“Of course, sir.” Paul repressed a sigh and performed his butler duties. “Will the Tisdale ladies be joining you for dinner, sir?”
“Doubt it.” He shook his head. “When I left ‘em, they were both complaining about something or other. Demanding baths. So I left ‘em to it.”
“Well then, it seems as if it might be just the two of us, Ambrose.”
“How about making that three?” The Earl strolled in. “I wouldn’t be averse to some company this evening. And if it’s just us…” His voice tapered off, leaving no doubt as to his implication.
“I would be happy to arrange a meal in here, gentlemen,” offered Paul.
“Sounds like a good idea, man.” Ambrose tipped his head to one side. “Been a while since I’ve had a casual dinner. What about you, Farren? Ready to shed the trappings for an evening?”
“You know, it would be a bit of a relief,” sighed Sir Farren. “I have to agree with Vernwood here. No drama. Or theatrics. Just good food, plenty of brandy and a warm fire.”
“Perhaps a hand or two of cards after dinner?”
“Excellent notion.”
“Leave all to me,” bowed Paul, moving the sherry to a small table between them. “Dinner will be served within the hour.”
*~~*~~*
“They’re settled for a bit. Cook’s soup will fill them up.” Paul walked across the kitchen to snap up the last piece of fresh bread, earning himself a frown from Harriet.
“I had my eye on that.”
“You had supper already. I’ve had to grab a bite here and there.” He was unrepentant as he buttered the crust.
“Well, I’ll agree you’ve had a busy day, but it’s equally tiring when you have to deal with a man who thinks he’s going to die from a cut, and a woman who is indulging in a fit of the dismals at the thought of her figure disappearing until childbirth.” Harriet shook her head. “And then there were the Tisdales.”
“Uh oh,” Paul grinned. “Do tell.”
She shuddered. “I don’t think so. Suffice it to say that every maid in the house has traipsed up and down those stairs at least twice today with buckets of hot water. I took one myself. It would seem that cold winter air is bad for the complexion. Both women felt their porcelain skin had been tainted by the touch of sunlight and whipping winds.”
“In other words they looked in cheerful good health?”
“Precisely.”
They looked at each other and burst out laughing.
“What a day,” Paul grinned. “However, tomorrow is Christmas Eve.” He walked to Harriet and offered her a bit of bread. They were alone in the kitchen, since Cook was doing a last check of the pantry and the maids and footmen were in their small sitting room, enjoying a cup of tea.
“Keep the license about you, Harry. I’ve had an idea.”
She looked up at him. “You still want to go through with it?”
He gazed down into those warm and beautiful eyes. “I can’t show you how much, more’s the pity.”
She blushed. “I know.”
“Tomorrow night, Pineneedle Drift has a Christmas Eve service. It’s late. I believe you and I should attend, and afterward see if we can talk the Reverend there into performing the ceremony.”
Her throat moved on a gulp. “Oh, Paul.”
“Is that a yes?” He reached up and took her chin in his hand, making sure she looked at him. “Areyousure you still want to go through with this?”
She met his gaze. “Yes. Yes, I want to marry you. And…” her cheeks flushed even more, “I will show you how much I want to. Tomorrow night.”
“Brazen wench.” He dropped a quick hard kiss on her lips. “Go. Before I forget myself.”
