Lord Somerville's lip curled. “You miserable little worm. As if I'd give you a farthing for the privilege of marrying my daughter. That arrangement you speak of was drawn up by Humphrey Roskin, the man who bilked my estate of thousands of pounds. And now I have proof of it. I finally tracked down the funds and recovered them. Mr. Roskin is even now boarding ship for the penal colony of Australia—and lucky to get away that lightly. Consider our agreement null and void.”
Lord Somerville turned back to Jane and his features softened. “My dear, you needn't marry anyone against your wishes.” He took both of Jane's hands in his. “Can you forgive an old fool for trying to barter your happiness?”
“But I'm not—”
“In that case,” Giovanni interrupted with a courtly bow to Lord Somerville and an evil glare at Ian, “may I present myself? You have known me aforetimes as Giovanni Brunello, artistic genius. You shall know me hereafter as the Count of Montferrat.”
He bowed and bussed his lips over Jane's fingertips. She restrained Ian with a frantic look. He limited himself to the Scottish version of a growl—a low “Hmph!”
“I have reason to hope the lady will find happiness with me,” the count said, tossing Jane a wink. “Please consider me a suitor for your daughter's hand, signore.”
“Well spoken, Giovanni.” Sybil's voice came from the darkened space behind the wall. She stepped into the light of the room, hands fisted at her waist. “But you're asking for the wrong daughter.”
“Cara mia?”
She nodded and the count lost no time in scooping her into a twirling hug, their laughter filling the library. Giovanni swept Sybil into a deep kiss, oblivious to the open-mouthed stares from the others. Then he lifted her in his arms and carried her out of the library. Sybil peered over his shoulder and mouthed “Good-bye” to her father and Jane.
“I suppose that settles the matter of my consent,” Lord Somerville said with a chuckle. He turned back to face his other daughter. “Then you must be... Jane.”
“Yes, milord.”
“Ah, my dear, I think the time for formality between us is past, I held you at a distance because of my sins, not yours. It is time I rectified matters.”
He squeezed her hands. Jane's vision blurred. How many times had she dreamt of this?
“Nearly losing everything has made me consider carefully those things which remain to me,” Lord Somerville said. “I let my wife keep me from showing kindness to you. Even after she was gone, guilt kept me from doing the right thing. Now, nothing will stop me.”
Jane swallowed hard.
“I cannot legitimize you. The law does not permit it. But I can acknowledge you as mine.” Lord Somerville leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Will you allow me to treat you as a daughter in my house?”
The power of speech deserted her and she could only nod.
From the corner of her eye, Jane noticed a shadow pass over Ian's face and he took a step back.
“But what about me?” Viscount Eddleton demanded.
“Oh, you'll think of something, Bert.” A feminine voice came from behind the curtained alcove and a slight lady in an eye-straining yellow gown joined them. “Your choice is obvious. You've enough cat in you to land on your feet, I think.”
The viscount gritted his teeth and then knelt stiffly before the woman. “Lady Darvish, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Her laughter tinkled merrily. “Of course not, Bert. Leastways not until you show more promise. But I'm not without hope. I believe you can be trained. You and I will put our... heads together and think of another way you might settle your debts. Come now, dear boy. You look ridiculous on your knees.” She motioned for him to stand and then whispered, “But you might try that position again once you get me home.”
She grasped Eddleton's arm and led him out the door.
“Now then, Jane,” Lord Somerville said. “That waltz won't last forever. Will you dance with your father?”
She glanced at Ian, but he was studying the inlaid wood at his feet. If he were going to speak for her, now was the time. When he didn't do anything, something inside her wilted. Heartsick, she placed her palm on Lord Somerville's offered arm and let him lead her from the room and up the stairs.
They were only steps from the ballroom when she heard footfalls pounding behind them. Her chest constricted.
“Lord Somerville,” Ian said. “I wish to tender my resignation as your head groom.”
“This is hardly the appropriate time.” Somerville narrowed his eyes, taking Ian's measure. “Besides, it appears to me you're a footman, not a groom.”
“Aye, milord, appearances are deceiving this night. But this is no deception. Ye see, I wish to be a bridegroom.” Ian dropped to one knee. “Janie, I cannot give ye silks and a life of ease as Lord Somerville can, but I've been offered the post of Man-of-All-Work on a Wiltshire estate. The pay is well enough and the position comes with a wee cottage—”
“And you think to tempt me with a wee country cottage?” she asked.
“No, lass,” he said with a sad smile as he stood. “I hoped to tempt ye with me heart. I love ye, Jane Tate. And all that I am is all I have to offer.”
“Oh, Ian!” She threw her arms around his neck, hugging him fiercely. “That's all I'll ever need.”
His lips found hers and she lost herself in the wonder of his mouth.
Until Lord Somerville cleared his throat.
“I believe we've missed the waltz,” her father said. “My fault. We've missed too many things over the years, you and I. But perhaps you'll allow me to give the two of you the grandest wedding a head groom and a scullery maid have ever had, as a belated Christmas present?”
“Oh!” Jane's hand went involuntarily to her heart.
“I'll see you wed like a lady, my dear,” Lord Somerville promised. “Perhaps you'll save a waltz for an old man next Christmas. But for now, might I recommend the two of you find some mistletoe?”
His hazel eyes crinkled with amusement as he inclined in a slight bow and headed toward the crowded ballroom.
Ian and Jane ran to the window where they'd found mistletoe earlier. Moonlight fractured the frosty panes into thousands of diamonds. Winter howled outside, but Jane was too warmed by Ian's love to feel the least chill. Ian bent to her and she stood on tiptoe to meet his lips.
“His lordship was wrong about one thing,” Ian breathed into her ear when he finally released her mouth.
“What's that?”
“He can’t see ye wed like a lady, because you’re already a lady.” Ian pressed a kiss to her forehead. “My lady. My Lady Below Stairs.”
The End