Under The Kissing Bough: 15 Romantic Holiday Novellas

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “You mean Lord Barclay? That’s so like him not to mention his title. Isn’t he nice?” Before Katherine could respond, Grace continued, “You brought the new gowns with you? You didn’t need to do that. I hope it didn’t complicate your travel here.”

  Katherine frowned, confused at Grace’s words. “Didn’t you want me to? And I’m afraid the maid delivered me to the wrong room.”

  Grace looked about. “Don’t you like this one? It’s one of my favorites, which is why I selected it for you. But we can move you to another if you prefer.”

  Katherine stared at Grace. “It’s not very practical for a seamstress. Wouldn’t you rather I took a room closer to the servants?”

  “You are here as our guest, as my friend. Not for your wonderful skills with a needle and thread.” Grace studied her, making Katherine uncomfortable, as it seemed she was seeing far more than Katherine would like. “Is all well? You look rather tired.”

  “I--I left the city rather abruptly. Mrs. Danby wasn’t pleased.” Katherine glanced away, hoping Grace would accept that as explanation enough.

  “You left your position?” Grace reached for her hands and held them tight.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I don’t care for that woman. You’ll be far better off doing something else. In the meantime, you’ll stay with us and rest and relax.”

  “Oh, but I couldn’t.”

  Grace tilted her head, her gaze sweeping over Katherine once more. “You’re overdue for a few days off, and what better time for that than the holidays? Besides, I’m going to need your assistance. We are having several guests and have only just arrived at Crawford House ourselves. I can’t possibly get everything done that I need to.”

  Katherine’s unease faded. Somehow, knowing she had a purpose here relaxed her. “I’m happy to help in whatever capacity you need.”

  “Excellent. I didn’t want Cole--Lord Barclay--to feel out of place, so one of your tasks is to befriend him.”

  Katherine’s unease flew back in full force, especially when she thought of his attractive features, the strength of him, the sizzle of awareness that filled her the entire ride from the train station. Not to mention that she now knew he was a titled lord. “Oh, I couldn’t.”

  “Why?”

  Katherine blinked, her mind blank. Because I am attracted to him? That would never do. Because he’s a lord? That seemed better. “He wouldn’t want to spend time with a seamstress.”

  “I hardly think your position at a dressmaker’s shop defines who you are, nor will it matter to him.”

  Katherine clenched her fists as panic filled her. Without that, she wasn’t anyone. Or no one she recognized. She immersed herself in whatever position she took, in whatever identity she invented. At this moment, she was between those things, leaving her rudderless.

  “Katherine.” Grace placed her hands on Katherine’s arms. “I am so glad you’re here. As my friend. As a guest in my home. I promise the festivities will be great fun, and you’ll enjoy our friends.”

  “I can’t.” As hurt filled Grace’s expression and her hands dropped away, Katherine reached for her. “I mean, I value your friendship more than I can say. But I don’t belong at the house party of a countess.” She shook her head, the idea of playing such a role frightening her. “I certainly don’t have the proper clothes for such a task.”

  Grace’s smile returned. “Then it’s a good thing we’re nearly the same size, isn’t it? Don’t worry about any of that. This is my first Christmas with Tristan. Matthew is excited and so am I. I want everything to be perfect, and having you here makes it so. Nothing else matters.”

  Katherine could only nod. She had yet to meet Grace’s son, Matthew, or her husband. What else could she possibly say?

  “Let us join the men for supper. I’m starving.” Grace looped her arm through Katherine’s to pull her from the room toward the stairs. “You need only relax and enjoy yourself. And might I remind you that miracles happen during the holiday season. Who knows what might happen with a little Christmas magic?”

  Miracles? Magic? Katherine could only shake her head. Such words were not in her vocabulary. Survival was a much more appropriate term.

  Yet as she and Grace descended the stairs, Grace’s enthusiasm became contagious as she shared her plans for the holiday celebration. While Katherine had no intention of setting aside her goal of determining a new place to live and a new identity, perhaps she could still enjoy a reprieve from her normal life.

  She couldn’t help but think of the shadows she’d seen in Lord Barclay’s eyes as they’d entered the festively decorated foyer of Crawford House. Perhaps she could find a way to help chase those away, however briefly.

  DANCING UNDER THE MISTLETOE

  CHAPTER THREE

  Cole settled into his breakfast, grateful for the unexpected solitude of the early morning for a few precious minutes. It was too soon to be so optimistic that he might be the only early riser, as most of the guests had yet to arrive. That didn’t mean he couldn’t hope.

  Solitude was normally his constant companion, and one he appreciated. But during the holidays, it became something else entirely--a demon he had to fight, else be dragged into the depths of despair.

  He shook his head at his musings. Rarely was he given to drama, nor did he appreciate it in others. Miss Flitchard didn’t seem the type to indulge in it either.

  Not that he knew her well. One phaeton ride and some bonding over a starry night sky didn’t make them friends. Yet he couldn’t deny that connection he’d felt with her, however briefly.

  His eggs and sausage were perfectly done, still hot. He nodded his thanks at the attentive footman, who refilled his coffee before easing back to blend into the wallpaper.

  A form appeared in Cole’s peripheral vision, and he glanced up to see Miss Flitchard hesitating in the doorway. Maybe he wasn’t the only guest who enjoyed early mornings. He prepared to quell his disappointment at the disturbance, and was surprised when that wasn’t one of the emotions filling him.

  She wore her spectacles again, as she had at dinner the previous evening. In truth, he liked them--or was it just that he liked looking at her in general?

  “Good morning.” He rose and bowed briefly.

  “And to you,” she replied with a curtsy. She paused a moment longer then seemed to make up her mind and entered, despite his presence, moving quickly to the sideboard.

  He sat and returned his attention to his meal, hoping to make it clear that conversation was unnecessary.

  She placed a far too modest portion of food onto her plate, in his opinion, then sat two places down from him.

  Clever of her, he decided, as the footman poured her tea. Close enough to converse if needed, and far enough away to allow him his privacy. Truly, she seemed to go out of her way not to be a bother in any respect. Perhaps that could be blamed for his sudden urge to be social.

  “Did you sleep well?”

  “I did. Travel was more tiring than I expected. Did you?”

  “Well enough.” He preferred to tell the truth when possible. Sleep was something that eluded him most nights, until the cumulative lack of it hit him like a hammer.

  She studied him briefly. “Did you travel a great distance to be here?”

  “No.” His lips clamped shut. They’d covered the basics of how they knew Adair and Grace during the intimate supper last night. But answering this question caused him to shift with embarrassment in his seat.

  He’d rather not explain that his home was merely a short ride across the fields, though a longer distance if one followed the road. That he couldn’t bear to remain there, alone, during the holidays. That explanation would only elicit the pity he so detested.

  When he didn’t add anything, she gave that single nod again. How she managed to put so much into that brief movement was beyond him. It was fascinating, really. That nod was graceful, intelligent, and respectful. It implied that she accepted his answer, or lack thereof, but wo
uld welcome additional details if he were so inclined.

  What would it take to have her nod more? With enthusiasm? To put something other than polite interest in her expression? He cleared his throat, hoping it would clear his wayward thoughts as well. What on earth was wrong with him?

  She remained silent, eating with efficiency, as though she did so to fuel her body and not for true enjoyment.

  “Humph.”

  Her graceful movements with her fork and knife paused midair. “Excuse me?”

  He glanced up in alarm, realizing the sound had not been silent, as he’d intended.

  Her brow raised in question, her eyes, the color of warmed chocolate, resting on him.

  Obviously, he’d spent too much time alone if he didn’t realize when he was making such noises. His mind was blank, unable to think of an excuse.

  “Just clearing my throat,” he said at last.

  “Of course.” Her gaze returned to her plate.

  He had the oddest urge to say something further so she’d look at him once again. He liked her eyes--the color, the shape, her lashes. With a frown, he stopped himself before he became poetic over them.

  Miss Flitchard brought out the oddest responses in him. Before he could ponder the reasons, he heard voices and laughter drawing near.

  Matthew, Grace’s son, entered, followed by Adair and his bride, their gazes full of each other, hands linked. Their affection toward one another would take some getting used to. Most couples refrained from public displays. Perhaps it was their recent marriage or the intimacy of the house party or the holidays, but they showed no such restraint.

  Cole couldn’t help but glance at Miss Flitchard to see if she revealed any reaction to the pair. Her lips turned up and her eyes were even warmer as she watched their hosts. He’d have to say she was pleased by their behavior.

  Cole rose, as did Miss Flitchard. “Good morning.”

  Adair grinned. “Please, no need for such formalities.” He waved a hand for them to return to their seats. “I trust you both slept well?”

  The conversation continued as they lingered over the simple meal.

  “Cole, have you met Captain Hawke, Adair’s brother?” Grace asked.

  “I haven’t yet had the pleasure.”

  “They’ll arrive soon,” Adair added. “You’ll like Nathaniel and his wife.”

  “Uncle Nathaniel is grand,” Matthew offered, clearly excited about the guests.

  “Katherine hasn’t met them yet either, though she’s heard me speak of them many times,” Grace said.

  “I look forward to it,” Katherine added. “Viscount Frost and his new bride are coming as well?”

  The idea of being amidst several couples made Cole uncomfortable. A glance at Miss Flitchard showed a hint of dismay on her features as well. He hoped she didn’t expect him to play the role of suitor with her.

  It only took a moment for him to realize she expected no such thing, judging by the coolness of her expression as their gazes caught. Perhaps she didn’t want to be paired with him either. The idea had him frowning.

  “Are you available?” Adair’s question pulled Cole out of his thoughts.

  Cole glanced around the table as he felt the weight of their stares. Obviously, he’d missed much of the conversation. “Of course.”

  Grace rewarded him with a beaming smile. “Thank you so much. I just didn’t realize the amount of greenery we’d need to decorate.”

  Adair’s eyes narrowed as he watched Cole, as he realized Cole had no idea what they were speaking about. “So kind of you and Miss Flitchard to gather it. I am certain you know the best place to collect holly and mistletoe.”

  “Mistletoe?” Cole preferred holly. Mistletoe suggested kissing. His wayward thoughts had him glancing at Miss Flitchard again.

  “We’ll need it for the kissing boughs.” Grace shared a look with her husband that made Cole feel like an old prig for not wanting to collect it.

  “Of course.” He glanced at Miss Flitchard. “When would you like to go?”

  She looked at Grace as though seeking her permission before she answered. At the countess’s nod, she said, “I need only get my cloak and I’ll be ready.”

  Cole hoped Adair wasn’t sending him on some fool’s errand merely for the purpose of throwing him together with the only other single guest. Yet he couldn’t deny how much he looked forward to spending time with her.

  Adair arched a brow in response, acting the innocent.

  With a sigh, Cole sipped the last of his coffee and decided he needed to have a conversation with Adair to clarify that neither he nor his wife should make any attempt at matchmaking during the house party.

  His focus was to put one foot in front of the other, living each day as it came. The future was something he avoided thinking about at all costs.

  ~*~

  Katherine found herself sitting beside Lord Barclay, or rather Cole, as he’d insisted she call him, this time in a brake drawn by two horses with room to carry the greenery in the back. The crisp air held a hint of frost this morning but no suggestion of snow. She raised the hood of her cloak, pleased to find warmed bricks at their feet.

  Grace had handed her a muff as she’d seen them off.

  Katherine was still confused as to why she and Cole had been enlisted to gather greenery. As many servants as there were in Crawford House, it was hard to imagine they were all too busy with other duties to be enlisted for this chore.

  But Grace appeared so nervous that the party wouldn’t go as planned, or the house wouldn’t look festive enough, that Katherine hadn’t been able to refuse her.

  “Is it very far?” she asked as he flicked the reins.

  “No.”

  The abruptness of his answer made her realize that he didn’t care to go on this outing. Well, that made two of them. She wasn’t much of a person for the outdoors, though that term referred to something completely different in London than it did here.

  She determined to hold her silence until spoken to. She adjusted her spectacles, wishing she hadn’t worn them. The things were a nuisance but had been part of her disguise as a seamstress. Grace expected Miss Flitchard to wear them, and no matter how many times Katherine had thought it over, she had yet to find a way to explain that she was actually Mrs. Flemming, a widow of three years. The fewer people who knew her real name, the better.

  Her mood shifted as the brisk, clean air filled her lungs, clearing the cobwebs of worry from her mind and invigorating her. Unfortunately, there wasn’t any snow to complete the picture, but the frost on the grass and foliage combined with the sun emerging from the clouds created a picturesque scene. Added to that was the jingle from the horses’ harnesses, echoing in the quiet of the countryside.

  Something shifted inside her, lifting her mood. How could anyone remain in a poor frame of mind when surrounded by all this?

  “It’s quite beautiful.” She said it to herself but wished she would’ve only thought it, for Cole’s gaze swung toward her.

  After studying her for a long moment, causing her already warm cheeks to heat further, he looked back out across the rolling fields.

  Perhaps this sort of view was something he was used to. How could anyone take this for granted?

  That made her look at the handsome man sitting so close to her from beneath her lashes. There had been a few times at breakfast when he’d appeared fully engaged in what was happening around him, but equally as many when he’d been immersed in his thoughts. Based on the shutter that came down over his features, she had to assume they weren’t good thoughts. Like now. Though tempted to draw him into conversation, she decided against doing so. Instead of worrying over him, she should focus on her planning.

  Six months at a time. That was what she had, assuming she was clever with her new identity and position. Then he’d find her, and she’d have to do it all over again.

  The man beside her cleared his throat, drawing her back to the present. “My property starts just there.” H
e raised a gloved hand to point to a line of trees on the horizon.

  “You live nearby?”

  “Do you see the thatched cottage at the edge of the trees there?” He pointed to the spot.

  “Oh, it’s charming. Like something out of a storybook.” The cottage, with its whitewashed walls and thatched roof, looked like it had been transported from medieval times.

  “It’s empty. Has been for well over a year now. That’s where my land starts. The best place to gather greens is on the northern border between Adair’s land and mine.”

  The way he said “mine” had her studying him closer. What would it be like to think of the land as far as you could see as yours? The idea was inconceivable to her. Since her husband’s death, all she owned could be easily packed into her two bags.

  “It is beautiful,” he said as his gaze swept from the view to her, the intensity of his hazel eyes causing a flutter deep inside her. “Sometimes I forget.”

  She nodded. “I suppose when you see something every day, that’s to be expected.”

  “It’s good to be reminded of its beauty. I take it for granted.” A puff of steam emerged as his warm breath hit the cool air.

  She waited, hoping he’d say more. She liked listening to his deep, quiet voice. He placed emphasis on certain vowels that must be common in those who lived in this area but, to her city ears, sounded almost lyrical.

  The silence between them was no longer awkward, as though now that they’d found common ground, even in just this one small area, they were comfortable together.

  However, the continued silence didn’t stop her from wondering about him. Pain lingered in the back of his eyes, of that she had no doubt, for she saw it in her mirror every day. She couldn’t help but wonder what had caused his.

  Before long, they approached a copse of trees. She’d never gathered greenery before and had no idea how to go about it. Once he halted the horses and secured them, he came to her side and offered his hand.

  “I must confess that I’ve never done this before.” She reached the ground, her gaze lifting to meet his. He was taller than she remembered, his broad shoulders appearing even broader in his thick wool coat. She reprimanded herself, determined to stop thinking about this man in such an intimate manner. “I’m not certain how to help.”