The maid set to work, getting out her box of ribbons and shuffling through them until she landed on the colour she wanted.
The ribbons reminded Clarissa of the kissing boughs she and the other ladies had made earlier in the week. She wondered where hers might be hung. As she considered it, another thought came to mind.
She imagined standing beneath it, looking up at her creation, and being joined by Lord Bolton. Perhaps they would both observe the mistletoe, a silence forming between them.
Clarissa’s hands tightened in her lap.
Perhaps he might turn back to her, those emerald eyes fixing upon hers in that mesmerizing way. They would step closer to one another, their bodies only inches from touching, and he might lower his head, their lips moving toward one another in a most illicit kiss—
“Are you well, Miss Crompton? You are very flushed.”
Clarissa cleared her throat. “I am a little warm from the fire, that is all.”
She went to breakfast shortly after, aware that she looked very well. Annie rarely took such care over her hair, and the dress was not her usual beige or white muslin. She felt,as she walked into the room, very grand indeed. She even complimented herself that she rivalled Lady Wilde’s elegance.
As she sat down, Lady Eleanor announced that today they would be hanging the kissing boughs about the house. Clarissa’s eyes were drawn to Lord Bolton, who was sat at the other end of the table. He had his coffee cup in his hand and looked at her over the rim. His eyes were just as warm and inviting as they had been the day before.
Clarissa felt her cheeks flame and looked hurriedly away. She wished she could control her reactions around him. He must be able to tell the effect he has on me, she thought with concern. The images she had conjured that morning returned, flooding her mind with Lord Bolton’s lips, his intense gaze, and divine scent.
She piled her plate high with toast, adding another slice as her mother looked at her disapprovingly. She was determined to distract herself by any means necessary.
“Clary?”
Clarissa looked at Emily, who sat beside her. The young girl was moving the egg around her plate forlornly.
“What is it, Emily?” Clarissa asked with concern.
“Do not let Lady Eleanor hang mine,” Emily whispered. Clarissa’s heart clenched at the sorrow in her eyes.
“Whyever not? Your bough was very pretty.”
“No. I am not good at making them. I do not think it would stand up against the others. What if everyone says how good they all are except for mine?”
At times like this, Clarissa was reminded that Emily had lived a very sheltered life. Emily’s father had doted on her, and his death had hit her hard. She wondered if her cousin had ever had anyone tell her she was talented since then. Her mother tended to overindulge Emily but then criticized everything she did in the same breath.
“My dear, Emily, that is not true,” she said softly. “But if you are very unhappy with it let us resolve to fix it together. I think your bough is beautiful, and I would be honoured to have it beside my own.”
Emily’s expression improved a little. She seemed younger than her eighteen years, and Clarissa squeezed her arm reassuringly.
“Shall we go early and find it? We can see what can be done.”
“But you have not had breakfast!”
“I am not hungry today,” Clarissa lied, “I do not like to see you so downcast.”
Emily smiled as they both rose and made their way into the drawing room. All the boughs had been beautifully laid out in a line on the table.
Although Clarissa had been complimentary of Emily’s, she was correct that it did look rather scruffy beside the others. Emily was in the act of hiding it behind the settee when Clarissa laughed and told her to come over to the table where the remainder of the foliage had been left.
Before the other ladies arrived, they endeavoured to improve it. Clarissa added a beautiful tartan bow to the bottom, and they wound some purple ivy around the edges, which sorted out the unevenness of the holly.
By the time the other ladies came into the room, Emily was beaming again. Clarissa was of a mind that she should always be smiling. She was the happiest creature she had ever known.
Lord Addison approached them, complimenting them both on their boughs. Clarissa smiled as he admired them, but Emily blushed furiously as he raised hers up to look at it.
“I believe this is my favourite, though,” he said with a grin.
“It is the most untidy,” Emily said quietly.
