Page 1 of The Marquis, the Minx, and the Mistletoe
Prologue
The first of December is, without question, one of the most magical moments of the year. No, it is not one of the grand holidays which we all clamor around, but perhaps it is because of this that its enchantment is so potent. Perhaps the magic can truly shine when the day is quiet and unassuming.
Any child will tell you that the frost in the air begins to truly sparkle once the month of Christmas arrives. Adults might not notice the rosy flush that the cool winds bring to their cheeks, nor the bracing thrill that fills their lungs with every gulp of shimmering winter air, but they feel it, all the same. Cups of steaming hot chocolate, sipped near a roaring fire as laughter and contentment and storytelling wrap their warm embrace around all, young and old, is the gift that December brings.
There was a particular December, many years before our story begins, which looms heavy in the memories of our heroes. For it must be remembered that the magic of the season visits us all in different ways, and many do not see the true value of a gift until it has the opportunity to blossom in the days and years that follow.
Take, for example, little Tatiana Everstead, who on this first of December, all those years ago, was a bright-eyed six-year-old, sprawled on the floor of her grandmother's country cottage, just west of the city of Norwich. She wore her raven-dark hair in a blue ribbon with a large, glossy bow on top. She took care not to spill on her dress, but instead managed to burn her tongue in her eagerness to drink down her tea all at once.
Little Tia loved her grandmother more than just about anyone else, and these stolen stretches of time where she had her all to herself were more precious than any of the bright, candy-colored gifts she would open in the coming weeks. Her parents and sisters were well and fine, but no one quite had the magic in their company that Nana did.
"Pace yourself, little one," Nana chided, unable to hide the affection in her voice even in admonishment. "The leaves will read better if you drink calmly."
This was a secret gift, one Mama and Papa would never approve of. Nana's talent for telling the future had once caused the Everstead house some small scandal, and so Papa had forbidden his mother from performing her tricks, especially in front of the children. This was why it was much more fun to be alone in Nana's cottage than visiting back in Norwich at the Everstead house.
Nana did not much care for the rules Papa enforced. She wore her black and silver hair long and straight down her back, instead of curled and pinned like a proper lady. She still put rouge on her lips with a dab of rose oil, despite Papa insisting that such a thing was unseemly for any woman, much less a widow of advanced age. She sang and baked her own bread and befriended those far above and beneath her own status, much to his dismay.
Nana was magic. Everyone knew that.
Little Tia was devoted to keeping her grandmother's secrets. She sometimes wondered if Nana simply trusted her to hold her tongue or if she had divined Tia's loyalty somehow, with her magic. It was a question she would never ask aloud, even as she blossomed into a young woman, though she would come to suspect that her father had known the truth all along and was not moved to put a stop to it.
She was fixated on the cup of tea, her little eyes crossing to meet the tip of her nose with every sip, hoping to catch a glimpse of the leaves at the bottom. So focused was Tia that she missed the first flakes of snow that began to drift lazily down to the ground outside Nana's window.
"What question will you ask the leaves?" Nana asked, her voice warm and affectionate as she watched her granddaughter from her favorite chair.
"I want to know about my true love," Tia said with a wistful sigh, clutching the blue teacup between her slender fingers. "I want a prince or a knight, with golden hair and blue eyes, gentle and elegant and romantic, Nana."
What she did not say was that she also wished for everyone in the world to be just a little bit jealous of her, for winning the love of this imaginary prince. She did not speak of the nights she had lain awake, fantasizing about a glowing, golden hero; handsome perfection, who danced like an angel, and sang like a nightingale, and wrote the most beautiful poetry. He would be a perfect, elegant creature who did not snore or prod her with his elbows in the night, as her sisters did.
"You aren't making a wish," Nana reminded her, raising her dark eyebrows. "You are asking a question. You must be grateful for any answer, even if it is not the one you imagined."
Tia twisted her lips and nodded, though she knew in her heart that she only wanted her wishes fulfilled and nothing else.
"There, now," Nana said, lifting herself from her chair and sinking down on her knees next to little Tia. "Close your eyes and take your last sip, and think of your question one more time."
Tia nodded, taking a deep breath of that magical December air and closing her eyes, the dark fringe of her lashes resting on her round little cheeks, and she finished her cup of tea in a single gulp. She shivered, almost afraid to open her eyes again, and held the cup out to her grandmother before doing so.
"Let's see here," Nana mused, a little smile playing on her rose-stained lips. She pulled Tia into her side, wrapping her arms around so that she could hold the mug in front of them both. "How will you find your true love, hm? What do you see?"
Tia blinked at the mug, squinting down at the mush of leaves that sat in the bottom. "A dog," she decided, "a running dog."
"Hm," Nana mused, rotating it a little, "and now?"
"A bird?" Tia pondered. "No, a bat! A big, ugly bat! Nana, that isn't very nice!"
"Shh," Nana whispered, unable to hold in a chuckle as she tilted the mug again. "Do you see how the leaves have all stayed in the bottom of the cup, but divided in half? That is curious. It may mean that you must lose one love to gain another."
"I thought it was a snowflake," Tia said with a frown. "I do not want to lose any loves."
"Well, life is full of loss, my love," Nana assured her, making one last rotation of the cup and gazing down at it intently. "You might lose a friend or a pet or even me before you are ready to find him. Or perhaps you will have to leave one life to pursue another. That is all right. It is the way of things."
Tia could not repress a pout, pushing the teacup away and turning her face into her Nana's shoulder. "Now it just looks like a crying face," she complained. "I do not want to be sad before I can be happy."
"How can you be happy if you do not know what sadness feels like?" Nana asked. "These are only hints, my love, signs along your path. You always have a choice. You will need to listen to yourself, to your inner wisdom, to know which choice is the right one, no matter how many dogs or bats you see."
"But I will find true love?" Tia asked, her voice muffled by the sleeve of Nana's dress.
"Oh yes," Nana said, continuing to ponder the leaves in the cup. "Yes, indeed, you will. I promise you this, my precious one."
