Page 21 of Yule Be Mine

Chapter Nine

With leaden feet Christmas morning, Yule descended the main staircase at his grandfather’s townhouse where the whole family had spent the night. God, he wished he hadn’t promised his grandparents he’d stay or he’d have slunk off last evening to his digs in St. James. Now he’d have to run the gauntlet of his cousins’ cracks at breakfast, unless he wished to starve. He entered the breakfast room and, just as he feared, all three of his cousins were already wolfing down the eggs and kippers. For a moment, starvation seemed the better choice and he started to back out of the room.

“Yule!” Tom had glanced up just before he could make his escape. He leapt to his feet and hurried toward him. “Just the man we wanted to see.”

The others at the table—his sisters and their husbands, his parents, aunts, uncles, the whole damn family it seemed like—ceased their talking, looked toward him and Tom, then burst into animated chatter as his cousin led him down to the seat he’d apparently been saving for him. Tom pushed him into the chair and sat down beside him. “So, when’s the wedding?”

The withering look he gave his cousin only made Tom’s grin grow wider. “And a Happy Christmas to you too, cousin. But, no, there is no wedding planned, as I’m certain you know.”

“After that kiss you gave her last night, I’m not certain of that at all.” Tom grabbed a croissant and lathered it with butter. “Wouldn’t you say, Julius? Francis?”

His twin cousins rolled their eyes in unison.

“Neither should you be certain of it, cuz. If her father hadn’t been so preoccupied with Grandfather that he missed it, I think he’d be insisting you make an honest woman of Penelope this minute.” Tom bit off the end of the bread and chewed with gusto. “About time too. I’m surprised no one has told him you’ve been kissing her every chance you get since they arrived from Ireland.”

Yule bristled at that. “That is absolutely not true, Tom. Stop spreading rumors like that or you’ll have me called out, if they still do that these days.”

“It’s not a rumor, Yule, and you know it. You kissed her most thoroughly during the Mistletoe Run at the Kastners’, then again on the dance floor at their ball. Last night’s spectacle makes three—and those are just the ones I’ve witnessed. God knows what you’ve been doing in private.”

“Nothing. We’ve been doing nothing at all in private.” Thank God for that. They’d done enough in public. “It’s just been kissing under the mistletoe, for goodness sakes. Everyone does that.”

“Normally kissing under the mistletoe is a quick peck on the cheek or maybe a brush of the lips.” Tom looked at him askance. “You two have ventured toward the indecent for couples who are married, much less betrothed.” He took up a forkful of kippers. “Which you also are not.”

Yule gritted his teeth, then nodded to a footman who set a plate down in front of him. Since he had chosen the inquisition over starvation, he’d better dig in while he still had an appetite.

“Why is that, cousin?”

The stealthy question came just as Yule had put a heaping forkful of eggs and kippers into his mouth. Glaring at Tom, he chewed silently, trying to formulate an answer that wouldn’t make him sound like a fool. At last, he swallowed and wiped his lips. “I didn’t think it appropriate to court a lady a young as Penelope.”

“But you think it’s appropriate to kiss one that young?” Julius leaned toward him, a smug smile on his face. He’d apparently been taking in every word of the conversation.

“I…Well…of course…” He was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t. “No, I should not have been kissing her like that, but…” Yule sighed. “You don’t know what she’s like, Julius.”

“What do you mean?” Francis stuck his head around his twin’s.

“And here’s another one poking his nose into my business.” Yule picked up his coffee, the rich aroma soothing him as he sipped.

“Don’t be like that, cuz.” Francis frowned. “I haven’t met the lady. What is she like?”

“She’s a siren, that is what is,” Yule exclaimed, unable to contain the name of the image he’d had all night of Penelope as one of the naked women in the painting by William Etty that had haunted him for years. “Beautiful and alluring, yet unattainable except at great peril.”

“Wait, what?” Tom looked at him, bewildered. “I understand she’s beautiful and alluring. But unattainable? Penelope adores you, Yule.”

“She’s too young, Tom.” That fact had haunted Yule during a night when he’d thought constantly about Penelope, naked and in bed with him. Having spent ten days away from her, he’d begun to think of her again as little Penelope.

The puzzled look on all his cousin’s faces mystified him.

“What are you talking about, Yule?” Julius finally spoke up. “You’ve said before you were surprised she’d grown up, but children do that. You do realize she’s not a child anymore, don’t you? That she’s the exact age of marriageable young ladies.”

Yule shook his head. “I suppose I do realize that, Julius. Sometimes, at least.” He could scarcely explain it to himself, much less someone else. “I managed to see her finally as a very desirable lady at Kastner’s ball. But I haven’t seen her since, so I’ve reverted to thinking of her again as the little girl who tagged along after me and Victor.”

“Well, you didn’t seem to have any trouble distinguishing one from the other under the mistletoe last night,” Tom chimed in again. “You must have feelings for her.”

“Of course, I do.” Too many feelings by far. And all of them contradictory.

“Have you told her that?” Francis pushed back his chair. “Perhaps we should adjourn to the drawing room. We’re to meet the rest of the family there when they have done with breakfast to open presents. Perhaps we can steal a march on them to sort this out for Yule in private before they converge on us.”

“Good idea, brother.” Julius tossed his napkin down and rose, as did Tom.