Mistletoe and Mayhem - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,76

old was she? Surely past thirty.

The little boy glanced back at him. Like his brother, he had Sophie’s eyes.

“So, you are Ben. I’m pleased to meet you.”

“Tell her George,” Edward said. “Tell her Cook keeps the biscuits in the pantry for us. I want another. Lady Glanford doesn’t believe us.”

She raised her eyebrows at him, making him laugh.

“It’s true, my lady. Cook spoils these Lovelace brats. I’ll fetch them.”

“No, I will. But let Cook’s wrath be on your head, Mr. Lovelace. The nursemaid’s as well, when they all toss and turn with the stomach ache.”

He bowed. She scoffed, picked up a candle, and entered the storeroom.

“We’re glad you’re here,” James said. “We’ve been going mad with boredom.”

“Mother said you’ve been tormenting the girls.”

James shrugged. “I wish she had let us go back to school. And it’s them tormenting us. You can’t imagine the fits Cassandra threw when Mother told her she was delaying her come-out. I wanted to thrash her.”

George swallowed a laugh. “A gentleman doesn’t strike—”

“Yes, I know. But after Charlotte arrived and Lady Glanford took us out to gather greenery, the girls ran about plotting and hanging kissing boughs everywhere.”

Edward scrunched his face into a frown over his milk moustache. “Cassandra says it’s time for you to marry, and that you’re going to marry Charlotte.”

He choked, grabbed Edward’s mug and took a drink, weighing the best time to throttle his sister.

“But Charlotte is too silly for you,” Edward continued. “Cassandra was fretting that you might like Lady Glanford better. I do. I think you should marry her.”

“Exthept, we don’t have a feather to fly with.” Ben broke his silence cheerfully around a mouthful of biscuit.

Artie shot his brother a look. “Don’t speak when you’re chewing.”

“If George marries Lady Glanford, we’ll be brothers,” Edward said, warming to the argument.

James thumped Edward’s head. “You numbskull. George is our brother. He’d be their stepfather. Which would make us their uncles.”

“Don’t hit me,” Edward shouted, and they were off on a noisy dispute.

He snatched up both his brothers and squeezed between them. “Do you want to argue, or do you want to hear about my railway?”

While the conversation continued in the kitchen, Sophie paused to set her candle on a box in the larder and pressed a hand to her chest. Thank God the boys were here. Mr. Lovelace had all but torn off her nightclothes with his hot perusal. Best get everyone fed and back upstairs to the nursery, and perhaps hide there with them until after he’d gone off to bed.

She lifted the lid on the biscuit jar.

“The fits Cassandra threw when Mother told her she was delaying her come-out. I wanted to thrash her.”

Mr. Lovelace murmured something inaudible.

Curiosity pulled her closer to the open door.

“Yes, I know,” James said. “But after Charlotte arrived and Lady Glanford took us out to gather greenery, the girls ran about plotting and hanging kissing boughs everywhere.”

“Cassandra said it’s time for you to marry, and that you’re going to marry Charlotte.”

That plot had been obvious to everyone tonight. Mr. Lovelace remained silent. Perhaps he’d worked that out already. Perhaps he didn’t mind and that’s why he’d goaded her earlier about Charlotte.

“But Charlotte is too silly for you. Cassandra was fretting that you might like Lady Glanford better. I do. I think you should marry her.”

Her heart thumped so loudly she almost missed the next words.

“Exthept, we don’t have a feather to fly with.”

The earthenware lid slipped, and she juggled it, almost dropping it.

Ben had heard the expression from one of their fellow travelers, and so tickled by the poetry of it, he’d searched out the meaning from a maid at the inn.

An argument erupted between the two Lovelace boys drowning out anything Mr. Lovelace might have said.

Clutching the sideboard, she steadied herself, letting the blood flow back to her hands. She really, really must stop eavesdropping.

Ben was only a child, and he wasn’t intentionally trying to embarrass her.

And what did it matter what George Lovelace thought? She didn’t want to marry—not him, or anyone else. Her boys were what mattered, protecting them, seeing to their futures.

She took a deep breath and returned to the biscuits. She’d tried to spare her boys the full truth. They couldn’t have all they wished for, but they’d had all they needed in the way of food, good shoes, and proper clothing. And love. She’d made sure they knew they were loved.

“Do you want to argue, or do you want to hear about my railway?” Mr. Lovelace said, and