A Grosvenor Square Christmas

by Vanessa Kelly

“There you are!” Sebastian cried, making Susannah stop in her tracks. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  She turned. There he was, behind her. Smiling.

  It was enough to make her previous conviction to be cross with him melt away into nothing. But no! Aunt Julia would be horrified if she knew she had melted so quickly. A man must earn your smiles.And Sebastian’s smile, heart-stopping though it was, had certainly not yet earned hers.

  “Why?” she murmured, trying to keep her tone cool. “So you can yell at me again?”

  “What? No!” he said, coming to stand close to her. “And I did not yell at you.”

  “You most certainly did,” she began to argue. And found her voice rising like when she used to squabble with Sebastian over who actually won an arbitrary race on horseback. She took a deep breath and tried to restore her features to that of a young, polished lady.

  Oh damn, where was the retinue of young men that flocked about when she need them? Unfortunately, she had asked the gentlemen to give her a moment to attend to her dress in the ladies’ retiring room. A flimsy excuse to collect herself – she hadn’t even gone to the ladies’ retiring room. She had simply drifted to a different corner of the dining room. Parkhurst and the rest must have wandered to the card room and would be lost there for several minutes.

  “I have no wish to argue with you,” she said instead, gathering herself

  “Excellent, I have no wish to argue – oof – with you,” he tried, as someone bumped into him. It was terribly crowded in here. From what she could tell of the music, a new dance was about to start, hence a great deal of shuffling toward the ballroom.

  “Then what do you wish?” she asked, coolly, ignoring the crowds and letting a little smile dance over her features.

  “Just to start – oof!” Another person bumped into him, making him jump and making Susannah swallow a little laughter.

  “Oh hang it,” he said, and grabbed her hand.

  “Sebastian!” she cried, but it was lost under the opening notes of a fast reel. He pulled her through the crowd and just off the side into…

  An alcove. Curtained, with a small curved bench meant for people seeking respite. Or privacy. But the space was very tight. So tight, Susannah found herself standing almost toe-to-toe with Sebastian.

  She forced herself to ignore the heat that radiated off of him. The small flakes of snow melting into droplets in his sandy hair. Instead, she met his eyes. And waited.

  “Hello,” he said.

  “…hello,” she replied, perplexed.

  “I thought I should start off with hello, seeing as I neglected to say it earlier.”

  Her brow came down in confusion. Where was he going with this?

  “Not because you took me by surprise,” he continued. “Although you did. But because I didn’t think I needed to have a beginning with you. Since we began so long ago, you see.”

  One eyebrow rose.

  “But I was wrong, and for that, I apologize.” His eyes became suddenly sad, and it was all Susannah could do to not reach out and touch his cheek. But she restrained herself. “I was away too long,” he whispered. “Three Christmases, six birthdays. However many weeks…”

  “One hundred fifty-six.” She found the corner of her mouth ticking up. “You were missed,” she concurred. “At home.”

  “Did you miss me?” he asked suddenly, and a thrill of heat ran through her. Between them.

  “Yes.” Her answer was frank. Calm. “Did you miss me?”

  “I missed far too much of you,” he answered. “I did not even realize how much until I came here and found the little girl that I knew had gone.”

  “She’s not gone,” Susannah conceded. “Not entirely. I still ride Clarabelle at home.”

  “Do you now?” The corner of his mouth ticked up.

  “In breeches,” she whispered.

  Something lit in his eyes. Some kind of… anticipation. And now she knew why her Aunt Julia had ordered her to not wear breeches while riding with other people. Not because they would offend. But because they could entice.

  She blushed at the thought, broke his gaze, looked at her shoes, at the little bench, and the candles dripping festive red wax in the wall sconce, looked at the eave they stood under, and the vines of ivy and garland that hung there.

  “I want the chance to start again with you, Susannah,” Sebastian whispered. “This new Susannah. I am a bit off-kilter here, and if you would simply give me the opportunity to catch up, I think you and I… I think we could…”

  He let that sentence drift off. Left her breathless at what he might have said.

  “Oh, I’m making a complete bungle of it, aren’t I?” He dropped her hand – had he been holding it this whole time? Ever since he pulled her in here? – and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “No, you’re not.” She reached out and put her hand on his arm, unwilling to break the connection. “And yes, I suppose a fresh start is fair.” After all, she reasoned, she’d had years to nurse her feelings. He’d had approximately ten minutes.

  A grin spread across his face, sending her heart into a hummingbird’s pace. She found herself smiling too.

  No, it was not him falling to his knees professing his love.

  But it was a start.

  “Then perhaps I should ask the beautiful Miss Westforth to dance.”

  The fast-paced reel was in its final notes now. A new dance would start up in minutes. “I would love to.”

  After a moment of held gazes and breaths, Susannah finally realized she was the one blocking their way out of the alcove. With a blush and a grin, she turned and made to move, but was stopped by Sebastian’s hand, trailing down her arm, a silken touch, finally catching at her hand.

  “Wait,” he said. She turned. His eyes were on the ceiling above them. “I need to ask you something.”

  “Yes?”

  He pulled her to him slowly, so much so that she did not know if it was him or gravity.

  “I heard… Did you really turn down an Earl over the summer?”

  Susannah’s eyes went wide, and then her cheeks heated up. But she kept her gaze on his. Finally, she nodded.

  “My friend Jude.” He coughed. Then began again. “He said that there were only two reasons a lady would turn down an Earl. If she was waiting for love, or if she had the means to be particular.”

  She kept her eyes on his face. Searching. “You know my family, Sebastian,” she answered calmly. “Do you think I can afford to be so choosy?”

  Her family was landed, and even if she remained unmarried, she would never be impoverished. But her mother had nearly fainted when she was informed of the riches and luxuries that Susannah had given up by refusing a man of such status as that Earl. There were some things a girl simply did not say “no” to.

  But Sebastian simply held her eyes, as he arrived at the answer. She could read every feature. It thrilled him. It terrified him. But still, he held tight to her hand, and now, he wrapped his free arm around her back, pressing her even closer.

  She had never stood this close to a man before. Not even when waltzing. Her mind went entirely blank, while her body became entirely awake. Then, he flicked his gaze up to the ceiling. To the the garland overhead, and to the little weed hanging from the center…

  Mistletoe.

  And she knew. Susannah knew she was about to be kissed. Well and truly kissed for the first time. By Sebastian. And it would be the moment that he finally came to know, to feel everything she felt for him.

  The kiss that would alter everything. The last first kiss.

  He lowered his head to hers. Their lips a breath apart.

  “Are you certain?” she found herself saying. “If you kiss me – everything changes.”

  “And don’t you think it’s about time?” He grinned. And tilting her chin up, pressed his lips to hers.

  And Susannah, lost in that wonderful consuming last first kiss, in the warmth and press of his body wrapped
around hers, had one single joyous thought shining above everything else.

  She had been right this whole time.

  One kiss did change everything.

  Out on the balcony, the snow falling around them, Lucy Frost, Lady Winterson, stood facing Philbert. Her butler of over thirty years.

  Her truest friend.

  Neither had moved, neither had spoken for some minutes. Because if either spoke… their carefully built lives would fall apart. One way or another. The way things were could not last.

  “Do you think Mr. Beckett’s found her by now?” she finally asked, her voice a squeak. The war of her wanting to hold onto the moment and her need to fill the painful silence finally came to a head.

  “My lady…” Philbert began.

  “I only ask because I thought it might be useful to have the band play another waltz in a song or two, help them along.”

  “My lady, I…”

  “He likely has found her. After all, youth has the advantage of speed and vigor. And impatience.”

  “Lucy.”

  She stopped. Her heart stopped. And then, something else fluttered to life. Not new, no… simply dormant. It had been waiting. Waiting for years.

  No, the way things were could not last, she realized. But perhaps… perhaps she did not want them to. Perhaps, they could brush it aside and make way for something better. And that one little word – her name on his lips – thrilled her with the thought that it was not only possible, but worthwhile.

  “I know you heard me,” Philbert said at last. His rigid butler’s posture came undone. He looked nervous… and young. But then again, hope always made one young.

  “I… yes, I did.”

  “And you have nothing to say?” he replied, waiting.

  But Lucy did not know what to say. Her heart fluttered in her chest, her body rooted to the spot for fear of flying away.

  After a moment, Philbert’s shoulders sagged. “I see. I will tender my resignation, my lady, as soon as a replacement can be found.”

  “Wait!” she cried. “I do have something to say, if you will allow me a moment.”

  He blinked, but said nothing, giving her a short nod of acquiescence.

  And then she did the only thing she could.

  The brave thing.

  She took three short steps, rose on her tiptoes, and pulled his head toward hers.

  The kiss rocked both of them, a kiss of too many feelings long growing and long denied. When they finally broke apart, he held her back by the shoulders, searching her face. Needing answers.

  “Is this real?” he whispered.

  “Yes,” she breathed.

  “I’m old, Lucy. I have no time for games.”

  “You forget, Philbert, I am old too.”

  He toyed with a graying curl at her temple. “Never,” he whispered. “You will always be the bright-eyed young woman who, after interviewing me, told me that my job hung on my ability to hang Christmas garland.”

  “And you will always be the man who I hired because he could reach the top of the library shelves without a ladder.”

  “And because I had excellent references.”

  “Pish – every butler has excellent references. You had the advantage of height.” She slapped his chest at his smirk. “You jest, but that was the criteria I used, and I have never made a better decision in my life.”

  “I cannot fault you, then.”

  Her eyes softened, her lips curved. “This is the first time I have wanted my Christmas Ball to end. So we need not be butler and mistress. So we can be more to each other.”

  He grinned at her, a wickedness entering his eyes, sending a thrill down her spine, connecting to where his hand had come to rest at the small of her back.

  Oh my.

  “I, for one, cannot wait to get started, my lady.” His voice became a prayer. “My Lucy.”

  And as Lady Winterson smiled up at her butler, her truest friend, her soon-to-be-lover, she was struck by the truth that so many other couples had learned over the years.

  That there was magic to be found at the Christmas Ball, at No. 3 Grosvenor Place. One need only look in the right place.

  The End