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Altheliahugged Eva, trying unsuccessfully not to cry. “And, Eva, I wish you to be my maid of honor.”

“Nothing would make me happier.” Eva blinked back tears. “Except castrating PeterHartigan,” she whispered fiercely in Althelia’s ear.

“Don’t continue to be offended on my account, Eva.” She searched her cousin’s earnest gaze. “I’m happy. Peter is part of my past.”

Evagave a tight nod.

“Sir, might I steal my future bride for a breath of fresh air?” Owen asked Papa.

“More likely, my future grandson wants to steal a few kisses.” Grandmama’s comment earned a round of amused chuckles.

Shewas correct, but she needn’t announce Owen’s intentions.

“Grandmama, you are incorrigible.” Althelia kissed her grandmother’s papery cheek. “ButI adore you for it.”

“Get on with you.” Grandmama swung her cane toward the French windows, open to allow the night air to cool the sweltering ballroom, and above which hung a kissing bough of holly and mistletoe.

Atthe threshold, as the clock chimed the midnight hour, Owen drew Althelia to a stop beneath the bough. He pointed outside. “It’s snowing again. Are you certain you won’t get chilled?”

Happierthan she’d ever been, Althelia cast off convention and gave the kissing bough a speculative look.

“Holly, mistletoe, and midnight snow. What could be more perfect?” Then in front of her amused family and the slightly shocked guests, just as the orchestra struck the first chords of the annual midnight Christmas waltz, she raised onto her tiptoes and kissed her betrothed.