Mistletoe and Mayhem - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,9

by he did not joyfully discuss you—and with such pride! As a parent myself, I understand how totally devoted he was to you, his only son.”

He was left speechless, and a long silence followed.

“I wonder why you did come for Christmas,” she finally said.

“I received a letter written by my father shortly before he died. In it, he made one last request. He asked that I come here for Christmastide.”

Now she was silent for a long while. “It seems a strange request for your father to have made after giving Darnley away.”

“I thought so, too.”

“But you cannot deny your father was a very clever man.”

“Agreed.”

“He never did anything that was not well thought out.”

“I do agree, but I cannot understand this last request.”

“We must defer to your father’s judgment. Perhaps by the end of Yuletide, it will all make sense.”

She was making sense. He nodded.

“I wanted to thank you for filling in for me while my ankle is preventing me from taking Stevie out of doors. It means so much to him—being outside as well as decorating for Christmas. Last Christmas here was the happiest Christmas he’s ever experienced.” She shrugged. “I appreciate your kindness to him—and to me.”

“He’s a good lad. I enjoy being with him.”

“You remind me so much of your father. He was such a kindly man.”

He felt ashamed.

Chapter Four

Mrs. Milne stood at the top of the staircase holding onto her cane and looking down. David thought she was having difficulty finding her balance. He could envision her slender body plummeting to her death. He rushed forward and clasped a hand to her arm. “I beg that you permit me to assist you!”

One hand at the rail, the other clutching the cane, she turned to stare at him, a puzzled look on her pretty face. He noted that she wore the same faded blue dress she’d worn the night before. “I’m sure I can manage, my lord.”

“I’d rather not witness a mishap. Pray, please put down the cane.”

She gave him another querying look.

He removed the cane, propped it against the nearest wall, and then gathered her into his arms and proceeded to descend the stairs.

More than the sensation of slightness, he was once again intoxicated by her nearness, by her sweet rose scent, by the very feel of her. Why the devil did this woman have to have such an effect upon him?

He went straight to the morning room where breakfast offerings were laid out on a sideboard, and he settled her at a chair before the intimate table there. Then he pulled out the chair beside her. “Here, you can put your foot on this one.”

“Thank you.” She slid her kid slipper onto the chair.

He stood there watching for a moment. “How does your ankle feel this morning?”

“Actually, it’s better than it was yesterday. I believe the swelling has subsided a good bit. It’s very kind of you to ask—and to be so helpful. I’m…unaccustomed to such kindness.”

“It’s nothing.” He shook away her praise. “Please, stay seated. I’ll get your food. You prefer tea or coffee?”

“Tea, please. And all I require is a single piece of toast.” That she ate very little was evidenced by her slimness.

Her effusive gratitude when he brought her tea and toast made him feel the ultimate scoundrel.

He went back and filled his own breakfast plate. Her dainty appetite was more than made up for by his and that of her son, who soon joined them and happily piled his plate with toast, cold meat, hard-cooked eggs, and mounds of jelly.

Full of good cheer for all, Mrs. Ballard came into the chamber with more hot water for the tea. Then she gave her full attention to Mrs. Milne. “And how is your ankle today, Mrs. Milne?”

“Much better. I am hoping that by tomorrow I’ll be able to get around without the cane.”

“Don’t you go pushing things. You must be patient, dear girl, and allow that ankle to heal properly before you go putting weight on it—not that a little thing like you weighs so very much,” Mrs. Ballard said with a little laugh.

Mrs. Milne smiled at the housekeeper. “I shall definitely take your advice. I know it’s best not to force a recovery before the healing merits it.”

“Is there anything I can do for you?” As indulgent as Mrs. Ballard had always been to David throughout his life, he could not remember her ever talking more sweetly to him than she did to this Usurper. What was there about Mrs. Milne that