Christmas Betrothals: Mistletoe Magic

‘So you are saying that you would go?’

‘Lady St Auburn is a friend of mine. I should like to catch up with her news.’

‘Would you be able to travel down too, Jean? Lillian can hardly go unchaperoned.’

Her aunt sighed heavily, but accepted the responsibility, giving the impression of a woman who would have preferred to be saying no.

The house was beautiful, a six-columned Georgian mansion, the grounds as well manicured and fine as she had visited anywhere.

They were late. She could see that as they swept up the circular driveway, a crowd of people in a glass conservatory to the left of the house. From this distance she could not be sure that Lucas Clairmont was amongst them, but John Wilcox-Rice at her side did not look happy.

‘I cannot imagine why you should want to come to this party, Lillian. The set St Auburn hangs with are a little wild and if he did not have so much in the way of property and gold I doubt he would be so feted. Besides, the man always seems slightly unrestrained to me.’

‘Cassandra is Mrs Weatherby’s youngest sister, John, and I have a lot of fondness for her.’

‘Then you should have seen her in the city.’

‘But Kent is lovely at this time of the year. Surely you would at least say that?’

Jean stretched suddenly, waking as the carriage slowed and stopped.

‘Goodness. Are we here already? The roads south get quicker and quicker. Perhaps we should persuade your father to acquire a property here rather than in Hertfordshire, Lillian, for it is so much more convenient for London.’ She looked out of the window at the sky. ‘Have you ever seen such a clear horizon, none of the yellow smog on show?’

A group of servants milled around the coach, waiting for the party to alight, the younger boys already hauling the luggage off and listening for instructions as to where it should be taken.

The Davenport family seat of Fairley Manor came to Lillian’s mind as she saw the precision and order that accompanied their arrival. The housekeeper bowed and presented herself and the head butler was most attentive to any needs that the small group might have.

Wilcox-Rice in particular was rather grumpy, barely acknowledging the efforts of the St Auburn servants to please. He did not even want to be here, he mumbled under his breath, and Lilly wondered why she had not seen this rather irritating trait in his nature before.

But with the sun in her face and the promise of a whole weekend before her, she felt buoyed up with hope. She had pressed one of her orange flowers in a book in her travel bag to be able to show Lucas Clairmont, for she knew flowers in this season would have cost him a fortune that he did not possess and she wanted him to know, at least, that she had appreciated the gesture.

‘Lillian!’ Her name was called and she turned to see who summoned her. Cassandra St Auburn walked towards her, her bright red hair aflame and the sweetness in her face all that Lillian remembered.

‘You came! I thought perhaps that you would not.’

‘Indeed, it is such a lovely spot I should be loathe to miss out. Lady St Auburn, this is Lord Wilcox-Rice. It was noted on my invitation that I could bring a partner.’

‘Yes, of course.’ Cassie shook the outstretched hand and Lillian detected disquiet. ‘But I thought your aunt was coming …’

‘Here I am, my dear, a little late to alight, but the bones are not quite as they used to be.’ Jean thanked the servant who had helped her and turned to the house. ‘I was here when I was about your age with Leonard St Auburn.’

‘My husband’s grandfather. He is still here, though he spends much of his day now in the library.’

‘A well-read man, if I remember rightly. Very interested in the world of plants.’

Cassandra laughed and Lillian liked the sound. A happy and uncomplicated girl! Sometimes she wished she could have been more like that.

‘Most of the party are in the conservatory,’ she continued on. ‘Would you join us there after you refresh yourselves?’

‘That would be lovely,’ Lillian answered as they were ushered inside, the quickened beat of her heart steadying a little as they mounted the staircase.

Twenty minutes later they walked towards the group of guests standing around a table well stocked with food and drink.

Lucas Clairmont was nowhere in sight and part of her was annoyed that she could not have met him here informally. The Earl of St Auburn, Nathaniel, came over to join his wife. He had once rather liked her, Lillian recalled, when she had first come out, though it was such a long time ago she doubted he would remember it.

‘Miss Davenport!’ His smile was welcoming. ‘And Lord Wilcox-Rice.’ Her Aunt Jean had elected not to come downstairs, but have a rest so that she would be refreshed for dinner. ‘We are very pleased that you could both make the journey.’

He placed a strange emphasis on ‘both’ and Lillian saw a quick frown pass between the St Auburns, an unspoken warning from Cassandra, she thought were she to interpret it further. Did they already perceive her and John as a couple? She swallowed back worry.

‘You have a large number of people here. Do you expect any more?’ Her mind raced. If Lucas Clairmont did not come after sending her the invitation she would never forgive him!

‘A few of the neighbours will come tonight for dinner and Mr Clairmont will bring Lady Shelby down from London.’

‘Caroline Shelby?’ John’s voice had the same ring of masculine appreciation that she had heard in the tone of each man who had discussed the newest beauty on the London scene.

‘She couldn’t leave town any earlier so Nat asked his friend to wait and escort her.’

Lillian felt the muscles in her cheeks shake, so tight did she try to hold her smile. If Clairmont had invited her here to flirt in front of someone else … Lord, the whole weekend would be untenable and she wondered how she might return to London without causing conjecture.

No. Her resolve firmed—she would not turn tail and disappear. For five days now she had been walking on eggshells at every single social occasion just in case she should see him, her words rehearsed so as to deliver the nonchalant greeting she wanted.

She needed to thank him for the flowers and move on to the next part of her life, and if memory served her well she knew him to be off to America in merely a few weeks’ time.

Luc waited as the girl gathered her shawl and minced to the carriage. Her chaperon, a woman in her mid-forties, followed behind her. Lord, would they ever be ready to go? He looked at his watch and determined that Lillian Davenport should have already arrived in Kent.

Would Nathaniel have told her of the reason for his lateness?

Caroline Shelby placed her hand in his as she gained the carriage steps and kept it there long after the need lapsed. Extracting his fingers, he put his hands firmly by his side, sitting on the seat opposite from the two women and looking out of the window.

‘It should take an hour,’ he said with as little emotion as he could muster.

Caroline giggled, the sound filling the carriage. ‘They say the St Auburns have a beautiful house?’

‘Indeed they do.’

‘They say if you rode from one end of the estate to the other it may take all of a day.’

‘It may.’

The echo of Virginia loomed large. To go from one end of his property to the other would take a week and he missed it with an ache that surprised him.

‘I should love to see it on horseback. Do you ride?’

He nodded, hoping she did not see this affirmation as an invitation.

‘Then we must find some horses and venture out,’ she replied and his heart sank at the sentence.

‘I have some business with the Earl—’ he began but she interrupted him.