Page 25 of The Mistletoe Duke

Cicely Peck was beautiful too. His mother certainly hadn’t failed on that account. She also didn’t natter on about ribbons and hats, which was a mercy. She merely smiled at him warmly and said how pleased she was to make his acquaintance. Frankly, it was a relief to not be fawned over.

Hisdick appeared next, looking slightly uncomfortable in his suit. He’d slicked back his fly-away hair and gone so far as to wear a cravat, which was saying something. Hisdick was never fond of things tied around his neck.

“Hallo,” Jonathan greeted him. “I’m so glad you came.” Hisdick rarely went out—anywhere. He preferred to be closeted somewhere in a dark room with his books and a candle, which was probably why Jonathan had thought of him for Meg. She loved books too.

“Thank you for the invitation.” Hisdick wobbled slightly from side to side, as though the floor were moving. But then, he’d always been more at home on a frigate. Before his appointment to the House of Commons, he’d been a seaman. He’d never been completely comfortable on dry land. “I must say, your home is quite grand.”

“Thank you.”

Hisdick leaned in. “Which one is she?” he asked, eyeing the groupings in the salon.

Something lodged in Jonathan’s throat. “Ahem. She?”

“The woman you mentioned in the letter?”

“Ah. Meg. She’s not come down yet.” Jonathan forced a smile, but it cost him. He needed to remember why this party was being thrown. It was for Meg. To meet a man. Gads, how the thought irked him.

And now, seeing Hisdick here, in this company, a horrifying prospect occurred to him. Surely he hadn’t invited his friend because he wasn’t a handsome, charming, wealthy lord? Because he was a little quirky and something less than a romantic figure? Surely he hadn’t chosen him in the hopes that he would be one fewer man Meg might fancy?

A lowering thought. And one that posed more questions than he was capable of entertaining at the moment.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to.

Hisdick’s gasp forestalled any ethical dilemma he might have been tempted to confront.

He turned and followed his friend’s gaze, and his lungs locked.

A woman stood at the top of the stairs. A vision in blue.

It took him a moment—longer than it should have—to realize it was Meg.

He hadn’t seen her like this, in a fancy dress with her hair done up, since her season. But even then, she hadn’t been so…magnificent. Her stance was regal, her expression serene. She looked like… Well hell, she looked like a duchess.

It poleaxed him.

He barely even noticed Christian and Susana—with a smug smile—on either side of her as she floated down the stairs. His heart thudded, his head went woozy. Something in his breeches tightened.

Good glory, she was exquisite.

Had he really invited men here for her?

What a fool.

Because it was only now that he realized the truth of it.

He wanted her for himself.

“Who is that?” Hisdick asked. “She’s stunning.”

“That is Miss Meg Chalmers,” Mother answered.

Jonathan was incapable of speech. But he was capable of glares. He offered one to Hisdick for asking and one to Mother for answering. They both ignored him. Both were utterly entranced by the sight of his Meg coming towards them.

She smiled when she saw him. A warm, bright greeting that made his cockles tingle. He wasn’t sure where cockles were, but he had his suspicions.

“Your Grace.” She gave a curtsey and put her gloved hand in his. He didn’t want to let go.

“Meg,” Mother said with a sigh. “Don’t you look lovely?”