Page 6 of A Wallflower's Christmas Wreath
Even so, when she had walked into the room and viewed him at the head of the table, waiting for her with an impatient look on his face, she had wanted nothing more than to reach for him, pinch his cheeks as she once had and tease that annoyed look off his face.
She had sat and steeled herself not to be moved by his handsomeness which, if she were correct, had only aged well the older he became. He was more worldly now, and no doubt was used to getting his way in life and possibly with women as well.
A boy who was once her closest friend and now a man was also now a stranger. When he looked at her, she had the overwhelming feeling he understood a woman's needs and had learned many great things when in London.
Well, she needed pork, but he did not seem to be relenting about that.
A footman entered, carrying vegetable soup, and Heidi's mouth watered. With her financial position becoming more dire every day, food was the first item she started to trim in her life.
Although she had tried to plant vegetables and owned a dairy cow that lived where their carriage horses once were stabled, the costs to survive, to make every pound, shilling, and pence go as far as it could, was difficult. And a lot of what she grew was sold at market merely to keep the debtors from her door, an unfortunate inheritance she had gained from her father's wretched budgeting.
She glanced over the dining table, the center decoration a platter of sugared fruits mixed with macaroons and berries. She shook her head, wondering how some people were born with so much while others had very little, no matter how hard they worked.
To have the kind of wealth Lord Levinstone enjoyed was not a privilege for many, only the lucky few.
"Do you not like the soup?" he asked her.
Heidi met his eye and shook her head. "No, it is delicious. It seems your cook is spoiling me. This is one of my favorite meals."
"Yes, I remember," he said. His eyes widened before he glanced back at his plate, spooning the soup with gusto. "You looked very pensive before. Is something else troubling you?"
Not for years had he asked her such a question and a little part of her, deep inside, warmed at his care. If he only knew her real struggles, she could not help but wonder if he would try to help. Be the friend he once was. Or had too much time passed, too many words spoken to repair the damage done? "I was just thinking about all this abundance when so many do with so little."
He looked over the table and then about the room, and she could see he was taking stock of all that hung in the opulent space. The ivy, the mistletoe over every door, the candles and holly on mantles and sideboards. To Heidi, it appeared as if Christmas had dropped all of its cheer on Levinstone's estate and left nothing for anyone else.
Her own home was sparse compared to his lordship’s. In fact, this year she had not even hung holly on the mantels. To walk out to the surrounding forests and cut them from the trees or brambles meant she risked getting ill, and she would certainly fall lower still financially if she could not tend her garden.
"I suppose it does appear as if I have an abundance, and perhaps you are right, but purchasing the food and candles from the township certainly helps the community, and I always try to buy from the village whenever I can. I do not want anyone thinking I lord it over them all merely because I have the highest vantage point in the area."
"I do not think it's because your house sits so high up on the hill that you are thought of lording it over everyone."
He frowned, placing down his cutlery. "Do you jest? Do the townsfolk think that I'm high in the instep?"
Heidi sighed, wishing she could say they did, but in truth, it was only she who thought such things. Everyone else she knew loved Viscount Levinstone. He could do no wrong, just as his late papa had been admired and liked.
"No, no one thinks such a thing."
"Except you," he said, his eyes narrowing in thought. "You forget that I know you very well, Miss Lewis, no matter how many years we've not circulated in the same social sphere. You do think I'm high in the instep, that I lord it over everyone."
"Well, can you blame me?" she exclaimed. "First, you allowed your betrothed to insult your oldest friend, and then you made me into a ghost, an apparition that could not be seen or talked to. How else am I to feel? Not to mention you stole all the pork and left nothing for us in the village."
A muscle worked in his jaw, and shame washed over his features. "I did not marry her, Heidi."
"Does that even matter? Nor have you ever apologized. I lost my best friend unnecessarily, and you know nothing of my life now. You could not even come to my parents’ funerals." Heidi swallowed hard, having not even known that such an event had hurt her so deeply. But thinking upon it, she supposed it had. She had wanted his comfort, his arms about her, his soft, reassuring words whispered against her ear.
She had wanted him.
"I was in London and could not make it home quick enough after word reached me. You know that I would have attended had I been here."
"But you did not." The second course of roast beef was placed before her, and she bided her time before saying all she wanted.
Heidi picked up her fork and slowly ate the roast, relishing having beef on her tongue. One could eat only so much chicken broth in a week, and she had certainly had her ration.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I wanted to be there for you."
Heidi stilled at his words, not expecting him to own his mistakes so quickly. But what did it matter now? They were strangers, two people no longer walking a similar path in life. Hers had diverted toward scarceness, and his had shifted to abundance.
"So am I," she returned, picking up her wine and taking a healthy sip. For a moment, they ate in silence, both enjoying the food, if not the company.
