The warmth of his face close to hers permeated her cold skin and made it exceedingly hard not to lean in further and allow her cheek to touch his. With her brain so muddled, all she could do was nod and make a sound that hopefully implied consent.
He offered his arm, and she took it relishing the contact. Diana glanced at them and must have read their intent, for she walked away from the spectacle in front of her to join them.
“Forgive us,” Grace said, “but Lord Gladsby is in need of a moment to speak with his gardener.”
Diana’s green-blue eyes sparkled with interest. “I see. When should we plan to meet you back at the house?”
Grace tipped her head, surprised her sister-in-law had not suggested they take Prudence or herself along for propriety.
“My cook is preparing hot cider and sandwiches for when we return,” Lord Gladsby offered. “I told her to expect us near one. We’ll plan to meet you in the drawing room at that time. That is, if you think Hamdon and Lenning will be finished pestering each other by then.”
Diana glanced at the pair, still sparring. “I can make no promises, Lord Gladsby, but I shall try to remind them they are grown men and not Eton boys by the time we are expected at the house.”
Her smile was one of long suffering, but Grace did not miss the indulgent way she watched Bradley.
Lord Gladsby chuckled. “Excellent.”
Taking their leave, they picked their way back through the snow, careful to avoid the area of their previous fall. As they reached the clearing, the sun shone brightly. Not two steps out, Grace noticed a hawthorn tree that was separate from all the rest.
She pulled Lord Gladsby to a stop. “Before we continue on, might we check that tree just there?”
He glanced in the direction she’d gestured. “I suppose.” He drew out the words, his brow furrowed as he concentrated on the tree.
“Hawthorn trees are a favorite of mistletoe and if you look at our tracks, we traversed quite close to it on our way in.”
It was completely possible the berry had fallen from the limbs, and the closer they got to the tree, the more convinced she was of its occurrence, for little green round tufts still clung to the tree’s bare branches.
Lord Gladsby shifted more fully to appraise her, his features lifting. “How do you know so much about mistletoe, Miss Lenning?”
“My father taught me,” she said softly. “We used to hunt for mistletoe together every year.”
A memory, sweet and clear, washed over her. She was twelve again, sitting on her father’s shoulders, holding a pair of shears so she might cut the bunch of mistletoe for their family home.
“Just a little higher, Papa, I can almost reach it.” She stretched as far as she could and with a very precise snip cut the shoot of the plant that contained the most berries.
Prudence, dancing below them, deftly caught the falling mistletoe. “I’ve got it,” she squealed.
Papa chuckled as he lowered Grace to the ground. “Well done, Gracie. You get better and better at that each year.”
“Next year it will be my turn,” Prudence chirped.
But there had not been a next year. Papa had become too sick.
“Are you well, Miss Lenning?”
Her eyes focused on Lord Gladsby, confused by his question. “Yes.”
“You appeared distressed.”
She forced a smile to her lips. “It is nothing.” Glancing up into the tree she discovered a grouping of mistletoe that Lord Gladsby might reach with ease. The ones just higher had more berries, but there would be no sitting on shoulders to reach them. The mere thought made her blush.
She handed him the shears. “I believe that one just there will do nicely.”
He reached up and snipped off a generous portion, catching it in his hand as it fell. Carefully, he presented it to her. “I shall leave this in your safekeeping. You seem to be better on your feet today than I. When we reach the house, you shall be the one to determine where it shall be hung.”
Taking the little grouping of leaves and berries, she smiled to herself. Did Lord Gladsby know what kind of power he had just bestowed upon her? Probably not, for even now she was trying to decide which doorway would be most likely to get him to use one of the white berries for a kiss.
When her gaze met his, her cheeks warmed. He looked at her intently and she wondered if he was thinking the same thing, but a yelp followed by a cheer of success from the grove drew his attention away.
