Page 31 of In Pursuit of a Christmas Bride
She leaned in and kissed him, long and slow, then pulled back to whisper against his ear. “Merry Christmas, Henry. I will be thinking of you.”
She slipped out of the closet, righting her dress and squaring her shoulders. Her heart hammered in her chest as the otherguests’ chatter grew louder. All of London was in love with Matilda Brennan, she could pretend for a few days that she was enchanted by all these houseguests.
Tilly must.
“There you are,” Roger said, stalking out of the drawing room to find her. “It’s time to replace Mrs. Craven. She didn’t know where you were. Considering that is her one job…”
“I forgot my shawl.”
“Seems you still have.”
She smiled, even as panic gripped her throat. “I managed to get turned around trying to find my room. How was your journey, Roger?”
“Send someone for your shawl and come with me. We have a busy few days, and I expect you to entertain everyone here.”
“Of course.”
He stopped, hauling her close. She slammed her eyes shut, pain radiating up her arm from his grip. “You will do it with a smile and not a hint of sarcasm toward me. Understood?”
Tilly nodded her head, wrenched away from his grip, and raced toward the drawing room, a coward because she never looked back once.
“It’s a miracle London loves you,” Roger said, cutting off her approach. “You’ve not an ounce of brains in that head of yours.”
She froze in the doorway, the words sticking to her. They always did. Eventually, Henry would understand that it couldn’t be. And that would be for the best.
The fire crackled beside Henry.He stood by the mantel, studying the room with a scowl on his face. There was toomuch cedar and pine, and oranges and cloves, and dried pomegranates. The holiday cheer turned his stomach.
Or perhaps it was only that Tilly stood across from him, surrounded by the other guests as she sat at the card table and quietly laughed at a joke with the duke and duchess. Even in the candlelight, she lit up the entire room. It was not a surprise she was so regarded on Drury Lane.
He wished it were only the two of them once again. Like the first night they met.
Tilly glanced up and met his stare for a moment, nodding slightly in recognition.
It was unfair of him to be so greedy, and he knew that. But that didn’t dull the edge of jealousy that hit him in the gut as Lord Garvey and Mr. Silas Drake flirted with her shamelessly.
And that, even if performing, she flirted back.
Love was a wicked thing. He didn’t like who it made him become. He might have been insufferable being a lovesick fool, but playing the part of a jealous lover didn’t, and wouldn’t, suit.
No, this was not how he would live. Nor would it be how he spent the rest of this year.
“Drink, sir?” The footman stopped, holding up a polished tray full of port.
It wouldn’t be strong enough, but it was a beginning. He grabbed a glass and gulped it down, glaring in the direction of Mr. Haskett as he sat beside Tilly.
“Come play, Davies,” Stephen urged, calling from across the room.
He never had the stomach for cards. He left that to Rafe. But then again, he rarely drank, and in the past few months, he found it a little too easy to indulge. Up until recently, his life was planned and regimented.
And since meeting Tilly, none of that made sense.
Hell, he was smiling and laughing, and he had participated in a damn snowball fight. Willingly.
All of this was terrible.
And the worst of it was, he was so undeniably in love with Matilda Brennen that he didn’t see an escape.
But how could you love someone whom everyone else also adored? How could you do so without letting that jealousy eat away at you over time? And what if she eventually saw that he was nothing special to regard?
