Page 47 of The Grand Mistletoe Assembly
Five years of abject misery. Five years of conforming to her husband’s idea of how she should behave or else be forbidden to see her brother’s family. When Jack died, she’d waited for some kind of divine retribution, a punishment for pushing him away. It had come in the form of loneliness.
Did it have to go on for another two decades? Both her brother and Alastair believed Hannah’s outburst at the assembly was an isolated event created by the shock of seeing her, that it would not be repeated.
Was it time to forgive herself and move on with her life?
Another gust of wind rattled the panes and blew a tree branch against the window. Something green seemed to be caught in the barren twigs. Was that mistletoe? She and Alastair hadn’t kissed under the many mistletoe sprigs at the charity ball. Not that they needed them.
Making a quick decision, she called for her heaviest cloak, penned a quick note to Emily, and flew out the door. Buffeted by wind, she loosened the sprig and huffed back into the house. “I need a hackney, Spencer. I regret having to send a footman out in this cold, but I have an urgent appointment.”
“There will be one just two streets over, madam. I’ll send Gerald.”
When the hackney arrived, she had no idea what street to tell him, so she ordered it to Pearler House, which was not far from Alastair’s. She remembered passing that residence when she’d returned to Emily’s from Alastair’s home. The gaslights had been ablaze, and stragglers had been coming out. When the coach reached the next street crossing, she got out and walked until she found Alastair’s house.
A surprised butler announced her and led her into the drawing room. She removed her cloak and clutched the mistletoe sprig as she halted in front of a painting—the one of the two swans, mated for life, on the lake near Langston Grange. Alastair had been the successful bidder.
“It’s us, you know.”
She turned, and there was her beloved, smiling, as if he knew why she was there. When he opened his arms, she ran into them, the feeling of peace she’d been searching for all day finally sweeping over her.
This was right. This was where she wanted to be. Now, and forever, safe in the arms of the man she loved. When his lips touched hers, she let the mistletoe drop from her hands.
Time healed, hearts mended, and love endured. She should stitch that on a sampler, because it was true. Held tightly in Alastair’s arms, she was finally free, and she and her beloved would spend the rest of their lives being grateful for the Grand Mistletoe Assembly where they’d found each other once again.
