Lady Penrose ceased her activity and cast a doting look upon her daughter. “I had quite forgot this is your first experience. Last Christmastide, you were not out yet. But I imagine you are no stranger to the talk of Twelfth Night and all its tomfoolery. Still, there are rules, even in silly antics. With each kiss that is claimed under the mistletoe, a berry must be plucked. Once the bough is picked clean, no more kisses may be had except between husband and wife.”
“Oh!” Miss Penrose cried in dismay. “Then one might well miss a chance for a kiss from the one you most desire? That hardly seems fair.”
Lady Penrose stared at her daughter down the length of her nose. “All games must have rules, Frances. It is so with all aspects of life. Even when we are at play, there must be boundaries that are well understood.”
Frances Penrose tilted her head toward William. “It is a pity one cannot have something like a dance card for the kissing bough. Then one could write one’s name and that of one’s preferred partner and stake one’s claim, so to speak.”
Her mother shook her head. “You do have some odd notions, Frances. Half the fun is in the chase. For the gentlemen, at least. If you planned the moment, it would not be nearly as exhilarating when it arrived.”
“It’s all those novels you read, Frances,” her father complained, tucking his thumbs into his waistcoat, whichspanned his stout chest. “They stuff your head full of nonsense. A kiss under the mistletoe means nothing. Good matches are based on more suitable criteria than chance encounters.”
Miss Penrose pouted at her father but said nothing. Instead, her eyes spoke volumes to William, especially when she added a flutter of the lashes. He winked. Color rushed to her cheeks.
William had played these games many a time before. Doing so had become second nature to him. She would have her kiss, if she wished. But it was not the only encounter he intended to enjoy this night.
Next to Miss Penrose sat the quiet Miss Fairchild. She was, undeniably, the greatest beauty of all the ladies present. Her lush, dark hair piled upon her perfectly shaped head. Her lips were of the exact fullness to make them most desirable. Her lashes were long and seductive. But she was untouchable. Her father was a brigadier. Any man who thought to take liberties with his daughter could find himself posted to Australia.
Miss Fairchild was therefore quite safe from being surprised under the mistletoe—thevery publickissing bough. But there were other options. William patted the tiny sprig in his pocket. It held just one berry. He only needed one.
“I wonder what the halls of Munro House look like tonight?” Lady Penrose mused. “It is the new viscountess’s first opportunity to add her touch to what has been, I believe, a rather somber affair for some years. When the dowager left to live with her married daughter, the young viscount did not host parties or pay attention to frivolities like decoration. Lord Howell was never much for idle amusement. Do you think his bride will have changed him? I understand you have met her, Lieutenant Cole. Would she be the sort to influence a man so set in his ways?”
All heads swiveled toward William, curiosity clearly piqued. He froze. The mention of Ellena had been wholly unexpected and he was not prepared. Speaking of her was still quiteimpossible for him. The mere thought of her was only just becoming bearable. Three months had passed. But the image of her in the garden—denouncing him—was burned into his soul as if it had just occurred.
“I… I…” he stuttered. “I’m afraid I barely knew her,” he lied. “I happened to visit my sister while Elle—I mean, Miss Trenton was staying as a guest before her nuptials. I did not even attend the wedding.”
“But you must have formed some impression of her. Even a superficial one. What did you make of her?Wethought she was rather an oddity. So many rumors…” Lady Penrose collected herself. “Of course, now she is everything a viscountess should be. Munro is lucky to have her.”
The words that William had struggled to say now came rushing all at once to his lips. “I assure you, when I knew her as Miss Trenton, she was a model of perfection. I cannot imagine that has changed just because she married…” He restrained himself with difficulty. “Him.”
“Goodness,” cried Lady Penrose. “The model of perfection, you say. That is fine praise indeed. Well, then, I think it is safe to say that festivities will abound at the great house tonight. Perhaps she will even persuade Lord Howell to host a ball in the spring. That would be a wonderful opportunity for us all to celebrate their happiness.” She glanced at her daughter. “And it wouldn’t hurt to have Munro’s finest gathered under one roof.”
Miss Penrose’s face lit up. “Oh, Mama! Do you think they might? Really? A ball at Munro House!” She clapped her hands in delight. “I would need a new dress,” she decided promptly.
“Hmph, one would think you had enough dresses to clothe half of England,” her father grumbled.
“Papa, youarefunny.” Miss Penrose laughed. “I can’t go to a ball at Munro House in any of those old things.” She fluffed her skirts and smiled coyly at William with her cat-like greeneyes. Then they widened, and she asked with some excitement, “Would the officers be invited too? Surely, Lord Howell would want to shake their hands for their service to king and country.”
William suppressed the urge to pull a sour face. He certainly had no desire to shake the hand of the rival who had won. Nor would the viscount want to make pleasant conversation with the man he had chased from Munro only a few months ago.
“If he did, it would only be the field officers,” her father explained. “Sorry, Larson. Not that you aren’t deserving.”
Captain Larson gave a stiff bow with his head. “No need to explain, my lord. Everything has its time and place.”
“Yes. Quite right.” Lord Penrose puffed out his chest.
Good, thought William.Awkward reunion averted.
“I think you are getting ahead of yourself a little, Frances,” Lady Penrose warned. “Nothing of the matter is decided. But I shall make inquiries. Perhaps even a suggestion or two to the right people.” She sniffed. “I am sure someone as young as Lady Howell—and so inexperienced in the ways of the nobility—would welcome advice from the more established members of the class.”
William needed fresh air. He couldn’t listen to any more of this pomp and pretense masquerading as genteelness. They didn’t know Ellena at all. She was nothing like them, and thank goodness for that! If she were here, she would have put that snooty baroness in her place. No one could step on her and get away with it. It got her into trouble sometimes, but at least she stood her ground. Watching them imagine themselves superior to her just because they’d been born into position made his blood boil.
He edged his way around the room until he reached the door to the hallway. When he was sure no one was looking, he slipped out and headed down the corridor to the library, a room he might have an excuse to be in if caught. It was dimly lit butempty. William sank into a chair and rubbed a hand roughly across his forehead and hair.
He had to stop getting so worked up whenever Ellena was mentioned As long as he was stationed in Munro, Lady Howell would be a popular topic. He would have to get used to it.
At least no one was harassing him about matters in Fernbridge. A small mercy. He imagined Miss Verity Lockhart was just as happy to be free of their once-expected alliance as he was. Although shedidhave an annoying habit of creeping into his thoughts. Like now. Why, when he smarted at the memory of Ellena—whom he’d loved passionately and lost—did his mind always lead him back to the vicar’s daughter? She couldn’t possibly compare. She was so… so…
Fascinating. She was fascinating. A challenge. A mystery. She wasn’t as feisty as Ellena, but she had a quiet strength. Being around her had grounded him, albeit briefly. Long enough to focus his mind and choose his own path forward. For that, he owed her much.
