Page 10 of The Mistletoe Countess
Frederick had never been the charmer. Too direct for some. Too reticent for others. Women usually supposed he was standoffish because of some darker turn of thoughts, but in all honesty, he remained inept at the wooing game. Blake wore the gift like the clothes on his back, placing his words and his smiles in perfect synchrony to capture women with his charms, but the constraints of “proper” dialogue hung like a noose over most conversations Frederick experienced with women.
Except Grace Ferguson. But her youth afforded an uncommon ease and authenticity.
Celia had ruined him to simple trust, even in himself. Her deceit had torn his world apart and ripped him of the closeness he’d once known with his brother. Frederick looked down at Lillias. But she was not Celia, and he desperately needed to give Lillias the benefit of the doubt. After all, he was the greater beneficiary of this bargain. Her massive dowry.
The conversation with Lillias took its usual superficial course. She was the sort of woman who kept her ideas close and her emotions beautifully manicured for the purposes at hand. A well-trained and strategic skill designed by the upper class, which left men in frustrated confusion at the true personality of the woman of interest. Frederick preferred some help in the grand scheme of marriage, if he could find it.
“Did you enjoy your afternoon with your friends?” His gaze darted back to the man at the table she’d left. “I can only imagine the difficulties of leaving your home.”
“Oh yes, and you have been gracious in allowing me time to spend with them.” She swayed closer to him, teasing with a little of the coy atti-tude she’d given earlier in the day. “But in the evenings, I’m all yours.”
Her palm smoothed up his chest to rest against his shoulder, the touch inciting heat from his neck to his temples. Yes, she knew the way the world worked, didn’t she, but why the sudden display?
“I mean to lessen the sting of this transition as much as I am able. And I do wish for your happiness.” He drew in a deep breath, his directness not exactly in tune with romantic sonnets. He worked her name onto his lips. “Lillias.”
“I believe you do.” Her eyes took on a vulnerable look before she glanced away. “Having Grace join me for a few months will ease the sting, I’m sure. Thank you for your forbearance with her. She lives life too authentically for anyone’s good.”
His gaze locked with hers. “Authenticity can be seen as a virtue in many instances.”
Lillias’s attention flickered away, her cheeks darkening. They took a turn about the room as people enjoyed various sorts of card or board games. A few women flittered about with wedding talk on their tongues. “My world is very different than yours, yes, and you will face disappointments in it, but I’d like for this to be a true match, Lillias.” He tried her name again. Not as difficult the second time. “A true commitment, if possible. Hopeful for both of us.”
Her gaze came up to his, a shadow passing over her expression. “I want that as well.”
He released the breath he didn’t realize he’d held. “With Mother’s connections, I imagine you will be able to make new friendships rather quickly.” He swallowed to wet his dry throat. “New…attachments, I hope.”
She gave the slightest hitch of breath, diverting her attention to the corner of the room where a few of her friends stood in conversation, along with the man Lillias had shared the table with earlier. Something flickered between them. Frederick’s stomach clenched.
He took her arm and turned her to face him. “You don’t have to do this, Lillias.” He lowered his voice, drawing her closer. “Not unless you’re certain. For both our sakes, I’d rather you decide now than uncover any pretense later.”
“There is no pretense, I assure you.” Her eyes widened, uncertainty wavering over her expression. “I…I am determined.”
“There’s no need to act rashly.” He searched her face. “We can extend the engagement period if you have doubts—”
“No!” Her abrupt response silenced him. She fixed her focus on him with such determination, almost desperation, he couldn’t look away. “I would be lying if I told you I didn’t harbor grief and regrets at leaving those I’ve known and…” Her words stalled. “Those I…love. But despite the trial ahead, I am a woman of my word and dedicated to improving my family’s interests as well as yours. I don’t need more time.”
She searched his eyes, her expression solemn, and—God help him—he wanted to believe her. “Once we are wed, you will have my complete allegiance and my unreserved affections.” Her expression softened, imploring with those engaging round eyes of hers. “I don’t want to prolong anything. But do allow me these last few days to enjoy the life I’ve always known before I must embrace a new one.”
She felt the weight of the game, as he did. The sacrifice. The freedoms they both aborted once the wedding rings wrapped around their fingers. Yet upon further inspection of her beautiful face, her apparent dedication, perhaps there was hope for more than a contract.
“I would be honored with your allegiance and affections, Miss Ferguson, and I sincerely hope to lessen your regrets. Take as much freedom in these last days as you need.”
“You are very kind, Lord Astley.” A faint sheen of tears glistened in her eyes. “Very kind.”
“Oh my goodness, Lillias, look where you’re standing!”
Frederick turned from his spot with Lillias to find Grace approaching on her father’s arm, her grin stretched as wide as possible, it seemed.
“You’re under a Christmas kissing ball.” Grace’s announcement lilted. “How romantic.”
Frederick raised his gaze to the doorframe above to find a small orb of greenery wrapped in twine and ribbon hanging above his head.
“They have mistletoe inside them, Lillias.” Grace’s whole expression brightened like the electric lights on the tree nearby. “You know what that means!”
Frederick looked over at Lillias, whose entire face had paled.
“What a charming idea, Grace.” Lillias breathed out the comment, her gaze flickering around the room. “But I prefer to keep my affection for Lord Astley to a more private venue.”
Grace rolled her eyes and then paused, her gaze fixed on something nearby. “Good night, Mr. Dixon, you’re wearing quite a severe expression for a card party. Did you lose to Mr. Cole again?”
