Maid Under The Mistletoe (The Mapleton Family Saga #1) - Annabelle Anders Page 0,34

actual reason her employment at Glenstone Hollow was terminated?”

“I believe so, sir. I didn’t intend–” His throat filled with that something annoying that had plagued him all day. “I feel horrid that Lady Denton saw through me.” He’d admit the truth to this man.

Mr. Frye nodded once again. “Is that the reason you are here? Do you feel guilty that Miss Drake has lost her position?”

Anthony was shaking his head before the vicar could finish his question. “Not at all, sir.” And then he decided to make his position as clear as he possibly could. “I’ve fallen in love with her. I was prepared to betroth myself to Miss Fairchild but when all was said and done, I could not see myself going on without her––without Charlotte, Miss Drake. I realize the situation is not ideal, sir, but I’ve talked with my brother and sister and they support my decision.”

For the first time since walking into the room, the vicar cracked a smile. “Well, then, I imagine you’d like to ask the lady herself. If you don’t mind waiting, I’ll have my sister fetch the gel.” He rose with a grimace and then reached out to shake Anthony’s hand. “Her father, I believe would approve. As do I.”

Charlotte smoothed her dress as she peered into the small looking glass. She was to attend church with Miss Frye. As this was to be the Christmas day service, he would most definitely be in attendance. Likely with Miss Fairchild at his side.

“Miss Drake?” The vicar’s kind sister peeked around the door. “There is a guest here to see you.” And then the lady, unable to contain a pleased smile, flushed a very bright pink. “Lord Mapleton has had a word with my brother, and now wishes to have a word with you.”

But how? Why?

“The Earl of Mapleton?” Anthony was the only Lord Mapleton in the district, of course, and yet she felt the need for clarification.

“Yes, dearie.” Miss Frye giggled.

“In the parlor?” Charlotte bit her lip. Miss Frye was acting as though he’d come to ask for her, which of course was ridiculous. And yet.

It was Christmas.

But she’d already been granted two miracles: the letter telling her about her great aunt, and then a place to stay until she could travel.

It would be greedy to wish for one more.

And then a horrid thought crossed her mind. Anthony may have come to renew his initial offer, of which she’d…

Of course, she’d decline it. And then hate him forever after.

“Do you require a moment to compose yourself? Although, he is an earl…”

“No. I’m ready to meet with him.” Charlotte didn’t want to wait. She wanted to know what he had to say as soon as possible.

She also craved his company desperately.

She took one last glance in the mirror and then followed Miss Frye downstairs.

Anthony didn’t see her immediately. He held his shoulders rigidly, standing at the window and staring outside.

Miss Frye softly pulled the door closed behind Charlotte.

“Merry Christmas, my lord.”

He didn’t move. “You weren’t going to tell me goodbye.” And then he turned to gaze at her with those warm, albeit slightly wounded eyes.

And again, she experienced all of those sensations of… belonging with him. She managed a pained smile. “It was all so hopeless…”

But he was shaking his head. And then covering the steps between them to grasp her hands. “Not hopeless,” he stated confidently.

Oh, no. Please do not ask me to be your mistress!

“But it is!” She tore her hands away from him. “I can’t ever. My father would roll over in his grave! I’m not… I could never––” This time it was she who turned her back on him.

“Marry me, Charlotte.”

She froze. And then forced herself to take three deep breaths. Had he somehow discovered her news? Surely, Mr. Frye would not have said anything regarding her personal circumstances.

“I don’t care that you are penniless. I don’t care that you were a servant when I first laid eyes upon you. I’ve spoken to my sister and brother about you, and they don’t care about a dowry or family connections. They care only that I am happy. Look at me, Charlotte?” His question sounding almost like a plea.

He wanted to marry her? Even thinking she was nothing more than a servant?

She turned and stared into his face, noticing that his golden-brown hair looked as though he’d ran his hand through it several times and his cravat was loosened even more than it had been all week. Dark circles etched beneath his