It Happened Under the Mistletoe: A Holiday Novella (4 page)

He cleared his throat. “What’s that?”

“Mama insists I take a nap every afternoon. She claims it’s good for the complexion. I have my doubts.” She stood and clutched her book against her chest.

She was wrong. Her complexion was flawless. “And do you? Take a nap, I mean?”

“Oh no. I read novels under the covers.” She winked at him and his stomach flipped.

“Novels? No more Shakespeare?” he asked.

“Not at all.” She gave him a conspiratorial grin. She glanced toward the door. “I’d better go or Mama will come looking for me. I live in fear of her causing a scene.”

“Surely she wouldn’t do that if she hopes to make a good match for you.”

Miss Blake laughed. “You don’t know Mama very well. She cannot help herself. She’s a bit loud and … unconventional.”

Oliver nodded toward the door. “Go, then, and if your Mama comes looking for you, I’ll inform her that the last time I saw you, you were headed to bed intent on your beauty rest.”

Was that a blush that lit her cheeks? The slight pink tint was captivating.

“Thank you, very kindly, your grace,” she said with a laugh.

“Will I see you at dinner?”

“You will indeed,” she replied. Then she turned in a swirl of bright yellow skirts and jauntily made her way from the library.

*   *   *

After Miss Blake left, Oliver stood and made his way back to the shelves where he replaced the copy of
Much Ado
and began half-interestedly looking about for something else to read. Perhaps he should try a novel. He smiled to himself and shook his head. He made his way around the large mahogany bookcases and found himself in the back of the room, obscured by an entire set of shelves. He’d been quietly perusing the selection there when a pair of voices drifted across the room to him.

“Did you see Markingham and that Blake girl?” said a woman’s voice he didn’t recognize.

“I did. Seemed to be quite friendly if you ask me,” answered another woman’s voice.

“Who’d have thought for a moment that those two would have an affinity for one another? Why it defies convention. I cannot believe it,” the first voice replied.

“She may be a nobody from Wales but she’s a pretty chit, you must allow that,” the second voice answered.

Oliver had to nod.

“No doubt why the duke is interested,” the first voice answered. “They appear to be courting.”

Oliver nearly choked. Courting? Based on one conversation? Wasn’t that just like two gossiping matrons of the
ton
, starting rumors out of thin air?

The second voice added, “If those two keep up their acquaintance for the duration of the house party, I fear there will be many a thwarted young woman and her mama here.”

“You’re absolutely right about that,” the first voice replied.

The two matrons’ conversation drifted away as they left the room, and Oliver rested a hand against the bookshelf next to him. He smiled and drummed his fingers along the wood. Hmmm. They didn’t know it, but those two ladies had just given him a brilliant idea.

CHAPTER FIVE

Whist. Whist was the after-dinner amusement the ladies were participating in when the gentleman joined them after drinks.

Oliver’s gaze scanned the room for Miss Blake. He was eager to tell her his plan. Well, eager for her reaction to it, that was. He’d found himself looking forward to their conversation all afternoon actually.

Luckily, Miss Blake was just tossing in her hand of cards on a table toward the back of the room when he spotted her. She was wearing a bright, pretty violet-colored gown, and her dark hair was piled atop her head, a few tendrils left to stroke her porcelain cheeks. He made his way over to her.

“Miss Blake?”

She glanced up and swallowed. Had he frightened her?

“Your grace?” she replied, glancing nervously around at the other ladies who were all watching him with adoring eyes. Bloody uncomfortable, that.

“May I have a word, Miss Blake?” he asked. Of course, such a display would do nothing to quell the rumors that they had an affinity for one another, but that was exactly what Oliver wanted.

Miss Blake stood and made her excuses.

He nearly dragged her into the corner he was so eager. He turned to face her. “I have a proposal for you.”

She glanced over her shoulder as if she wondered if he were speaking to someone else. “A proposal? So soon? Why, your grace, you flatter me.” She laughed and he gave her a sarcastic eyebrow raise.

“Not funny?” she asked.

He shook his head.

“Very well, then,” she said. “What is this proposal of yours?”

He leaned a shoulder against the wall next to her, effectively blocking off the view to the rest of the drawing room. “I heard a rumor today. One that’s going ‘round the house party.”

Her teeth tugged at her bottom lip. “Enjoy gossip, do you?”

She was relentless. He gave her another sarcastic eyebrow quirk. “Endlessly.”

“Go on,” she offered.

“The rumor is that you and I are courting.”

Her mouth fell wide. “Pardon?”

“You and I are supposedly courting,” he repeated.

She looked almost horrified. “And I suppose us being seen together over here in the corner talking quietly is not helping matters.” She made a move to step around him, but he placed a hand on her arm. A sharp spark passed between them. She stepped back.

“Wait,” he said. “Listen.”

She looked a bit like a hare trapped by a fox but she stayed. “Yes?” Her breathing had increased and her chest rose and fell. It was distracting and he had to force himself to keep from looking at her enticing décolletage.

“I have an idea. One I hope you’ll agree to.”

She eyed him cautiously but she appeared intrigued. She crossed her arms over her chest. More distracting. “I’m listening.”

“I was thinking about it. You’re being pursued by unwanted gentlemen, correct?”

She nodded. “Correct.”

“And I’m being pursued by unwanted ladies.” He glanced back to the room at large where Lady Selina stood eagerly watching him. He turned back to face Miss Blake.

She nodded, a slight smile on her lips. She also eyed the lady who stood behind them. “Seems so,” she agreed.

“What if we didn’t want to stop the rumors?”

Her eyes narrowed on him. “I’m not entirely sure I follow.”

“Perhaps we want to
encourage
them.”

“Encourage them? What exactly are you saying, your grace?”

He kept a smile on his face. “I’m proposing that we pretend to be courting in an effort to keep our suitors at bay. For the remainder of the house party, that is. We’ll be left alone, at least more so than we are at present.”

Miss Blake’s lovely green eyes momentarily clouded, but she appeared to be contemplating the matter. She bit the end of a fingernail. What she was thinking? The plan had merit, did it not? The more he considered it, the more merit he saw in it actually. The arrangement seemed perfect. He enjoyed her company and he believed she felt the same way. Not to mention, he was intrigued by her. More intrigued than he’d been with a young lady the entire time he’d been looking for a wife. She appeared to be the only woman he’d ever met who didn’t give a toss that he was a duke. A rare quality to be certain.

But he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Couldn’t tell, that was, until she smiled brightly and said, “Why, I think that is a perfect idea.”

*   *   *

Cerian’s stomach dropped.
A perfect idea
? Had she truly just told the handsome Duke of Markingham that their
pretending
to be courting was a perfect idea? It sounded awfully like she’d said such a thing but Cerian couldn’t quite believe it. She pressed a hand to her throat. Perhaps she’d only imagined it.

“Excellent,” he replied, letting out his breath. He couldn’t possibly have been nervous, could he?

He glanced back over his shoulder most likely to see if they were being watched. When he returned his gaze to Cerian, she hoped she’d settled a calm look upon her face. A look that was the complete opposite of how she felt. It was true that if she agreed to the duke’s proposal, she might have a bit of peace from Sir Gilliam and Lord Esterbrooke, but Mama would be devastated if she thought the Duke of Markingham had been in her grasp and she’d lost him. Which is exactly what Mama would think if they were to embark upon this farce.

She eyed the duke. He remained leaning against the wall, his booted feet crossed at the ankles. Cerian forgot to breathe. Instead she made a noise that was something between a wheeze and a cough. Most unladylike. She pressed a hand against her cheek. “I … um … that is to say … I’m not quite sure…”

“Don’t tell me you don’t think it will work,” he continued, glancing over his shoulder once more. “It appears to be doing the trick already.” He turned back to her and flashed a smile that made her brace her opposite hand against the wall to steady herself. She peeked around his shoulder. It appeared he was correct. In one corner, a few of Cerian’s admirers were assembled, watching the two of them with ill-concealed irritation, while Lady Selina and a handful of other young ladies openly glared at them from the opposite side of the room.

Cerian ducked her head back and looked up into the duke’s captivating blue eyes. “It appears you’re correct. It does seem to be working.”

He flashed a bright grin at her. “Does that mean you’ll agree to it?”

CHAPTER SIX

They’d all been playing draughts, innocently playing draughts, when Lady Selina suggested they change the game. Cerian should have known at the first indication of that young lady’s pink cheeks and tittering laughter that something else was afoot. Of course it took her all of a half a minute to realize what Lady Selina was up to.

“It’s time for our first Christmastide game. Miss Cosgrove and I have hidden special boughs of mistletoe throughout the manor house. We shall each go on a hunt for them. When a lady finds a bough, she must kiss the first gentleman who happens along.”

Cerian let out a breath. Draughts had been so much less dramatic. Why couldn’t they simply continue to play nice, safe draughts? And kissing a gentleman who found you with a bough of mistletoe seemed a bit scandalous even for the fast Lady Selina. Where was that girl’s mother? Hmm. Standing back while her daughter roped in a duke, no doubt.

Lady Selina’s giggles were quite getting the best of her. Cerian briefly wondered if she would choke. But even that would interrupt her draughts game. There was no help for it. Either way she wasn’t playing draughts anymore this afternoon.

“The gentlemen shall begin at the west end of the house and the ladies, the east,” Lady Selina explained.

Cerian glanced over at the duke. He arched a dark brow and gave her a comical look that made her guess he was thinking exactly what she was, that Lady S didn’t know her right from her left. Let alone the east from the west. This game was clearly set up.

Lady Selina was busily ushering everyone into two lines, one for gentlemen, the other for ladies. Cerian dutifully stepped into line behind the Davis twins. The poor young women looked horrified at the prospect of finding a bit of mistletoe and being forced to kiss a gentleman. Cerian leaned forward and whispered, “Remember ladies, just because you find it, needn’t mean you must admit it.” She smiled at them both and the two sisters exchanged relieved looks.

Cerian nodded. The gentlemen’s queue was quickly forming to her right, and she glanced up to see Oliver step into line beside her. His grin was unrepentant. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked, shoving both hands inside his pockets.

Cerian gave him a sideways smile. “That Lady Selina knows exactly where every sprig of mistletoe lies and intends to trap you with it like a hare?”

He coughed lightly into his hand, hiding a laugh. “Something like that.”

“Yes, well, one can only wonder how she has worked out how to catch you first. I expect a catfight in the dining room within minutes.”

Oliver shuddered. “I intend to stay far away from the dining room.”

“So do I,” Cerian agreed.

The queues moved then, as the ladies shuffled out the door to the left and the men, the right. Cerian swallowed a horrified giggle. “What’ll I do if I find a bough?”

Oliver wore a frown on his face. He nodded toward Lord Esterbrooke and Sir Gilliam who were craning their necks to see Cerian. “I expect you’ll have quite a bit of company,” he warned.

Cerian wrinkled her nose. “Ugh.”

She and Oliver were the next to part. They stepped toward the door and Oliver leaned over and whispered, “We might as well begin to put our plan into action. Meet me in the library. It’s directly in the middle.”

Plan? Into action? Oh, that’s right. She had agreed to the duke’s tempting offer, hadn’t she?

Before Cerian had a chance to answer, Lady Selina quickly stepped between them and pointed in their respective directions while giving Oliver a bright smile. She completely ignored Cerian.

Cerian halfheartedly followed the Davis twins down the corridor until those two decided to take off into one of the drawing rooms. Cerian briefly considered sneaking up to her room to retrieve her book. Surely reading was a more noble pursuit than this outlandish game, but every time she remembered Oliver whispering ‘meet me in the library’, gooseflesh popped out along her arm. She quickly walked down the corridor in pursuit of that large room, taking the time to pause along the way in an attempt to pretend to be searching for the elusive sprigs of mistletoe.

The closer she got to the library, the more quickly she walked. She’d probably gone too fast. There were no young ladies behind her any longer and no gentlemen appeared to be approaching from the opposite direction. She was lost. That’s what she was. She spun in a circle, completely unsure of the location of the library. She turned back in the direction in which she’d come.

Sitting in the middle of the corridor, staring at Cerian as if she hadn’t just appeared out of nowhere, was the cat.

That same gray cat she’d met in the silver closet. Only this time, the cat had a sprig of holly tied loosely around her neck. Quite a jaunty Christmastide cat, Cerian had to admit.