Page 8 of An Icy Christmas Engagement
The very idea grated on his nerves, but he knew they were right. Mr. Sinclair may not be a morally upstanding business man but he was a wealthy and powerful one. Seeking that connection would only benefit Cedric in the long run.
He didn’t need to admit that they were right out loud, though. He simply sighed, looking over his shoulder as he asked, “When will the dessert come out? I am famished.”
“Eat your fish,” Grace scolded easily, “and perhaps you won’t be.”
“I intend to let Lily have it.” Cedric pushed his plate towards his cousin. “She is eating for two, after all, and it is clear that the baby enjoys it.”
Lily flushed, lips thinning and her shoulders bracing backwards as she prepared to argue. But Cedric didn’t miss the look of longing she gave his fish before looking back at her clean plate. He grinned.
“Oh, very well,” she conceded at last. “But only because the baby is famished, not I.”
The others laughed and the conversation turned to all the types of food Lily—or in her words, the baby—had been craving as of late. Cedric tried to remain present but his mind kept wandering back to his study and the array of ledgers strewn across his desk, waiting for him to return. Poring over the numbers again and again was bound to be a tedious but welcomed feat.
Certainly far more welcoming than the dreaded dinner party he would have to attend. He wasnotlooking forward to that.
Chapter Four
A week had passed and Caroline hardly had anything to show for it. A week of sitting at her writing table every day trying to pen scene after scene and finishing each day more frustrated than the last. Her thoughts would not flow. The stilted and lifeless male protagonist seemed to only grow more and more uninterested every time she put him to paper.
No amount of reading, peaceful mornings with tea in the garden, or enjoyable evenings drinking wine with Louisa in the evenings was enough to help her writing inspiration. And she only had two more weeks left before she was meant to have the finished manuscript. And if that wasn’t stressful enough, she needed guidance from Mr. Holloway.
It was how he operated after all. His hands-on approach to publishing was both a blessing and a curse. Blessing, since it helped her to create a polished, well-crafted body of work. And a curse when she’d barely written a thing since the last time they’d seen each other and could feel the pressure of the deadline bearing down on her with every second.
“Oh, good God,” Caroline murmured, stopping in her tracks. She pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling the makings of a megrim growing in the back of her head. It always happened when she felt distressed.
And it snowed last night. Coming out from under five layers of blankets to the heavy cold in the air had already been a horrible start to her morning. She didn’t want to deal with a headache on top of it. Despite her fears and the megrim she set off for her meeting.
Perhaps she would not have been dreading this meeting as much if she’d actually been able to flesh out her male protagonist, but she was feeling terribly uninspired in that regard. She couldn’t even imagine him.
He had to be tall, of course. Every lady liked the feeling of safety when standing next to a tall and strapping gentleman withbroad shoulders. “Much like the gentleman across the street”, she thought while she was walking.
Caroline continued along the path at a much slower pace, her eyes remaining on the gentleman bundled up in a heavy black coat on the other side of the busy street. He walked with little purpose, as if he was going for a stroll, but there was a deep scowl on his face. Whatever he was pondering, it was serious.
She clutched her leather portfolio containing the pitiful start to her novel closer to her chest, matching the gentleman’s pace. She couldn’t see his face very well. Too many carriages passing by blurred her vision and the distance certainly didn’t help.
But she could imagine that well enough. A man like him could only be handsome. Not to mention he walked with an authority that set him apart from everyone else on the busy street. Caroline spied tendrils of dark hair curling at the nape of his neck but most of his hair was hidden under his top hat. Despite the distance, she could tell that he was not dressed like a commoner. Which meant he had to be a nobleman.
He was perfect. If only she could see his face so that she could describe his likeness—
Her mysterious stranger turned suddenly, looking both ways even as he began crossing the street. Caroline’s heart skipped a beat. Maybe she would get the chance to see him after all.
She picked up the pace, desperate to catch up to him. He arrived on her side of the street a few feet ahead of her, which meant she was destined to stare into his broad back once again.
With determination smoldering in her veins, she briskly made her way to the side, hoping to casually glimpse up at him and then continue along her way. All she needed was one good look to create her perfect male protagonist.
She was almost there, nearly by his side—
Her left foot went out from under her. It happened so quickly that Caroline could hardly do anything but let out a short scream of alarm as the world tilted around her. For a moment of complete and utter panic, she knew that what was about to happen next was going to hurt terribly.
She expected to go crashing to the icy ground, sprawled out in the street with her skirts all around her, her portfolio flying fromher hand. Instead, she landed in a pair of strong arms, the smell of cedarwood and cinnamon wrapping around her. The chill nipping at her heels vanished as warmth seeped from the body looming over her. She felt a breath against her cheek and realized only a second later than she had her eyes closed.
“Are you all right?”
Most definitely a nobleman, she thought at first, with a voice as warm as whiskey. Caroline opened her eyes and found herself captured in a trance by the most intense pair of blue eyes she’d ever seen. Slowly, she ran her gaze from his eyes to his sharp, aquiline nose to the full lips set in a wide line. His jaw was strong and sharp, covered in the barest shadow. She could easily imagine how handsome he would be with a full beard and without one , a win no matter what way she looked at it.
Wait…
Icy blue eyes, handsome features, broad-shoulders, and a cold demeanor? Was this the Ice Earl no one could resist talking about?
