Page 108 of Ten Lords for the Holidays

Emma and her twin locked eyes, as though silently communicating in some way.

“Never mind, Isabel,” Norland boomed. “What were you doing at this end of the castle when we have a houseful of guests?”

“I, um, just needed a little time to myself, Father,” she replied, frowning strangely at Emma as though she was trying to decipher something.

Heath glanced at his bride-to-be to find her mouthing something to her sister, though she was doing a poor job of it. He had much better uses for her mouth. He nearly groaned in frustration. What a shame the marquess had stumbled upon them when he did.

Norland sighed and looked from Isabel to Emma, then back to her again. “Your brothers never caused such trouble.”

Then the man didn’t know his sons very well. Drew was a notorious rake and Philip had a darkness to him that went along with his creative mind, but Heath held his tongue. There was no point in poking an angry bear with a stick.

“Come,” Norland said, starting once again down the corridor. “Your uncle and Louisa await.”

“The vicar?” Isabel sounded more than appalled. “Emma?”

But Emma said nothing to anger her father more, thank God. When Isabel turned her gaze on Heath, he simply pressed his lips together, hoping the chit would take the hint and stop asking questions with her father leading their little group down the corridor.

* * *

Emma was nearly bursting to tell Isabel what had transpired, but between Heath’s grasp on her arm and Papa’s scowl, she would definitely have to wait to share her news. As they entered the drawing room, Cousin Louisa and Clara Mason stood by the fireplace, with cups of something that smelled like wassail. A few feet away, Mama whispered something to Uncle Henry, a stoic vicar.

“Henry,” Papa said, clapping a hand to his brother’s back. “I’m surprised the weather didn’t keep you away.”

Wishful thinking most likely. After all, it was no secret Papa and his younger brother weren’t particularly fond of each other. In fact, Papa must have been hiding his best whisky and smuggled French brandy from Uncle Henry when he stumbled upon Heath and Emma in that secret room. Emma’s face heated up at the thought, but she refused to let her father’s discovery diminish her excitement at finally having Heath to call her own.

“It’s not so bad, Freddie.” Uncle Henry cast a dismissive eye on Papa. “Wouldn’t want to miss Christmas with my favorite brother.”

“Indeed?”

“Ah, good, you’re here!” Grandpapa lumbered into the room. He caught Papa’s eye and nodded at Heath. “Let us retire to my study. Heathfield, you will join us.”

Emma reluctantly relinquished her hold on Heath’s arm, but he winked at her and whispered, “Chin up, sunshine. They’ll bark at me and grumble, but tomorrow you’ll be mine.”

The promise made her grin like a child who’d been gifted with her most favorite toy. “Be careful,” she whispered back.

Heath squeezed her hand. “Nothing I can’t handle.” Then he followed Grandpapa, Uncle Henry and Papa from the room. He looked back as he crossed the threshold, and the sincerity of his gaze made Emma’s stomach do more one flip.

Before she could even sigh or revel in her giddiness, Isabel grabbed her wrist and dragged her to a secluded corner of the drawing room. “You must tell me what is happening,” her twin demanded.

Tears of happiness wet Emma’s lashes. “Oh, Izzy…I’m to be married.”

Isabel gaped at her. “Wha–what are you talking about?” she asked in disbelief.

Emma smiled at her sister and pulled Isabel closer to her, squeezing her hand tightly. “To Heathfield. He wasn’t engaged after all.”

“Yes, I know, but…I still don’t understand. You barely know each other. Don’t you think you should wait?”

Wait? She’d been waiting all her life. A little laugh escaped her. “For what? I’ve been in love with Heathfield since I was in leading strings.” Besides, after the way Papa found them, she’d have the shortest betrothal in history.

“But does he love you?”

Someone began playing the pianoforte on the other side of the room, but Emma barely heard it. Did Heath love her? She rather hoped so. “He did kiss me, after all.” The memory of some of those kisses set her cheeks aflame once more.

Isabel’s eyes widened. “He kissed you?” she asked, dismay lacing her voice.

Emma nodded, nearly overflowing with giddiness. “Yes! And it was wonderful, Izzy. I wish I could explain it, but I can’t. It’s magical.”

“And you’re ready to bank the rest of your life on one little kiss?”

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