All I Want for Christmas by Crosby Tanya Anne

Author:Crosby, Tanya Anne
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Oliver Heber Books
Published: 2020-12-08T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 2

Rule No. 2:

On Matchmaking.

You may, indeed, hang mistletoe for your own romantic designs. And nevertheless, please be prepared to accept kiss commands from anybody who might be caught beneath the mistletoe with you. Remember: It is very bad etiquette to refuse a mistletoe kiss request. (And risky besides! Please see Rule No. 6.)

Benjamin Alexander Wentworth, the seventh Earl of Highbury, sat fiddling with his pancakes, pushing them about his plate.

It was perfectly inconceivable how lonely a busy household could feel. It had been years since their breakfast table was so well laden, and now Claire hadn’t two seconds to spare to stop and fill her belly. She woke in a tizzy, ran about like a maelstrom, and so much as Ben loved how happy Claire was, he was beginning to dread the indubitable fact that she would very soon be departing London. If, indeed, he thought the house felt lonely now, he knew it would feel lonelier then, though at least their fortunes were much improved.

Months ago, mired in the gaming hells, he might not have imagined things going so well. Now, his house was in order, his sister was marrying royalty, and, no thanks to his own poor choices, his debts were fully paid. Not since his youth had he had so much hope for their futures, and, for the first time since their father’s untimely death, he wasn’t at all concerned over Claire’s future or welfare. Moreover, it would be a cold day in hell before he endangered their prosperity again. And nevertheless, despite the rosy color of their futures, there was a certain melancholy plaguing him of late—nothing he could put a finger to, not precisely, though it was there just the same.

Something was missing; what it was, he daren’t say.

On the surface, there could be nothing at all to inform his mood. He was, in truth, the man of his own household now. The future was his alone to shape.

Pancakes. Juice. Bacon. Biscuits…

What could he possibly find to complain about?

For Chrissakes, his future brother by law was a finer man than any man he could have ever hoped for. And to boot, Ben had made himself a new associate besides. Wes Cameron was an interesting bloke, with stories enough to entertain him for a lifetime, so then… why did he feel so… utterly…

Bored?

Glum?

Restless?

Perhaps it wasn’t possible to endure what he’d endured and come out of the ordeal unscathed. But there it was, he supposed. He wasn’t the same bloke he was this time last year, and no matter that he was pleased enough for Claire, he could not abide the glitter and gold—nor the influx of servants, or the eternal and cloying scent of flowers wafting in and out from every corner of the house.

Highbury’s halls were brightly lit, with Chocolate Limes, Brandy Balls, Clove Rocks and Wine Gums filling nearly every porcelain dish on every table in every common room, and there was enough sweetness and light to curdle the buttermilk cakes settling in his belly.

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