Page 2 of Seducing an Earl under the Mistletoe
Tears welled in Catherine’s eyes. She didn’t know what to say, as memories washed over her. But not only that, it was the fact that she was being torn out of the embrace of the woman who had become like a second mother to her, and thrown into the emotional instability that reigned in her own home.
She tried to remind herself that she would not only be visiting her father, who himself was unable to find peace after the death of his wife, but she would also once again find herself in the company of her twin brother Marcus, and her younger sister Virginie. Catherine embraced her aunt, assured that their bond was unbreakable.
“Thank you, Aunt Prudence, for always standing by my side. Your wisdom and love have been there for me in my darkest hours, and you continue to be a pillar of support,” she gushed, her nose buried in the woman’s shoulder, inhaling her smell, which she didn’t want to forget.
“Come now,” her aunt smiled as the two ladies pulled apart. “A most joyous time of the year is ahead of us. And you get to spend it with your loved ones. Rejoice, my dear. Then, once you’ve had enough of them, run on back here.”
Both ladies chuckled sweetly at this, after which Catherine climbed into the waiting carriage, feeling an overwhelming mixture of emotions. Sadness at parting with her aunt, apprehension at visiting her father, but excitement to see her siblings. She wiped away her tears and closed the carriage door, feeling a surge of determination to enjoy her time in Brighton, and then immediately, upon her return, continue her work on the final chapter of her newest manuscript.
Seated within her elegant carriage, adorned in the finest of traveling attire, Catherine gazed out at the passing cityscape. Buildings gradually gave way to open fields and glimpses of the English countryside. The crisp winter air filled the carriage, invigorating her senses and reminding her of the freedom that lay beyond the city’s boundaries.
The journey was accompanied by the gentle rhythm of horse hooves and the occasional muffled chatter of the driver. Catherine, a keen observer of the world around her, marveled at the changing scenery. Trees, barren yet beautiful, stood tall against the winter sky, their branches intricately etched against the canvas of clouds.
As they approached the outskirts of Brighton, the scent of sea air mingled with the crispness of winter. The sight of the vast expanse of the English Channel brought a sense of peace and familiarity. The waves, gentle and rhythmic, whispered tales of the family history intertwined with this coastal paradise.
However, as her carriage rolled to a graceful halt in the courtyard of her family estate, a lingering sense of unease settled within her. She peered out of the carriage window, only to notice that the welcoming committee of servants and family members was conspicuously absent. The atmosphere, though peaceful against the backdrop of the sea, felt oddly subdued.
Alighting from the carriage, her footfalls echoing in the emptiness, Catherine cast a concerned glance at the estate. The grandeur of the Georgian mansion loomed before her, but the silence that enveloped it was palpable, a stark contrast to the usually bustling homecoming.
I wonder where everyone is,she thought to herself, her brow furrowing in confusion.
Not waiting a moment longer, she ventured into the estate, the doors creaking open eerily. A chilling hush greeted her as she stepped into the spacious foyer. The grand staircase loomed like a silent sentinel, the portraits of ancestors gazing down with a solemn air.
At that moment, the butler appeared, somehow later than he ought to have been. He smiled upon seeing her. “Lady Catherine,” he bowed immediately.
“Bowers,” she said as she smiled back.
Just as she was about to ask where everyone was, she heard voices from the drawing room. She felt momentarily relieved at the sound of familiar voices, and yet curious about the argument that had obviously been ongoing for quite some time. She stepped into the chamber, and her presence drew all three people there to an abrupt pause in their heated discussion.
“Ah, Cate!” Marcus, with his striking handsomeness and stern countenance, was the first one to exclaim. “You’re here!”
Virginie immediately joined him. “Dear Cate, we did not expect you so soon!”
While Marcus possessed the good looks of their father, intertwined with a bit of a temper, Virginie had always been a mirror image of their mother, a vision of delicate beauty and youthful charm. Her features were imbued with a sweet innocence that only seemed to enhance her loveliness, and when she smiled, her playful spirit surfaced even more, eager to explore the wonders of the world around her.
The siblings embraced cordially, after which their father approached Catherine and wrapped her into an embrace. Bryant Winters, the Earl of Saltdean, was a man who once possessed a dignified handsomeness that spoke of noble lineage and refined character. In his youth, his strong jawline and well-chiseled features were complemented by a full head of dark hair.
However, the passage of time had etched its story on Lord Saltdean. The loss of his beloved wife five years ago had left a visible mark on his countenance. The years weighed on him, causing his hair to go silver and lines to carve across his face, a testament to the heartache and sorrow he had endured. His once-vibrant eyes had dimmed, carrying a somber depth that bore witness to the depths of his grief.
“It is so nice to see you all,” Catherine said, once the warm greetings were exchanged. “I hope all is well here?”
Marcus nodded, a gentle smile breaking his stern façade. “Indeed, dear Cate. A minor disagreement over a game, nothing more, I assure you.”
Virginie chimed in, her eyes twinkling with affection and joy at seeing her sister home for the holidays. “We were just discussing the nuances of a certain chess match that took a surprising turn.”
“Who lost?” Catherine wondered, on the verge of a chuckle. It would not be the first time that her father and her brother had argued over a game of chess, any game really, in an effort to prove the other wrong.
“Father,” Marcus shot his answer as if out of a cannon.
“If we were playing by wrong rules, then maybe,” Lord Saltdean announced with a dignified scoff.
Catherine and Virginie exchanged a meaningful glance, then burst into a joyous chuckle. The family’s reunion continued in the familiar setting of their drawing room, where the soft glow of the fireplace and the comforting aroma of tea that had just been brought in by one of the servants provided a comforting sense of ease.
Seated next to her, Virginie seized the opportunity to lean closer to her sister. “Oh, Cate, do tell me about London. I’ve missed the hustle and bustle of the city. Any noteworthy news or intriguing stories from the society circles?”
Catherine chuckled again. “London has been its usual whirlwind of activity, but you know I hardly pay attention to such things.”
“Indeed,” Virginie sighed with disappointment. “I hoped that would change.”
