A Holiday By Gaslight by Mimi Matthews

Author:Mimi Matthews
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: 0
Published: 2018-11-13T06:00:00+00:00

Ned thrust his hands into the pockets of his heavy woolen coat as he walked along with the rest of the guests who’d chosen to brave the elements. There were about twenty of them altogether, not counting the servants. All bundled up in coats and scarves and fur-trimmed cloaks as they made their way out into the woods behind Appersett House.

The weather had grown chillier overnight. He’d been awakened by an icy draft seeping in through the chimney. The windows of the guest bedroom he occupied had been covered with frost. When he’d peered out through the encrusted glass, he’d scarcely been able to see for the snowfall. It was a blur of white, not only falling but whipping round in little flurries

It had calmed by midmorning, permitting them all to venture out to gather greenery. Even so, the remnants of that tiny blizzard were visible everywhere.

The landscape was blanketed in a pristine layer of snow. It covered the paths, cloaked the shrubbery, and disposed itself in sparkling heaps on the branches of the trees. So much snow glittered in the weak sunlight it almost hurt his eyes to look at it.

It wasn’t unduly cold for all that. At least, Ned didn’t think so. His blood was pumping hot in his veins at the prospect of spending more time with Sophie.

He was making progress with her at last. Little by little, he was somehow managing to talk to her. To share something of himself. Of his history. That was what she wanted, wasn’t it? For him to open up to her? To show her who he really was?

It was the complete opposite of what the Gentlemen’s Book of Etiquette advised.

According to the chapter on polite conversation, a gentleman was never to discuss business with a lady he was courting. He wasn’t to overwhelm her with the tedious details of his professional life. Nor was he to sink into low conversation about personal matters.

Ned wasn’t entirely sure what qualified as low conversation, but he suspected that matters of finance would be at the top of the list. Money, it seemed, was only a suitable topic when speaking with a lady’s father.

As for what was appropriate to discuss with the lady herself, the book was rather vague.

Rule No. 25: Let your conversation with a lady be dictated by sound sense, and on the common topics of everyday occurrence.

The weather, in other words.

It was not his favorite subject at the moment. Not that it mattered. As they trudged through the woods, there was little prospect for private conversation.

Sophie was busy playing hostess. She’d gathered a cluster of ladies around her, including her sister, three of her sister’s very silly friends, the village schoolmaster’s wife, a rather toplofty viscountess, and two highly eligible society misses who Ned recognized from the London season. They giggled and talked over each other and intermittently broke into a discordant verse from a Christmas carol.

The remaining gentlemen were making just as much noise. The sight of so much snow had raised their holiday spirits to an irritating degree.

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