Page 20 of Secret Santas and Holiday Dances

Liam cleared his throat before the two of them throttled one another, or worse, made out. Liam would be happy for George if it ever worked out with Emma, but he didn’t want to be around when the dam broke.

“George, Emma,” he said.

They faced him, Emma with a calm and amused look on her face, and George with a grimace. Liam felt that grimace. He felt it deeply. Why were women so infuriating?

He gave Emma a one-armed hug, and she kissed him on the cheek.

“Thank goodness you’re here,” Emma said. “George is a grumpy Gus tonight and ruining my good mood.”

“Emma,” George said in a warning tone.

She swatted a hand at him. “See what I mean? All right, let’s get to work then.”

* * *

For the next thirty minutes, Emma had Liam and George moving tables and chairs around, because “it had to be just right,” and getting some last-minute things set up. The guests started arriving right at seven-thirty, and by eight the party was in full swing.

Liam wandered Emma Lee’s house, mingling, making small talk, and shooting glances toward the front door whenever he passed by. Grace wasn’t coming, he had to let it go. By eight-thirty, he’d made all the rounds and found a dark corner to wallow in—a corner under the stairs with a perfect view of the front door.

“Why are you hiding under the stairs?” Helena sidled up to him. His sister had worn a dark blue gown that brought out the Nichols’s family blue-gray eyes they’d all gotten from their dad.

“Don’t you clean up nice,” Liam said.

She fluffed her updo, then brushed at his lapel. “I was going to say the same thing about you.” She glanced around. “Where’s Grace? I thought I’d find you chatting in some secluded corner with her, not hiding in some secluded corner by yourself.”

“She had plans tonight,” he said, trying to sound offhanded.

Helena furrowed her brow. “I thought she was excited to come?”

“So did I.”

The doorbell rang, and Emma’s butler, Henry, opened the door. In stepped Jessie and Alex, Caroline and Charlie, and Charlotte. At least someone had come to the party. Henry took their jackets from them, and Charlotte made of a show of shucking off her coat. And he could see why—she’d picked a deep red dress with a plunging back, and she’d swept her hair neatly to the side so as not to cover her back. He almost rolled his eyes but chuckled instead. She was shameless.

“Who is that?” Helena asked.

“Hmm?” he asked, glancing at her.

“The vixen at the door you can’t take your eyes off?”

Liam guffawed. “It’s not like that.”

Charlotte separated from Jessie and Caroline and their men, and made her way slowly through the foyer, shaking hands with every man not standing with a woman. She reminded him so much of his ex, but only in good ways. She loved diversions, had a wild spirit, and zest for life. Those were appealing qualities.

“What’s it like, then?” Helena asked.

He signaled toward her. “That’s Grace’s mother.”

Helena’s jaw dropped. Liam reached over and tapped under her chin—she snapped it closed.

“That’s Grace’s mother?” She sounded bemused.

“Yep. Charlotte Scott.”

Helena kept her eyes on the woman as she flirted her way around the room. “How . . . is that possible?”

The more time Liam spent with Charlotte, the more similarities in appearance he saw between her and Grace, but their personalities were as different as night and day. Grace was more of a homebody, an old soul, with a zest for service.

He shrugged. “I’d say Grace must have taken after her father, only she once confided in me she didn’t know her father, so it’s a mystery. We met Charlotte at the barn dance, remember?”

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