Page 56 of Lord Farleigh and Miss Frost

“Not in the slightest. If anyone understands complexities of emotions, I hope it would be an artist. We paint with shadow as often as we do with light. But may I make a suggestion? Instead of returning to the lanterns, perhaps we should step outside a moment. It is cold, but the fresh air may help clear your thoughts.” He offered her his arm.

“A lovely idea.” The shockingly cold air would give her a jolt back to the present. Why had she turned so weepy at the memory of Sean? At the realization that she felt something like love for Simon Dinard, Lord Farleigh?

My heart is letting go of Sean all over again.She shivered at the thought. Was she ready to let her feelings for Sean slip further into the past, making way for something new?

* * *

The workof a duke never ended. How was it that so many members of the nobility seemed to fritter away their time in idle pleasure while Simon’s father, one of the wealthiest of them, never seemed to have a moment’s rest?

Simon left his father’s study in a rush he hoped the duke did not notice. He had spent the better part of the morning closeted with the duke, going over accounts for the various properties and estates linked to their family. He hadn’t seen Isleen since breakfast.

The eagerness with which he at last sought her out would have disturbed him, if he took the time to examine it. Which he did not.

With his legs taking the longest strides possible, without outright running through the corridors, he made for the Regent’s Gallery, where he knew the ladies had begun to work upon the Christmas Eve decorations.

As he bounded across one of the larger corridors, he nearly passed a door which stood slightly ajar, letting in a draft of frigid air.

Simon slowed, looking over his shoulder when something beyond the door caught his eye.

Isleen, standing outside, leaning against a stone railing.

Whatever was she doing there? And how fortunate for him, to catch her. He adjusted his route, though not his speed, and burst through the door out into the open air.

“Isleen, here you are—” She turned, as did someone standing a few feet away. Someone Simon hadn’t seen. His cousin, Thomas Childwick. “That is, Miss Frost. Thomas. Ah.” He had stopped in his tracks, hardly aware of the cold, focused instead on the wry smile of his cousin. “What are you two doing out here?”

The words had come out more accusatory than he meant, though they were entirely directed at his cousin.

Thomas appeared most amused. “Merely taking a moment to enjoy the bracingly fresh winter air.” He glanced at Isleen, who twisted a handkerchief in her fingers. Her cold fingers. What was Thomas thinking, standing out of doors in such weather? What if Isleen caught cold?

Simon took his coat off, leaving him in shirtsleeves and waistcoat. Perhaps not appropriate public wear, but nothing all that inappropriate in the walls of his own home. He draped the coat over Isleen’s shoulders. “You should have at least brought out a shawl, Miss Frost. You cannot take ill right before the ball.”

Not when he intended to dance with her as often as he could that evening. Or, perhaps, be the one to claim that kiss beneath the mistletoe. If he won the wager. Which he was fairly certain he had. The last several challenges she had given him were far too easily accomplished. Almost as though she wanted him to win.

He had led an evening of charades the night before, at her behest. Helped the children hang their paper chain in the large tree positioned in the Guard Room downstairs, while she continued to express dismay at such an idea of bringing an enormous tree in its pot of dirt into the castle. He’d even smuggled a tray of gingerbread to the school room and the gaggle of children when she suggested it a fit trial for him.

“We only meant to stay out a moment,” Thomas said, not sounding nearly repentant enough. “But then we started talking, and perhaps I lost track of the time. Do forgive me, Miss Frost.”

“Of course, Mr. Childwick.” Then, with a less gentle tone to Simon, “Really, Lord Farleigh. I am perfectly well.”

Isleen pulled the front of his coat tightly in front of her, and her large dark eyes stared up at him, her lips slightly turned up as though his reaction had amused her. He reflexively rubbed at the back of his neck and stepped away, shooting another glare at his cousin.

Thomas chuckled, then covered the sound with a hand over his mouth. He coughed. “Beg your pardon, Farleigh. If you’ll excuse me, I think I had better return to my lantern painting.” He bowed. “Miss Frost. I enjoyed our time together.”

“As did I, Mr. Childwick.” Simon could detect nothing but sincerity and sweetness from her tone.

The moment Childwick disappeared through the door, leaving it barely ajar behind him, Simon gave Isleen his full attention.

“Would you like to go inside?”

“I imagine you would, standing here in your shirtsleeves.” She pulled his coat up around her neck. And did he imagine the hum of satisfaction after she inhaled deeply? He hid his pleasure as best he could.

“I am all right for the moment. As long as you are not cold.”

She raised her eyebrows at him, and a little smile appeared at the corner of her mouth. “I find myself cozy at present.”

He couldn’t help grinning down at her, and it seemed the most natural thing to step closer, to smooth out the overly-large coat across her shoulders. “It looks better on you than it does on me.”

She scoffed and lifted her chin upward, out from behind the dark blue wool of his coat. “Of course it looks better on me. I’m a sight prettier than you are. Though it could stand to be taken in.”

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