Page 10 of The Christmas Ball
“Just past the woods, milady,” the footman said.
“Very good.” Mena had on her duchess voice—the one that brooked no disagreement. “Gather the others. We’ve a Christmas tree to rescue.”
CHAPTER FOUR
A Christmas tree? Grayson exchanged a look with his sister. The Beckford household certainly seemed overfond of their greenery. Charlotte gave him a small smile as the two of them turned their mounts to follow the duchess and Lady Viola.
Lady Viola Harrington.
Damn and blast, but he couldn’t stop thinking of her. Even now, it was impossible to keep his gaze from her elegant neck, where her glossy hair looped like a raven’s wing over her pale nape. He knew the scent of her: roses underlaid with the peppery spice of geranium. A fitting perfume for a lady of her temperament.
He’d nearly kissed her, in that moment when the first flakes drifted from the sky. And for an instant, he’d thought she would welcome his attentions.
Then she’d pushed him away, that flash of desire he’d glimpsed in her eyes banished by annoyance.
It was most ungentlemanly of him to even be contemplating such a thing, but thoughts of her tormented him. He couldn’t count the number of mornings he’d awoken and had to tend to a certain bodily stiffness before his mind settled enough that he could go about his day.
As if feeling his gaze upon her, Lady Viola turned in the saddle and gave him a cool look.
“Thank you for your company, Lord Winslow, Lady Charlotte” she said, “but I don’t believe we’re in need of your assistance any longer.”
“Viola,” Lady Beckford said softly, “don’t be rude to our neighbors.”
“It’s snowing,” Lady Viola continued, ignoring her sister-in-law. “One wouldn’t want to keep you out in the weather any longer.”
“On the contrary,” Grayson said, mostly to provoke her, “if your brother requires assistance, then the more hands available, the better. We’ll soon have his cart out of the mud, and then everyone will be free to go home.”
“If you insist.” She gave a little toss of her head and swiveled back around in the saddle.
Her spine was very stiff, and he couldn’t help smiling at her rigid posture, offset by the jaunty little riding hat she’d pinned on top of her dark tresses.
At his side, Charlotte gave him a thoughtful look, but he refused to meet her eyes. His sister could draw whatever conclusions she wished, but he’d no intention of enlightening her as to the state of affairs between himself and Lady Viola.
If there evenwasa state, considering their awkward history.
When they reached the road, the snow began coming down in earnest. The trio of footmen ducked their heads against the weather, two of them pulling a hand cart piled high with greenery. Everyone stayed on the verge of the road as much as possible, as the center was indeed a muddy mess. No wonder Lord Thornton had gotten stuck.
Grayson made a mental note to inspect the condition of the roads at Westbrook. One more thing to tend to, but he didn’t mind. Now that the manor house roof had been repaired and the interior quite comfortably refurbished, he was ready to turn his attention to the grounds and surrounding fields. Come spring, he had big plans.
It didn’t take long for them to reach the stranded cart hauling the Christmas tree. Grayson blinked to see the enormous evergreen, the top of it protruding a good three feet past the end of the vehicle. A draft horse was hitched to the front of the cart, a grizzled fellow upon the bench holding the reins.
“Theo,” Lady Viola called, waving at a gentleman standing, hands on his hips, beside the cart.
“Vi!” He grinned. “I’m glad to see you’ve brought reinforcements.”
His boots were muddy, his coat spattered, and Grayson surmised he’d been pushing the cart from behind while the driver encouraged the horse forward.
“You’re lucky we were out collecting greenery.” Lady Viola drew rein, then gestured to Grayson and his sister. “These are our neighbors, Lord Winslow and his sister, Lady Charlotte.”
“Theodore Harrington, Viscount Thornton, at your service,” the viscount said, doffing his hat with a bow. “I’d heard you were considering purchasing Westbrook. Welcome to Yorkshire. Other than terribly muddy roads, I trust you’ll find it agreeable.”
“Now that it’s snowing, I’m quite content,” Charlotte said. “Though I’m sorry your cart got stuck.”
“As am I.” Lord Thornton glanced at the mired wheels. “Now that help has arrived, I’ve no doubt we can free it.”
He strode to the back of the cart and the footmen joined him. Grayson slid off his mount, handed the reins to his sister, and made to join them.
“You’ll get muddy,” Charlotte warned.
