“Where is His Grace?” Margaret asked.
Bewildered at why Margaret would ask her about the duke, Adeline muffed an answer. “I’m not sure where he is.”
“Oh, bother,” Margaret shook her head. “Well, I may as well just give it back to you now before I forget again. One of the footmen gave this to me after cleaning up around the snowmen. Apparently it was left in the snow. Being that it was next to the snowman I started building with His Grace, the footman erroneously thought it belonged to me. Fortunately, he was not so far off. I believe this is yours.” True to Margaret’s dramatic flare, she wiggled her arm in the air, oddly showing off the item in her hand to the room, and then produced the lost reticule.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Adeline smiled. Of course, she knew Margaret would always be there for her. She need only count her blessings, and with time, her future would brighten again.
Lady Antonia loudly whispered to the innocent bystander beside her, “That shabby thing? Can one really call that a purse? It looks like a handkerchief.” The room was starting to pay attention to Lady Antonia. Louder still, she derided, “Are you sure it’s a reticule?”
Adeline’s eyes swept the room. All eyes were on Lady Antonia who was being unpardonably rude, except that Adeline was just a lady’s maid and this kind of treatment happened all too often. Lady Antonia peered down her nose at the purse. “Who would be seen carrying such a thing around?”
With that question, Adeline watched an oversized grin fill Margaret’s face.
Several ladies–duchesses, countesses, and viscountesses among them–lifted their own reticules, and brows, to show off their own similarly commissioned reticules. All handmade by Adeline. Adeline gasped. She had no idea she had made so many reticules and that such a large number of women carried them around. It was humbling to know that her work was treasured by so many.
“Wait.” Luke stepped into the room witnessing the verbal onslaught. He saw all the reticules in the air, and he must have noticed the one in Adeline’s hand because he asked, “Itisyours? You’re the mistletoe woman? You’re the same one? My heart was not fooled, nor divided. You’re the one. One and the same.”
The broken phrases were half-question half-statement. But they were full foolishness to all ears except Adeline’s.
“It is yours,” the repeated words were whispered by Luke.
“Yes,” Adeline ducked her head. “It is mine.” Now he knew. She was the one he had kissed under the mistletoe. There was no more mystery.
Hand on heart, Luke said, “That makes me the happiest man in the room. But, I shan’t get ahead of myself.”
He turned his body to face his mother, “I have the prize for the snowman-building competition.”
Nescient to the drama in the room, the dowager duchess clapped her hands. “It’s about time. It’s almost midnight.” She motioned Adeline and Luke to the center of the room. “Present the prize.”
Luke pulled out a pearl encrusted, cream-coloured reticule. “This is for you.” With reverence he held it out to Adeline. With two hands, she drew the fabric to her body and thumbed the embroidered initials: AZ. It was the most beautiful thing Adeline had ever seen. And not because it was haut ton fashion or the most expensive piece the beau monde had ever beheld. No, it was beautiful because she could feel the memories held within the reticule. There was character. There was love. And it was precious for Luke to even have considered offering it to her. Not that she could take it.
Loud whispers reminded her that she was in a crowded room, and not alone with Luke, and she couldn’t help hearing the whispers from Luke’s sisters now.
“Grandmother’s old reticule?”
“It can’t be.”
“It has her initials.”
Over the whispers, Adeline asked Luke, “Is this truly your grandmother’s?”
“Yes.”
“But–”
“I want you to have it.”
“I cannot accept this.”
“You must.”
Forgetting herself, she used his Christian name, “Luke, this is far too much of a prize for just building a snowman.”
Gasps were heard around the room.
And laughter. Luke’s laughter.
“Just building a snowman? This is not for building a snowman, my dear. This is for building a heart. For never losing yours. For opening mine up. And for me wanting to build snowmen with you every year in the future.”
