Chapter 3

Three

R osella strolled into the sitting room and frowned. Every inch of the room was covered in greenery, and in the middle of it all stood her father, the Duke of Clare, along with the Duke of Kissinger. They were surveying the accumulation as if trying to decide how to divide the spoils. It was most disconcerting to witness, and she did not know what to make of it at all.

“Father,” she began, “what in heaven is all of this?”

Slowly, he turned to face her. When he met her gaze, she saw that his eyes were filled with excitement. “We are going to create our own Christmastide decorations,” he explained.

Rosella frowned. “Is this what the two of you were concocting last evening while we were awaiting dinner?”

The Duke of Kissinger grinned. He was a handsome man well into his prime, with dark hair and eyes an arresting shade of blue. She could easily see where Lucian had inherited his striking appearance. Lucian would likely age as gracefully as his father and, no doubt, become even more handsome as the years passed. Though, perhaps, she was biased… “The servants did assist us,” Kissinger explained. “Once everyone has arrived, we will explain everything.”

She had not known why she had been summoned to the sitting room, but this now made much more sense. They had never done anything like this before, and it would be a delightful change to their tradition. Though all the holly and pine branches were a bit excessive. She narrowed her gaze… was that mistletoe? What were the dukes thinking, bringing that into their decorating scheme? Did they hope to catch their wives under the greenery? Perhaps it was as innocent as that… After all, everyone in attendance had a spouse except her and Lucian. And if they were trying their hand at some misguided matchmaking—well, she supposed she could actually accept that. She did wish to increase Lucian’s attentions and could use all the assistance she could get in achieving that goal.

“What inspired you to do this?” she asked.

It was a splendid idea, and she wondered why they had not considered it sooner. It would give her ample opportunity to spend time with Lucian. Perhaps, in some small way, it might even open up the possibility of something more with him. As for the mistletoe… she was not above using that to her advantage. She had often wondered what it might feel like to be kissed—particularly by Lucian.

Her father, the Duke of Clare, shrugged. “It seemed like a way for us to come together and create some memories.”

“It is indeed,” she told him, smiling warmly. Then she narrowed her gaze. “It was something Mother said, wasn’t it?”

“Perhaps,” her father replied, adopting an innocent expression. He always tried to feign ignorance when it came to her mother’s peculiar insights, but they all knew that Lulia, the Duchess of Clare—a gypsy princess in another life—often had premonitions they took seriously. “It’s not for me to say.”

Which meant her mother had sworn him to secrecy. Well, wasn’t that interesting. There was only one reason her mother would keep such things to herself: she hoped for a particular outcome and feared tipping off her intended target—if that was the right term—might ensure the opposite result. Rosella could only assume this somehow concerned her. Asher was already happily married, leaving Lulia with only one child to match. She should be vexed at her mother’s machinations, but she could not dismiss the potential benefit. This could be exactly what she needed to win Lucian’s heart. “I’ll allow you to keep your secrets, Father,” she said magnanimously. “I have no real interest in discovering the depths of this scheme.”

At that moment, Noelle and the two duchesses strolled into the room. The Duchess of Kissinger paused and stared at the greenery overtaking the sitting room. “Oh, my, this is…”

“A bit much,” Rosella offered when the duchess seemed at a loss for words.

“It is,” the duchess agreed, then turned her attention to her husband. “What is the meaning of all this?”

“I’ll explain once the boys arrive.” Though they were all adults, to their parents, they would always be children. It was almost endearing.

As if on cue, Asher and Lucian entered the room. They each surveyed the space with wide eyes, but neither spoke. Instead, they turned their questioning gazes to the dukes. The Duke of Kissinger barked out a laugh, while the Duke of Clare appeared sheepish—a testament to their opposing personalities. “Come on in,” Kissinger said. “It is time to explain what we have in mind.”

Everyone gathered around the dukes, awaiting their instructions. “We asked Noelle to leave the estate undecorated,” Kissinger began, “so that we could take this opportunity to do it ourselves. It is our celebration, and we should do this to make it more memorable.” He motioned toward the array of supplies. “We have everything we need. Now we just need to create and hang the decorations.”

“This will take some time…” Asher frowned. “I suspect it will consume a good part of the day.”

“It very well might,” the Duke of Clare admitted. “But what fun it will be.”

“It seems… messy,” Noelle replied distastefully. “Must we do this?”

“Yes,” the Duchess of Kissinger said, beaming at her husband. “This is a brilliant idea, and I think it should become a new tradition.”

“Oh, bother,” Noelle said. “Very well. I will string some holly together. It might not be as terrible as it seems.”

Asher laughed and strolled over to his wife, pulling her into an embrace. “It won’t be, love,” he assured her. “I am here to help you, after all.”

The glance between them was breathtaking. Their mutual adoration was plain to see. Rosella felt a pang of envy at the love they shared. She stole a glance at Lucian and nearly sighed. He was her everything, and hopefully, given time, he would feel the same. For now, they had this chance together. The married couples would undoubtedly pair off to create their decorations. That left Rosella and Lucian to work together, and she could not have planned it better herself.

Lucian stared at the piles of holly and pine branches and frowned. What the blazes did his father expect him to do with all of this? He had never made decorations, nor had he ever wanted to. He sneaked a glance at Rosella and frowned again. She seemed remarkably happy about this development. Perhaps, however, there was something useful to be found in this endeavor. Noelle was occupied with her husband, and his parents were already working together, as were the Duke and Duchess of Clare. That left him with one logical partner for this project: Rosella.

If she wanted to make decorations to adorn the manor, then so did he. It would give him an opportunity to spend time with her—a chance he would not waste. This clearly mattered to her; therefore, it would matter to him. While he cared little for the decorations themselves, her enthusiasm made them important.

“Where should we begin?” Rosella asked, gesturing toward the piles of greenery, ribbons, and other various items scattered before them. “This is…”

“A mess?” he suggested.

Rosella chuckled. “Well, it is that,” she agreed, “but I was going to say overwhelming. I do not have the faintest idea where we should start.”

He frowned. She had a point. He suspected that neither of them had any experience in creating decorations. “What would you like to make?” he asked. That seemed the best place to start. With a clear idea in mind, they could sift through the materials and find what they needed.

She tapped her chin thoughtfully before replying, “We could use the holly, ivy, and rosemary to make boughs to hang along the banister and the grand staircase.”

“All right,” he agreed. “I will gather the materials, and we can begin stringing them together.”

It was fortunate that Christmas was only days away. The greenery would wither quickly if it had to last much longer. Still, it smelled wonderful, and even though he had not wanted to make decorations, he found the scent strangely pleasant. He carried the necessary materials over to Rosella and set them before her.

She sorted the ribbons and string into neat piles before starting to weave the holly and ivy together with an efficiency he could not help but admire. “You have done this before, haven’t you?” he asked.

Rosella shrugged. “Not exactly. My mother has projects she often has me help her with, and this is similar to some of those.” She picked up a sprig of rosemary and added it to the greenery. “It is not difficult.” She handed him a piece of string and a sprig of holly. “Would you like to try?”

Lucian considered for a moment before nodding. He took the string and attempted to attach the ivy and holly, but it did not go well. The whole thing fell apart and landed at his feet. Rosella giggled. “Here, let me show you.” She moved closer and held the string before him, her body brushing against his. He nearly groaned at her nearness. It would be so easy to pull her into his arms and revel in her warmth. But not here—not with everyone else around. For what he wanted, he would need privacy.

“Do you see what I am doing?” she asked.

Hell… he had not been paying attention. His thoughts were entirely consumed by her—her scent, her proximity, her everything. “Could you show me once more?” he asked. “I want to be sure I have got it right this time.” It was a lie, of course. He needed her to repeat herself only because he had not been listening. What a fool he was.

“Do you have any questions?” she asked, glancing up at him.

Yes. Far too many. He wanted to ask if he could kiss her. More than that, he needed to know if she could ever love him. But this was neither the time nor the place for such questions. He would have to find a way to get her alone. For now, he shook his head. “I think I’ve got it now. Thank you for your patience.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she glanced away. “It is nothing,” she murmured. “I am glad I could help.”

Lucian studied her carefully. Was she nervous? And if so, why? Could it be that she harbored feelings for him as well? Had their years of bickering been nothing more than a way to mask deeper emotions? The possibility intrigued him. Yet another topic to add to the growing list of things he wished to discuss with her.

They worked in companionable silence, crafting boughs of holly and ivy. When he finished his, he held it up for her inspection. “Do you think it is acceptable?” he asked.

Rosella grinned. “It is perfect.”

“I would not go that far,” he said with a self-deprecating smile. “I am not nearly as skilled at this as you.”

She waved his words away. “It is perfect because you made it. It doesn’t need to be anything more than it is.” She gestured toward their parents. “Should we ask them if we should hang it, or wait until all the decorations are finished?”

Lucian glanced toward the others in the room. He didn’t know what their intentions were, but he knew what he wanted. This was his chance to get Rosella alone. He turned back to her. “Let’s hang it. If they object, they can tell us later.” He grinned. “But I suspect they won’t say a word. They wouldn’t want to hurt our feelings.”

Rosella’s lips twitched with amusement. “In that, you are undoubtedly correct.” She gathered her bough and gestured toward his. “After you, my lord.”

“Not at all,” he said, bowing slightly. “Ladies first. I insist.”

She didn’t argue. Rosella turned on her heel and headed out of the room. Lucian followed close behind, his heart quickening at the thought of their time alone. He had many questions for her, and if fortune favored him, he might even steal the kiss he so desperately desired.