Mischief and Mistletoe - Stacy Reid Page 0,6

of the lady’s intentions.”

His father sighed. “I will be. Once I see that it is not Amelia…I will politely extricate myself from the situation and hope no one is around to witness what they might perceive as misconduct!”

And without a doubt, the identity of the author would be revealed, and Graham would know who to keep a close watch on, for this person would most likely be prone to more mischief for the remainder of the house party. Was his father walking into a compromising situation that might prove difficult to extricate himself from?

I’ll be damned if I ever allow that to happen!

Chapter 3

Almost thirty minutes after speaking with his father, Graham stood in the conservatory, positioned behind some large fir trees which had been cut to be decorated and placed in the drawing-room, music room, and the entrance to Holliwell Manor. Ever since they had spent Christmas in Germany with one of their uncles, his father had adopted the tradition of decorating such trees in the yuletide season. It had made his mother, who was German, thrilled, and as a family, they had continued the tradition after she had gone on to her rewards. Graham was closer to the door which opened into the garden, and from his discreet vantage point, he observed the lady who had entered moments ago.

His heart jolted, and a heavy unexpected disappointment lodged in his gut. It was Miss Callie Middleton still garbed in the bright pink dress she had worn to dinner, her hair piled in a riot of becoming curls, with several wisps dancing about her face. She was petite, the top of her head would probably brush his chin. Her skin was pale, her lips lush and sweetly curved, her figure, though slender, had more than a handful in all the right places. The lady held a basket in her hand. She rested it on a table revealing fresh-cut roses from the hothouse and a pruning shear. She rifled through the contents of the basket, and he arched a brow when she withdrew several sprigs of mistletoe.

Good God. Her intention was apparent. How many ladies had he dodged since his arrival who attempted to use those damnable mistletoe berries to request a kiss or be bold to take one? Even last night, the squire’s daughter had knocked on his door, and he had tugged her into the room after hearing footsteps in the hallway. Miss Vinnette Brampton was the sister of his close friend Thomas. Graham had been amused and appalled in equal measure at her surprising brazenness. But the girl had been suffering from a case of jealousy and heartbreak when the man she loved shifted his attention to another. After drinking several glasses of pilfered sherry and armed with a fistful of mistletoe, Miss Vinnette had planned to soothe her wounded pride with kisses from him!

Even now, the memory of her silliness had a sigh of exasperation escaping from Graham. It was befuddling how everyone seemed to accept that piece of twig was an excuse to throw caution and propriety to the wind. He wasn’t the sort to seduce his friends’ sisters, so after lending a listening ear for several minutes, he’d ensured she reached her room undiscovered.

A sharp grunt snapped his attention to Miss Middleton. She was dragging a wrought-iron chair from near the grate to the door. She hopped onto the chair and then took it a step further by balancing on the chair’s armrest. It rocked precariously, and she muttered a word no lady should know before making a soft triumphant sound. She mounted the leaves and berries above the door, and with a wide grin, jumped from the chair. Graham marveled she had not slipped. She looked up at her work and did a happy little twirl.

He felt mesmerized. Perhaps it was the sense of happiness and expectation in the air. She dragged the chair from out of the way, then strolled to the windows with a frown on her pretty face. The lady reached into the deep pockets of her dress and fished out a pocket watch. She leaned forward, almost pressing her nose against the glass. Unexpectedly she lurched upright and to his amazement clapped her hands in unmistakable glee. She rushed toward the exit that would lead her to the side gardens. The lock refused to budge, and her expression of excitement eased to annoyance. After childishly kicking the door, she hurried in his direction.

Graham stepped behind one of the fir trees.