Free Ten Lords A-Leaping: A Mystery (Father Christmas) by C. C. Benison

“But I must wax serious: There comes a time in every man’s life when one begins to take the long view. I thought as I was down in Devon with my family—my sister, my nephew, cousin Jamie, his charming wife … my other
kin
.” He bared his teeth at the word in the direction of Dominic and Lucinda, who received the apparent slight with cold stares. “And of course you, my friends …” He made a sweeping gesture of the room. “… that I would make this very important announcement that I’m sure you will all greet with … well, some emotion appropriate to the occasion, I’m sure. Especially if you’ve had enough to drink.”
    “You’re finally having that bloody awful boy band you manage drowned in the Thames,” one person suggested.
    “You’re to be the new judge on
X Factor
,” said another.
    “You’re opening a new club.”
    “My lords, et cetera, all those may be true, particularly the last one, but unworthy—perhaps—of this toast. In truth, I come before you, to humbly announce that—wait for it; you will be delighted, I guarantee—that I am about to close a life of iniquity by an act of timely repentance, after which it will be as if I had led the most virtuous of lives.”
    “Oh, hell!” came a voice. “You’re not taking up the vicar’s line of work?”
    “No, you gormless twit. I am shortly to become a married man.”
    “About bloody time, Morborne!” Someone laughed, breaking the moment of stunned silence.
    “And may we know whom you are marrying?” Georgina wore a worried frown.
    “Serena Knowlton.”
    “Serena …? Lord Knowlton’s daughter! Olly, she’s half your age!”
    “And your point would be, Georgie dear?”
    “Where did you …?”
    “Happened across her at Icarus. Couldn’t keep my eyes off. She’s been my PA for the last six months.”
    “Your personal assistant?” Roberto sounded disbelieving.
    “Yes, what of it?” Oliver snapped.
    “Does Frank Knowlton know?” Georgina asked.
    “That she’s my PA?”
    “No, you pillock,” Hector intruded, “does he know that you’re intending to marry his daughter?”
    “He will.” Oliver blasted Hector with his ice-blue eyes. “I thought you at least would be pleased, Georgie.”
    “I’m not
dis
pleased. I’m … startled, that’s all. When—”
    “Yes, when are the nuptials, Olly?” A male voice crushed Georgina’s. “Do tell.”
    “Soon. Very soon. We are expecting, Serena and I—”
    “What, Olly? An appointment from the prime minister.”
    “No, you young idiot, our first child—”
    “Not
your
first child, Olly!” someone said to a chorus of laddish chortles.
    “Yes, well”—Oliver’s humour appeared to be growing thin—“that’s all in the past. More significantly, Serena has had one those test thingies—I can’t think what they’re called—and I’m very pleased to say—” He paused and turned his head with great deliberation towards Dominic and Lucinda, whose strained smiles, Tom noted, appeared the product of intense effort, then turned back to frown at Gaunt’s slow, methodical untwisting of the wire cage around the champagne bottle cork. “—that we’re having a male child.”
    “Excellent news!” a shout came from the back.
    “Yes … Give me that, Gaunt.” Oliver tried without success to snatch the bottle from the butler’s hands. “A son and heir.”
    But the moment brought no further encomiums, for a rich and frothy explosion suddenly ricocheted around the drawing room’s gilded paneling. Tom’s eyes had travelled helplessly back to Lucinda but it was Dominic, a head above and behind her, who commanded his attention now. The fixed smile hadvanished: His lips were pinched to a small mean moue; his eyes were flecked with loathing. But before Tom could give this transformation a moment’s thought, a new sound diverted him, a roar of rage intense as a lanced bull’s, attended by a barrage of cursing so vile he could only thank God for his