Mistletoe and Mayhem - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,331

shifted to Lucy, irritation slid through Hugh. Lucy treated him in the same warm, friendly manner she displayed with everyone. She was too kind for her own good.

He berated himself at the thought. How easy it was to forget his purpose here when he was with Lucy. He needed to worry more about Emma and less about her. To that end, he excused himself from the group and circled the room until he arrived at Emma’s side. Barnes appeared less than happy to see him.

After finding a way to compliment Emma, he kept the conversation on her, hoping to learn more about her. He had yet to select a gift for her or her mother as he wanted to have a better idea of what they might like before making a purchase. He’d brought a fine bottle of port for Mr. Waverly that he was sure the man would enjoy. Hugh intended to journey to the small village to find something for the ladies there in the coming days.

Yet his gaze continually wandered back to Lucy, despite his best intentions. If only he was free to make choices about his future based on his heart rather than money, this would be a perfect Christmas. But if he wanted something more in his life that provided both a purpose and an income other than gambling, he needed to marry well. With a resigned sigh, he turned away.

Chapter Five

“Oh my.” Lucy stared out the window the next morning, delighted to see the snow was still falling. Large flakes swayed gently down, creating a peaceful scene, and a significant amount had fallen during the night. Perfect for their plan to gather greenery as it meant they could take the sleighs to the woods.

Thank goodness Aunt Edith had given her approval. The thought of missing the outing was too painful to consider. She had fond memories of collecting holly, mistletoe, and boughs of evergreens in years past.

She and Aunt Edith had done little to celebrate Christmas in the past few years other than have roasted goose for Christmas dinner, attend church services, and give gifts to the servants on Boxing Day. If Aunt Jane and Uncle Andrew had invited Aunt Edith and her for Christmas during that time, Lucy hadn’t known about it. Already this had been a delightful holiday.

Never mind that a good portion of the reason was Hugh.

Had Emma managed more time alone with Mr. Barnes? Lucy hoped so, or it meant Lucy would be visiting with Miss Barnes again. She liked the lady well enough but preferred to spend time with whom she chose. While she understood Emma’s wish to make certain she married the right man, Lucy didn’t think it would require a kiss for her to know.

She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the frosted windowpane, her thoughts filled with Hugh. The same emotions arose whenever they were together. If only she could halt the tumult of her feelings for him. Emma must never know of her attraction. But hiding what she felt was becoming more difficult.

She hoped Emma didn’t select Hugh. And she hoped Emma didn’t ask her opinion. It was impossible to be objective about the other two gentlemen when they paled compared to Hugh.

She gave herself a mental shake. Her feelings didn’t matter. She had nothing to offer him. Nor could she leave Aunt Edith. Besides, the idea of growing to love someone was too frightening.

When her parents died, everything had been stripped away. She couldn’t bear to endure that again. Caring for another meant opening herself up to the chance of heartbreak once more. She simply couldn’t do it.

The realization calmed her, easing the yearning that had crept over her. In a week, she’d go home with Aunt Edith and life would return to normal. She should enjoy every moment of the party to gather memories for the days ahead. She might be lonely at times, but lonely meant safe.

With renewed determination, she washed and dressed, then looked in on her aunt to find her sleeping peacefully. She went downstairs to the dining room for breakfast only to stop short in the doorway, the longing that speared through her bringing her to a halt.

Hugh was the only one in the room and sat at the table with a heaping plate and a steaming cup of coffee before him. He stood at the sight of her, a smile on his face. “Good morning, Miss Gray.”

“And to you, Mr. Raybourne. I hope the day finds