Mistletoe and Mayhem - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,346

made him like her even more. Many young ladies would’ve placed the fault entirely with him. But not Lucy. She was kind and honorable.

Damn.

Why couldn’t she be unreasonable and annoying instead? That would’ve made it so much easier to curtail his growing attraction.

They continued walking together and just as Hugh had hoped, she paused to look in a shop window.

“Is there something in particular you’re looking for?” he asked.

“Not really.” She continued to study the fancy bowls on display. “I made most of my gifts earlier in the year.”

“Made them?”

“I embroidered a few items.” She shrugged as she moved to the next shop. “Nothing special.”

“On the contrary. Handmade gifts are extra special.” And now he had to add talented and considerate to the list of her attributes. “I confess that I rarely think of gifts until the occasion has arrived when I must give them.”

“I can’t bear that sort of pressure,” she whispered as if telling him a secret. “I much prefer to plan ahead.”

“You’re wise in addition to being creative.” He clasped his hands behind his back as they strolled to keep from reaching for her hand.

“I hardly think a bit of needlework makes me either.”

“I disagree. Your skills surpass mine.”

She grinned, her previous wariness fading. “You’re a man. Which means you have a different set of skills.”

The only skills he could lay claim to were cards, dice, drinking, and seduction. But he thought it best not to mention them. After all, he was trying to set them aside for more valuable ones. Funny how much he wanted to do so when he was with Lucy.

She stopped before another shop window, her gloved fingers pressing against the glass. “Oh!” Her lips parted as she stared.

“What is it?” He noted a variety of figurines displayed, some small, some large. There were kittens reaching for a ball of yarn, a dog sitting with a hopeful look on its face, and other animals as well.

“The horse.” She pointed to a small statue of a black yearling with a white blaze on its forehead.

“You like horses?” His heart gave an uncomfortable twist to think they might have that in common.

“I do. I had one just like that. Her name was Arabella. Father gave her to me for my sixteenth birthday.”

The emotion in her voice spoke to just how much she’d loved the horse.

Her hand dropped from the glass pane as she released a breath then turned away purposefully as if she couldn’t bear to think about it overmuch.

“What happened to her?” The question popped out before he thought twice.

“She was sold along with most everything else after my parents died.” She glanced at him from beneath her lashes.

“I’m sorry.” His heart hurt for that young lady and the devastation she must’ve felt.

Lucy shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. “I miss my parents and that life. But I have many wonderful memories to give me comfort.” Her tone was brittle, making him wonder if that was a line she said to ease the discomfort of those around her rather than one she truly believed. “I’m lucky to have Aunt Edith.”

Anger shot through him. That was rubbish as far as he was concerned. She’d lost everything, including her future, when her parents died. She deserved to make new memories, not merely be comforted by old ones. How would she ever do that while stuck in the country, caring for her aunt?

The fact that her extended family made no effort to give her a Season or allow her to find someone to share her life with was an atrocity. Yet what could he say when it wasn’t his place to protest? Perhaps there was more to the situation than he knew.

“Do you like horses, Hugh?” She turned to him, her expression curious. The fact that she wasn’t filled with bitterness and regret amazed him.

“Yes, I do. Very much. In my youth, my brothers and I used to ride frequently.”

“What fun that must’ve been.”

He found himself telling her more about Graham and Thomas along with a few stories from his childhood. Anything to bring a smile to her face. He much preferred that over the grief she’d briefly displayed.

They strolled along, coming across other guests from the house party, waving at Emma, who was across the street. Before he realized it, he was telling Lucy about his dream of breeding horses.

“I’m certain you’d be brilliant at it. Have you started?”

“Graham has promised me the first foal for helping him select his horses. That will