Read Online Miss Featherton's Christmas Prince (The Marriage Game Book 9) by Ella Quinn - Free Book Online

a table where drinks and food had been set up. “I have brandy, or you might prefer the spiced wine. My chef is from France and makes it in their style.”
    “The wine, please.” He’d been partial to hot spiced wine since he’d first tried it in northern Spain. Taking the glass, he thanked her. “You are keeping country hours, I trust.”
    “Naturally. As you should know, my husband would cavil loudly and long if I made him wait for his dinner. How was your drive here?”
    “Not bad. Dry until the last bit. I stopped at home to see my step-mother and the children. Fortunately, my father was away for a few days.”
    Her black eyes lost their good humor. “Still on the outs, I see. Well, the right wife will go a long way to settling that.”
    “I only wish that was true. Something gives me the unsettling feeling that he would like to arrange my wife for me.”
    “Old fool.” Her lips pressed together. “There can be no objection to Miss Featherton—if you can manage to bring her up to scratch, that is.”
    “While we’re on the subject, if you have any ideas, you perceive me all ears.”
    “What was the paper you passed to Miss Hiller?”
    Damon didn’t know and did not wish to know how Lady Bellamny saw everything. “It was from Throughgood, telling her his family would dine here this evening.”
    She nodded. “Excellent.” She gave him a second glass of wine. “Take that to Miss Featherton. She looks cold and rather peaked.”
    A glass in each hand, Damon ambled over to the fireplace, then stood off to the side of his quarry. “I brought you some warm wine.”
    She glanced at him, startled. “Thank you. That was very kind.”
    Pressing the glass into her hand, he replied, “It was Lady B’s idea. She said you looked cold.”
    “Yes.” As if to add effect to the words, she shivered. “I do not know why I’m so chilly. I am normally not such a poor creature.”
    “It is a very old house and tends to be drafty.” Which was only a partial lie. The house was old. It had been in the Bellamny family since Queen Elizabeth’s time, but it was also extremely well maintained. “I am feeling a bit chilled as well,” he said, continuing to malign his hosts. He lifted his glass in a toast. “If Lady Bellamny is to be believed, this will warm us.”
    Miss Featherton raised her glass as well. “I suppose it cannot hurt.” She sipped, and a faint smile appeared on her lips. “It is very good. Nothing at all like the mulled wine I’ve had before.”
    He bent his head toward her as if he were about to impart a great secret. “French chef.”
    “Oh.” A small burble of laughter escaped her. “That explains it.”
    This might be easier than he had thought. Apparently, she had had time to recover. “This is excellent, but the best hot spiced wine I’ve ever had was in the north of Spain. Although, come to think of it, we might have been in southern France.”
    “Were you making your Grand Tour?” She took a larger sip of the wine.
    “After a fashion. If you consider Wellington a proper bear leader.”
    Her jaw dropped for only a moment, but it was long enough for him to begin to imagine what her lips would feel like, and how she would taste.
    “You were in the army. I did not know.”
    Holding his arm out, he gave a mocking bow, and said jokingly, “You perceive before you a man of many talents.”
    Her countenance shuttered as if she had slammed a door. That had obviously been the wrong thing to say. Perhaps he needed to learn more about her former suitors’ public personas. How had they presented themselves and what had they done for her to fall in love with them? His heart ached for her. No one, especially a lady like Miss Featherton, should be made to suffer such pain.
    He drained his glass. “I beg your leave. I must change for dinner.”
    “Yes, of course,” she said in a distracted tone. “As should I.”
    Damon took her wineglass, taking the opportunity to kiss her hand. “I look