Mistletoe and Mayhem - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,79

Melton Mowbray.”

The tremor in her voice signaled anger. He seated himself next to her and unfolded the note she handed him. Fitz was leaving to join an impromptu hunting party and would return before the New Year.

Swallowing an oath, he accepted another letter and scanned the page. The candlemaker begged her ladyship’s pardon, but would greatly appreciate payment of a debt months in arrears.

“I’m so happy you’re home, my son.” The hand patting his seemed frail. “I wonder if you might run into the village for me later. Perhaps talk to this merchant and run another small errand. The jeweler has resized a ring for me.”

“I’d be happy to.”

“The girls are planning to take the carriage today and shop.”

“You’re not going?”

“No. I’ll send a maid and a footman.”

Was Lady Glanford also going? He shook off the thought. Mother’s concerns about Fitz came first.

And she must eat more. She was growing too thin.

When the footman returned, George heaped marmalade on toast and insisted she have some as well.

After their hunt for more greenery, Sophie left the younger children in the care of the nursery maids and went to tidy her hair. Not finding Fitz up yet, she’d agreed to the morning’s expedition. The air had been thick with the smell of snow, and the footman who’d come along to help with the Yule log predicted it would begin falling before nightfall.

She found Willa at work picking out the hem of a crimson gown. The maid stood and shook out the dress. “Beautiful, ain’t it?”

Sophie stripped off her gloves and lifted the lush silk. Seed pearls and blonde lace trimmed the neckline and hem, and the waistline and pouf sleeves were the latest in fashion.

“It’s Lady Loughton’s. Ordered last summer afore his lordship died. She said you must have it, as well as some day gowns she’s put aside for you. Here.” She pointed out a blue walking dress in a fine woolen cloth.

“I couldn’t possibly.”

“You’ve brought naught but two plain gowns, and those out of fashion. Better you look your best for Artie’s sake. Let all know Lady Glanford means business.”

She sighed. “All right. But don’t ruin the cloth. She’ll want those hems put back when we leave. Help me change out of these wet skirts.”

“And you’ll wear this blue wool today. ’Twill keep you warm and bring some blue to your eyes.” Willa bustled about unlacing her. “And how are these stays? Biting too much?”

“They’re fine.”

“Hmm. We’ll be having you looking your best. Bound to meet some of the neighbors in town today.”

“In town?”

“I hear those girls planned to go into town.”

“Oh yes, I did hear them mention it.” Sophie fingered the cross at her neck. “Can you go with them and run an errand for me?”

“Aye. But won’t you be going yerself?”

“I have to see Lord Loughton.”

Willa went silent as she settled the blue gown over her, straightening it, and then sighing. “Lord Loughton’s gone off this morning. Won’t be back tonight.”

“What?” Heat flooded her face. “G-gone off?”

“Off to Thurgood Manor near Melton Mowbray. Had it from the groom, Marty. Come and sit and I’ll dress your hair.” Willa held the dressing table chair for her. “Left a note for his mother. She was fit to be tied, they say, but that Mr. George Lovelace will have all in hand soon. Mayhap you should ask him for help?”

She dropped her gaze from the rising color reflected back at her in the mirror. Help from George Lovelace might come at a higher price than a few kisses under the mistletoe.

Why did he stir her so?

“There.” Willa patted her shoulder.

Sophie let out a breath. Willa had coaxed some of her thick mop into face-framing curls.

“Been wanting to do this,” the maid said. “You look like yourself again. You’ll catch some gentleman’s—”

“Willa. You know I’ve no plans to marry.” Once had been enough.

Sophie unhooked the chain at her neck and gazed again at her grandmother’s cross. She’d told Glanford the metal was not real gold, that the garnets were just bits of glass, that it was merely a cheap family heirloom, dear for its memories. Only the last bit was true, but he’d believed her, and this piece of jewelry hadn’t gone to pay creditors.

It will one day be yours and you may pass it to your own daughter, her mother had said.

Instead she’d had sons, and she was grateful for both of them. And they must have a Christmas.

“We may as well both go into town,” she said.

The High Street was