Page 6 of The Christmas Ball
CHAPTER TWO
“Please, might we attend the Harrington’s Christmas Ball?” Lady Charlotte Tate asked, clutching the newly arrived invitation and giving her brother a pleading look. “I do so want to become better-acquainted with our neighbors.”
Grayson regarded his sister, who’d tracked him down in the library. Her gray eyes were bright with excitement, her smile hopeful. With a sigh, he closed the book he’d been reading and rose from his comfortable armchair beside the fire.
“I’ve met the duke,” he reminded her. “And, as you’re no doubt aware, that family is very high in the instep.”
Their snobbery, in fact, had made a fine excuse for why they hadn’t gotten to know the inhabitants of the nearby estate during the summer. Encountering the duke’s sister naked in a pond had nothing to do with it.
Charlotte’s expression fell, even as she waved the invitation at him. “Yet I heard Lord Beckford married a woman with common roots. And look, they sent an invitation! Surely they’re not snubbing us any longer? Honestly, Gray, you’re a marquess after all.”
“Mm.”
He took the book he’d been reading—a treatise on Roman aqueduct construction—and slipped it back into the shelves. It hadn’t been holding his attention anyway, despite the irrigation possibilities.
He’d told his sister that his first call upon Lord Beckford had been an uncomfortable one. It was true, although he’d neglected to mention that having a glass of brandy with the fellow had been quite cordial. It was what had transpired beforehand that made him hesitant to set foot back at Dovington.
No doubt the ladies—Viola Harrington in particular—would not welcome his presence and the reminder of her impropriety. Steering clear was the gentlemanly thing to do.
Especially as thoughts of her plagued him most ungently.
The outline of her nipples against the wet linen of her chemise, the way the fabric clung to her stomach and thighs, the feel of her body against his, only thin cloth separating them…
He cleared his throat and turned to the window. Outside, rain spattered against the mullioned panes, and once again he regretted coming to Yorkshire for Christmas. Whatever had he been thinking? Being here had not settled his mind one whit—indeed, it had only deepened his carnal musings concerning Lady Viola.
And even though he prized his so-far-elusive quietude, his sister was of an age to make an excellent match. It was unfair of him to mew her up in a distant country estate with no social life to speak of.
“I didn’t think it would be quite so dreary here,” Charolotte said, echoing his thoughts. “You said it would snow, at least.”
“I said itmightsnow.” He turned to face her. “But you’re right. We shall accept the invitation to Dovington Hall for the Christmas festivities.”
And he would stay far, far away from the impossibly headstrong and utterly tempting Lady Viola Harrington.
***
“They accepted?” Mena’s eyes widened as she regarded Viola over the luncheon table.
“Yes.” Viola frowned and tried not to crumple theRSVP, instead setting it carefully down beside her plate.
To her dismay, Lord Winslow had replied that he and his sister would be delighted to attend the Christmas Ball. And as the hostess, she’d be obliged to interact with them, at least a little bit.
“It will be perfectly all right,” she said, to reassure herself as much as Mena. “I’m more than capable of being cordial.”
A telltale dimple at the corner of her friend’s mouth made Viola purse her lips, but she truly didn’t want to argue. The less said about Lord Winslow, the better.
“Speaking of the ball,” she continued brightly, “since it’s finally stopped raining, I was thinking it would be a good afternoon to gather greenery in the wood. Care to join me?”
“I’d be delighted. I’m done with my baking for the day.” Mena tapped her lip thoughtfully. “But speaking of greenery, when is Theo going to arrive with the tree?”
“He wassupposedto be here yesterday. But of course he’s taking his own sweet time. I only hope he’s not late to his own matchmaking ball.”
Mena laughed. “Well, if he knows it’s for that purpose, then certainly he will be.”
“He suspects, of course.” Viola grinned. “But there’s no proof. For all he knows, I’m angling for a match, myself. Indeed, I might say as much, if he asks.”
Not that she had any intention of doing so. After that first disastrous, one-sided attachment during her debut Season, she’d resolved to steer clear of romantic entanglements altogether. Her energy was better spent looking after her brothers’ prospects then chasing unhappy ones of her own.
She took a sip of tea and leaned back in her chair. Although Theo was tardy, she knew he’d arrive soon. He cared a great deal for his family, and knew she was expecting a grand specimen of a fir tree to decorate.
