Mistletoe and Mayhem - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,70

replaced it, to the sound of his stomach growling loudly. His tablemates giggled, and he knew: Charlotte Cartwright wasn’t a match for him.

“So, tell me, Lord Glanford, Miss Cartwright, have I missed any fun?”

His question set off a round of calls for sledding and games, gathering greenery and finding a Yule log, none of it requiring much input from him. He ate in as much peace as he could expect when he was home with this lot, and between mouthfuls, studied the lovely widow across from him.

After dinner, the nursemaid came for the three boys, and Fitz hurried off with them, saying he must visit his daughter. Before George could propose to wait for him in the library, Mother caught his arm.

“You’ll join us for tea,” she said. “I daresay you’ve had enough spirits today to last you a twelve-month.” The twinkle in her eye softened the chastisement.

He laughed and went about turning up the Argand lamps and lighting more candles. As the room brightened, he saw beribboned pine boughs hung everywhere.

“Oh, sisters mine, I see your handiwork.”

“Yes, and look up, brother,” Cassandra called.

He groaned. A kissing bough hung from the ceiling in front of the fireplace. “I thought you weren’t hosting the neighbors this year, Mother.”

“What do you mean?”

“So much mistletoe, and no single men about to steal kisses from the young ladies.”

Mother smiled. “We should have a jolly tune on the pianoforte. Lady Glanford, will you play for us again? We’ll leave the girls to chatter among themselves for a bit.”

“And let our food settle before Cassandra begins banging on keys.”

Lady Glanford chuckled softly. “You may say the same about my playing in a moment, Mr. Lovelace.”

The low mellow laugh and the saucy remark stirred him again. He took a seat on the sofa next to his mother and watched Lady Glanford move gracefully to the instrument, seat herself, and begin playing a piece from memory.

“She’s lovely, isn’t she?” Mother said in a low voice, studying her teacup. “I’ve convinced her to bring Charlotte out when the season starts, since we’ll still be in mourning. There’s no reason Charlotte should be held back with our girls.”

“Did you invite Lady Glanford here for that purpose?”

“About that—we will talk. Your brother—”

“Fitz and Lady Glanford?” Anger sparked in him.

“George,” Cassandra called from the other side of the room. “You must come and join us this moment.”

“That forwardness of your sister, dear boy, is another reason to delay her come-out. Go.” She glanced at Lady Glanford. “We will speak about the other matter later.”

“Very well.” He strolled over to the grouping of girls.

His sisters popped out of their chairs.

“Come and sit here, Charlotte.” Cassandra patted the chair in which she’d been sitting.

“No thank you,” Miss Cartwright said.

Cassandra patted again, making eyes at her friend.

“No, thank you, Cassandra.” In spite of the room’s chill, Miss Cartwright’s pink forehead glowed.

“Then you sit here, George.”

The sweet smile signaled danger, the kind a man regularly encountered with so many younger siblings. The chair itself appeared safe—the cushions were undisturbed, no frogs, pine cones, or knitting needles.

And she’d offered it first to her friend…

He glanced up. Cassandra had been sitting right under a kissing bough.

Nudging Nancy aside, he took her seat. Miss Cartwright let out a breath and bit back a smile.

“While you chat, Nancy and I will fetch more tea,” Cassandra said and led Nancy away.

George laughed. “Those two nodcocks must have had you at odds with the schoolmistress at every turn.”

She colored, smiled, and pressed her hand to her mouth.

“It’s quite all right for you to laugh in our drawing room,” he teased.

She nodded.

“Perhaps the ton will expect gravity, but at Loughton Manor, we suffer the reign of mischief and mayhem.”

“And mistletoe as well, I suppose.” She grinned. “It wasn’t my idea.”

Behind them, the music stopped.

“I don’t doubt Cassandra and Nancy are responsible. But in any case, we can’t let all this mistletoe go for naught. I shall persuade my mother into hosting the neighbors. Especially all the single young gentlemen.”

A shadow appeared next to him, bringing a whisper of muslin and the scent of lavender. He jumped to his feet.

Chapter Four

Lady Glanford had joined them, her face so sedate it stirred the devil in him again.

“Miss Cartwright and I have just been discussing the Yuletide decorations,” he said.

“Lady Glanford helped us with them,” the girl said.

The lady bestowed a fond look on Miss Cartwright. “Only in the gathering of greens and tying of ribbons. The girls have done all the rest.”

He slid a smile