Page 40 of A Christmas Miracle for the Frosty Marquess
“It’s my pleasure, truly,” she said sincerely.
Clara held her breath, waiting to see if Elizabeth would pressure Julian. But no one said a word about it to him, and Clara was relieved. She hadn’t expected him to volunteer, and she didn’t fault him for that. But if he had been asked directly, she knew he would accept, however unwilling he might be. However, she did notice that he was silent again throughout the rest of the meal. Clara guessed he had been expecting a request, at least from his sister, to join their cause. She sighed inwardly. She had thought she was finally making progress with Julian. But it looked as though he was going to freeze up on her yet again.
After dinner, in an unusual break from custom, the gathering did not separate into ladies and gentlemen, retiring for their respective after-dinner activities. Instead, they congregated for a spirited game of Snapdragon. The air was thick with laughter and excitement as her father prepared the brandy to ignite the fire, which Clara knew would burn with a blueish tint and then added to the bowl full of liquor handfuls of raisins and dried berries.
Everyone helped blow out the candles closest to them in the room, dimming the light in the immediate area where the game would be played. Clara was excited, but as she glanced at Julian, who was once again expressionless, she wondered if he would come back around and allow himself to enjoy the game. Or would he revert completely back into the standoffish character he had been?
Chapter Eighteen
As the bowl of burning brandy cast a soft glow on wood and fabric, filtering through the room with a quiet elegance, Julian stood to the side, an observer rather than a participant as usual. The room was filled with laughter and conversation that effortlessly flowed. And in the center, set atop a heavy oaken table, was a large pewter bowl emanating sapphire flame.
The game, a daring blend of joviality and danger, saw the participants snatch raisins from the bowl of fire and, if daring enough, pop them into their mouths to extinguish the flames. It was an old holiday ritual, hailing from some blend of pagan rites and modern celebration, but tonight it had captured everyone’s enthusiasm.
Julian couldn’t help but feel a pang of cynicism. It was a frivolous game, after all. But as his eyes roamed the room, they landed on Clara, whose face was radiant with a blend of eagerness and uncontainable mirth. It was then that his inner skeptic retreated, shamed into silence by the unfiltered joy Clara emanated.
“Go on, Clara. Try not to burn your fingers,” her brother said, tossing her a teasing grin as she stepped forward to take her turn.
“Or singe your eyebrows,” added Clara’s sister, Amelia, with a sly smile.
Clara laughed, a high and musical sound that filled the room.
“Oh, do keep quiet, both of you,” she said. “I’ve seen you fumble your attempts, as well.” She giggled at William, her eyes sparkling like hazel stars.
For a fleeting moment, Clara glanced in Julian’s direction. Their eyes met and Julian felt his pulse quicken, a subtle but undeniable tremor of excitement coursing through him. Was he imagining it, or did her eyes linger for just a moment longer than they should have?
Clara turned her attention back to the Snapdragon, her slender hand hovering over the flickering flames as though measuring the capricious fire. She made her move swiftly, with grace and without any fear. Her fingers deftly plucked a raisin from the bowl, the blue fire clinging for a moment before she shook it off and presented it to everyone.
Cheers erupted from the crowd, accompanied by applause, and Clara took a graceful bow, laughing all the while.
William slapped her on the back.
“Well done, Sister,” he said. “Perhaps, you won’t burn down the house, after all.”
Clara playfully elbowed him.
“Be careful, William,” she said, teasing. “I shall remember this heckling the next time you require a favour.”
Amidst the laughter and the light, the fluttering flames casting surreal, dancing shadows on the walls, Julian realized that his heart had been captured. Though usually aloof from such festivities, tonight, the Snapdragon had lit something else aflame within him. It was a realization, fragile as the flicker of the fire, yet just as consuming. He was utterly entranced by Clara.
There was an undeniable truth that formed in that very moment. He wanted to be the cause of that joy on her face, to hear that laughter directed at him, to engage in playful banter with her as her siblings had. How remarkable it was that a simple game could reveal so much. He was playing a game of his own now, a high-stakes gamble for something far more unpredictable than a flickering flame.
He smiled, a subtle lifting of the corners of his mouth. As the next participant took their turn at the Snapdragon, Julian made a silent vow to himself. Before the night’s end, he would take a daring step towards Clara.
The jubilant cheers reverberated through the room as he approached the bowl, drowning out the usual sense of detachment that Julian so often experienced and projected. As Clara laughed and mingled with her siblings, her face glowing, he found himself in a rare state. He was unconsciously smiling, his eyes tracing her every movement. His heart, often so measured and resistant, felt surprisingly buoyant in the revelry of the room.
All at once, Julian wanted nothing more than to impress Clara. He cleared his throat, making a grand show of preparing himself. He knew he had once been good at the game. Thomas and he had played many times in their youth, and he was certain that he could find it in him to be as good a player as ever. He paused for dramatic effect, daring to glance at Clara. Her eyes were wide, as they had been when he had apologized to her earlier that evening, but a smile was playing on her lips.
“Everyone, let Julian concentrate,” she said, gently chiding her siblings, who were still playfully taunting each other. “Take your time, Julian. I believe you can do this with ease.”
Julian’s heart skipped at her words of support and faith. He focused squarely on the bowl, moving as gracefully as Clara herself had and, before he knew it, he had fetched not one, but three of the raisins in the bowl. The flames did singe his fingers, but he barely noticed.
“Well done,” the earl said, grinning at Julian.
Julian dipped his head in a nod, but he never took his eyes off Clara, who was now gushing about his success to her sister. Julian smiled. There truly was no sight like the joy present on Clara’s face in that moment.
The game continued, with Elizabeth and others daring their luck against the flickering blue flames. But the spectacle held no weight in Julian’s attention compared to the aura of Clara. She was animated in her discussions, her laughter as melodious as the strains of a fine-tuned instrument. Every time her eyes crinkled in genuine delight, a sensation warm and indescribable bloomed within Julian, as if her happiness were contagious.
His gaze flickered momentarily to Thomas, who stood at the far end of the room, engaged in conversation with his father but watching the scene unfold. Thomas had told Julian to try to give Clara a chance. At the time, Julian had dismissed such words, considering them well-intended but idealistic nonsense. And yet, that night, as he observed Clara, he found that he agreed with his cousin.
