It Happened Under the Mistletoe: A Holiday Novella (3 page)

Cerian nodded sympathetically, but try as she might to focus on Sir Gilliam’s lament about his aunt’s aversion to inclement weather and his grandmama’s latest attempt at a poultice for her skin ailments, Cerian’s thoughts kept wandering back to Mr. Townsende.

Just how was it that Mr. Townsende was a duke and as handsome as he was? Weren’t dukes supposed to be old and decrepit and gouty? Or completely arrogant louts? Yes. Gouty or louty. That was the way of it. It was completely unfair of him to be so good-looking. The man needed to wear a warning sign.

She glanced over to where Lady Selina Kinsey sat, batting her eyelashes at the duke. Oh, wasn’t Lady Selina subtle?

For a moment, the duke’s bright blue gaze caught Cerian’s. She blushed and looked away. Why was she behaving like such a ninny? He hadn’t been looking at her. It was random chance. No need for it to make her insides flip like a Christmas flapjack.

She turned back to the lovely plum pudding a footman had just placed in front of her. Oh, what a delight. She grabbed up her dessert spoon—she
hoped
it was the right spoon, there were far too many of them—and plunged it into the concoction. Yes. Sweets. Now this was a course she could readily enjoy. Much better to concentrate on her meal than her unsettling thoughts about the Duke of Markingham.

*   *   *

Oliver scoured the ballroom. After dinner, the dancing had commenced at the ball that was held to commemorate the beginning of the house party. Where was Miss Blake? He didn’t have long to find her. A handful of marriage-minded misses were already skirting around the sidelines clearly intent upon hunting him down. At the front of the room, Medford’s butler intoned the names of guests arriving to the ballroom.

Oliver turned. There she was, standing in a group of admirers, her pretty pink gown hugging her curves in ways he shouldn’t think about at the moment. Her bright green eyes shining and her dark hair piled atop her head.

Cerian. Miss Blake.

She’d given him a funny look when Kate had introduced them in the drawing room earlier and seemed as if she might actually swoon for a moment. Had he shocked her so thoroughly then? How would he explain exactly why he hadn’t told her his title when he’d first met her? He didn’t know, but he had to try.

Oliver stalked up to the group where she was standing. “Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me, I was hoping I might steal Miss Blake for a dance.”

It was obvious that none of the men liked that idea one bit, but Oliver didn’t wait for permission. He merely offered his arm to Cerian and said, “Miss Blake?”

To his everlasting relief, she put her gloved hand on his arm and allowed him to escort her to the middle of the floor. He whirled her into his arms as a waltz began to play.

She tipped her head back and looked up at him, an inscrutable expression on her breathtaking face.

“Thank you for agreeing to the dance.” He smiled at her.

“Thank you for saving me from them.” She motioned with her chin toward the group of gentlemen from which he’d just extracted her. The gentlemen in question shifted on their feet and gave Oliver narrowed-eyed glares. Sir Gilliam looked positively foiled. No, Oliver hadn’t made any friends in that group stealing Miss Blake away, but he didn’t give a bloody damn.

He cleared his throat. “I owe you an apology. I should have introduced myself properly in the silver closet.”

That earned a laugh from her. Oliver beamed with pride. He’d made her laugh.

“Yes,” she agreed. “You should have. But I suppose you can be forgiven. It was a bit of an unconventional situation. I mean it’s not every day that I find myself hiding in a silver closet with a handsome duke carrying a bough of mistletoe and accompanied by a cat.”

He grinned at her. “Did you just call me handsome?”

“Wh…? What? No!” Her face turned the most adorable shade of pink, nearly matching her gown. She glanced away.

“Yes you did.” His grin widened.

She bit her lip, still averting her eyes.

He pulled her closer. “It’s not every day I find myself hiding in a silver closet with a lovely young lady.”

“That I don’t believe,” she replied, giving him a saucy grin.

“Why not?” Was she trembling a bit? He was glad it was a waltz.

“I can imagine you’re chased around quite a bit. That can’t have been the first time you sought refuge in the silver closet.”

He laughed out loud at that. “Oh, the silver closet is a favorite refuge of mine, Miss Blake. However, I am not usually accompanied by a lovely young woman and a bough of mistletoe.”

“What about the cat?”

“Also a first for me.”

Miss Blake wrinkled her nose. “That reminds me, Kate tells me that cat doesn’t belong to her. She says there is no cat in this house.”

He inclined his head. “There’s a cat in here, all right. Whether it belongs to Lord and Lady Medford is a different issue.”

“I’ve yet to see that cat again,” Miss Blake replied. “I’d hoped to learn her name.”

Oliver shrugged. “You’ll have to ask around, I suppose.”

“Oh, I do hope the cat doesn’t belong to Lady Selina,” Miss Blake said. “She’s such a pretty cat. So well-mannered and friendly.”

“And you don’t believe such a cat would belong to Lady Selina?” he asked, a hint of a laugh in his voice.

Miss Blake gave him a look that could only be described as skeptical. “What do you think?”

He spun her around in the dance. “I have my doubts that the cat belongs to Lady Selina too.”

“Speaking of Lady Selina, I don’t see her here tonight. You may just have a bit of room to breathe. Though if those ladies giggling on the sidelines have anything to say about it, it looks as if you’ll be quite busy this evening.”

Oliver glanced over at the ladies eyeing him like a side of beef. “And what about your suitors?” he replied, arching a brow. “I could barely find you in that sea of evening coats.”

Miss Blake’s cheeks tinged pink again. “You were looking for me?”

Oliver spun her around again. “Merely making the point that this morning’s episode couldn’t have been your first time hiding in a silver closet either. You seem to be quite popular, Miss Blake.”

The side of her mouth quirked up in a way that Oliver was coming to realize was uniquely her own; he still couldn’t quite place her accent.

“Tell me, why are you so bent on avoiding young women, your grace? Do you not intend to marry one day and beget an heir?”

She was straightforward, this young woman. He liked that about her.

“Ah, but I might ask you the same question, Miss Blake. Why are you so intent on avoiding
your
many suitors?”

She laughed at that and gave him a smile that he’d looked forward to. She lowered her voice to a whisper and glanced about. “I’ll tell you why I avoid my suitors if you tell me why you avoid yours.”

He nodded. “Agreed. You go first.”

The butler continued to intone the names of the arriving guests and Oliver spun Miss Blake around and around in the dance. It seemed the young lady was an accomplished dancer indeed.

“Very well. But you must promise not to laugh,” she said.

“I would never be so ungentlemanly.”

She quirked a brow at him.

He smiled and blinked innocently. “What? You don’t believe me?”

“I shall have your word,” she insisted.

He shook his head lightly. “Very well. On my honor, I will not laugh. No matter how outlandish your answer.”

She appeared satisfied with that and nodded. “It’s because I refuse to settle.”

Oliver raised both brows. “Hope Princess Caroline takes a nasty spill from a carriage and the Prince Regent becomes available, do you?”

She wrinkled her nose again and for the first time in his adult life, Oliver had to concentrate on the steps to a dance.

“No, no. I mean the opposite actually.”

“The opposite?”

“Yes, you see, I am a romantic and I believe in falling in love. My mother is more concerned with a title but I”—she cleared her throat—“I’m more concerned with ensuring that I make a love match.”

He narrowed his eyes on her. A woman unconcerned with titles? Such a woman existed? “And you don’t think you’ll find a love match with a gentleman of the
ton
?”

She smiled. “I suppose you could say I find it highly unlikely. The
ton
is filled with political ambition and the desire for wealth and power. I’m not interested in all of that. Besides, I’m from Wales. My father is a copper tradesman. There’s nothing remarkable about me. I fear Mama is quite out of her element attempting to marry me off to the Quality.”

Oliver begged to differ that there wasn’t anything remarkable about her. She was remarkably pretty and remarkably funny to name two things. But her story interested him. And it explained her accent. “Wales? What brings you here then?”

She blew out a deep breath. “Mama. Well, Mama’s letter to Kate. You see, Kate’s my cousin, and she graciously invited us here for Christmastide. Mama saw her opportunity to trot me out in front of Society and here we are. I made my debut during the little Season just a few weeks ago in London. Kate was kind enough to sponsor me.”

Ah, so that explained it. He’d been away on business at the coast the last few weeks. Miss Blake had only just arrived in England. “So, that’s it? You refuse to consider a gentleman with a title?”

She smiled. “Refuse is a bit harsh. Let’s just say I hold no expectations of such a thing happening. Now. I’ve told you my secret. It’s your turn. And I promise not to laugh.”

He quirked a brow at her. “Very well. My issue is quite the opposite of yours. I’ve realized that I should have married before I inherited my title.”

“Why?” she asked, blinking rapidly at him.

Oliver sighed. “Because now I’ll never know if my wife wants me for me or for my title. And between you and me, I think it’s quite the latter with these young women I’ve been running from.”

Cerian laughed then. She nearly had to stop dancing. “I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s just so … funny.”

He couldn’t help his smile. “It is a bit, isn’t it?”

The dance ended then. Oliver reluctantly let go of her and bowed.

The butler’s loud voice intoned the arrival of another guest. “Lady Selina Kinsey.”

They both winced.

CHAPTER FOUR

The house party began the next morning with a late, leisurely breakfast followed by a variety of equally leisurely activities enjoyed by the guests. Some sang songs along with the pianoforte in the music room, others engaged in painting watercolors in the conservatory, and Oliver found himself reading in the library.

He’d made an early night of it after Lady Selina had arrived at the ball. That determined young woman had made her way directly to his side and practically pounced on him. Miss Blake had deftly offered her excuses and left, while he’d been forced to claim a headache of all idiotic things in an effort to disentangle himself from the earl’s daughter.

As a result, he’d got quite a good night’s sleep, had woken up early this morning, and made his way to the library hours ago. He’d been caught up in re-reading
Much Ado About Nothing
when he glanced up to see Miss Blake curled up on a settee in the far corner of the room. Had she been there the whole time? No. Surely he would have noticed. He closed his book with a soft thud, stretched his legs in front of him, and stood. He’d just go over and say good morning.

Miss Blake gave him an enchanting smile when she looked up to see him approaching. She moved her legs off the settee and pushed a wayward dark curl behind her ear. Fetching, that.

“May I?” he motioned to the open space beside her.

“By all means,” she answered, closing the book she’d been reading.

He sat beside her and gestured to the book. “What is it?”

She self-consciously turned it over in her lap. “Oh, it’s … nothing.”

“May I?” he asked again, reaching over and pulling the tome from her hands.

She glanced away.

He read the spine of the book. Shakespeare’s
As You Like It
.

“I know; it’s silly but I’ve always enjoyed his comedies,” she began.

Oliver slipped the book he’d been carrying into her lap. She looked down at it and flipped it over. A smile lit her pretty face.

“You too?”

He nodded. “Guilty. I’ve never been one to enjoy a tragedy.”

She laughed. The other occupants of the library looked up from their books and gave her a series of disapproving stares. She clapped her hand over her mouth and lowered her voice to a whisper. “I quite agree. It’s so much more pleasant to read about Rosalind and Beatrice’s antics then the melancholy Hamlet or the tragic Othello.”

“I couldn’t agree more. Tell me, Miss Blake, are you enjoying the house party?”

She smiled at him again, and Oliver felt a bit light-headed. Odd, that.

“I am,” she said. “So far. At least I haven’t been forced to hide in the silver closet again.”

“I’ve managed to avoid that fate as well,” he agreed with a grin.

“Of course,” her voice remained low. “I haven’t seen Sir Gilliam yet this morning. So I haven’t completely ruled out a trip to the silver closet.”

Oliver’s smile widened. “You’re most likely safe in here. Something tells me Sir Gilliam isn’t much of a reader.”

Cerian nodded in agreement. “What about Lady Selina? Have you been forced to dodge her this morning yet?”

“I have my doubts that Lady Selina rises before two in the afternoon. Makes one want to hop out of bed and start the day early, doesn’t it?”

Cerian fluttered a hand lightly over his sleeve, play slapping at him. A few glances around the room told Oliver others had noticed. Miss Blake was innocent. And she obviously wasn’t accustomed to the ways of the
ton
. In the
ton
, a lady touching a gentleman, even for a moment was the makings of a scandal or at least the start of a good gossip. He wondered if she did that a lot at home, touch young men she was flirting with. It made him a bit uncomfortable to think of her laughing and talking like this with another man.

“The irony is I’m on my way back to bed myself,” she said.