O Night Divine A Holiday Collection of Spirited Christmas Tales - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,66

if anyone saw you and Lord Gifford kissing, when you’re not yet out, your London Season would be over before it began. I have discreetly questioned the staff. Thank heaven, no one did.”

“I do see that,” Alice whispered.

“I can’t imagine what Gifford meant by such conduct. We must take him to task,” Marian said as Gerald strode into the room.

“What is this all about?” he demanded.

Marian promptly told him.

“I’ll have words with Gifford if you wish, but wouldn’t it be wiser not to make a big thing of it? Young people being what they are? Better to extend the invitation for Christmas dinner to include Lord Gifford. Let’s have a good look at him.”

“The earl has already declined the invitation. And anyway, Mama will not approve,” Marian said crisply.

“Your mother won’t be here for Christmas. And you shouldn’t condemn Alice for an act of kindness, puss,” he said, seating himself uncomfortably on a spindly guilt and satin chair.

Marian flushed. “Really, Belfries, must you call me that in my sister’s presence?”

Alice choked down a nervous giggle.

“You’ve become quite stiff-rumped, Marian,” Gerald observed. “You were not that way when we first met, why I remember when you and I…”

Marian leaped to her feet, scarlet faced. “We shall talk further on this, Alice. I am compelled to write to Mama because she has entrusted your care to me. But now, I wish to speak to my husband alone.”

Their angry voices reached Alice as she walked down the corridor. Her throat tightened on unshed tears. Lord Gifford, Hugh, might be quarreling with his grandfather, and now she had caused trouble between Marian and Gerald, who dearly loved each other. It was intolerable. She should go home and nurse her father and become an old maid. Should she have the maid pack her trunk? She moaned. Mama! What would she do when word reached her? Alice feared she would abandon her father to a lonely Christmas and come straight down.

She wiped away a tear. Would she ever see Hugh again?

A dusting of snow drifted down, and the air turned frigid. Hugh abandoned his pacing of the gardens and entered the house. In the drawing room, a yule log burned in the hearth. His grandfather sat in his favorite chair drawn up to the heat, a brandy in his hand, a book on fly-fishing in his lap. He looked up as Hugh edged closer to the fire to thaw the cold lump in his chest. “It’s snowing,” he said for want of something to say. The view from the window confirmed it.

“You look cold and miserable,” Grandpa said. “Pour yourself a brandy and come and sit down. Did you enjoy your ride?”

“I did. Rode Tarien all the way to the river,” Hugh said at the drink’s tray. He removed the stopper from the crystal decanter and poured brandy into a glass. “The gelding enjoyed the exercise.”

“Doesn’t get ridden enough these days. I’ve been thinking of selling him.”

“That would be a shame.”

Hugh took the armchair opposite the earl and stretched his legs out toward the warmth. He eyed the book in his grandfather’s lap. “I remember when you taught me to fly fish for trout.”

“You were keen and quick to learn. Your father never shared my interest.”

“Didn’t he?” Hugh’s father and mother died in a carriage accident when he was ten. His grandfather had reared him from that day on. The bond between them had been so strong, he never imagined it could break.

“Christmas is a time for memories.” Grandfather gazed into the flames. “For remembering our lost loved ones.”

Hugh nodded, although he didn’t remember his parents well. To lose his grandfather, now that would be devastating. He took a deep sip of brandy.

“I am glad you’re here, boy.”

Hugh sat up sharply, causing Leo to stir on the rug at the earl’s feet. “You are, sir? Despite everything?”

“Yes. I can see you regret the business, and you’re trying to sort out your life. I’ve been thinking it’s time we put that where it belongs, in the past.”

“I am, sir. I acted unwisely at Oxford, got into bad company. I did not do what that scoundrel accused me of, although his witnesses would swear that I did.” He shrugged. “I like to think I’ve grown up a bit since then. I want you to be proud of me.”

“I was angry with you, but I’ve always been proud of you, Hugh. I’ve had to take a good look at myself, as a matter of fact,” his grandfather confessed. “Elizabeth