Page 92 of The Secret Mistletoe Promise
‘Is this about Dexter? Because he knew that you’d run away from your wedding the day you two met, and he didn’t ignore you or avoid you, did he?’
‘No,’ Imogen said. ‘The opposite.’
‘Exactly. The fact that you haven’t seen him since Edmund appeared is unfortunate, but it doesn’t mean all is lost. Christmas is a hectic time. You’re not hightailing it back to London, so you can afford to wait. And, knowing Dexter, a quiet chat after tonight’s show will suit him more than some grand, romantic gesture that has the potential to embarrass both of you. You’re doing the right thing, Imogen.’
‘Good,’ Imogen said, but it came out as a scratch, and she wondered if she could go up to her room and hide under the duvet until Christmas morning.
‘You look wonderful,’ Birdie said, when Imogen came down the stairs later that afternoon.
‘Not too over the top?’ She smoothed down the dress, which was a dark navy shot through with silver threads in a swirling, wind-like pattern. The sleeves were puffed, the hem halfway up her calves, and a silver sash added extra shimmer around her waist. Her dark hair was loose; she’d let it dry naturally so it had some waves in it, and the colour of the dress picked out the blue of her eyes. The only thing that would ruin the effect on the way there was her wellies. The green coat, she wouldn’t be without.
‘Not at all,’ Birdie said. ‘Very Jane Austen heroine with added Christmas sparkle. You’re beautiful, do you know that?’
‘Gran.’ Imogen looked away, embarrassed.
‘I mean it. You’re more rosy-cheeked and less rabbit-eyed than when you turned up on Halloween.’
‘From the corpse bride to the Christmas fairy.’
‘Exactly. Dexter will swoon.’
‘Dexter might be mad at me.’
‘Tush. Now, are you going to wear a woolly hat on the way there, or is vanity ruling the day?’
‘Vanity, but I’ll take it for the walk home.’
‘Sensible.’ Birdie chucked her cheek. ‘My granddaughter,’ she said, and her eyes were bright in the dim light of the hall.
‘My granny,’ Imogen said. ‘Thank you.’
‘Thankyoufor coming here.’ Birdie wrapped her own scarf around her neck. ‘For trusting me.’
Imogen squeezed her arm, and together they stepped out into the wintry dusk.
It felt like a mass exodus, except that everyone was walking in the direction of Mistingham Manor, not escaping the village for good. Families and couples trudged through the snow, impromptu snowball fights broke out, a couple of younger children were on a sled, being pulled by their parents. The ice rink was open but mostly deserted, because it was going to be there until the New Year, and who didn’t want a chance to nosy inside Harry Anderly’s manor, especially when it also came with an evening of Christmassy entertainment?
Imogen and Birdie walked arm in arm, picking up their wellie-clad feet in the thick snow, waving to people they knew. They reached the long, tree-lined driveway, and the fairy lights were aglow, a magical tunnel lighting the way.
‘Oh look,’ Birdie said, when they were halfway along it. ‘Mistletoe.’
Imogen looked, and saw that there was a bright-berried sprig tied to every tree with shimmering red ribbon, even though the bunches that had been up for Harry and Sophie’s wedding had long-since faded. ‘Did Harry do another mammoth order, do you think?’
‘No idea,’ Birdie chuckled. ‘There’ll be lots of kisses happening along here tonight.’
Imogen thought of Dexter’s promise, her own sprig of mistletoe still on her bedside table but looking decidedly forlorn, now. ‘Maybe,’ she said.
Sophie and Harry were waiting at the front door, Sophie in a beautiful maroon dress, the bodice partly sheer, her hair tied up elegantly. Harry was in a grey suit, white shirt and no tie.
‘Hello!’ Sophie’s eyes sparkled as she kissed Imogen, then Birdie, on the cheek. ‘You look wonderful. Are you excited?’
‘Terrified beyond measure,’ Imogen said truthfully, and Sophie laughed.
‘You’ll be brilliant.’
‘You will.’ Harry caught her eye and gave her an almost imperceptible wink.
‘Oh, fuck.’ Imogen smoothed her hands down her coat.
