Free The Mischief of the Mistletoe: A Pink Carnation Christmas by Lauren Willig Page A

others want to laugh too. “But many admirers, I imagine.”
    â€œThe chevalier has quite the imagination,” Lady Vaughn murmured to her husband.
    â€œDozens of admirers,” Mr. Fitzhugh said stoutly. “Have to beat ’em off with a stick.”
    â€œAh,” said the chevalier with amusement. “Due to the lack of a dog. You might want to invest in one. It would save the wear and tear on the trees.”
    â€œI thank you for your advice, Monsieur de la Tour d’Argent.”
    There he was, Captain Musgrave, standing near the refreshment table, a silver cup in one hand. Arabella could see the steam rising off it in long curls, framing his face like a picture carried in a locket.
    The chevalier grinned at Arabella. “Why not just call me ‘limb of Satan’ and have done with it?”
    â€œBecause some people, Nicolas, have manners,” said the chevalier’s cousin.
    There were clusters of people on either side of Captain Musgrave, but not with him. He stood alone between the chattering groups while Arabella’s aunt gossiped with a nearby matron. As Arabella watched, he looked up, his eyes meeting hers across the clearing, across a divide of two months and one ring.
    â€œIs that what you teach?” Arabella heard Jane ask Mlle de Fayette, dutifully making conversation. “Deportment?”
    â€œTeach?” repeated Lady Vaughn, as though the word were unfamiliar to her.
    The crowd moved again and he was gone, blocked out. Arabella looked abruptly away, forcing herself to focus on her companions. Act naturally, she admonished herself. The point was to look as though she were enjoying herself.
    â€œI teach French,” said Mlle de Fayette. “It is a logical subject for me, no?”
    â€œOh, yes!” agreed Arabella enthusiastically. Too enthusiastically. Jane gave her a strange look.
    â€œDo you like it?” asked Jane. “Teaching?”
    Mlle de Fayette exchanged a wry look with her cousin. “It was not entirely a matter of choice, but it has its compensations. Today, however . . .” Leaning forward confidentially, she said, “There is a situation of the most awkward. A student of the school is here today, against all prohibitions.”
    â€œA former student of the school. Asked to leave for conduct unbecoming young ladies,” chimed in the chevalier, in his nearly accentless English. “Who knew that an all-girls’ academy could be such a very interesting place?”
    â€œIt is not supposed to be,” said his cousin severely. “That is the point. It was very sad for Miss Carruthers and her family. Miss Climpson has allowed her to stay until the end of term, but after that . . .”
    â€œCarruthers? Not Catherine Carruthers?” inquired Mr. Fitzhugh.
    â€œI take it you know her, Fitzhugh?” said Vaughn.
    â€œNot like that!” Mr. Fitzhugh’s ears went red. “Used to be friends with m’sister. Sally.”
    â€œAh,” said Mlle de Fayette, placing a hand confidingly on his arm. “Then you know the story. If you will excuse me. I must ask Signor Marconi if he has seen her. I must get her back to the school before her parents or others find out.”
    â€œHow did she get out here?” asked Mr. Fitzhugh. “Girls don’t make a usual practice of these jaunts, do they?”
    â€œIt is of the doing of the cousin, Lord ’Enry Innes. He says he did not know she was meant to be confined to the school.” Mlle de Fayette gave a brisk shake of her head. “It is of the most uncomfortable. One does not like to offend Lord Henry, but the parents of Catherine were most particular in their instructions. So I must find her and take her back. If you will pardon me?”
    This time, no one stopped her. With a curtsy to the group at large, she hurried away, towards the man with the droopy mustaches, who had just moved on from “Helas” to “Flora