Page 15 of Seducing an Earl under the Mistletoe
The air was infused with the delightful aroma of a sumptuous feast being prepared in the estate’s kitchens. The tantalizing scent of roast meats, including succulent rib roast, filled the air. The clinking of glasses and soft chatter of the guests mingled with the gentle notes of a string quartet playing in the background, adding to the convivial atmosphere.
But nothing was as beautiful as her.
Arthur’s gaze settled on Catherine, as she stood by her family. She was an epitome of grace and elegance, her gown cascading down her perfectly silhouetted body. Intricate lace adorned the décolletage and sleeves, lending a touch of sophistication. The empire waistline and flowing skirt gave her an ethereal presence, while delicate ribbons and bows added a playful charm.
Arthur marveled at her poise and the effortless grace with which she carried herself. It was evident that Catherine was not only a beauty but a woman of substance, her intelligence and kindness shining through. He found himself captivated, unable to tear his gaze away, while his heart wrestled with his emotions.
About half an hour later, his mother had stolen Margot for a moment to greet one of their friends, and Arthur seized this opportunity to withdraw into the drawing room, where, as luck would have it, Catherine stood, inspecting one of their family portraits. She was with her back to him, so she didn’t notice him immediately.
He took a deep breath, gathering the courage to approach her. He felt like a rake, not having told her about Margot, but what on earth was he going to tell her? That he was being forced to marry his dead brother’s fiancée and that neither of them was particularly happy with this arrangement?
With a heavy sigh, he walked over to her, gently touching her elbow.
“Catherine?” he called out to her.
She turned around, facing him. She looked even more radiant than he remembered her. How was it possible that every time their paths crossed, she was even more beautiful than before, his heart raced even faster than before, and his blood boiled in his veins with unspoken yearning for her?
“Arthur,” she smiled softly, although he could see a hint of sadness in her eyes. Her gaze immediately returned to the painting, as if she were inspecting it for some odd reason.
“Catherine, I…I must apologize for not disclosing my acquaintance with Lady Margot earlier. It was an oversight on my part. I…things between us are complicated,” he said, scratching the back of his neck anxiously.
She turned to him once again, with that same smile, filled with understanding. “Arthur, an innocent Christmas kiss hardly binds us to each other. I had no expectations of you.”
Her kindness and understanding alleviated some of the burden he had been carrying. However, her attention was soon drawn back to the painting, and her face shifted to concern.
“This has always been my favorite painting,” she commented, her gaze fixated on the artwork. Arthur looked at it in agreement. It truly was a beautiful piece. The colors blended in wonderfully, and the attention to detail was remarkable, with everyone’s facial expressions captured to perfection.
“I can see why,” he nodded, not taking his eyes off of the painting.
Then, she frowned. “But something is wrong with it.”
Arthur furrowed his brow in curiosity. “What do you mean?”
“It’s not the same painting,” she said simply, expecting him to understand, only Arthur could not comply.
“Not the same?” he echoed.
She sighed, her eyes never leaving the painting before them. “Ever since I arrived, I’ve noticed…well, peculiarities about the house. Valuables have gone missing, like mother’s priceless pearl necklace and bracelet set. I’ve noticed odd cracks in the walls, and now this.” She gestured at the painting. “This is a replica of the original.”
Arthur leaned closer to the painting in an effort to try and examine it. But he had no idea what he was supposed to be searching for.
“A replica?” he asked again, feeling as if he had simply been repeating Catherine’s own words back to her, but this conversation caught him completely unprepared, and he had no idea what answers to offer. “Why would anyone make a replica of this particular painting and then hang it up here?”
Catherine shook her head, her concern deepening. “I’m not entirely certain, but it is disconcerting. I fear there might be more to this than meets the eye. The house holds secrets, and I can’t shake the feeling that danger lurks within these walls.”
Arthur, sensing the gravity of the situation, nodded thoughtfully. He was now drawn into a mystery that seemed to weave itself around the very fabric of the house. Just as he was about to say something, a gong was heard. They exchanged a meaningful glance, and Arthur knew that their moment had come to an end.
“I have to go now.” Catherine turned around hastily, leaving him alone with his tumultuous thoughts, but not for long, for within minutes, Arthur was walking arm in arm with Margot through the opulent halls of the Winters’ family home as they headed towards the dining hall.
He could sense turmoil in her, although she hadn’t said anything yet. Usually a composed woman, Margot was now trembling ever so slightly, as if she were out in the very dead of the night, surrounded by the chilly bite of winter. Yet, she was inside, where it was warm.
The weight of her grief seemed palpable, and her struggle was evident in her eyes, which were slightly swollen. He wondered if she had cried before coming here, with her face not having had enough time to adjust to a state of her usual serenity. He could see the pain and the memories that haunted her, pulling her back to a time of loss and heartache.
As they were walking, she finally let her guard down. She turned to Arthur, her voice trembling with overwhelming emotion.
“Arthur, I must admit, I am struggling. The memories, they haunt me. Returning to Brighton has stirred up so much pain.”
“Margot, I understand that grief is a heavy burden to bear. It’s all right to feel the pain and to mourn. If you need someone to talk to, I am here for you.”
