Mistletoe and Mayhem - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,340

released a pretend sigh of frustration then moved on to Mr. Barnes. She held his gaze for a long moment, and Barnes’ pale cheeks slowly reddened. “You must have my shoe.”

“No shoe here.” Yet the man was growing more uncomfortable by the minute.

“I don’t believe you,” she declared and began her search. She’d only patted a few places on his person before he produced the shoe, his face now an alarming shade of red. “I knew it.” She patted his cheek. “You are the next shoe owner.”

Barnes looked distraught at the order.

Hugh chuckled, his gaze catching on Lucy, who laughed as well. He liked to see her having fun. They shared a smile and the tightness in his chest eased. Perhaps this wasn’t so terrible a way to spend an evening.

If he had the chance to hide her shoe, he intended to take it.

Chapter Seven

Lucy followed Aunt Edith into the dining room the next morning, looking forward to the task ahead of them. Playing Hunt the Slipper had been fun, but she’d been relieved that she hadn’t been picked. Making kissing boughs was a preferable activity as far as she was concerned. The room had been cleared from breakfast and now held most of the female guests along with gold paper, evergreens, ribbons, holly, and most importantly, mistletoe.

“Thank you all for helping.” Aunt Jane gestured for Lucy and Aunt Edith to take a seat. “Make whatever style you’d like. All I ask is that each have at least one sprig of mistletoe.”

The ladies dove into the task, cutting and tying and occasionally pricking their fingers with the holly as well as the wire used to hold the items together. The chatter and laughter rose to a dull roar.

“It’s been an age since we made kissing boughs,” Aunt Edith said to Lucy with a youthful grin. “What fun.”

Lucy was pleased her aunt felt well enough to join the merriment. Though she often wondered if Aunt Edith truly felt poorly or merely pretended, she’d come to realize the older woman’s dour thoughts were a major part of her wellbeing. Melancholy often took over and seemed to drain her energy. Whether it was missing her husband, who’d been gone so long, or a general ennui, Lucy didn’t know. Her aunt rarely spoke about her feelings.

In truth, it made Lucy wonder if she might end up in a similar situation. Would she regret not reaching for more to fill her life? Yet she couldn’t shake the worry of experiencing the pain again that she had when her parents died. She simply wasn’t that brave. Her heart couldn’t bear it.

Emma arrived late and breathless, her cheeks blooming with color, making Lucy wonder what had occurred. She squeezed in a chair beside Lucy, casting a wary glance at her mother, who stood across the room, helping another lady.

“What happened?” Lucy whispered when Aunt Edith’s attention was taken by the woman next to her.

“A moment with the viscount.” Emma’s smile suggested she’d liked the moment, whatever it had entailed.

“And?” Lucy asked. Part of her wanted Emma to like anyone but Hugh. Viscount Jameson would be a good choice. He seemed kind, of good humor, and handsome. Surely those qualities fit Emma’s requirements in a husband.

“Lovely.” Emma held up a piece of mistletoe. “We didn’t need this, but I hope it provides a second kiss.”

Lucy shook her head with a smile. Trust Emma not to be satisfied with just one. She’d been greedy as a little girl and apparently that particular trait hadn’t eased with age.

Lucy and Emma worked together, decorating a small branch by winding gold paper and ribbon amid the greenery. Emma twisted wire around the mistletoe to attach it to the center. The bough would look lovely on a fireplace mantle.

“Now for a globe,” Emma said, her brow furrowed with concentration. “We’ll place it in a spot where we can make good use of it.”

The giggles from those who’d overheard her remark had Lucy laughing too.

“Emma,” Aunt Jane said. “Behave yourself.”

Feigning innocence, Emma asked, “Whatever do you mean, Mother?”

Lucy chuckled at her cousin’s antics as she selected a hollow sphere fashioned from dried vines. “Will this do?”

“Perfect,” Emma declared.

They tucked small pieces of evergreen in it along with ribbons and more of the gold paper.

Emma found a sizeable piece of mistletoe with six berries on it. “Three for you and three for me,” she whispered to Lucy.

Lucy laughed. “I don’t think I’ll be using any.”

“I insist,” Emma said, her sparkling blue eyes holding on Lucy.