Mistletoe and Mayhem - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,282

and cranny of this place, and whenever the sun began to set and its golden rays drifted in through the ceiling-tall windows in the salon, Anne could not help but sigh in bliss.

Indeed, Barrington House had always been nothing short of heaven for her.

But not today.

“Is he still looking at me?” Anne asked in a tense whisper, forcing herself not to glance over her shoulder, but to keep her eyes fixed on her two cousins, Louisa and Leonora Beaumont, daughters to the Earl of Whickerton.

Dark-haired Leonora frowned at Anne’s pinched expression, then cast a questioning look across the ballroom, crammed with guests at this year’s ball. “Who?” she asked, her brows drawing down in concentrated observation.

Her sister laughed, “Well, Lord Gillingham, of course.” Unlike Leonora’s, Louisa’s brows rose in a show of triumph as she met Anne’s gaze. “Why are you so intent on escaping his company?” There was a teasing note in her voice, and Anne could not help but feel that her beloved cousin was enjoying watching her squirm much.

Louisa and Leonora−or Lou and Leo as family and friends called them−were like night and day. Anne could not say which of her cousins she liked better for they both had such endearing qualities; unfortunately, they also both possessed the ability to rob her of every bit of patience with but a few well-aimed words.

Leonora was reason personified, always coming up with theories about how and why something happened. She was known to ask a thousand questions when something piqued her interest and was rarely seen without a notebook and pencil in hand. Fortunately, it seemed she had not brought them to tonight’s ball.

Louisa, on the other hand, often acted on impulse, rarely taking the time to think things through, which frequently aggravated Leonora. Still, Louisa had a way of seeing the truth regardless of its trappings and she never feared to speak her mind, her exuberance intoxicating.

Anne sighed, knowing that neither one of her cousins would accept a half-truth. “Well, he…he simply makes me…uncomfortable,” she finally admitted, tucking a stray curl of her dark brown tresses back in place.

“Why?” Leonora asked with a frown as she once more squinted her eyes, no doubt running them over Lord Gillingham to determine the problem. “Is it his breath? Does he smell odd? Does he have sweaty palms?” She glanced down at Anne’s gloved hands. “However, that shouldn’t affect you. Does he spit when he speaks? Or−?”

“He wants to marry her,” Louisa threw in with a sideways eye roll at her sister. Then her inquisitive, green eyes settled back on Anne. “Does he not?”

Anne heaved a deep sigh, “He didn’t say as much, but…every time he looks at me I cannot help but feel that…” Her voice trailed off. “What do I do?”

“So, he has neither bad breath nor sweaty palms?” Leonora enquired for knowledge’s sake.

Anne shook her head. “Not that I noticed.”

“Then why do you object to him?” Again, Leonora ran her eyes over the admittedly dashing lord. “He is tall with thick hair and a symmetrical face. He comports himself with elegance and dances with the necessary proficiency. As far as I know, his family possesses a sizable fortune as well as a reputation free from scandal.” Her mouth closed and she blinked, her blue eyes moving to meet Anne’s. “Where is your objection?”

Anne shrugged. “I don’t know.” However, whenever Lord Gillingham drew near, there was that part of her deep down that all but told her to run. She could not explain it. It felt like a sense of dread, of reluctance as though she simply was not where she ought to be. As though she was walking in the wrong direction.

“What kind of man do you wish for?” Leonora enquired; her hands moved as though they were reaching for her notebook and pencil, ready to take notes. When she discovered them absent, the look in her eyes was one of deepest regret.

“Oh, I can tell you what kind of man she wishes for, dearest Leo,” Louisa exclaimed, her lips curled into a smile that made Anne squirm even more. “I can even tell you which gentleman it is who’s standing in the way of her seeing Lord Gillingham−or any other−in a favorable light.”

While Anne felt her insides twist and turn in dread, wondering what kind of fantastic story Louisa had cooked up this time, Leonora’s jaw dropped in curiosity. “Who?”

Louisa smiled devilishly. “Him.” Without turning her head, she let her eyes dart to the wide arch through