Page 1 of The Grand Mistletoe Assembly
MIRACLE ON ST. JAMES’S STREET BY NINA JARRETT
Spice Level ??
Copyright © 2023 by Nina Jarrett.
All rights reserved.
CHAPTER 1
NOVEMBER 11, 1820
The Honorable Mr. Cameron Bolton contemplated the ballroom with a critical eye, noting the expensive attire and exuberant expressions of the couples dancing. A mere spare for a rather insignificant baron from the far north, he barely made the cut to attend such an illustrious event. His recent service as an officer in His Majesty’s army gave him slightly better credentials, but, nevertheless, he was uncomfortable surrounded by the elite of theton. He had only attended this evening because his good friend, Mr. Brendan Ridley, who was the heir to a barony in Somerset, had insisted Cameron accompany him.
Just as Cameron was wishing he were back in his rooms reading a good book, his focus turned to the seating area usually haunted by shy wallflowers, disregarded companions, and elderly guests, and a ravishing young woman caught his eye, his gaze riveted to her sweet oval face framed by curling ebony locks. But that was not what held his attention. It was the book she hid in the folds of her gown, for she was ignoring the dancers and music to steal time to read. A woman after his own heart, her obvious love of reading trumped the sought-after entry to this ball.
After hesitating for some time, he made the decision to discreetly approach her despite the impropriety. Cameron did not know who she was, and he did not recognize the young noblewoman who stood nearby, clearly standing guard over her charge. The chaperone had unusual red-blonde hair and was with child. She looked to be the same age as the woman he was eyeing, but clearly had reached a different station in life as a wife and expectant mother. While the blonde chatted animatedly to a friend, the lady who had captured his interest took the opportunity to read surreptitiously.
Cameron could not shake the desire to approach the girl to find out who she was. If he could speak to her, he might find a way to be formally introduced. As it was, he barely knew anybody at this ball, so he had no inspiration for how to meet her. Ridley had vanished, presumably to engage in a tryst with one of the loose widows he was so talented at uncovering at such events, which left Cameron an outcast with no acquaintances at this fashionable gathering of society’s most important members. He vaguely recognized a few faces from his time at Harrow, but no one he was confident enough to approach. What if he recollected their names incorrectly and made an arse of himself?
If he secretly spoke to the girl, he still might not find a path to meeting her, which accounted for his hesitation. But the intense bemusement on her face while she read drew him with an inextricable call. He had never encountered a woman so enamored with reading, which greatly intrigued him. Books had long been his friends on his lengthy and lonely campaigns in the army.
Compelled to know who she was, he affirmed his decision to risk speaking to her in the hopes that she might assist him in seeking an introduction to her chaperone and thus a formal introduction to the alluring young lady herself. If he failed to be formally introduced this evening, perhaps he could question her about her social engagements so he could meet her another night. There was no time to dally, for only a few events remained before thebeau mondeleft London for their country estates to celebrate the approaching holidays.
Decision made, Cameron checked his cravat, straightened his tailcoat, and tugged at the cuffs to ensure he was prepared before he began to skirt the elegant ballroom illuminated by hundreds of candles reflecting off strategically placed mirrors to enhance the light.
* * *
Isabelle turnedthe page of the book she had hidden upon her person. The only reason she attended these social events was because Papa, her true father, the man who had raised her, had insisted she seize the opportunity to ally herself with the current Earl of Saunton.
Over the years, Papa had held her as a child in his arms when she wept from the pain of skinned knees, lifted her high to touch the sky, and sang her whimsical ballads of bonnie lasses and strapping lads. He had encouraged her love of books and learning and taught her any subject that took her interest, despite her unfashionable thirst for knowledge as a young woman. A scholar and a tutor, Papa had married her mother to give her the protection of his name when the late Earl of Saunton had failed in his responsibilities as a father to his unborn child.
If Papa wanted her to cement her connection to the current earl, who had privately claimed her as his sister, she would obey. However, she was not obligated to like it. She would prefer to be at home with her parents and her father’s pupils, discussing literature in front of the fireplace, than at this infernal ball attended by the wealthiest members of high society. She knew she did not truly belong here, although she appreciated the lengths her newly found elder brother had gone to, introducing her to important people and striving to secure her future with ties to the elite that would aid her rise in social status.
Papa had said it was essential to him that she be protected and safe, and that a link to a powerful earl and his friends would help her secure a better future than what he could provide her as a lowly scholar. Isabelle trusted her beloved parent, so she was cooperating despite her disbelief that she would find an interesting gentleman among the prideful lot at these high society events.
Living in her brother’s unfamiliar household these past weeks still felt awkward. While she had been warmly welcomed there, she was uncomfortable among these people, and only her loyalty to Papa prevented her from packing her valise and finding passage back to Saunton.
Isabelle looked up to find her chaperone, Lady Saunton, chatting to her cousin, Miss Lily Abbott, whom she had met several times since coming to London. Satisfied that no one paid her any mind, she lowered her gaze back to her book.
“What are you reading?” a deep male voice asked. It came from her right, where columns created a well of shadow next to the bank of spindly chairs.
She flinched in surprise. An encounter with a strange man could ruin her, so she furtively glanced over to see who addressed her from the shadows.
* * *
Cameron waitedwith bated breath to see how the young woman would respond to his audacious question, careful to stay positioned behind a Doric column covered in gleaming scagliola. He watched her freeze in alarm before she carefully stretched her neck to throw a hidden glance in his direction. After several moments, she unfurled an ivory and green fan and raised it to flutter in front of her mouth as if to cool her face.
“It is a book on etiquette,” she responded in a low voice.
“You read etiquette at a lavish ball?”
Still fluttering the fan, she smiled as she watched the dancers pass by in a twirl of silk and wool. “I have only recently entered society and am still committing the rules to memory. It would not do to use the wrong fork or address a peer incorrectly.”
“Surely you should have read the book before you attended a ball?”
She frowned, her slight scowl visible in profile. “Sir, this conversation is most improper!”
“I appreciate that, I do. Please be assured this is unusual behavior for me, but I caught sight of you reading and simply could not turn away without learning more about you.”
