Christmas Cinderellas by Sophia James

Author:Sophia James
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2020-08-12T17:51:06+00:00

Chapter Eight

Seize the blasted day?

He was sorely tempted to strangle Julius for putting such ridiculous ideas into his head. The only reason he wouldn’t was because it was hardly his brother’s fault that he had chosen to ‘seize the day’ at the single most inappropriate moment and had nearly killed four sweet old ladies as a result of his recklessness.

For at least the fortieth time that day Marcus rubbed the throbbing bump on his head and thanked his lucky stars the pothole had shaken him out of the magic spell he had been cast under, thereby forcing him to grab the reins before they careened into the previously unseen cart coming in the other direction.

If that wasn’t bad enough, his pathetically failed spur-of-the-moment attempt to steal a kiss had created an awkwardness between them which had not existed before, and they had spent the final ten minutes of their interminable journey making tortured small talk. And all the while Julius’s blasted mistletoe had been burning a mocking hole in his pocket as fate and Christmas had both laughed at him.

Since then it had gone from bad to worse. He had hardly seen her during the wassailing, and as he had been formalising the right words for the journey home, in order to subtly probe if she might be as interested in him as he was in her, disaster had struck.

Although it had been blatantly obvious that it wasn’t a real disaster, it would have been downright bad manners to call the tenacious daughter of an earl a liar at the time. Hence, instead of driving the old ladies home with Eliza beside him, he had been forced to carry another passenger in her stead. One who had apparently also encountered a pothole in the village, conveniently disguised by the most flimsy blanket of snow, twisted her ankle and fallen prettily at his feet in supposed pain.

In desperation, he had managed to grab Eliza briefly before the enormous debacle of dinner and asked her if she would meet him very early for breakfast. He had ordered the kitchen to have a smidgen of the banquet of breakfast food ready at eight, instead of nine, only to be thwarted again.

Because at eight that morning, standing next to her on either side like sentries, had been Lady Broadstairs and her daughter Honoria. Which meant they had not had more than a minute alone since he had so awkwardly deposited her in the village square last night. And now all he had left was the dreaded masquerade ball, before she departed the following day with everyone else and it would be much too late to seize the day.

But seize it he must. He already knew he would bitterly regret it if he didn’t. Because time was running out. Rapidly.

He eyed the peacock-blue silk waistcoat laid on the bed and hoped it might miraculously change his luck, despite Julius begging him to wear the red. Red, like green, burgundy, pink, orange, yellow and all the

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