Mischief and Mistletoe - Stacy Reid Page 0,7
It barely hid him, and he expected her to see him right away. Instead, when she was almost on top of him, she turned and peeked around the tree. It seemed the lady, too, was hiding. His curiosity mounted. An entrance to the conservatory opened and closed with a quiet snick. Miss Middleton held her breath, impatiently tapping her feet.
“Finally,” she muttered with a content sigh when another person entered the glasshouse.
He resisted the urge to look at the newcomer, directing his complete regard on Miss Middleton.
“Lord Deerwood…I mean…Robert…I…I hoped it was you,” a very, breathless voice gasped.
There was a rustle of movement.
“Amelia, my dear, how happy I am to see you,” his father said warmly and with heavy relief in his tone. “I almost did not come and then decided to at the very last minute.”
Ah…so the lady was the viscountess. The man should be happy, indeed.
“I got your note—”
“I got your note—”
They faltered, and the viscountess released a shaky laugh. Graham dared to step closer to Miss Middleton so he could see above her head. Lady Danby and his father stood under the arched entrance, facing and gazing at each other. How…utterly besotted they appeared.
“You got my note?” the viscountess squeaked.
“Yes,” his father said with a frown. “Did you not send me this?”
He plucked the note from his pocket and handed it to her. The viscountess laughed. “I got a similar note.”
“Ah…so someone is playing cupid,” his father said, reaching out and tucking a tendril of the viscountess’s hair behind her ear. “Are you very disappointed I am not the author of such pretty words?”
Even from where Graham stood, he could see the flush of pleasure on the lady. She clasped her hands before her, and her teeth worried at her bottom lip. How young she appeared, certainly not the look of a woman who had two grown daughters. She was flushed, her eyes bright, her countenance one of nervous expectation.
“I am glad this person sent us notes,” she said, with a small smile. “Whoever it is. They had the courage to do what I was thinking.”
His father reached out and took one of her hands clasped around her middle and brought it to his lips. “My dear, Lady Danby, my heart is incredibly happy to hear you say so. I have been uncertain if you held any tendre for me.”
“I…I do admire you, my lord! Very much so, surely you suspected it.”
“Please, call me Robert. And I could only hope, my dear.”
“I…Robert, and you must call me Amelia.”
They smiled at each other then fell into silence.
“This feels awkward—” the viscountess began.
“It does not have to be,” his father interposed with earnest tenderness. “We are both pleased to see each other, let us accept the author of the note seems to suspect what is in our hearts.”
“We do have a meddlesome matchmaker on our hands.”
Graham glanced down at Miss Middleton, who seemed inordinately pleased her ruse was working. Except Graham felt as if the viscountess was perfectly aware of it and was doing a credible job of acting surprised. The deception affected Graham, and a heavy press of an unknown sensation lodged in his gut. His father deserved someone who held genuine affections for him, not a schemer out to snag herself an eligible, and very wealthy lord.
“Please see the mistletoe,” Miss Middleton whispered.
The sound of his father’s and Lady Danby’s voices faded as he stared at the audacious minx before him.
“Oh, Mama, don’t be shy,” she whispered. “This is your chance!”
Anger curled through Graham at the lengths they would go to trap his father. No doubt his father thought the viscountess charming, as he had done with the other two charlatans who had only wanted his money. Graham glared at the back of Miss Middleton’s head, despising that many ladies thought only of a man’s wealth, and little of his character and his interests. He stepped closer to the deceptive minx. Her fragrance was clean and sweet, the fresh scent of lavender soap and roses. His heart jerked, and something unknown stirred inside him. He bit back a groan and tried to dismiss her from his awareness. It annoyed him he could feel attracted to this deceitful hoyden!
She softly clapped, and he glanced above her head. His father had held out his arm to the viscountess, and she was shyly holding onto his elbow. How demure and ladylike she seemed when she had plotted with her daughter for this outcome. Then, as if mischievous fairies worked with