Page 122 of Ten Lords for the Holidays

Holly’s gaze, which had been trained on the handsome earl’s broad shoulders and chiselled jaw, snapped back to Angela.

Evan? Goodness, the lady had no sense of decorum.

“Ah—“ Holly hesitated, unsure as to what to say.

While it was true that theyhadmet, it had been years ago, and certainly she’d never heard him called by his Christian name.

“Lord Stockton, at your service, my lady.”

Holly was both relieved and impressed that Lord Stockton had come to her rescue. He took her hand and bowed over it, his hair glinting in the flames of the candles above their heads.

“We met during your Come Out.”

Holly ignored the silly quivering in her stomach as she felt the heat of Lord Stockton’s hand grasping her own, even through her satin gloves.

“I am impressed that you remember, my lord.” She smiled, hoping that she didn’t blush. Being fair skinned meant that she blushed incessantly, and it made her seem young and unsophisticated, much to her disgust.

“I can’t imagine anyone failing to remember you, Lady Holly,” he murmured.

And there went her dratted cheeks.

Holly resisted the urge to fan herself as she felt the heat seep into her skin.

It meant nothing. A generic, insignificant, chivalrous comment. One of countless he rattled off to whatever lady in his company, Holly was sure.

Why then, did her heart stutter in such a ridiculous fashion?

She cast her mind around for something innocuous to say. To distract herself and to give the impression that his words had no effect on her.

“You and Lady Angela are friends then?” She glanced at the unorthodox old lady and saw that she was watching them both intently, her green eyes shrewd.

“We – ah—“

“We are new friends,” Angela interrupted abruptly. “But enough about all of that. Lord Stockton was of a mind to explore your father’s grounds tomorrow, Lady Holly. And obviously, he cannot do so alone. You like to ride, do you not?”

There was no hope for it. Holly felt her cheeks scald and could only imagine the colour in them.

She knew that it was a favourite sport of Society matrons to manoeuvre young, single people into marriages and courtships. But she’d never seen it done so crassly or obviously.

Holly wanted desperately for the floor to swallow her whole. But of course, it wouldn’t.

And now she was standing here, awkwardly mute, and wondering what exactly she should say or do.

“Um, I do,” she eventually confirmed because she had to saysomething.

“Oh, well, I hadn’t –“

Holly lifted her gaze to Lord Stockton’s.

Whatever words he’d been about to utter seemed to stall in his throat.

He stared at her, unmoving, unblinking before finally the ghost of a smile appeared on his lips.

“I should be honoured if you could join me tomorrow, my lady.”

And she would be delighted to join him, Holly knew, from the way her heart flipped.

Which was precisely why sheshouldn’tjoin him. She was supposed to be helping Grandmama with their guests. And she was supposed to be thinking of her mother at this time of year and mourning her loss. Not galivanting over the grounds with a handsome earl.

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