Page 11 of The Christmas Ball
“Then I’ll be in good company.” He wasn’t so high in the instep that a bit of labor was beneath him, especially as Lord Thornton had clearly set to without a second thought.
Grayson placed his hands on the boards beside Lord Thornton, who gave him an approving look.
“Ready?” the viscount asked, glancing at the footmen to his right.
Everyone nodded and Lord Thornton called to the driver to go. The horse strained, the men pushed with all their might, and for a moment nothing happened. The cart refused to budge.
Then, with a sucking sound, the wheels slurped out of the mud and the cart jolted forward. Grayson staggered, his boots slipping in the mud, and went ungracefully down on his hands and knees. He wasn’t alone. Two of the footmen also fell, one of them going full length in the mud, to the amusement of his companions. Lord Thornton managed to stay upright, and offered Grayson his hand.
“Sorry about that,” he said, helping Grayson to his feet. “I didn’t mean to coat you in mud for your troubles.”
“I knew the risks.” Grayson glanced down at his brown-slimed breeches and coat. “At least your tree has escaped its muddy doom.”
It wouldn’t be a pleasant ride home, mud-covered and in the snow, but he’d make the best of it.
“You must continue on to Dovington with us,” Lady Beckford said from the safety of the embankment. “I’m certain one of the gentlemen can lend you a fresh coat and breeches.”
“I wouldn’t want to impose,” he said, but the duchess waved away his protests.
“Not at all. Besides, it’s snowing. You and Lady Charlotte have come quite out of your way, and I wouldn’t want you to suffer on our account.”
If it was just him, Grayson would have endured the ride home, but his sister deserved better. Despite himself, he shot a look at Lady Viola, who was watching him. As soon as their eyes met, she flicked her gaze away.
“Your tree doesn’t seem any worse for the wear,” she said to her brother. “Thank you for going to the trouble to fetch it from Knavesmire Wood.”
“Knavesmire?” Charlotte asked. “That’s quite the distance, isn’t it?”
“I stop over with the Earl of Hartley and his family,” Lord Thornton said. “His son, Lord Ashby, is a longtime friend of mine.”
“They’re coming to the ball,” Lady Viola said. “Both Lady Holly and her sister are lovely young women. I hope you passed a pleasant time at Hartley House.”
Lord Thornton’s mouth twisted in a wry smile. “Indeed. But enough chatter. Let’s away to Dovington!”
***
As soon as the party reached Dovington, Theo took Lord Winslow away to change into fresh clothing, while Mena bustled off to confer with the housekeeper about refreshments. Viola escorted Lady Charlotte to the blue parlor and they settled near the fire, waiting for the others to rejoin them.
“I’m glad it’s snowing,” Lady Charlotte said, her gaze going to the large, velvet-draped window.
Outside, flakes drifted gently down, though in Viola’s estimation the flurry wouldn’t last too much longer. If she were lucky, there’d be enough accumulation that she could fashion a snowball or two to pelt her brothers with before it all melted.
It was a tradition of theirs, to try and ambush one another with the first snowball of the season. Some years there wasn’t enough snow at all, while other times the entire landscape was blanketed in white.
“It is cozy,” she agreed. “Last year, we’d enough snowfall to go sleighing, but this year seems less promising. Though I suppose that could change. How are you finding Yorkshire so far?”
Lady Charlotte tilted her head. “I like it well enough, though I’m finding it rather quiet. I’m glad you’re hosting a ball.”
“I’m pleased you can attend,” Viola said, though it was not entirely true.
“Speaking of which…” Lady Charlotte gave her a direct look. “What, precisely, is between you and my brother?”
Viola blinked, felt her smile slip, then plastered it securely upon her face once more.
“Why, nothing at all,” she said brightly.
Lady Charlotte’s gaze narrowed. “I’ve been observing the two of you all afternoon, and I know my brother. I’ve never seen him quite so captivated by a lady before.”
“Oh, I’m certain that’s not the case,” Viola said hastily. “We’ve scarcely met. Or perhaps he’s formed a one-sided attachment. Such things do happen, you know. I’m sure it will pass.”
