Maid Under The Mistletoe (The Mapleton Family Saga #1) - Annabelle Anders Page 0,30

toward Daphne. “Sorry, sis.”

Michael’s words were far less crass than his own had been and still, Anthony cringed at them. “That is the last time you’ll say anything of the kind in my hearing.” His voice came out gruffer than he’d intended.

“Just checking.” But then his younger brother rose and crossed the room with an outstretched hand. “I’m happy for you.” They gripped hands, but then Anthony couldn’t help but clasp his brother in a brief, and quite manly, embrace.

His siblings were all he’d had since their father’s passing. Daphne joined them, her eyes shinier than normal. When they all separated, feeling more blessed than embarrassed, Anthony brushed his hands together. “Let’s get this Christmas Eve celebration underway.”

* * *

The next morning, feeling considerably less confident than he had the night before, Anthony rode the sleigh back to his neighbor’s estate. The Viscount would expect to speak with him first. Anthony would like to be allowed a private word, alone, with Miss Fairchild. Dash it all but he’d done naught but stir up something of a hornet’s nest.

It would be worth it though. He hoped.

He would see Charlotte again today.

His heart nearly thumped out of his chest at the thought.

Once inside, the butler asked him to wait in the same room he’d been delegated to the previous morning. Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen. He wondered if his absence from Christmas Eve dinner hadn’t gone over all that well.

After cooling his heels for thirty minutes, the door opened, but it was not the viscount. Rather, the Viscountess and Miss Fairchild.

Lady Denton’s demeanor was cool, and the younger girl sent him a worried look.

“I understand you requested a word with my husband,” The Viscountess began. “He’s yet abed but if… necessary. I can persuade him to rise.”

Anthony cleared his throat. This was not any meeting he’d ever wished to have. “Would it be possible to have a word with your daughter?” He cleared his throat again. “Alone?”

The older woman glanced between him and Miss Fairchild with pinched lips.

“It’s all right, Mama.” Miss Fairchild spoke softly, and then demurely sat down.

“I’ll be leaving the door ajar.” Lady Denton rose, albeit reluctantly, and strode from the room. As promised, she left the door open by at least twelve inches.

Miss Fairchild looked up at him as he’d remained on his feet. “Won’t you sit down?”

Taking a deep breath, Anthony lowered himself to the chair directly across from her.

“I don’t suppose you’ve come to wish me Merry Christmas.” She gave him a wry smile. “Since you left last night, without speaking to Father, I’d guess you are either here to confirm my consent before speaking to him again… Or something else altogether.”

He refused to clear his throat again. Twisting his face into a somber expression he took a deep breath. “I am here, with abject apologies, Miss Fairchild. For I fear you and I wouldn’t suit–”

Miss Fairchild interjected. “I rescind my agreement to your proposal, my lord. Since nothing has been made public, I feel I’m not acting improperly by telling you this.”

“Not at all.” And yet he needed to run her words through his mind again in order to fully comprehend her meaning. Thank God, he’d dodged that bullet. “Have you told anyone?”

She shook her head. Brown curls remaining surprisingly still. “No one except for Drake, my maid. And since mother sent her packing, I needn’t worry about her telling anyone.”

Anthony let out a breath of relief. She’d only told Drake.

Her maid.

Charlotte. Her mother had what?

“Excuse me? Your mother sent Miss Drake where?” A huge lump formed in his throat. “On Christmas?”

Miss Fairchild shrugged. “She was a poor companion and equally inept at being a lady’s maid.”

She cannot have gone far. He’d just spoken with her last night!

“Do you know where she went?” He knew he shouldn’t be asking Miss Fairchild this, but it was possible Charlotte had told her where she would go.

“Mama says Scotland. I have an aunt who requires a companion.” Miss Fairchild shuttered. “A veritable demon, that woman. I must admit, I don’t envy Drake such an appointment.” And then a pretty sigh. “She should have tried harder at her position here.”

Anthony burst from the chair, knocking it over in the process. She cannot have travelled far in these conditions. A good deal of the snow was already melted but the roads remained muddy and wet. Panic struck at the thought of how vulnerable she would be.

Before he could excuse himself, the viscountess pushed the door opened. “Is everything all right