Page 74 of The Mistletoe Dare

“Georgie, is it?” Morven demanded, eyes narrowing. “And just how well d’ye know my lass, then?”

“They’ve been together at Beverwyck these past weeks,” the countess cut in.

Both men turned, not having heard the door open.

“His grace is friends with Blackwood, my lord. A fact which must recommend him to us, surely. The Bedwins invited the duke to spend Christmas with them and he and Georgina have spent a good deal of time together. Chaperoned, I’m sure,” she added hastily.

“Of course,” Rochford agreed, not averse to lying through his teeth to get what he wanted.

Morven continued to eye him with suspicion.

“You must stay with us this evening, your grace, and for Hogmanay too,” his wife said, ignoring the look of outrage from her husband. “We would be glad of the opportunity to get to know you better and the roads between here and Wick are not to be attempted in the dark, unless you know them well.”

“You are most gracious, Lady Morven. I should be glad to accept, but only for tonight. I do not wish to intrude on family celebrations,” Rochford replied politely, knowing well that the earl wanted to throw him out on his arse. Not that he blamed him. If he’d been Georgie’s father and a man like him appeared, he’d barricade the doors. Of course, if he ever persuaded Georgie to marry him, he might have a daughter like her. His heart skipped, the image flickering to life in his mind’s eye so enchanting he felt a little winded.

“—if that suits you?” The countess’ voice pierced his daydream, bringing him back to the here and now.

“Certainly,” he agreed, not having a clue what would suit him, having missed the conversation, but he felt certain such a gracious hostess would propose nothing that didn’t suit him.

His eyes drifted back to the stag’s head and those peculiar pink ribbons. The countess saw him staring, and her lips twitched. “Come, your grace. You must wish to freshen up before dinner. I shall see you to your room.”

And with that, she bore him off and out of the study.

Chapter 20

Monsieur,

I never managed a moment alone with you after Christmas day, so I could not tell you how very much I loved your gift, or should I say ‘gifts’? I cannot imagine how you contrived such a thing, but I am more grateful than you can imagine. They are simply stunning, and I swear I shall do them justice. You have just made my resolution to be braver a good deal easier, my dear friend.

I hope I shall see you at Lady Cavendish’s New Year’s Ball, for then you may see for yourself.

―Excerpt of a letter from Miss Evie Knight (daughter of Lady Helena and Mr Gabriel Knight) to Louis César de Montluc, Comte de Villen.

30th December 1840, Wildsyde Castle, Scotland.

Georgie felt very much as if she were sat upon thorns as dinner proceeded with Rochford in position of honoured guest at her mother’s elbow. Her brothers had obviously been told to hold their tongues as they were noticeably silent, which did not help the stilted atmosphere one little bit. The devils were doing it on purpose, of course, she fumed. She turned to her mother as the staff brought in the second course, but Mama only bit her lip and stared at her plate, looking very much as if she was trying hard not to laugh.

Strangely, Rochford did not seem the least bit put out or ill at ease, but ate his dinner with apparent contentment. When the meal was over, he wished everyone goodnight before retiring for the evening, only for Georgie to realise she’d barely spoken a word to him all evening.

She glared at her brothers and her father, folding her arms. “Well, thank you very much. If that didn’t scare him off, I can only imagine breakfast will put the lid on it.”

“Ach, what d’ye want to go marrying a surly munter like that for?” Muir said, shaking his head. “Ye can do better, yappy dug. Don’t settle for the first fellow as shows an interest.”

“Better than a duke?” Georgie retorted, irritated.

“He means prettier,” Hamilton explained seriously. “Ye’d not be wanting to wake up beside that every morning. ‘Twould put ye off yer porridge.”

“I’d rather wake up beside him than any other man I’ve met, no matter how pretty,” she retorted, fuming at their inconsiderate words.

Then, as she saw them fall about laughing, she realised what she’d said, and that the beasts had goaded her on purpose. Blushing furiously, she scowled at them and flounced to the door, slamming it on her way out.

Rochford was always an early riser, but he made certain he was up and about in good time the next morning, determined to keep his promise and not outstay his welcome. He wanted to do things properly this time, and he’d taken a risk last night as it was, turning up out of the blue. It would be the last. He made his way down the stairs, surprised and pleased to discover Georgie waiting for him.

“Good morning,” she said, looking adorably and uncharacteristically shy.

“Good morning,” he replied, feeling his spirits lift at the sight of her. “Did you sleep well?”

She smiled. “I think I’m supposed to ask you that as you’re our guest, but yes, thank you. I wanted to speak to you though, Rochford, to apologise.”