Page 129 of Ten Lords for the Holidays

It was only when her maid arrived, clucking and fussing like a mother hen, that she moved into action.

Sarah had bustled her up the stairs, calling for a bath and scolding Holly for staying out of doors so long on such a cold day.

A pot of hot tea and a simple repast of sandwiches and her beloved gingerbread while the bath was filled had Holly feeling much better and by the time she lowered herself into the tub, she was no longer shivering from the cold.

Sarah left to have the periwinkle satin pressed for the evening’s festivities, leaving Holly alone with her thoughts.

There was to be a dance at the Assembly Rooms. An annual Christmas event for those less fortunate. It was hosted by the vicar and his wife, and Holly’s grandmama had spent the day there helping to ready the space.

Holly usually helped, too, but when Grandmama had heard of Lord Stockton’s invitation she’d been only too happy to have Holly cry off and join the gentleman instead.

At the time, Holly had rolled her eyes at Grandmama’s delight.

But having spent most of the day with the Scottish earl, Holly couldn’t help but share some of that delight.

And she realised, as she reached for a bar of lavender soap and began washing her hair, that this was the first winter’s day since her mother had passed that she’d spent without even once feeling despondent.

Feeling a niggling of guilt in the back of her mind, Holly refused to pay heed to it.

She still missed her mother. She always would. Especially at Christmastime.

But surely it was acceptable for her to enjoy pleasant moments, too.

Mama would have wanted that for Holly. Would have wanted Holly to continue to enjoy the season, just as her mother had.

For so many years, Holly’s grief had made that impossible.

But maybe, just for today, just for tonight, Holly could allow herself to enjoy the festivities.

And, her stomach fluttered wildly as she remembered Lord Stockton and that mischievous wink as he’d claimed the first dance, maybe she could forget about Christmas being a time of grief and instead remember that it should be a time of joy.

* * *

The ballroom was simple and on the small side but had been decorated with swathes of white material, and everywhere Evan looked there were boughs of holly and ivy.

Candles lit every dark corner, and he spied more than one branch of mistletoe dotted around the room.

Clearly, the vicar’s wife had a penchant for romance.

He’d arrived early, having utilised his own carriage and offering its use to Mr. Winchester and his sister, both of whom were guests at Northwood Manor.

They were pleasant enough people. Softly spoken and living only an hour’s drive from Northwood.

He liked Winchester, who seemed to be a man of sense. And he liked the man’s sister even more because she quite clearly had no designs on him.

Therefore, he deemed her company safe.

More and more guests began to arrive, and Evan found himself straining to see if Lady Holly had appeared yet.

When he’d returned to the manor house earlier, he’d made a quick getaway from the girl.

But only because her shivering had him up in the boughs, concerned that he’d gotten her sick.

In truth, he hadn’t meant to keep the lady outdoors so long and it was badly done of him, he knew.

When she’d started visibly shaking, he’d almost had an apoplexy worrying about her.

He told himself now that he was only anxious to see her to ensure that she hadn’t come to any harm as a result of their morning ride.

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