Mistletoe Magic by Virginia Brown

Author:Virginia Brown [Brown, Virginia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BelleBooks Inc.
Published: 2017-12-04T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

CHRISTMAS MORNING brought clear skies of a bright, polished blue so intense, it hurt the eyes to stare at it too long. The air was blessedly dry, but the cold wind was bone-chilling. Nick debated joining the family at church. Regardless of what he’d said to Lady Mountebank—the silly old gossip—he’d considered riding in a sleigh with Charlotte St. John and her aunt. He wasn’t normally a man who cared much for sleigh rides, preferring faster gigs or his horse, but for some reason, the thought of sitting close to her and watching her face light with enjoyment seemed pleasurable.

In just a few days, he’d begun to think of Charlotte—Chary, her aunt had called her—as an interesting addition to his life. Probably a good thing, since they were to be married, but it was unique in that he didn’t usually form swift attachments. Time and experience had taught him to be wary. But he liked being around Charlotte St. John. He liked the sound of her voice, pitched low and soft, words formed precisely, and he liked that she did not defer to him despite their difference in birth. God knew, he’d had enough simpering eager-to-please women thrown at him over the years. It became very boring to have people cater to him because he was a duke’s son. He wasn’t the heir, after all; a second son was always the spare. A third son often a nuisance. Anthony was the Chosen One, who would inherit all. And thank God for that. Anthony was much more suited to it.

He had no regrets. Charlotte’s father may hope she would be the duchess one day, but she didn’t seem to have aspirations in that direction. That suited him. Charlotte suited him. God help her.

Nick missed her at breakfast. He was too early, or she was late, but to linger too long would be noticeable. So, after taking hot rolls and tea up to Drummond, he put on his greatcoat, scarf, gloves, and hat and started to the stables. The stable boy to whom he’d given a six-pence to tend his horses had two huge draught horses out, dragging a log sideways to tamp down the powdery snow in the carriageway. Five large sleighs and one smaller one were being harnessed to horses blowing frost clouds; harness tack clinked, hooves crunched snow drifts. Log chains rattled as the draught horses packed snow along the long, gently curved drive to the road that sloped down to the village. Nick caught up with the stable lad and told him what he wanted, pressing two coins into the boy’s hand; one for him and one for a willing footman.

Then he walked around to the front of the house, arriving just as the doors opened and family and guests emerged laughing and talking, wrapped up in coats, gloves, scarves, and hats. Charlotte and her aunt were toward the rear, which fit in perfectly with his plan. As the family stepped up into the sleighs fitted with

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