“Is it? Well, I do not care for neat then,” he said cheerfully and handed it back. He then went to assist Lady Garriton whohad somehow managed to attach her bough about her person accidentally.
Clarissa lifted her own bough as the other ladies did. She was pleased with it and tweaked the silver ribbon tied at the base. The holly and mistletoe were rather tidier than the others. She certainly had the neatest, if not the most extravagant, bough.
The party broke up as the ladies walked about the house under Lady Eleanor’s direction as she pointed out some suitable spots.
Just as Eleanor had promised, Lady Wilde’s was hung above the clock in the hall, directly opposite the front door. It would be seen by anyone who entered the house, and Lady Wilde was evidently very pleased with the arrangement.
Clarissa followed her mother and Rosemary to a small archway at the edge of the entrance hall. Lord Bolton was behind her, speaking to Lady Bartholemew, who was entreating him to help her hang her bough.
The kiss she had pictured had her skin alight as she looked at him. She had never entertained such thoughts with Warrington. She had never entertained them with any man. Was this why he was known as a rake? Once you were in his sphere of influence, it was almost impossible to pull yourself out of it.
Lady Eleanor approached her with a small stepladder.
“Your bough will look lovely in the centre,” she said to Clarissa. Lady Crompton seemed affronted that Lady Eleanor had not chosen her own and walked away with Rosemary in her wake.
“Thank you, my lady,” Clarissa said as she settled the steps and prepared to climb them. Lady Eleanor was distracted by Lady Wilde asking her whether her bough was central. Clarissa climbed the steps alone.
There was a small hook from a previous year in the centre ofthe arch, and she was able to hang her bough there. Being rather small, however, she found she had to reach up to hook it over it, and as she did so, she lost her balance.
For a heart-stopping moment, she felt her foot move from under her and, with a small cry of alarm, toppled sideways.
She was seconds from colliding violently with the floor when a strong arm encircled her waist, large hands holding her steady, as Lord Bolton suddenly stood beside her. He lowered her gently to the floor. Lady Bartholemew was all aflutter behind him, fussing over Clarissa and ensuring she was well.
Clarissa could not look anywhere but at Lord Bolton. His hands were still around her waist, sure and warm, and his eyes never left hers. They stared at each other as the room about them disappeared, and the bustle and chatter of the other women faded.
Clarissa could have stood there with him forever, basking in the heat of his body and the safety she felt in his arms. But after what could only have been a few seconds, he ensured she was balanced and then stepped away.
“Upon my word, Miss Crompton, are you well?” Lady Wilde glided effortlessly toward them, her hand brushing against Lord Bolton’s elbow as she did so. “My goodness, you could have hurt yourself badly!”
Lady Wilde looked up at Lord Bolton, who was observing her with an expression of concern. Clarissa could not tell if he was concerned for her or at Lady Wilde’s words.
“Miss Crompton, are you alright?” Lady Eleanor asked, hurrying forward.
“Yes, I am alright,” Clarissa said, giving a small laugh. I overbalanced. Your nephew has righted me, however. I thank you, Lord Bolton.”
Lord Bolton said nothing as Clarissa was engulfed by well-wishers and concerned party members. When she looked again,he was gone.
Clarissa spent much of the day with Emily and Rosemary as the day progressed. She enjoyed her old friend’s company, and they discussed many days from her youth. Rosemary remembered Catherine, and although she did not explicitly open the topic, there were some gentle references to ‘your sister,’ which Clarissa was grateful for.
The ladies moved about the house under Eleanor’s instruction, putting up more Christmas decorations and lighting some of the candles. The house was positively bursting with Christmas cheer, and Clarissa felt the joys of the season more acutely than ever.
This was by far the happiest Christmas she could remember.
Lord Bolton was always at the edges of her vision throughout the day. She wondered if he might speak to her, but he was taken up with Lady Bartholemew and Lady Garriton’s constant requests. Clarissa had the opportunity to observe him often, his smiling eyes and laughter always close by.
His friendship with Lord Addison was obvious; they were more like brothers than friends. Clarissa was also beginning to notice Lord Addison’s attentions to Emily. It was a gentle thing, but his eyes rarely left Emily when her cousin was in the room.
She had noticed that Lord Addison favoured Emily’s company above anyone else. They were often speaking together or partnered together. Indeed, they had skated on the pond for some time as a pair.
Clarissa would never indulge in gossip. She hated how much of it she had had to endure herself. However, she could not help watching Emily with interest whenever Lord Addison was in the room. It reminded her, rather ashamedly, of how she was with Lord Bolton. Emily never let her eyes linger too long but always sought him out.
As the evening drew near, everyone admired the newlyhung decorations. The house was beautiful and smelled of pine wherever you walked. There was a multitude of foliage around every door and the boughs looked very pretty dotted amongst them.
As she stood beside the window, Clarissa was surprised to feel a presence at her back. She turned and felt her palms clench as she saw Lord Bolton approaching.
He came to stand beside her as they looked out of the window at the white world before them.
“I wished to compliment you, Miss Crompton, on your kissing bough.”
