Mischief & Mistletoe by Tanya Anne Crosby

Author:Tanya Anne Crosby
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Oliver Heber Books
Published: 2013-11-09T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Five

By the evening, there was still no sign of his wheels and supper with the Peterses was awkward at best, particularly with Emma’s absence from the table. Lucien was unused to spying little faces across the table. They were well behaved, speaking only when spoken to, though he was certain they had developed some secret language that was comprehensible only to them—one that precluded the opening of their mouths, for their eyes spoke volumes.

Unlike the dinner hour at Willyngham Hall, the mood was light and jovial, and the fare simple but tasty. Peters actually jested with the servants, advising them of which dishes to hoard away for themselves in the kitchens, “if they didn’t want to miss out.”

In contrast, his dinner last week at Buckingham Palace was quite extraordinary but solemn. He found himself wanting to tell them about the pfefferkuchenhaus—a gingerbread house decorated with candies, sweets and sugar icing—that had adorned the Queen’s table, and the Christstollen, a fruitcake with marzipan filling. Both were German dishes the Queen’s new husband had introduced to the royal holiday table. But he said nothing, feeling ill at ease at the prospect of insinuating himself into their holiday traditions—particularly with Emma so conspicuously absent.

As he understood it, she had taken her meal in her room—something she had apparently never done in all her life. He felt like an ogre full of humbuggery, despite that Peters and his wife were as gracious as they came. It didn’t appear to bother Peters in the least that his sister was protesting Lucien’s presence.

He regaled them all with more stories, eliciting giggles from the children and censure from his wife.

“This year,” he apprised his children. “We must leave better cookies by the crèche, and perhaps the spoils will be better.”

“Were you thinking something in particular?” his wife asked, her look knowing.

He shrugged and gave Lucien a bit of a wink. “Perhaps a fat slice of Christmas cake will do.”

“Of course,” Cecile said.

“And what about you, Your Grace? What sort of confection do you believe would suit le petit Jésus?”

Lucien gave Peters a pointed look, and suggested, “Perhaps a good slice of humble pie.”

Peters had the good graces to choke a bit on his bite of pheasant. He nodded, taking Lucien’s meaning directly. They both knew what had befallen his wheels, and Peters ought to apologize and make it right, but he sat there eating his pheasant with a half smile.

For their part, the children sat watching their father, taking their cues from him, and Cecile could not look at him after that remark.

The meal proceeded in utter silence.

By morning, Lucien felt quite foolish for playing along with the farce. He awoke early, fully intending to find his own carriage wheels and be gone. And the first place he meant to search was the stables. It seemed to him the most logical place for three wayward children to hide four carriage wheels—then, again, he reminded himself, it wasn’t merely four wheels, for they’d managed to abscond with even those belonging to their father—the thieving little devils.

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