Page 121 of The Mistletoe Countess
“I noticed you needed a new one for all the excellent work you do for us, Brandon,” Frederick offered, causing the man to nod stiffly and run a finger over the smooth, polished wood of the pen’s stem.
“Thank you, sir. It’s the best one I’ve ever owned.”
“It’s a small token for your service.”
The man refused to raise his gaze as he continued sifting through the gift paper. The firelight played across his etched features, deepening the lines on his face into a frown. Grace began fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve, her stomach lurching in sudden agitation. What if she’d chosen poorly? They hadn’t known each other a great while yet.
He raised the small bag to view first, reading the words on the front aloud. “Luden’s Cough Drops?”
“I don’t want you to become sick, dear Brandon, so I thought these may help with that nasty cough you seem to have so often.”
“Cough, madam?” His large brows rose in wonder.
“Yes, I’ve heard it fairly regularly, and these are supposed to help soothe any possible beginnings of an illness.”
Brandon’s gaze shifted to Frederick, and then the butler’s lips pinched and his shoulders seized, releasing a short-lived cough.
“See? There it is!” She gestured toward the bag. “And now you have relief.”
His lips pressed even tighter, but he nodded. “Thank you, madam,” but the way he said it sounded strained and tight.
Oh dear, she had chosen poorly. What would he do when he saw the second gift she’d picked?
Frederick’s hand suddenly swallowed up her fidgeting one, and he offered her a smile. “Don’t worry, darling,” he whispered. “You chose everything with such personal care, they’ll all appreciate them. I think you might be their favorite surprise this Christmas, and the gifts are just a bonus.”
“What do you mean?”
“You care, Grace. And they know it.” He squeezed her fingers, his gaze caressing her face with such tenderness it nearly brought her to tears. She wanted to grab his face and kiss him, but in the middle of a Christmas party in the Great Hall probably wasn’t the best time for acting on those impulses. “It’s been a long time since they’ve known such kindness from their mistress, and they may never have known kindness with such…generosity before.”
Grace breathed a sigh and turned just in time to see Brandon pull his lovely hardbound book from the wrappings.A Christmas Carol,in the beautiful red cover used when it was first published. His gaze came up to hers, brow pinched with questions.
“For the ghosts.” Grace shrugged. “So you’ll know what to expect next time.”
Then the most remarkable thing happened. Brandon laughed. Not just a simple chuckle, but a hearty, shoulder-shaking laugh that garnered everyone’s attention in the room and brought out their smiles—though Mrs. Powell looked more shocked than amused.
Grace’s bottom lip dropped in a wide-mouthed smile.
“Thank you, my lady.” Brandon chuckled through the words, taking out his handkerchief to wipe at his eyes. “I’m honored, and this particular book is very special to me because it was one my father used to read to me when I was a lad.”
It took everything in Grace not to pop up from her seat and give the sweet man a kiss on the cheek. Maybe she could later, when all the other staff weren’t looking. Surely Frederick wouldn’t find that too inappropriate for a countess, would he?
“I’m so glad it brings good memories with it, Brandon, considering the circumstances surrounding our spectral night of ghost hunting together.”
Another cough slipped from his smile, but this time it sounded much more like a laugh. Grace blinked. Had he been laughing all along? Perhaps he wasn’t in need of cough drops at all! For an amateur sleuth, she felt very silly, but the twinkle in Brandon’s dark eyes as he grinned at her somehow doused her momentary frustration.
Each servant opened their gifts, and each appeared to enjoy the simple offerings. Grace had gotten the cook a new hat to wear to church, since she’d heard the woman had a fondness for hats. She’d cooed and aahed over the green felt as if she’d never seen a hat before. And with the dashes of auburn in her hair, the round-faced woman looked rather fetching wearing the lovely shade of green. Grace had chosen classy new heels for each of the maids, and she’d particularly chosen the fur-lined ones for winter, as well as a book for each person. With a few strategic questions here and there, she’d learned of interests and reading levels—some rather surprising. Who would have known that Mary enjoyed Gothic romances? She seemed like such a quiet girl.
Mrs. Powell, as reserved as the woman usually was, sat in shock for a good ten seconds before responding when she opened the teapot Grace had chosen for her. Mary had mentioned how Mrs. Powell loved butterflies and had recently chipped her personal server, so when Grace had seen the Herend Rothschild china tea set in the window of a local shop—complete with a bright flourish of butterflies—she’d snatched it up. Grace had made sure to leave her gift for Lady Moriah on a table in the woman’s room so she could open it on her own. She’d felt compelled to give her mother-in-law her own beloved version ofPilgrim’s Progress, complete with Grace’s own rather whimsical notes in the margins.
After all the servants opened their gifts, the dancing began. Grace had read about the Servants’ Ball, a festive time for the servants to dress in their best and enjoy dancing, merriment, and delicious food, along with their employers, that usually happened in January. But given that both Frederick and Grace were rather happy with quiet, subdued holidays—and since they’d apparently fulfilled their social duty by attending the Kerifords’ Christmas party—Frederick had agreed to Grace’s suggestion that they hold the Servants’ Ball on Christmas Day.
After the presents and a solemn moment of Frederick reading the Christmas story from the Gospel of Luke, Grace encouraged the quiet housemaid Lucy to take to the piano, and the dancing commenced. Frederick gallantly sought out Mrs. Powell, who stood slack-jawed for the third time that evening, as he asked for a dance, and Grace encouraged the rather reticent Brandon to be her own partner. Elliott took the opportunity to ask Mary, and other partners made it to the floor of the Great Hall as Lucy impressed them all with her expert repertoire of country dance tunes.
Grace gave Lucy a reprieve from piano playing so the young girl could have her turn at dancing, which enabled Grace the opportunity to watch the others from her perch in the corner of the room. The massive tree glowed with golden electric lights, the firelight waved its toasty warmth across the gleaming wood floor, and the room hummed with the happy chatter of people who may have been different as far as society was concerned, but not so different at the heart. As Grace looked from face to face, she claimed them all as her new family. Even the grumpy footman John, who refused to dance with anyone at all.
Her eyes narrowed as she stared at him. Perhaps he waited because he had a secret engagement to a young woman in the village and felt that dancing with any other lady would betray his wholehearted devotion to his beloved.
Grace sighed as her gaze settled on her handsome hero. He was dancing with Mrs. Lennox, and the cook’s rosy cheeks were a sight bit rosier than usual. His smile shone with kindness, his dark eyes lit with the glow from the surrounding lights.
