Page 30 of Ten Lords for the Holidays

“Yes, torn clothes that the quality might wear, or might have worn in the past, are part and parcel of the tradition. There are also songs and poems and performances of old skits and new. Lancarrow servants always take part in the festivities. Some of them have developed a new performance and wished to rehearse it here today, before debuting it in the village.”

It was a lively farce and she laughed along with the crowd, but part of her was also intensely aware of how close Locryn stood, how her body reacted with prickles of skin and shivering little thrills each time he touched her arm or whispered in her ear.

The hall grew warm, and she felt warmer still with each small interaction. She shifted, growing uncomfortable, and felt the whisper of a cool breeze brush across her cheek. She turned to see terrace doors nearby, opened a crack. Locryn’s gaze followed—and then met hers.

“Shall we take a turn outside, just to get away from—”

“Yes, please!” she interrupted.

He laughed. “Let’s go now, while everyone is involved in the play.”

They slipped out, followed by an eruption of laughter. Gwyn sighed as they made their way across the terrace. “Oh, that is a relief.”

“It’s chilly,” he said solicitously. “Shall I fetch your cloak?”

“No, thank you. It feels nice, so crisp and clean, and not crowded.”

“I’m not fond of crowds, either.”

“My mother tells me I must grow accustomed to them.”

His smile faded a little. “Ah. Thinking of a Season in Town, is she?”

Gwyn sighed. “She has five daughters. I daresay she thinks of little else except how to marry us all off.”

“And you are not so enthusiastic?”

“Oh, I’ll need a husband. There’s no getting around it, so I’ve resigned myself to it, and decided to make the best of it. There will be compensations in the looking, I hope. London has the parks. Kew Gardens. The museums.” She shot him a glance askance. “I’ll investigate all the differences, you see. Perhaps you’ll share your insights? Tell me what I must see, to know what makes London unique?”

“I’d rather show you.”

Had his voice deepened, just a bit?

“Thatwouldbe lovely. I’d rest easier, knowing I had a friend there.”

“You will, if ever I am in Town.”

“It’s thetonI worry about. Mama tells such stories. She makes them sound so critical, as if they are all just waiting for you to make a mistake so they can pounce on it.”

“That’s true enough.” He sounded a little bitter.

“Oh, dear.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not helping, am I?” He glanced over his shoulder, as if checking to see if anyone could hear them. “Actually, I have a secret for dealing with the more difficult members of theton.”

“Oh?” She waited a moment. “And do you plan to share it?”

He hesitated. “If you promise not to tell anyone else, I will.”

“I hereby swear a solemn vow,” she said, placing a hand over her heart.

He nodded. “Well, the beau monde contains more than its share of . . . er, strong personalities. To keep from growing frustrated or annoyed with them, I’ve taken to imagining them as something else . . . as a rare sort of mixed species.”

Gwyn was intrigued. “How does it work?”

“Well, there is one much-vaunted lady matron who favors feathered turbans. She also makes it a habit to look down her long nose at anyone she deems unworthy—most people, in fact. When I am forced to be in her company, I picture her as a toucan—with a ruffled plume in back and a long, colorful bill in front.”

He surprised a giggle out of her. “Oh, my.” She grinned. “Tell me more.”

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