Page 12 of The Christmas Ball
Although sometimes that recovery took years, as she knew all too well. After that terrible Season, Drew had accused her of becoming too reserved, too withdrawn from the Marriage Mart. She could not argue with him. Once bitten, as they said.
It was only at Dovington that she felt she could truly be herself—which made Lord Winslow’s constant interference all the more galling. Here in Yorkshire, she was supposed to be free of censure! Instead, she had a gray-eyed lord looking down his nose at her every time she turned around.
“Hm.” Lady Charlotte regarded her a moment longer, then thankfully changed the subject. “Tell me more about this Christmas tree your brother has brought.”
Viola felt her tension ease, and gladly launched into an explanation of how the family had adopted the Queen and Prince Albert’s new tradition.
“Our Christmas tree was so beautiful, last year,” she said, “I’ve decided it’s to be the centerpiece of the ball. I don’t suppose you saw the one at Buckingham Palace?”
“Only the color plates depicting it,” Lady Charlotte replied. “I can’t imagine what it must look like in person.”
Viola waxed eloquent on the subject of silver-foil garlands and tiny candles, until Mena arrived in the parlor. Two maids trailed her with trollies of refreshments. The air was suddenly redolent with the warm spice of mulled cider and gingerbread, and Lady Charlotte sniffed appreciatively.
“Is that gingerbread?” she asked, eyeing the tray of sweets.
“It is,” Mena said, clearly pleased. “Or rather, the local variant, called parkin cake.”
“It looks delicious,” their guest said.
“It is,” a voice declared from the hallway, and a moment later Drew strode in, followed by Theo and Lord Winslow.
Mena introduced her husband to Lady Charlotte, the gentlemen settled into the other chairs, and they were soon all eating gingerbread and drinking cider. It was quite convivial, Viola thought, other than the fact that Lord Winslow was, as his sister had noted, looking at her rather often.
It didn’t help matters that his borrowed breeches hugged his muscled thighs closely, and his gold-colored hair curled damply over his forehead.
Drat it.
Viola dragged her attention from the marquess and joined in the conversation, careful not to look at Lord Winslow more often than was strictly necessary.
After an hour, the snow began to let up, and their neighbors rose and took their leave. The family saw them to the door, where Theo once again proffered his thanks for Lord Winslow’s help with the tree.
“We’ll have your breeches and coat laundered and sent over,” Theo said.
“Mm. We’re making rather a habit of that,” Mena said under her voice to Viola, who poked her in the ribs.
The last thing Viola needed was for her brothers to learn about her most unfortunate first encounter with the Marquess of Winslow. If the particulars were known, it would be pistols at dawn, or some other ridiculous honor-bound endeavor. Truly, despite the indignity, she hadn’t been compromised in any way. Mena had been right there the whole time, after all.
Even if the marquess had seen her all-but unclothed…
The family turned away from the door, and Viola cleared her throat.
“Let’s see how the tree is fitting into the ballroom,” she said. “It’s quite monstrous, Theo.”
Her younger brother grinned at her. “You told me you wanted something grand, Vi. If it’s too big, that’s your own fault.”
“Hmph.” Nose in the air, she led the way to Dovington’s grand ballroom where, as it transpired, the tree fit perfectly.
CHAPTER FIVE
The day of the Christmas Ball dawned clear and cold. It wasn’t snowing, Viola noted with some regret, but at least it wasn’t raining. The road had dried enough that carriages could pass without fear of getting stuck, and Theo had directed the servants to lay straw and fir boughs over the worst of the mud, just in case.
Their house guests had arrived the day before, and Dovington was feeling more festive by the hour. Garlands of greenery festooned every room, looping about the balustrades and draped over the mantels. Holly berries shone bright red from the swags lining the hallways. The ballroom itself smelled sweetly of fir, and Viola could scarcely wait to unveil the Christmas tree.
Currently, the wide double doors of the ballroom were securely shut. Once all the guests were assembled, she intended to throw the doors open so they could all experience the spectacle together.
And what a spectacle it was!
She took a moment before the guests arrived to slip into the ballroom and admire her handiwork. The huge evergreen stretched floor-to-ceiling, sparkling with silver strands of glass beads—a welcome new addition Theo had brought from London. Mesh bags of sweets decked each bough, along with little wooden toys. And, of course, the red velvet bags containing Viola’s party favors. The bracelet bags were closed with silver ribbons, the stickpin bags with green.
