Mischief and Mistletoe - Stacy Reid Page 0,2

is wholly unlikely she would admire anyone so haughty and prideful as the rumor suggests.”

Letty sighed. “He is also a man in his prime and is considered a most eligible parti. He is only seven and forty and still so handsome and dashing. Why would he ever consider our mother? You go too far with your ambitions, Callie!”

She stood and made her way over to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a section of the palatial estate. The light snow they had received this year had already started to thaw, and despite the chill in the air, the earl’s guests were enjoying the outdoors.

A group of well-wrapped guests played croquet on a lawn swept free of snow, and others practiced archery in good humor, laughing at each other’s hits and misses. Even in the distance, she saw a few people rowing on the lake which had not frozen this year. Merriment danced in the air. Despite being several days away, Christmas—its feel and scent—surrounded the earl’s country home. Holly, garlands of ivy, pinecones, and sprigs of mistletoe attached with bright-colored satin bows seemed to decorate every room. Fresh-cut red and white roses which must have been grown in glasshouses to bloom at this time of year had been artfully arranged, and in the evenings, the gardens and surrounding parklands were festooned with hundreds of decorative lanterns and candlelight, which cast an ethereal glow on the remaining patches of snow and the reflecting lake.

“’Tis the season to be hopeful,” she said, staring at their mother, who sat under a gazebo near the pruned rose gardens, a book in her hand. The earl in question strolled with a lady along the edge of the lake, and at times her mother risked glancing at them. It was painful and almost embarrassing to watch her mother’s evident tendre for the earl.

Lord Deerwood, in turn, seemed aloof as he strolled with the animated Miss Penelope Barrows. That lady was eight and twenty, and Callie had heard her only yesterday state her determination to marry by next year. It seemed Miss Barrows had decided on catching the earl. It was hard for Callie to determine if his affections were engaged. He seemed to be politely listening, but was careful not to stroll too close beside Miss Barrows. In truth, his manner suggested an indifferent listener.

“Mama has little to recommend her to become the wife of such a man,” Letty put forth, coming to stand beside Callie. “I cannot credit you would be so bold as to even contemplate it.”

“Mama is the daughter of a baron and was the wife of a viscount. Even if we are not wealthy, we have respectable connections!”

Letty worried at her bottom lip with her teeth. “Still, Lord Deerwood is—”

“Oh!” An unidentified emotion squeezed at Callie’s heart. “Look at the earl, Letty!”

Her sister leaned forward, and commented with wonderment in her voice, “He…he is staring at Mama when he thinks no one is observing. Oh, Callie, I daresay he likes Mama too!”

The expression on the earl’s face was one of acute longing. Unfamiliar emotions twisted through Callie, and she pressed a hand against the cool glass of the windows. A few light snowflakes danced in the air before settling on the thick verdant grass where a large peacock, with its iridescent tail spread preening, lingered.

“I daresay he admires Mama most ardently,” Callie stated, an unexpected hunger crawling through her veins. Many days she too had wondered what it would be like to be courted, to be sent flowers, to be taken on lengthy walks in the park, to be on a bench with her beau reading whilst he listened with rapt and sincere attention. She was four and twenty and had never experienced such delights. What would it be like to dance the waltz, and to be kissed? She closed her eyes, pushing aside those dreams which seemed so unattainable, given the family’s dire circumstances for the past five years.

Their mother lowered her book, and when she looked toward the earl, he hurriedly glanced away. Letty giggled infectiously, and Callie smiled.

“How silly they are being,” her sister cried. “What are we to do about it?”

“They only need a little nudge!”

“How are we to do that?”

“Perhaps with a few well-placed notes and twigs of mistletoe.”

They shared a glance, and then dissolved into laughter.

“Oh, Callie, this is recklessness on our part. And surely too improper and wicked of us.”

Miss Barrows chose that moment to slip and cry out. The earl attended to her with urgency, and