Mistletoe and Mayhem - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,8

this one residence so highly, and he’d come to realize it was because of the happy times he’d shared there with the people who meant the most to him.

And because it was by far the smallest of the Paxton houses, it was also the most cozy.

He indicated the sofa where he’d been sitting. “Come, let us both sit here. It’s the best seat in the room. Closest to the fire. And I’ve put your glass here. Is port agreeable to you?”

She nodded.

He braced himself to not be affected by her beauty. It wasn’t as if she overtly tried to make herself alluring. There was nothing seductive in her manner or in the way she dressed. Quite the opposite, actually. Her dress of faded blue muslin with a fairly high neckline was modest as well as outmoded. She was apparently disinterested in fashion.

But, then, one blessed with her flawless face and figure had no need to resort to artifice or fashion to attract men’s attentions.

Even though the neckline of her gown was not especially low, he was well aware of the sweet swell of her breasts. She was every inch a woman.

A most appealing woman.

But he was intent on despising her.

She left enough room between them to have fit another person. “I haven’t had port since my husband died.”

“I’m surprised my father wasn’t forcing you to drink with him each night. He did love his port.”

Her lashes lowered in a fleeting look of sorrow. “At the time I was here, his physician had forbidden him to partake. It was a source of great annoyance to your poor father.”

“I can well imagine. Papa did love his brandy and port.” He poured her a glass and handed it to her, his hand grazing hers. Once again, she had that same effect upon him that youthful beauties did when he was transitioning from Eton to Oxford. What had gotten into him?

“How long have you been a widow?” he finally asked.

“Since Stevie was four. He’s eight now.” She shrugged. “My husband and I were apart more than we were together during our marriage. He was an officer in the Guards.”

“In the Peninsula?”

She nodded solemnly.

“Killed in battle?”

“Yes.” She took a sip, peering at him over the rim of her glass. “I wanted to tell you how badly I felt for you when I learned your father had left me Darnley.”

Anger surged through him as quick as a flame. The conniving woman had to be lying!

He wasn’t about to let her see his vulnerability. He shrugged. “I have other properties.”

“But I know how much Darnley meant…means to you.”

“And you know this because…?”

“Because your father told us.”

He could not keep the anger from his voice. “If my father knew this, one wonders why he would not give it to me.”

“I’ve wondered the same thing.” Her voice was gentle.

Oh, she was most convincing! He could see how she could have bewitched his father. His soft-hearted father.

There were so many things he wished to know about her mysterious relationship with his father. But he was too proud to question her further.

Another perplexing question was Mrs. Ballard’s affection toward Mrs. Milne. Was that because Mrs. Milne was her new mistress? Mrs. Ballard had always been one to display her likes and dislikes as openly as the mobcap on her head. If she disliked someone, she was incapable of being gracious to them. It was obvious she held her new employer in the highest regard.

Which was just one more indicator of what an accomplished Schemer Mrs. Milne must be.

After she took another sip, Mrs. Milne set down her glass and faced him. “I understand there must be many things at Darnley you wish to claim—things you have every right to possess—and I have no objections whatsoever to you doing so.”

“I suppose you’ll be moving in your own things.”

Colour rose into her high cheekbones. She really was a stunner.

“I’m embarrassed to admit I have no furnishings. We always resided in rented lodgings. Peter and I were going to settle in a real home after the war. But, I assure you, Stevie and I are accustomed to doing with very little. Please, feel free to remove whatever you wish.”

“I hadn’t really thought things through. I will own, I hadn’t wanted to come here this Christmas. It stung that my father slighted me in the will in regards to Darnley.”

Her brows formed a deep crease. “I feel dreadful about that. I know your father would have, too. He loved you dearly. Not a day went