Her breath hitched and she turned. "Not at all."
He gave a low chuckle, the sound vibrating through her until every cell in her body hummed with pleasure and expectation. "An improvement from how you would have responded last week."
"A great deal has changed since then."
"Such as?" He moved a step closer, all humor now gone from his handsome face.
"I…" Jane swallowed. She shook her head, unable to form the right words as heat crept into her cheeks.
The edge of Edward’s mouth lifted, though his expression remained somewhat strained. Reaching inside his jacket pocket he pulled out a clipping of some sort. "Perhaps this will clarify things."
She stared at him in dumbfounded awe as he raised his hand, holding what appeared to be mistletoe over their heads. Her pulse leapt in wild anticipation of what happened next.
He leaned in…slowly…so slowly she had forever in which to refuse him, to push her way past him and return indoors.
Except she didn't want to. Indeed, now that this moment was here, she wondered how she'd been able to wait this long for his kiss.
But right before pressing his lips to hers, he paused. His hand cupped her cheek. "This isn't meaningless to me, Jane. Indeed, this moment right here with you is more important than any other, because of the promise it holds. Allow me to court you as you deserve, knowing that my heart is yours and yours alone."
"Yes." How could she deny him when she’d wanted him for years?
He closed the distance between them then and finally kissed her, offering every assurance that his heart was true and that this Christmas would lead to the happily ever after she'd always dreamed of.
December 10
Snowed In on Christmas Eve
Rose curled her fingers around the wooden ball, gripping it firmly as she swung her arm to release it. The ball shot forward, rolling along the runner before crashing into the bottles her host, Viscount Lockstone, had placed at the end of the hallway.
Excitement bubbled inside her as each bottle fell. Grinning, she jumped up and down, clapping her hands. “I did it!”
Lockstone’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he inclined his head at the victory she’d just secured over him. “Indeed you did, my lady. Well done.”
“I say,” her father, the Earl of Orondale, declared. “We should enter you in the national bowling competition.”
“Does such a thing exist?” Rose’s mother asked with a dubious frown.
“I’ve no idea,” Papa said. “But it ought to.”
Happiness burst through Rose’s veins in response to her father’s wink. He’d always supported his daughters’ every pursuit and would never try holding them back on account of their gender. Because of this, many members of Society thought him and the rest of her family eccentric at best, scandalous at worst.
Rose knew only that she was blessed with a freedom most young ladies her age were denied.
“Shall I request another bottle of champagne so we can celebrate Lady Rose’s big win?” Lockstone asked just as the hallway clock chimed.
“Not for me, I’m afraid,” Mama said with a yawn. “I’ve been up since dawn and find myself thoroughly worn out.”
“I rather agree,” Papa said while Lockstone’s parents, the Marquess and Marchioness of Cheshire, nodded. “But I’m sure the young ladies and gentlemen can all be convinced.”
Rose glanced at the rest of the group who’d made up the three different teams. While her younger sister, Megan, could be counted on, Edwina would no doubt prefer to retire with one of her books.
“A glass of champagne would be perfect right now,” Lockstone’s cousin, Mr. Flowers, said with a swift glance at Megan.
“Lady Rose?” Lockstone queried. His gaze fixed upon her with such intensity, her pulse quickened.
“I’m in agreement with Mr. Flowers,” Rose told him while heat washed her cheeks. She’d arrived at the Lockstone estate two weeks prior fully intending to return home before Christmas. During the visit, however, she’d enjoyed a great many walks and conversations with the handsome viscount, to the point where she feared she was rapidly falling for him. So she’d not been the least bit sorry when an unexpected snowfall had stopped her from leaving two days ago as planned. The only question was whether or not Lockstone might have a tendre for her as well, or if he was simply trying to be a good host.
She considered this last possibility as she bid her parents and the Cheshires goodnight and proceeded toward the parlor. He’d made no effort to steal a kiss yet, so perhaps the attraction was merely one–sided.
For which she would not blame him. Men of his rank might think her fun to have as a friend, but to actually marry a boisterous woman was something else entirely. No doubt the unpredictability of her nature would instill a heavy dose of wariness in any respectable gentleman.
With this in mind, Rose lowered herself to the settee while her sister and Flowers selected adjacent armchairs. But if Rose had any lingering hope of gaining an offer from Lockstone, it was swiftly dashed when he chose to sit on the settee opposite her, instead of securing the spot by her side.
Collin Dartmoore, Viscount Lockstone, was excruciatingly aware of his manners when he was in Lady Rose’s presence. After having his own sister forced into an unhappy marriage due to careless behavior, he made sure never to be alone with the woman for whom his heart beat with increasing speed.
She was spectacular in her uniqueness, her forthright manner different and refreshing from that of other debutantes he’d encountered. And she was fun – a good sport willing to participate in all manner of activities, from skipping stones to knocking down the last remaining chestnuts from the trees near the lake using slingshots. He’d even convinced her to engage in a spitting contest, much to the horror of the maid who’d served as chaperone.
The unbidden tug at the edge of his mouth as he thought back on the incident reminded him of the laughter they’d shared then. Indeed, there was never a boring moment with Lady Rose. Not even getting snowed in could deter her from having fun. But there was more to her than a carefree spirit forever seeking adventure. Indeed, she was a delightful conversationalist as well while being surprisingly adept at the piano, though she did admittedly play with the sort of fanfare one might expect from a woman who overflowed with endless energy.
Now, by contrast, she appeared uncharacteristically pensive while sipping her recently filled glass of champagne. If one didn’t know her, one might mistake her for any other perfectly turned out Society miss without an ounce of personality to her name.
Collin sipped his own drink while mindlessly listening to his cousin, Henry. Leaning forward in his seat, he regaled Lady Megan with a fantastic tale relating the time he’d been shot while fighting off highwaymen on the north road.
“One of them raised his pistol and fired without even blinking.” Henry slapped his palm to the upper part of his torso as if to indicate the spot.
Lady Megan gasped. “In your chest?”
To his credit, Henry didn’t answer in the affirmative. Instead, he expelled a tortured breath while gazing deeply into her eyes. “The pain was indescribable.”