Chapter 8

Upon reaching the sanctuary of her bedroom, Holly sank down in the chair before the hearth. All of her was trembling—her hands, her breath, her heart. She set the cards down and then, with only a moment’s hesitation, cast the sprig of holly and mistletoe into the fire. It smoldered for a moment, then caught, emitting a smoky scent of forest mixed with regret.

She wished she had her cashmere lap robe, but she’d neglected to retrieve it from her brother. Instead, she wrapped her arms about herself and stared at the flickering coals, the last berries burning to ash.

What was happening to her?

She’d always thought herself immune to the rogues and rakes who were her brother’s friends. But somehow Lord Theodore Harrington, Viscount Thornton, had breached the moat of serene intentions about her heart.

She tried to tell herself he was toying with her—yet he’d denied it, and she had to believe him. It would take the worst sort of rake to attempt to seduce the sister of his good friend beneath the man’s very roof. And while Lord Thornton had a bit of a reputation, he was not that kind of man.

Which begged the question—what was he about? Not courting her, surely?

She shivered at the thought.

Her reasons for declining to marry were quite sound—and most certainly shouldn’t be cast aside in favor of a handsome fellow with a taste for gambling. No matter how eligible he might be in all other respects.

The only explanation was that he must still be addled in his thoughts. Surely he’d recover in the next few days. Until then, she’d do well to stay far away from him.

And stop thinking about him.

To that end, she fetched the novel she’d been reading, turned up the lamp, and attempted to distract herself. It worked, at least for a half an hour, until a knock sounded on her door.

Rose burst in, as usual not waiting for Holly’s reply.

“The tree’s done—come see!” she said, then wrinkled her nose. “What’s that dreadful smell?”

“A bit of greenery fell into the fire.” Holly narrowed her eyes at her sister, debating scolding her for putting mistletoe above the viscount’s bed.

But then she’d have to admit that it had led to a kiss, and the less said of that, the better.

“Speaking of greenery, and fire, the servants are just now lighting the candles. Put your book down—you mustn’t miss it.” Rose reached and took Holly’s hands, drawing her reluctantly to her feet.

“Very well.” It would be foolish to remain sulking in her rooms all evening, and she did want to see the Christmas tree in all its glory.

When she stepped into the hall, however, the sight of Lord Thornton made her whirl back around and yank her door open.

“Whatever’s the matter with you?” Rose grabbed her arm and, despite her resistance, towed her over to where the viscount leaned on the ebony cane Ash had lent him.

“Lady Holly,” he said. “Your sister tells me you’ve arranged a surprise for me.”

“I…” She glared at Rose, then smoothed her expression and turned to the viscount. “It seemed the thing to do.”

“Well then, I look forward to discovering whatever it is.” He offered his arm.

“Do help Lord Thornton down the hall to the landing,” Rose said sweetly. “I must go ahead and make sure all is ready. Don’t look until I say!”

She swooped off, her plaid taffeta skirts rustling, leaving Holly alone with their guest.

“We should fetch Ash,” she said, glancing back down the hall.

“I understand he’s already been gathered.” Lord Thornton glanced down at her, his dark eyes contrite. “I owe you an apology.”

“For the kiss? I assure you, sir, nothing more needs to be said of it.”

“No.” He took a breath. “For thinking something of you that was untrue.”

She blinked at him. Was he implying he’d thought her a lightskirt? “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“I don’t suppose that you do. I thought you were a reckless gambler.”

She nearly tripped over her skirts, which made him stumble, and for a moment they clung to one other for balance. Once they were steadily underway again, Holly took a breath and attempted to order her thoughts.

“Are you a reckless gambler, my lord?”

He gave her a wry smile. “I am not. It seems perhaps we’ve been at cross-purposes. But I must ask you—what were you doing in St. James that afternoon?”

Here it was; the moment of her undoing. Yet she would not—could not—lie to him.

“I was there to attend a speech by Mrs. Caroline?—”

“Norton,” he finished. “Concerning the injustices suffered by women.”

She halted again, staring at him in shock. “What do you know of it?”

“Why, I was there.”

“To gawk, or protest her sentiments?”

The corner of his mouth curved in a smile. “To support the lady. After coming across one of her pamphlets, I was curious to hear her speak in person.”

“Then you understand why I cannot marry,” Holly said. Her heart felt coated in frost—a distant, icy misery she could not bear to let herself feel.

“No.” He tilted his head. “I understand you wouldn’t want to marry someone who doesn’t also believe that women deserve a more equitable place in the world.”

Her pulse thrumming through her, she met his gaze. “Do you share that view, sir?”

“I do,” he said, very solemnly.

They stood there, staring at one another. Slowly, he raised his hand to cup her cheek, the caress like feathers, like sunlight.

Everything shifted, possibilities opening inside her that she’d barely dared hope for. She’d thought she could never marry, hadn’t dreamed that perhaps she might find a man who supported the arguments for women’s rights. Let alone a fellow she was already falling in love with…

“Come!” Rose’s voice echoed down the hall.

With a sigh, Holly took a step back. “My sister’s summons cannot be ignored.”

“Shall we?” He offered his arm and she threaded her elbow through his, lending her support to his halting pace. Truly, she was in equal need of steadying. His revelation had left her quite unbalanced.

They continued down the hall, careful not to look at one another, though the prospect of their future vibrated in the air between them.

The corridor ended in an archway leading to the great hall. They stepped through, and Holly couldn’t help a soft gasp of delight as she beheld the Christmas tree.

The chandeliers overhead had been extinguished, and the only light was provided by dozens of small candles twinkling among the branches. She smiled to see not only sugar spoons but soup spoons and teaspoons as well, hung from the boughs, the curved silver reflecting the flames.

“But…is that my tree?” Lord Thornton shook his head as they came to a halt at the railing, beside Rose, Ash, and Lord and Lady Hartley.

“The very same one that nearly took my life,” Ash said dryly. “It seems more well behaved, now.”

His mother sniffed at the reminder, but said nothing.

“We’ve civilized it,” Rose said.

“That you have.” Lord Thornton looked at her. “You said it was your sister’s surprise?”

“Holly was the one who arranged to fetch it out of Knavesmire Wood,” Rose said.

Ash nodded. “You were out of your mind, insisting it go to Dovington. She was nearly ready to carry it upon her back up to North Yorkshire.”

“Ashby,” the earl said reprovingly.

“And we have our parents to thank,” Holly said. “For agreeing to having it installed at Hartley House.”

“You fetched it, though.” Lord Thornton turned to her. “Why?”

“Because you asked,” she said simply.

He looked at her a long moment. “Perhaps there is something else I would like to ask. Dare I hope for your answer?”

Oh, heavens. He wasn’t… He couldn’t be… Tears sprang hotly to her eyes, blurring the candles on the tree into a hundred bright stars.

“You may,” she said, blinking furiously to keep the tears at bay.

Lord Thornton nodded, once, then turned to the earl. “Lord Hartley—you must forgive the abrupt manner of my request. But I seek leave to court your eldest daughter, Lady Holly. Might I have your permission to do so?”

Rose let out a little yelp of glee. She was quickly shushed by Ash, who muttered something admiring and profane under his breath.

“Most irregular,” their father said, sounding more confused than upset.

“Yet quite satisfactory,” his wife put in, squeezing her husband’s arm. “Don’t you think so, my dear? Viscount Thornton has much to recommend him.”

“Well, in that case…”

They all stood, frozen, waiting for the earl’s response.

After a moment, Lady Hartley let out a sigh, and poked her husband in the side. “You mean to say yes, I believe.”

“Er, of course I do.” He turned to Lord Thornton and offered his hand. “Welcome to the family, young man.”

“Papa,” Rose whispered, “he hasn’t asked Holly yet.”

“That’s quickly remedied.” Lord Thornton turned to Holly and took her hand.

The light from the tree illuminated his strong features and long nose, and she thought she’d never seen a more handsome man. Nor one who saw her in return for who she truly was.

“I’m afraid it’s a bit difficult for me to go down on one knee,” he said. “But I assure you I am kneeling in my heart. Dearest Holly, I can think of none other I would want for a wife, a companion, a fellow crusader. Would you do me the very great honor of becoming my viscountess?”

“I will,” she said, happiness blazing through her, brighter than all the candles on the tree, or the stars in the sky. “I will, indeed.”