Maid Under The Mistletoe (The Mapleton Family Saga #1) - Annabelle Anders Page 0,27

voice in her sleep.

Charlotte wiped her eyes and stuffed her bag into the back of the closet and then she emerged, ready to tackle whatever task awaited.

“Do you have need of me, Mrs. Gibson?”

But the housekeeper was already shaking her head. “This arrived yesterday. I’ve been so busy that I forgot to give it to you.” Her eyes were filled with pity. She knew.

“Did Lady Denton speak with you then?”

Mrs. Gibson nodded. “I’m sorry to see you go. I think you would have eventually made a fine companion.” But then she laughed. “With a little time and a lot of help.”

And then the older woman held out an envelope.

“When you’re finished, her ladyship says you’re to help out in the kitchen.”

Charlotte nodded vaguely. The envelope sent all kinds of thoughts racing through her mind. “I’ll be right there,” she mumbled.

Mrs. Gibson brushed her hands on her apron and then took her leave.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Charlotte tore open the missive. She read through the hastily scrawled lines three times before convincing herself of their meaning. Perhaps there was somewhere she could go after all…

Anthony didn’t stay with the group of revelers for long. Sick with himself, and not from merely the liquor he’d consumed earlier, he located the chamber Lady Denton had had prepared for him but doubted he’d get any rest.

Reaching into his jacket, he removed the package he’d been carrying around all day. He should have given it to her when he had the opportunity. It was nothing, he knew, but…

His own horrid words haunted him: I could take care of you. Purchase a cottage nearby. No one need know.

He’d been caught up in everything about her, fearful of losing her forever. But that didn’t excuse the disgusting offer.

He loved her. It shouldn’t be possible but it was true just the same.

He rewrapped the gift and placed it on the single bureau by the window. Pacing across the room at least ten times, he fought the urge to seek her out. The thought that she hated him, that she believed he thought so little of her was nearly too much to bear.

It haunted him already.

And yet he did not require her forgiveness. In fact, she’d be better off hating him.

The distant gong announcing supper interrupted his thoughts. Lord Denton would be present tonight. Would the viscount expect them to discuss marriage contracts? Anthony threw back the drapes. Darkness had fallen and the moon shone brightly. Of course, now, the storm would let up.

He wondered if Daphne and Michael were sitting down to eat in their mother’s chamber. Every year, without fail, his father, and then he and Michael had procured the traditional Yule Log. They’d light it on Christmas Eve in anticipation of the celebrations the following day.

Anthony had been looking forward to renewing the tradition of a large community gathering on Christmas day. His mother hadn’t been up to it after his father’s passing, and since then he’d not had the heart to undertake the planning himself.

He wanted the celebration. He wanted a family.

He could not marry Miss Fairchild.

An impressive dowry could never replace contentment. Peace. Joy. He’d have to find some other way to meet all of his responsibilities. Air filled his lungs. He’d sell everything he owned that was not entailed but he would not sell himself.

All the money in the world couldn’t replace being with the one person who loved you more than anyone else. It couldn’t replace climbing into bed each night knowing he wouldn’t wake up alone.

It could not replace the knowledge that he was able to protect the woman he loved, able to provide for her, watch her grow large with his child.

He would not discuss marriage contracts with Lord Denton tonight.

The sky beckoned with twinkling stars and a bright moon. He could travel the short distance to be with his family. He would tell them of his decision tonight.

And then tomorrow, he would return and break things off with Miss Fairchild. Somehow, he did not think the young woman would be overly disappointed.

Only then, could he speak with Charlotte.

Chapter 10

Hope

After spilling the entire contents of a pot onto the floor, one that had been simmering all day, and then knocking a pie off the table in her efforts to assist one of the footmen, Charlotte found herself being banished from the kitchen by the harried cook.

When God created Christmastime, he’d obviously forgotten to make provisions for the servants to celebrate as well. Because after all the