Mistletoe and Mayhem - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,207

at him the next morning made good use of it. It’s too bad he can’t remember a thing, including asking her to marry him. When Bess’s guilty conscience forces her to confess to lying, Julius can’t deny the truth. She is his other half, and he’ll risk anything to have her.

Chapter One

“Raise your cups, chaps.” Julius Everly thrust a pewter tankard overhead. Ale sloshed over the side and soaked his jacket sleeve, but he barreled on with his toast. “To Clive, may your bachelorhood rest in peace.”

“Huzzah!” The Sleepy Owl Inn and Tavern erupted as the proprietors stomped their feet or hammered fists against a scarred slab table that stretched more than halfway across the room. The floor shuddered from the thunderous ruckus.

Clive’s chiseled jaw was firmer than usual as he flicked bored glances at their drinking companions. “Chaps? Do you know any of these men?”

“No man is a stranger when the drink flows freely,” Julius yelled above the din.

Clive cursed into the tankard before taking a long swig. Julius laughed. His older brother hated being made into a spectacle. Julius, on the other hand, had grown accustomed to being the subject of gossip. Sometimes he started the rumors himself for a lark when he grew bored in London.

In the pastoral village of Chiddingstone, a few miles west of Everly Manor, teasing his brother into a better mood was the only entertainment to be had. Julius’s playful pokes, however, did not indicate a lack of sympathy for Clive’s predicament. The poor man hadn’t been allowed a moment of peace since their parents’ house party guests started arriving two days ago. Julius’s older brother would be unbearable by Twelfth Night unless he took control of the situation.

“I’ve always found the direct approach to work well with the ladies,” Julius said.

A tussle broke out between two men across the table. An elbow banged against the edge, spilling Clive’s drink. “Make them go away,” he growled at Julius.

“Our parents’ guests or our drinking companions?”

His brother allowed his glower to speak on his behalf.

Julius stood and snapped his fingers. “Go, all of you. The barkeeper will serve one more round.” He caught the tavern owner’s eye; the man acknowledged the request with a sharp nod.

No one complained about the rude dismissal as they lugged themselves from the benches. With the bulk of men crowding the bar, the noise level improved. The same couldn’t be said about Clive’s disposition. His brother's frown was something fierce to behold—a trait he’d inherited from their Danish mother.

“I hope you have enough to cover the expense,” Clive said. “I’ll not share the blame if Father must pay for your generosity.”

“You worry too much. I had a windfall at the gaming tables my last night in London. Allow me to spread my ill-gotten gains however I see fit.” Julius shifted on the bench to face his brother and propped his arm on the table. “If you want to discourage the ladies and their mothers, you should treat them to one of your frightening glares. Why should I be the only one to enjoy them?”

“I don’t want to be impolite to our parents’ guests.”

“Perhaps you should be,” Julius said, “or at least correct their misconceptions about you being in the market for a wife.”

Gossips had dubbed last year’s house party ‘Lord and Lady Seabrook’s private marriage mart’, and as was the case with most rumors, it was stitched together with a thread of truth. A cultivated list of guests were invited to spend the holiday at Everly Manor last year to simplify the task of husband hunting for Julius’s twin sisters. The party resulted in a love match for Ammie, who was expecting her first child with her doting major. Now every young miss with stars in her eyes believed Everly Manor was a magical place where love blossomed. Clive, the heir to the marquessate, was the target of their affections.

“I’ve always found honesty to be the best course of action,” Julius said. “Ladies appreciate when a man is direct.”

His brother’s mouth pinched. “Your experience is limited to widows. I’d not expect an innocent to be as resilient when confronted with the truth.”

“Indeed. There could be tears.” Julius shuddered.

Clive smiled for the first time in days. “Speaking of being direct, when are you going to ask Father about using the land for your racecourse?”

“In due time. I hope to enlist another investor before approaching him. Unless I plan for every contingency, it would be a waste of time. Father doesn’t allot