Winter Wonderland by Mansfield Elizabeth;

Author:Mansfield, Elizabeth;
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Open Road Media Romance
Published: 2016-07-05T04:00:00+00:00

Thirteen

Barnaby came down to breakfast the next morning feeling out of sorts and dejected by the gloomy weather that would not go away. Though it was not snowing, the dark sky and icy wind persisted. It was a day in which no one was likely to venture out-of-doors. There would be no riding, no brisk walks, no outdoor games. There would be nothing to do all day but play billiards and cards, neither of which he particularly fancied.

He was not surprised that no one was yet at breakfast—it was a perfect day to stay late abed. Although Cummings offered to serve him his favorite shirred eggs or a bowlful of hot porridge (which, the butler said, “would sustain him mightily on such a dreadful morning”), he refused, not wishing to eat alone. Instead, he wandered off to the library. It was there he discovered someone even more unhappy than he: Livy Ponsonby, who stood at the window, crying.

He’d gone halfway across the floor to the bookshelves before he saw her. He stopped in his tracks in embarrassment. “Oh! I beg your pardon, Miss Ponsonby,” he said, backing toward the door. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

She took a quick glance round, colored, and then turned away again, lowering her head and brushing away her tears. “You d-don’t intrude, sir,” she managed, her light, girlish voice choked. “You have as much r-right here as I. More, in fact.”

Something in her tone made Barnaby pause on the threshold. It seemed to him that the girl might actually desire a little companionship. “I’d hoped we had reached less formal terms than sir and ma’am,” he said gently. “Can you not call me Barnaby?”

“But just now you c-called me M-Miss P-Ponsonby, didn’t you?” she accused, throwing him a tearful little smile over her shoulder.

“I apologize for that. Olivia you shall be from this moment on.”

She turned round to him. “Livy, please.” She looked quite appealing in a figured-muslin morning dress with a neat white tucker and long sleeves puffed at the top. Her gold ringlets were pinned up at the top of her head in tousled charm, and her lips were swollen from her weeping. A man would be a churl not to wish to comfort her.

In this instance, Barnaby was no churl. “Livy, then,” he said, smiling at her. He crossed the room to the window where she stood. “You were crying, Livy. Is something amiss?”

She shook her head. “I am a silly wetgoose. It was only … only …”

He took her elbow and guided her to an easy chair near the fire. “Only—?”

She lowered her lovely blue eyes. “Only that I was feeling lonely.”

“Oh, is that all?” He perched on the hearth before her and grinned. “In an hour or less, the whole family will come tumbling down the stairs in various states of undress demanding their breakfasts, and the din will be so great you’ll find yourself wishing to be lonely again.”

She gave a hiccuping laugh and then, astoundingly, burst into tears again.

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