Beauty Tempts the Beast (Sins for All Seasons #6) - Lorraine Heath Page 0,88
upon the table. After setting his tumbler on the mantel, Beast ambled over to where Robin was hopping foot to foot. “Ready?” he asked him.
The boy nodded with enthusiasm. Beast placed his hands at Robin’s waist and lifted him onto his shoulders. Gillie offered the star. Robin took it, leaned forward, and placed it on the top of the tree. Beast set him back on the floor. As Gillie began lighting the candles resting on branches, he wandered over to where Thea stood at the back of the gathering, a little away from it, not part of it.
“Did you enjoy your visit with my mum?”
“I did. She’s full of love, your mum. It just spills out and you can feel it touching you. If your mother had to leave you in someone’s keeping, I think she chose well.”
Once all the candles were lit, ahs and claps sounded. The married men lowered their heads and brushed light kisses over their wives’ mouths. Althea wondered if she should have lifted hers to Benedict. If he’d been looking at her, she might have but he seemed to find the star of more interest.
Gillie gave her hands two quick pats, the clap echoing around them. “We have about an hour before dinner, and Aiden has some sort of project he wants us to participate in. Aiden?”
He stepped forward. “It’ll take a bit of time to accomplish, so fetch a lovely libation and make yourselves comfortable while I set up things.”
She and Benedict wandered over to a corner where a footman poured a sherry for her and a scotch for him. With glasses in hand, they’d taken only a few steps away when Fancy and the Earl of Rosemont stopped them.
“I meant to tell you,” Fancy said to her brother, “the books you wanted arrived. We brought them with us in case you want to take them.”
“I will. Thank you.”
“What is the name of your bookshop?” Althea asked.
The young woman smiled. “The Fancy Book Emporium.”
“A play on your name. How clever.”
With a light laugh she affectionately patted her husband’s arm. “Everyone understood that except him. He declared I’d forgotten the apostrophe and S.”
“It’s where we met,” Rosemont explained. “In my defense, I wasn’t quite myself at the time. I didn’t want her to be clever.”
“He was taking a sabbatical from women, didn’t want to be intrigued by me.”
Althea smiled at Rosemont. Had danced with him on occasion. “But you were.”
“I was indeed. Sometimes when life puts us on a path we don’t necessarily want to travel, we discover it was a journey we needed to take in order to secure happiness. Perhaps like me, you’ll find yourself richer because of the rough road you’re now on. Mine led me to the love of my life.”
Fancy snuggled against his side, and his arm went protectively around her. “He can be so poetic at times. It’s only one of the reasons I love him.”
A shrill whistle rent the air. “We’re about to get started,” Aiden yelled.
“Oops! We’d better go.” Fancy took her husband’s hand and began leading him toward a sofa.
Benedict placed his hand on the small of her back. “They’ve not been married long. Still in the first blush of love.”
She looked up at him. “Do you think it’ll fade?”
He shook his head. “No.”
His answer, his belief in the sustainability of love, made her chest tighten as they made their way to a settee and settled into place beside each other. But then how could he not believe when each husband was either holding his wife’s hand or had his arm protectively around her shoulders, when each wife was nestled against her husband?
The furniture was arranged in a horseshoe shape, with Aiden standing in front of what appeared to be an easel. Only its legs were visible because a cloth covered whatever was on it.
“All right,” he announced, “we are to begin.” With a great flourish, he whipped off the draping to reveal a large canvas upon which was written TREWLOVE in what appeared to be pencil, possibly charcoal.
“Not one of your better pieces of artwork,” Benedict said.
“Because it is not yet finished. We have the canvas”—he pointed to it—“the palette with assorted colors”—he held it up—“and the brush.” The last he swiped dashingly through the air as though it was a sword and he upon a stage battling pirates.
“He’s always enjoyed performing,” Benedict said sotto voce, and she wished he was whispering other things, more romantic things, in her ear. He wasn’t holding her hand,