Tags:
Historical,
Regency,
England,
Short-Story,
Friendship,
Christmas,
holiday,
19th century,
Bachelor,
Victorian,
friends to lovers,
Novella,
Britain,
secrets,
secret love,
Forever Love,
Single Woman,
Scandals,
Seasonal,
Hearts Desire,
Festive Season,
Proposal,
London Society,
Twenty-One Pages,
Viscount Gloucher,
Frustrated,
Yuletide
caught manipulating the drawing. The folded slips of paper he spied in each hat contained all the names of those present. He’d have to be tricky.
With a mischievous grin to the group, he stirred the names in the first hat like a witch brewing a potion. “Let’s see who’s first.” He pulled out the first slip. “Lord Bartholomew and,” he mixed the other hat before pulling out another paper, “Lady Caroline.”
Applause sounded in the room as he called each subsequent couple. The duos clustered around the edges of the room, laughing when only Rosalie and himself were left unmatched.
“And I guess that leaves Miss Winthrop and myself.” He tamped down the triumph he felt and quickly dumped all the scraps of paper into one hat. No one would ever suspect he’d lied about each and every pairing, maneuvering things so he and Rosalie would be called last.
Once the cheers subsided, he glanced again at Rosalie and the bright smile on her face. He walked to her and pulled her to the side of the room for a moment of privacy as Lady Weston discreetly assigned each couple their Father Christmas recipient.
Harry closed his eyes as Rosalie’s hand brushed his arm, the sweet smell of apples and cinnamon from one of the holiday treats she’d eaten earlier mingled with the soft lavender scent she must add to her bath.
To be this close to her, to see the sparkle in her lively green eyes, to hear her voice, to divine glimpses of her soul as she spoke, was almost too much to bear. His fingers itched to hold her against him, to touch her, to know the taste of her, to make sure she knew that he valued no one above her.
How could she not see it? At times, he thought he’d choke from the strong emotions she evoked in him. How she had never guessed was beyond him.
Or perhaps, she had. And ignored it. He cleared his throat. “Are you disappointed?”
“Not at all.” She placed her hand on his arm reassuringly. “I’ll have a much better time with you than I would with any of them. Besides, the likelihood of making a match in such a short amount of time isn’t high.” She smiled apologetically. “But I’m sure you’d rather a different partner.”
“Absolutely not. Why would you think so?”
She shrugged, casting her gaze around. “You’ve never participated in something like this. I assumed you weren’t looking to form an attachment with someone.”
He pursed his lips playfully. “Is that what this is all about? Finding a wife? I thought we were joining forces to bring Christmas cheer to others.”
She pinched his arm and he laughed. “Don’t tease. Some of us need a little extra time with the opposite sex to form an attachment.”
“Is that what you want? To form an attachment?” he asked quietly, watching for any flicker of emotion on her face.
Her eyes widened with surprise. “Of course. I’m twenty-three, Harry. I’m running out of time if I want to marry. Spinsterhood is around the corner.”
When Rosalie turned her attention to Lady Weston, Harry grinned. Rosalie would never be a spinster.
----
R osalie’s heart pounded as she and Harry tiptoed down the hall on their first mission to deliver Christmas cheer.
She’d been paired with Harry. Of all the rotten luck!
How was she supposed to ignore her feelings for him and form an attachment with another if she was constantly around him?
She’d been in love with Harry for years. And although she was grateful for their friendship, she wanted so much more from him. But he obviously didn’t feel the same. He was friendly enough, all right. She’d even go so far as to say he loved her in a platonic sort of way. But she wanted more.
No matter how painful it was, if she ever wanted a family of her own, she needed to move on. She needed to banish her feelings for him and continue to look for someone who was open to having a romantic relationship with her.
No matter how much she wished it, Harry would never be that man.
“Oomph.” She’d
Lisa Mantchev, A.L. Purol