“Not at all.” Emma beamed at them and clapped her hands twice. “We would be delighted if you came.”
“We must decide what to pack, Lucy.” Aunt Edith tapped a finger on her chin as she contemplated her choices.
“Pack something warm as the farmer down the road insists we’ll have snow this Christmas,” Emma advised. “Father is having the ice-skating pond prepared this weekend, so bring your skates as well.”
Lucy wondered if she still had hers. It had been a long time since she’d skated, but she used to love gliding over the ice and had been quite good at it.
“Will the gathering be large?” Aunt Edith asked.
“The house will be full to the rafters,” Emma said. “Several guests are staying nearby and will come for many of the parties.”
“Oh my.” Her aunt’s delight made Lucy smile.
“There will be a Christmas Eve ball, of course, so bring a gown for that,” Emma added.
Lucy considered her limited wardrobe. Though she’d attended a few local balls over the years, she well knew her cousin’s would be much more formal.
Her concern must’ve shown on her face, for Emma waved a graceful hand in dismissal. “You and I are of similar size, dear Lucy. You’re welcome to borrow one of mine.”
“There won’t be time to have one made I’m afraid,” Aunt Edith said with a shake of her head.
The few gowns Lucy owned were a result of the annual visit from the local dressmaker. Her aunt lived a modest life as a widow, and while she never seemed to worry over money, neither did she spend much.
“What day will you come?” Emma asked.
They discussed the details then Emma rose. “I should return home. There’s much to be done before the party and Mother needs my help.” She bid her aunt goodbye with a kiss on her cheek, and Lucy walked her down the stairs to the front entrance.
“I’m still surprised you journeyed all this way,” Lucy said, curious as to why her cousin was so adamant that they attend.
“I knew Aunt Edith wouldn’t allow you to come on your own,” Emma said, her tone low to keep their conversation private, “and I so wanted you to join us. It’s been too long since we spent the holidays together. We used to have such fun, remember?”
“Yes,” Lucy agreed. “We truly did.” Perhaps she’d imagined Emma’s motivation, thinking the worst when it wasn’t deserved.
“I’m so pleased you’ll be there.” Emma leaned close. “I’m going to need your help.”
“Oh?” A trickle of concern ran along Lucy’s skin.
“You see, several gentlemen are pursuing me.” She gave a mischievous smile. “I have yet to determine if I wish to be caught. Mr. Hugh Raybourne is a terrible rogue, but charming and handsome in a rugged manner. Then there’s Viscount Jameson who is fine to look at and daring. Mr. Charles Barnes has a shy, polite manner I find infinitely appealing.”
“How would I help?”
“All the gentlemen have accepted our invitation. I intend to spend time with each one before I decide who I want to court me.” Emma squeezed Lucy’s arm. “I’d like your opinion, and I also need your help to arrange an intimate moment with each gentleman so I can choose which one will make the best husband.” She bit her lip, looking much like a cat about to devour a mouse.
“That sounds rather dangerous.” Not just for Emma but for Lucy as well. How was she supposed to keep not only the other suitors but Emma’s parents occupied? “If you’re caught, the result could prove disastrous.”
“Then you see why I need your assistance. The physical side of a relationship is as important as the other aspects. My friend, Lady Frances, is newly betrothed and has told me much about how one should feel when in love.”
“Love or merely lust?” Though Lucy was far from experienced, she was well-read. Her aunt’s taste in books included many romances, even a few that bordered on explicit as to the details of what happened between a man and a woman. From what she’d learned, people often became confused between love and lust. One could last a lifetime, but the other tended to be short-lived.
“I want both,” Emma said. “But in order to know, I am going to conduct a few experiments. A chaste kiss in an alcove or under the mistletoe simply won’t do.”
“Please tell me you intend to take care.” Lucy stared at her cousin in dismay. “You’re playing with fire.”
“I hope I am, cousin.” Emma’s predatory smile almost made Lucy feel sorry for the men involved. “I dearly hope I am.”
With a hug and a wave, Emma and her maid departed.
Lucy watched as the coach rolled down the drive, wondering what it would be like to catch a suitor’s eye, especially the different men Emma had described. The idea was equal parts intriguing and concerning.
Yet she couldn’t deny the excitement that filled her for the first time in a long while. This was going to be a wonderful Christmas.
Waverly House, mid-December
Hugh Raybourne closed the bedchamber door behind him, having freshened his appearance after the long drive from London with the assistance of James, his valet. Could he find his way to the billiard room where his host had directed him to join the other male guests? He glanced up and down the corridor then turned left, hoping he remembered correctly.
Hugh couldn’t believe his luck at receiving a coveted invitation to the house party. Many of the guests had already arrived with more expected throughout the day, and he looked forward to the activities over the coming ten days.
John Waverly was a wealthy member of the landed gentry, with more land than most lords. His fortune was legendary and, from what Hugh had seen thus far at their sizable country estate, the rumor had merit. The massive home was decorated lavishly. Waverly loved horses and had a large stable, and Hugh itched to get a close look at it.
The journey from London had been uneventful and left him time to plan his pursuit of Emma, Waverly’s only child. Hugh had first noted her at a ball near the end of the Season and admired her beauty. Though she had no title, that mattered little to Hugh as he didn’t have one either. But the fact that her father had horses held great appeal.
Hugh’s older brother, Graham, was the Earl of Carlington. Their father had passed nearly nine months earlier, but Hugh felt only minor grief. The man had been a tyrant most days and impossible the rest, especially after their mother died of apoplexy.
His father and mother claimed to have had a love match, but somewhere through the years, what love they shared—if any—died a painful death, leaving them both miserable. Thomas, the youngest, had borne the brunt of their father’s displeasure, though both Hugh and Graham had done what they could to shift his attention from Thomas.
The earl had refused to buy any of them a commission so they could join the war, insisting their duty was at home. Anger and resentment were a big part of the reason Hugh and his brothers had earned the reputation of rogues, overindulging in drink, gambling, and women. Anything to annoy their father.
But those days were at end. Graham had married Charlotte and continued to wade through the mess their father had left. Thomas had recently married Annabelle, who suited him perfectly, and he ran the publishing house their father had started but more profitably than the late earl had ever managed.