Read Online Marian's Christmas Wish by Carla Kelly - Free Book Online Page A

uncomfortable business, as you put
it.”
    “It must be,” she pointed out. “Only look how long you
have avoided the altar of duty.”
    “Yes, I have, haven’t I?” he agreed. “Perhaps I have
not sufficiently applied myself.”
    “I know it is different with men,” Marian said
generously. “Mama used to say that when Papa received love notes from his opera
dancers.”
    Lord Ingraham let out a shout of laughter. “Marian,
what will you say next?”
    She stuck out her tongue at him and returned to her
contemplation. The rain was beginning again, the soothing sound of it making
her eyes droop. It reminded her how tired she was, how little sleep she had
snatched the night before. She hardly noticed when Lord Ingraham put his hand
on her shoulder. She leaned against his hand for the briefest moment before he
took it away.
    “Does nothing ever go the way we plan?” she asked. “I
did so want to have a wonderful Christmas.”
    “So you shall, Marian,” he said.
    She thought he was going to say something else, but the
door slammed open. The cat hissed and leapt off his lap and into the basket of
kittens. The owl ruffled his feathers.
    “Mare! There you are!”
    Alistair let out a crack of laughter. “Lord Ingraham!
Did you let Marian quack you?” He pulled off his coat and shook it over Marian,
who made a grab for him. He danced nimbly out of reach. “Mare, did I see Percy
and that funny little man ride off in the gig? D’ye think Percy will show him
all around? Lord, I feel sorry for Ariadne.”
    He went over to the shelf and picked up another bottle,
opening it and holding it under his nostrils. “Marian, a dose of this and Sir
W. would cock his toes up stiff.”
    “Alistair,” she exclaimed, and took the bottle from
him. “It would likely only give him a headache to remember. But do not wave it
about. Alistair, you are a dreadful nuisance.”
    She appealed to Lord Ingraham. “Sir you must forgive us
both our rudeness.”
    Alistair snorted, and she whirled about. “For that’s
what it is, Alistair!”
    Gilbert merely smiled and watched them both. Marian
stared down Alistair, and he laughed and put up both hands to ward off his
sister.
    “Alistair,” she declared, “I am so much better when you
are not about! Even Mama remarks upon it.”
    “She will now blame me for her manners, my lord,”
Alistair explained. He frowned and was silent a moment. “Better we should blame
our own dear Bertram Wynswich, eh?” he said quietly.
    His serious tone stabbed at Marian’s heart, but she
nodded. “Mama had the raising of Percy and Ariadne,” she explained, too shy to
meet Lord Ingraham’s glance, which had not wavered from her face. “That was
before . . . before she took to her bed so often. Oh, there were such times we
had ...” Marian began wistfully, and
then stopped as she recalled herself to the moment. “But truly, Percy and
Ariadne are everything that is proper.’’
    “And dull occasionally,” added Alistair.
    “Alistair, please!” Marian flared. “Well, I own at
times ...” She smiled to herself, a
quick grin chasing across her face and gone in no time. “So Mama turned me and
Alistair over to Papa, and he always encouraged us to speak our minds.” She
looked down at her hands. “Plain speaking is a hard habit to break, my lord.
There’s something so . . . so free about it. Ah, well.” She finally raised her eyes to
Gilbert Ingraham’s. “And things do strike me funny. Well, I am determined to do
better in the New Year. It is time I grew up.”
    Lord Ingraham touched her cheek. “But not too fast,
please? I confess to being bored around diplomats who never, ever, say what is
on their minds.” He bowed. “It is a pleasure to meet a female with both hair
and wit.”
    Alistair laughed as Marian blushed. “Oh, Mare, aren’t
you the silly one! And you had better get used to having me around, especially
if I cannot convince Percy to let me ship off to sea as some man o’ war’s