’d seen earlier. “I just think…he’s just…” He cleared his throat. “He’s Catholic.”
“He comes from a Catholic family, yes.” She looked again to her parents and felt relieved when they both nodded, indicating they didn’t find that a concern. “But he’s willing to wed in the Church of England.”
Rowan glanced around, as though he were searching the walls for another objection. “The Breckenridges don’t support William and Mary taking the throne.”
“Unfortunately for them, King James isn’t fighting to keep it.” Pleased to see how off-balanced she’d made him, she smiled and cocked her head. “Anything else?”
“Yes. No. I mean, never mind.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Marry whomever you want.”
Jewel couldn’t help rolling her eyes. “I wasn’t aware I needed your permission.”
“Now that that’s settled,” Aunty Violet put in quickly, “and the last token has been found, shall we all fetch our gifts?”
“And that’s my cue to leave,” Rowan told her, rising from the table.
She turned to him, looking perplexed. “Why on earth would you leave?”
“I don’t have gifts for everyone. And I suspect I’m not wanted here,” he added, his gaze darting to Jewel and back.
She felt a flash of triumph. It wasn’t complete revenge—he wasn’t in love with her, after all, so she couldn’t very well hurt him as badly as he’d hurt her.
But it was something.
Aunty Violet was not giving up. “Rowan, that’s not—”
“There’s no room here for me to sleep,” he insisted. “Every chamber is overflowing. I’m going to Father and Mum’s house. I’ll see you there tomorrow.”
“Rowan—”
“Let him go, Violet,” Uncle Ford said. “Good Lord, they’re just next door.
” A slight exaggeration—though the Trentingham estate shared a border with Lakefield, that border was a mile away.
“Fetch your things, Rowan, and then we’ll see you off and join you at noon.
Everyone else, bring your gifts to the drawing room in twenty minutes. And Hilda?”
His portly housekeeper poked her head in. “Yes, my lord?”
“We’re going to need a lot more mulled wine.”
Jewel raised her cup. “Hear, hear!” she agreed with a grin.