Free House of Trent 01.5 - His for Christmas by Jennifer Haymore Page A

feelings for Mr. Cameron, and she refused to allow him to judge their relationship.
    He’d reminded her of the grief that Cameron had caused her when she was a girl. She said, “Yes, Papa, we’ve discussed it. He didn’t mean what he said in quite the way I took it.”
    “I don’t see how you can take those particular words he said about you in any different way.”
    She sighed. “I know. But the fact is, he was, in his youthful and not-so-well-thought-out way, attempting to protect me.”
    Her father had sputtered, unable to speak for a moment. Then he’d said, his tone ice cold, “Last I heard, it is not advisable to protect young ladies by slandering them.”
    “No, it isn’t. However, he’s older now. And…well, he understands how his words affected me, I think. And he is sorry for it.”
    She had hidden a shudder, remembering Evan’s tender caresses, his soothing kisses. Evan had seemed to deliberate over every touch as if to ensure each one would be healing to her, and it had worked. Each time his skin had come in contact with hers, a bit of the hurt that had resided so long inside her had melted away.
    Her father had interrupted those thoughts by asking if they intended to marry.
    The heat that had flushed over Amelia’s face at that moment made her want to remove her coat, it was so uncomfortably hot. For a long moment, she hadn’t the faintest idea how to answer. Finally, she managed, “It is far too soon for such talk, Papa.”
    Her father had scowled at that. In fact, he’d spent the entire trip to Cheltham House scowling. She hoped those furrows in his brow hadn’t frozen there.
    Now, her father touched her mother’s shoulder and leaned down to her ear. Amelia heard him say in a low, gruff voice that they’d discuss it later, but for now, she must behave as if they’d heard nothing scandalous about their daughter and Cameron.
    Amelia watched her mother straighten and pull herself together. She tore her gaze away from Evan and proclaimed they must all go into the drawing room and warm themselves with a drink before dinner was served.
    The party hurried back into the pleasant comfort of the house, Amelia’s sisters chatting excitedly to her, others welcoming her home. Among the crowd, she saw the entirety of the enormous Berwicke clan, George MacBride and his family, and another man who looked familiar. All the while she was overly aware of Evan behind her. He’d reunited with his mother and aunt, and they were walking at the back of the crowd, separate from the rest.
    Did they all know? She glanced at Mr. Berwicke, who was eagerly whispering to his wife, who was in turn darting glances in Evan’s direction. Oh yes, they certainly did know. Berwicke wouldn’t have kept his juicy bit of gossip from anyone.
    Suddenly, Amelia felt the judgmental oppression of everyone’s gazes. Good Lord, what were they all thinking? Were they imagining all the wicked things she and Evan had done together in that little room last night?
    Amelia straightened her spine, smiled, and nodded at her sisters. They entered Cheltham House’s drawing room, filled with its gilded furniture, dark carpets, and enormous crystal chandelier. Tonight the vast space was festooned with mistletoe and holly, and a massive Yule log burned cheerfully in the hearth.
    Amelia curled her fingers around the glass of claret her mother pressed into her hands and took a big swallow, appreciating the trail of warmth the liquid left behind.
    Her mother turned away to greet Evan, and Amelia tried not to stare at them. She knew her mother would rather poke her own eyes out than create a scene in her own drawing room amongst so many guests, so Amelia was fairly certain she’d be her usual genial self and give Evan the welcome he deserved—even if the countess didn’t think he deserved it.
    “My lady!”
    Amelia turned toward the man, and her stomach sank when she saw George MacBride grinning at her. To his right was his wife, a sweet