Free The Earl’s Mistletoe Bride by JOANNA MAITLAND Page A

finds my presence a burden this afternoon. However, my intentions were of the best, I assure you. I knew there were bound to be last-minute chores and,since it is my party, I thought I should offer my services. Is there any way in which I can help?’
    Mrs Aubrey smiled, shaking her head. ‘No. Apart from the place cards, everything is done. Unless you wish to help with those?’
    He snorted with laughter. ‘If you had seen my hand writing, ma’am, you would not ask.’
    She laughed, too. ‘I thought as much. It tends to be the way with gentlemen. No, you may sit and converse with me over the teacups, so that Beth is left in peace to finish her task. We are treating you as a friend of the family, you understand, rather than an exalted visitor who must become the centre of everyone’s attention.’ She paused. Jon thought he saw a fleeting shadow cross her face. ‘After all these daily visits, it could hardly be otherwise.’
    Was that a warning? Had he overstepped the mark?
    ‘But we do appreciate your help and advice,’ the old lady went on quickly. ‘However, I warn you that you must not call tomorrow, Jonathan. Both Beth and I shall be fully engaged with gowns and curling tongs. Male company will definitely not be welcome.’
    He nodded an acknowledgement, trying to keep his face straight. ‘I shall wait with…er…interest to see the results of so much female industry. I dare say I shall not recognise my hostess and my guest of honour when they cross my threshold.’
    Mrs Aubrey’s eyes were sparkling wickedly now. That was too much for Jon, who laughed aloud. In a moment, Mrs Aubrey was laughing, too.
    For some reason, Beth did not respond at all. Clearly she was too absorbed in her work to have heard another word he said.
     
    Beth touched slightly shaky fingers to her lips and then, even more tentatively, to her hair. It was a splendid confection, but much too elaborate for a woman with no name. Could she go through with this? She closed her eyes. She really did not want to look at the woman in the mirror. That was not Beth. That was some other person, a fine lady, the kind of lady who could go into society and hold her head high.
    She swallowed hard. She had promised Jonathan that she would do this. She had repeated the promise during one of his recent visits. But he did not know who Beth was or where she came from, any more than she herself did. When she was with him, talking and laughing as they had been doing over these last three days, she had begun to feel calm, almost serene. He treated Beth exactly as he treated Mrs Aubrey. Like a lady. But was she a lady?
    It was true that she had not been a menial. Her soft hands proved that. But she could just as well have been a lowly companion, or in some other inferior position in a household. The fact that she enjoyed her duties as the village schoolmistress, and that she was apparently so good at it, suggested she might have been some kind of teacher, or governess. That would make her a lady—of sorts—but not one whose position in society allowed her to sit at the right hand of an earl.
    Her eyes flew open in horror. She stared at her reflection. She had turned stark white at the thought of sittingin the place of honour at Jonathan’s table. He was going to insist upon it. He had said so, and Mrs Aubrey had readily agreed. According to the printed invitations, the select dinner, followed by a larger evening party, was ‘to introduce Miss Aubrey’. Therefore, she would have to take the place of honour on the host’s right, no matter how high the station of any other of the lady guests.
    Beth cringed inwardly. How could she possibly do this? She had promised not to develop a convenient headache. Unfortunately, she was beginning to develop a real one.
    She rose and began to pace up and down her bedchamber. The skirts of the beautiful new evening gown floated about her caressingly. Oh dear. Mrs Aubrey had gone to so much trouble, and so much expense, for