“All right.” Reid smiled then, following her lead. “May I have this dance, Lady Prudence?”
“It would be my pleasure, Mr. Chillendale.” She paused, listening. “Oh my goodness. How daring. A waltz…”
He took her in his arms and whirled her onto the floor where one or two other couples were starting the scandalous measures. “And you thought we were provincial here in Chillendale. Almacks has nothing on us.”
Her laugh made others smile and for a short time, Reid waltzed with his love, both of them surrounded by laughter and the joy of sharing a special evening with people that matter in the best kind of way.
Even Emmeline was granted permission to waltz with Brent, and surprised everyone by her mastery of the more complicated measures. She and Brent were well matched, realized Reid. It surprised him somewhat, but then who was he to cavil at his friend’s happiness. He was waltzing with Pru on a cloud of their own.
The evening progressed, with everyone enjoying themselves and the season. There was mulled wine and syllabub, and the children who attended—mostly those too old for the nativity play and Fête—enjoyed a special time in another large room where games had been set up, along with a table of goodies just for them.
After a couple of hours, Reid saw his mother signal to the musicians to take their break, and he knew it was time for the Mistletoe Marquess announcements and crowning.
He felt his heartrate accelerate at the realization that the moment had arrived. And he wasn’t sure what to do.
Prudence must have sensed his distress, because she was suddenly there, her hand in his. “Do what you must, my love. Do your duty to your name and your family. It is who you are. And who you are is who I love.”
She looked at him, a gaze of faith and trust that pierced him like an arrow to his heart. He squeezed her hand. “I will.”
There was a bustling in the room as people moved to find food, and the buzz of conversation grew louder as mulled wine and Chillendale ale washed down the delicacies offered this evening.
“Good mince pies,” mumbled Brent through a mouthful. “Just excellent. And the lemon tarts are all gone.”
“How many did you have?” Reid tried to remain calm, even though his knees threatened to knock.
“Only two, I swear.” Brent crossed his heart. “Ah, here come the Mistletoe thrones.”
“Jesus.” Reid broke out in a sweat.
There was a ringing sound as Lady Jocelyn stood on the tall hearth and tapped a glass to capture everyone’s attention. “Ladies and gentlemen, honored guests. If I may have a moment?”
The conversations subsided to a murmur.
“As you know, this is the time when we crown our Mistletoe Marquess and announce the name of the lucky woman who will become the Marchioness and future bride.”
This is it.
Reid opened his mouth, but to his surprise, his mother continued. “We will do so shortly, when everyone is back in the ballroom. However, before we begin the ceremony, Lord Southwick has asked to be allowed to address us all. I have, of course, agreed. So…Lord Southwick? The floor is yours.”
“What the hell…” Reid couldn’t help the exclamation.
“This is out of the ordinary?” whispered Prudence.
“Yes, very.” Reid watched as the man walked to the hearth and took Lady Jocelyn’s place. He looked…older tonight. But perhaps it was the light.
“Thank you, Lady Chillendale. You are a gracious hostess and this evening does credit to everyone at Chillendale Hall.”
There was a burst of applause at Lord Southwick’s first words, endorsing the event and making Lady Jocelyn smile, even as she shot Reid a worried glance.
“However, if you will forgive and indulge an old man, I have an important matter to take care of. I have to put history straight, if you will, and correct an error I made far too many years ago.”
There was a slight murmur and the crowd seemed to draw closer, as if to catch every word.
“Over twenty years ago, when I was a lot younger and even more stupid—“ a murmur of laughter rippled through the audience, “—my wife, whom I loved very much, became with child. Unfortunately, she did not survive the experience and I lost her at the very moment a daughter was born.”
Reid felt Prudence grip his hand hard.
“I was devastated, as you might imagine,” continued Lord Southwick, “devastated to the point of madness, I think. I could not look at the child without seeing my beloved’s face, and every time I tried, the agony of the loss impinged upon my heart all over again. It was a terrible, terrible time.” He looked around. “Some of you here tonight were alive back then, and may remember.”
