Read Online It Happened Under the Mistletoe: A Holiday Novella by Valerie Bowman - Free Book Online Page B

mean? What about Oliver?”
    “I didn’t know that he wasn’t raised to be a duke. It’s just surprised me, that’s all.”
    They resumed their stroll down the corridor. “I noticed you called Oliver by his Christian name,” Kate said.
    Cerian blushed profusely. “Oh, I—”
    Kate shook her head. “No need to explain. Oliver tells me you two are pretending to be courting.”
    Cerian sucked in her breath. “He told you that?”
    “James guessed actually and Oliver admitted it.”
    Cerian glanced away, examining the faces of the Medford ancestors in the portraits that lined the walls of the hallway. “It’s true.”
    “And how do you feel … about Oliver, I mean?”
    “Feel about him? I barely know him.”
    Kate gave her a skeptical look. “I heard about that kiss in the library. By all accounts it didn’t seem as if you two were pretending.”
    Cerian hung her head. “Oh, Kate. Mama’s fondest dream would come true if I married a gentleman with a title. But you know as well as I that I’m not cut out to be in Society. I didn’t grow up in this world. I’d always be a horrible outsider.”
    Kate tucked a curl behind Cerian’s ear. “May I give you some advice, dear?”
    “Of course you may.”
    “First, stay away from Sir Gilliam. We invited him because he’s one of James’s business associates but I’ve heard rumors that he’s in terrible debt.”
    Cerian nodded. “No trouble on that score. I wondered if he was only sniffing after me because of my dowry. It certainly isn’t because we have much to talk about. Aside from his cousin’s foot ailments.”
    “Ick.” Kate shook her head. Then she continued, “As for Oliver, remember that I wasn’t raised to be in Society either. I didn’t fit in for many years. But now, I couldn’t imagine my life without James.”
    Cerian nodded and Kate continued, “You don’t want to marry just to suit your mother and I understand that perfectly. But be sure not to discard someone you may care deeply for just to spite your mother either.”

CHAPTER TWELVE
    By the time Lady Selina’s mother, Lady Kinsey, sidled up to Oliver in the breakfast room, he’d already mentally planned his escape. He’d been reading the paper, clearly indicating he didn’t relish company and he’d just swallowed the last bit of his poached egg when the lady slid into the seat across from him.
    “Good morning, your grace,” she said in a gratingly pleasant voice.
    How did that woman manage to make his honorific sound dirty? He fought the urge to grind his teeth and eyed her warily. Lady Kinsey had been good-looking in her day, no question. But now she wore a bit too much rouge and, if rumors were true, she was a bit too free with her favors with men who were not her husband. “Good morning, Lady Kinsey. I was just about to—”
    Lady Kinsey leaned over the table, affording him a more than ample view of her aging breasts. She lowered her voice to a hiss-like whisper. “Please tell me you’re not serious about that Blake chit.”
    The paper nearly dropped from his fingers. He clenched his jaw. “Pardon?”
    “Why, she’s no more qualified to be a duchess than the parlor maid.”
    Oliver savagely twisted the sides of the paper in his fists. “I fail to see how that’s any of your concern, my lady.” He nearly spat the words.
    Lady Kinsey lowered her voice and glanced around. “She’s Welsh for God’s sake.”
    Oliver took a deep breath. “Again, none of your concern.”
    She leaned ever closer, her eyes narrowed to slits. “I don’t have to tell you how tarnished the Markingham title became after Lady Medford’s little escapade last year. I fear your family name cannot withstand another smear upon it.”
    Oliver stared at her with unblinking eyes. “Do you have a point?”
    She raised her chin. “Must you force me to spell it out, your grace?”
    “Seems so,” he drawled.
    She leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest. “Very well then,” she said,