A Gentleman Will Never… Forget A Lady: The Governess Chronicles - Book Three by Windsor Emily

Author:Windsor, Emily
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Senara Press
Published: 2022-12-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Though summer is come too late for profit, the pleasure it brings is perhaps enhanced by delay: like a life.”

Observations and Reflections Made in the Course of a Journey…

Mrs Thrale. 1789.

Flames the colour of rusty saffron crackled in the drawing room hearth and Tristan opened his palms to them, admiring the greenery which flowed across the mantelpiece, the fat berries of holly like glistening rubies.

His leg welcomed the warmth of the fire, aches easing, and he glanced up to appreciate the rest of the drawing room décor in the mirror’s reflection.

Candlesticks, sconces and lanterns had all been lit, yellow glowing spheres that melded and cast the room to a mellow umber. Never had it appeared so festive – swags of ivy draped the picture frames, red-blushed apples overflowed silver bowls, bunches of laurel filled crystal vases and someone had adorned the bust of the third Earl of Llanedwyn with a moustache of rosemary.

The curtains were pulled tight against a bitter wind that would doubtless bring rain clouds come midnight, but for this eve, in this room, all was well with the world.

As a somewhat raucous game of whist came to a close, his family’s discussions turned to parlour games. A week ago, he might have scowled, felt apart from the joy, and although he still stood to one side of it all, he no longer felt adrift, but…tethered. This was home.

“Snapdragon?” suggested Hugh, and Tristan turned.

“I thought to do that on Christmas Eve?” said Isabelle. “As we need to gather the materials.”

“I know!” shouted Mari, arms flailing. “Hide-And Go-Seek! In couples, so it doesn’t go on all night.”

“A splendid idea, Moppet!” said Hugh. “I claim Miss Brecken.”

The lady blushed.

Captain Brecken swiftly twisted to Elen. “My lady, you know this house well and I not at all, so I’d be honoured if you would partner me?”

The lady blushed.

“Isabelle,” growled Rhys. “You’re mine.”

The lady blushed.

Mari shoved toes to her slippers “My part will be to find you all! I’ll be in the kitchens with Mrs Pugh and the cinnamon biscuits until…” She squinted to the clock. “Till the hour of nine. Off you all go to hide!” And she scampered from the room.

Which left Tristan with…

Gwen was in fine looks this night, eyes merry, lips curved, and a velvet gown of deep ivy green sheathed her lithe frame.

He bowed. “I would be honoured if you would partner me, Gwen?”

She peered around the now empty room. “I’m the only one left.”

“I would have chosen you within a ballroom of ladies,” he declared without thought. “I mean…” What did he mean? “I know you…” No, no, no. “And like you.” Making it worse. “We’d make a good team.” Oh, hell. “That dress is most pretty.”

She frowned. “Are you quite well, Tristan?”

No. He wasn’t. For some reason his tongue was as loose as a sapling in a gale, but from henceforth he’d pull himself together. “But of course. Where could we hide?”

Her blue eyes roved over him in suspicion as she rose. “I’m not sure.

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