Mistletoe Magic_A Regency Romance by Rose Pearson

Author:Rose Pearson [Pearson, Rose]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Landon Hill Media
Published: 2019-10-31T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

“Would you like to tell me if there is a reason for your despondency?”

Oliver grimaced, pushing around his food on his plate and aware of the sharp look his cousin was giving him. “Your concern is greatly appreciated, but I am quite well.”

Lady Rutledge laughed, a sharp look in her eye. “I cannot think you believe you can fool me so easily,” she said with a small, wry smile. “There is something on your mind, and I would like very much to know what it is so you stop moping around this house when it is very soon to be Christmas!” She set her fork down carefully before looking at him again. “In ten days’ time, in fact,” she said as though this ought to please him. “We shall have the Yule log brought in very soon, and the greenery will be spread across the house in decoration on Christmas Eve.” A long, contented sigh escaped her as she sat back inelegantly in her chair. “And I do hope you have a gift for me,” she finished with a small, teasing smile. “It will be quite disastrous if you do not.”

Oliver cleared his throat, set down his fork, and looked his cousin straight in the eye. “I think I might return to Boston,” he said heavily. “I think it is time that I did so.”

Lady Rutledge blinked rapidly, her face falling at once. “Whatever can you mean?” she exclaimed, sitting bolt upright. “To leave before Christmas? Why should you do such a thing?”

“Because I...” Oliver trailed off, not wanting to explain his reasons for returning home. To do so would be to admit to his cousin he was half in love with Lady Georgiana and that seeing her some days ago with Lord Poole—who, he then discovered was Lady Georgiana’s betrothed—had quite taken the heart from him. He did not want to risk seeing her with him again, for fear of what it would do to his spirits.

“Because?” Lady Rutledge repeated, looking at him steadily. “Come now, Lowell, you must tell me the truth. It is most unlike you to be so quiet. You appeared to be enjoying every day here in London, and now you say you wish to return home?” Lady Rutledge now appeared to be quite distressed, for her eyes were somewhat glassy, and her forehead puckered with a frown. “Please, will you not tell me the truth?”

Sighing heavily, Oliver looked across the table at his cousin, perhaps a little relieved that Lord Rutledge was absent this evening. He would not even consider speaking honestly were he here—and yet there was still a reluctance on Oliver’s part. To say any such thing aloud would be to admit even to himself the depths of what he now felt for Lady Georgiana. Depths he had only just discovered when he had looked into her eyes and felt her pulled away from him.

“Lowell, please.” Lady Rutledge was leaning forward now, her eyes holding a desperation, an urge to understand.

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