Mismatched Under the Mistletoe - Jess Michaels Page 0,7

faded away. His presence always did that in both the best and worst of times.

“Shush!” Emily admonished him playfully. “The first carriage will be stopping momentarily. You cannot reveal my plan to them or else it won’t unfold naturally.”

He looked out toward the gate with her. “There’s still time to change your mind. Return the birds and hold a normal sort of party.”

It was a tempting prospect, in truth. The entire idea of matchmaking, which had seemed so exciting when she originally hatched it, now felt a little more…overwhelming. To hold in her hands the potential futures of all these couples…what if she did something wrong? What if she caused someone pain, rather than happiness?

No, that wouldn’t happen. She knew her theory of rakes and wallflowers was correct, and it would be proven in the next two weeks.

“What fun would that be?” she asked, and was pleased she sounded more certain about it then she felt.

He held her gaze for a moment, then shrugged. “I suppose you’re right. Probably too late to cancel the fiddlers fiddling, at any rate.”

“Yes, they have a strict policy,” she teased. The tension felt like it was melting off her shoulders as they chatted. Exactly why she depended on this man.

He laughed. “Which reminds me—what are you doing today for the partridge in the pear tree? I see no flood of partridges to greet your guests with their calls or a grove of freshly planted pear trees lining your drive.”

She glanced up at him from the corner of her eye. “We’re having partridge with a poached pear sauce for our welcome supper, and a pear tart with vanilla cream sauce for the final course.”

He pivoted to face her full on. “A feast! Is that all?”

“Isn’t that enough?” she said with a laugh at the shock on his face.

“No.” He arched a brow at her, which drew her attention to those dark blue eyes. They really were lovely; no wonder women always cooed over them. “I’ll have you know I came out here for twelve days of birds shitting and squawking and I shall demand my money back if I don’t receive that entertainment.”

She pursed her lips. “You are the worst scoundrel, Cav, I swear it to be true.”

“And yet you keep me around,” he mused.

She knew he expected her to laugh, but instead something in her stomach felt a little…fluttery. She ignored it and said, “There will be plenty of excitement to come in the next few days. My more elaborate plans follow the simpler welcome tonight.”

He nodded slowly. “Ah, I see. Don’t want to scare off the victims.”

The carriage that had entered the gate a few moments before was rumbling to a stop on the drive, and Emily placed her hands on Cav’s chest to shove him back toward the house. A very firm, very warm chest, indeed. What was happening in her head? Was she so fluttery from this party that everything felt discombobulated and odd? That had to stop instantly.

“Go away, Mr. Cavendish,” she said. “I will welcome my guests, myself.”

He smiled as he pivoted toward the house. “Yes, best not make them confused as to why I’m here. There will be rumors about us, you know.”

He was gone then, disappearing inside where she was certain he would warmly welcome her guests, despite his never-ending ribbing. She could depend on him.

However, his parting salvo wasn’t that far off the mark. She knew people looked at them, with their close friendship, and wondered if there was more to it. Sometimes they wondered quite loudly. And often it was so hard to explain exactly what Cav meant to her without making the rumors all the louder.

“Lady Rutledge!”

Emily blinked and looked down at where the carriage was now open, her first guest already on the drive. It was the widow, Lady Hickson, and she was smiling up at Emily as the servants all bustled to unpack the carriage.

Emily shook off her odd thoughts as she came down the steps to greet her friend. She couldn’t get swept up in worrying about what other people thought about her and Cav. She had work to do and now it had begun.

Within a few hours of his arrival, Cav found himself seated at a table that was all too familiar to him. In the years Andrew had lived, Cav had come to supper at Crossfox many times, and broken bread and laughed with his late friend and Emily. Sometimes those gatherings had been large parties like this one,