Page 21 of Bound By The Christmastide Moon

“No, thank you,” she said with a reassuring smile. “I can announce myself.”

At least, she hoped she could find her voice after knocking on the door that appeared large enough to drive a horse and carriage through.

Mallory ran her moist palms down the front of her cloak and lifted her chin, ready to walk up the steps of the castle as if she belonged. In fact, she did. She was betrothed to the Countess of Banfield’s nephew, after all. Soon, she would be family, and might well visit often.

The thought did nothing to assuage her nerves.

The sound of shouting drifted on the breeze. Servants and finely dressed men and woman bustled about in the gardens close to the castle. Mallory stood, riveted, watching people come and go from a side terrace in the winter garden. The rolling greenland, so close to the sea, was breathtaking—and also very familiar.

Impossible.

Clearing her throat and slipping her hand through the drawstring on her handbag, Mallory started for the door. She did not want to keep Hettie waiting, especially if the coals grew cold and the interior of the carriage turned frigid.

Hettie’s words sprang to mind…”You shan’t be long.”

It hadn’t been a request for her to hurry, but more of an undisputable truth. Had Aunt Hettie’s vision been directly connected to Mallory? Glancing over her shoulder, she expected to see her aunt in the carriage window, but the woman was not pressed to the glass. She reclined in her seat—all but dozing with her eyes shut and her mouth gaping.

Perhaps she was only fatigued.

Starting up the steps, the door opened before she raised her hand to knock.

“May I help you, my lady?” The servant’s brow rose in question as he stood in the doorway, blocking her view of the foyer beyond.

“Lady Mallory Hughes, here to call on Lord Lichfield—the Earl of Lichfield,” she said, stumbling over her words. Drat. She needn’t say Lord Lichfield and the earl. She pasted a confident smile on her lips despite the unease that coursed through her at the servant’s pulled brow and blank expression. “Is he receiving at this time?”

With a flourish and a deep bow, he gestured for her to enter. “This way, Lady Mallory.”

She proceeded him into the foyer and waited for him to lead her to where she would wait. Her pulse raced at the thought of seeing Silas once more. He was certainly the most handsome man of her acquaintance. Surely many debutantes would be envious of her match.

At no point had she ever been in possession of something so grand it was worth envious stares from others; however, her betrothed was very worth the jealousy.

“This way.”

The butler started off down a corridor, and Mallory heard voices carrying through the drafty castle from all directions. Silas had not been wrong when he said Keyvnor was bursting with guests. As they passed a room, the open door gave Mallory a view of several young women gathered close as they worked on their needlepoint. The next hall gave her a clear view of a couple slipping into another room and closing the door behind them.

Mallory had never been one to seek the company of a large gathering; however, she’d relish the opportunity to know what the women spoke of as they plied their needles to task.

“Please wait within. My la—Lord Lichfield will be summoned.”

Mallory entered a delicately feminine sitting room. With drapes, wall coverings, and furniture of varying shades of peach, the area did not seem like any place Lord Lichfield would dare enter. She smiled to herself at the thought of him perched on the low lounge before the hearth, his weight certainly too much for the furniture to bear.

She pushed back her hood and unfastened the top button of her cloak.

The rest of the sitting room was outfitted in similarly fragile pieces: a writing desk, table and chairs, and a harpsichord nestled in the corner with a short stool.

“The Countess of Banfield,” the servant’s voice thundered through the room, though he spoke no louder than when he’d greeted her at the door. “Your guest, Lady Mallory Hughes.”

Mallory whipped around to face the stately mistress of Castle Keyvnor.

There must be some mistake. She was not here to call on the formidable Countess of Banfield.

Her mouth gaped open and then snapped shut at the woman’s frown.

“Lady Banfield.” Mallory dropped into a curtsey, pausing in her deep pose for a few seconds longer than necessary to collect her thoughts. Where was Lord Lichfield? Would he be joining them? Why had the servant summoned the countess? “It is an honor to make your acquaintance.”

Mallory straightened with a serene smile as she called upon her many years of decorum training in the schoolroom.

None of those lessons prepared her for facing the woman before her.