Page 17 of The Mistletoe Duke
“He hasn’t actually asked me yet,” Catherine said, but held up one hand as Philip began to speak. “I have a request, however.” She met his gaze. “Ask me in one hour, beneath the mistletoe.”
His brows rose, but his own smile remained. “It would give me the utmost joy to do so.”
An hour later, the household assembled in the drawing room. The whole of Darton Hall was redolent with the smells of roast goose, baking bread, and evergreens. In the center of the room, the servants had hung a kissing bough fashioned of holly, ivy, and gold ribbons, along with the single sprig of mistletoe Philip had oh-so-reluctantly allowed into the house. It felt an eon ago, as though he’d been a different person then. And perhaps he had.
He’d been, he could now admit, a bit of an ass; so caught up in his responsibilities and worry over what was proper that he’d almost missed the treasure right beneath his nose. In that regard, he supposed he could forgive Christopher, for helping bring him and Catherine together.
But that goodwill was entirely erased by the fact that his brother had left her in peril, only concerned with saving his own skin.
“What’s going on?” one of the twins whispered loudly, twisting to look up at his mother.
“A Christmas surprise,” she said.
“Is it a horse and sleigh?”
“I want one, too,” the other boy declared.
“Hush, children,” Catherine said, walking into the room with Lady Fortnum at her side. “The gift is for me.”
Her voice was still throaty, and once again Philip cursed his brother. But she looked lovely, garbed in a cream-colored gown sprigged with scarlet flowers. He met her gaze, and felt a thousand years younger that he had the day before.
“Miss Randall.” He moved forward to take her hand, but she forestalled him.
“First, I have a gift for you.” She glanced at Aunt Agatha, on the settee beside young Olivia. “For your entire family, I hope. I understand that your husband and his brother parted at odds, and were never able to mend that rift.”
“Yes.” The dowager duchess nodded sadly. “It’s the reason for the clause in his will requiring that Philip and Christopher spend Christmas here. He saw them growing apart, and wished to keep them from going down the same unfortunate path.”
“Too late,” Philip said quietly, but Catherine shook her head.
“Perhaps not,” she said. “Lord Heatherton, please enter.”
A moment later, Christopher stepped around the corner. He carried himself with shoulders bowed, and for a moment Philip recalled the boy he’d been.
“Philip.” His brother took a deep breath, then let it out and came forward to stand beneath the bough. “I’m sorry for…well, for all the cruel things I’ve said. Even those that have some truth to them.”
Catherine gave a pointed sniff, and Christopher glanced at her, then back to Philip.
“I don’t think we’ll ever be friends,” he continued, “but it is my hope that we might, at least, not be enemies. In the Christmas spirit of peace and charity, will you shake my hand here, beneath the mistletoe, and agree to let bygones be bygones?”
“Oh, well done,” Aunt Agatha said softly as Christopher extended his hand.
For a moment, Philip stared at it. Could he forgive his brother for everything he’d done? All the little jabs and sneers, yes. But Christopher had been the worst kind of coward to abandon Catherine at the Assembly Rooms.
Yet, his brother seemed contrite. Perhaps he’d finally realized that he had to start thinking of more than just himself at every moment.
“Philip?” Chrisopher asked, his hand still outstretched. It was the vulnerable note in his voice that did it.
“Yes.” Philip stepped forward and clasped his brother’s hand. “I accept your offer of peace.”
Their gazes met, and he was glad to see the honesty in Christopher’s eyes. Perhaps things would be better between them after all, going forward.
“Huzzah!” Lord Weston cried, and his sons were delighted to take up the cheer.
Aunt Agatha wiped a tear from her cheek, while Lady Fortnum patted her shoulder.
“Wait.” Philip released his brother’s hand and raised his voice to be heard above the crowing of the twins. “I’m not finished.”
Christopher stepped back, the twins subsided, and, with a smile Catherine moved to stand beside him. He took her hand and then went to one knee on the Aubusson carpet.
