Free It Happened Under the Mistletoe: A Holiday Novella by Valerie Bowman

her voice still low. “I am close, personal friends with Lady Jersey, Lady Castlereagh, and Lady Cowper, the patronesses of Almack’s. As you well know, one cross word from them and your family name would be quite sullied beyond all hope of redemption. Not to mention if they don’t approve of your new wife, she’ll be given the cut direct by everyone in the ton .”
    Blood pounded through Oliver’s temples. “Might I remind you that my wife shall be a duchess?”
    “Indeed, but a Welsh nobody wouldn’t survive as a duchess, Markingham. Not without the backing of those ladies. Do I make myself clear?”
    Oliver stood and tossed the crumpled paper to the tabletop. “What exactly is it that you want from me, Lady Kinsey?”
    She grinned at that. An evil-looking grin. “Selina is the perfect choice for a duchess, Markingham. You know that. She’s been raised to the title since she was a babe.”
    “I’ve no doubt she would fit the role to perfection but what about the fact that we don’t suit? I’m looking for a wife who’s more interested in me than my title.”
    Lady Kinsey smirked. “You’re a fool, Markingham. Who cares about interest? This is about money and combining two great houses. And keeping your family name intact.”
    Oliver’s knuckles cracked. “And you intend to ensure that my wife and I are given the cut direct by all of Society if I don’t choose Lady Selina?”
    “Precisely. Selina and I have invented a final game to play before the house party is over. Let’s just say you’d do well to pick her when the time comes. Do I make myself clear?”
    Oliver pushed back his chair with a loud scrape. “You’ve made yourself entirely clear,” he spat. He stood up, turned on his heel, and stalked away.
    *   *   *
    Cerian turned away from the back entrance to the breakfast room. Whatever Oliver and Lady Kinsey had been discussing, it seemed intense. And intimate. She shuddered. Lady Kinsey had leaned over and touched Oliver’s hand. That was the type of woman who populated Oliver’s world, not Cerian. Not a silly little Welsh mouse who didn’t belong in London Society, let alone on the arm of a duke. Lady Kinsey and her daughter were beautiful and worldly and self-possessed. No doubt they never said awkward, silly things like Cerian seemed to blurt at every turn.
    Cerian thought back to her conversation with Kate and cringed. Kate had spoken about Oliver as if she actually had a chance at winning him. And Cerian had been so bold as to actually discuss it with her cousin. What an idiot Cerian was. It didn’t matter that Oliver hadn’t been raised as the heir to a dukedom. He’d still been raised as the grandson of a duke. He still inhabited the world of the ton , a world Cerian had no place in. Oh, she could travel to Oxfordshire for a Christmastide house party and put diamonds in her hair and dress up and pretend. She might even meet a real duke and—gulp—kiss him. But that was as long as that fairytale would last, no matter what she or her Mama wished for.
    And the most miserable thing was that she’d realized something watching Oliver and Lady Kinsey. Cerian was jealous. Desperately so. And one didn’t get jealous unless one had feelings for someone.
    She’d been having schoolgirl fantasies about Oliver and somehow managed to forget that he was the most sought after man in London. And she was seven kinds a fool for forgetting it.
    Cerian shook her head. No. No. No. This was all wrong, not how it was supposed to go at all. The playacting must stop. She must end it all now before she truly got hurt.
    *   *   *
    Oliver slammed his fist into the bag of hay. He’d come to the stables to borrow a mount to ride but instead he found himself in an empty stall, driving his fist into the first inanimate object he found.
    Damn Lady Kinsey and her smug innuendo. How dare that woman threaten him and his family name? And damn George and his treatment of Kate and his fight with his