Miss Featherton's Christmas Prince (The Marriage Game Book 9) by Ella Quinn Page B

’tis all for Barbara Allan.’ ”

    When they came to the last verse, he stopped singing as she began the lament. Tears pricked her eyes as she thought of the young woman dying after having rejected love.

    “It cried, Woe to Barbara Allan!
‘O mother, mother make my bed!
O make it soft and narrow!
Since my love died for me to-day,
I’ll die for him to-morrow.’ ”

    As she finished, Lady Culpepper dabbed her eyes. “I always think it is such a sad song, but you did it beautifully, Miss Featherton. You as well, Lord Hawksworth. I do not think I have heard it sung with more feeling.”
    “Perhaps something more spritely?” Sir Randolph asked, patting his wife’s hand. “Mustn’t leave the ladies weeping.”
    Amanda placed another sheet of music on the piano and Lord Hawksworth handed Meg “Child Waters,” a bawdy song that always made her blush. Yet she and Amanda had performed it many times over the years.
    Lord Hawksworth glanced at the music. “That will certainly liven things up.” A wicked gleam appeared in his eyes. “Why don’t you sing Margaret’s part, and I’ll sing the other?”
    “Very well,” Meg agreed, only because she had never been able to sing the last line.
    He nodded to Amanda, who began to play.
    Lord Hawksworth put his fists on his hips as if he were actually arguing with Meg.

    “I beg you bide at home, Margaret,
And sew your silken seam;
If ye were in wide Highlands,
You would be over far from home.”

    Despite how low she had been feeling lately, his playacting appealed to her. She tossed her head and laughed, getting into the part.

    “I will not bide at home, she said,
Nor sew my silken seam;
For if I were in the wide Highlands,
I would not be far from home.
     
    “My steed shall drink the blood-red wine,
And you the water wan;
I’ll make you sigh, and say alas
That ever I loved a man!”

    At the end of the last verse she gave her head an emphatic nod. He leaned slightly toward her and jutted his chin, making her want to break out in whoops. Hawksworth was really very good at this.

    “My hounds shall eat the bread of wheat,
And you the bread of bran;
I’ll make you sigh, and say, alas,
That ever you loved Lord John!”

    The next part was hers, so she raised her chin, challenging him.

    “Though your hounds do eat the bread of wheat,
And me the bread of bran,
Yet will I sing, and merry be,
That ever I loved Lord John.”

    For the last verse, he took both her hands in one of his and gazed down at her.

    “But cheer up your heart now, Fair Margaret,
For, be it as it may,
Your kirken and your fair wedding
Shall both be on one day.”

    Even though he had used the Scottish word for churching, making it more acceptable, Meg could not imagine anything worse than having a child before being married. Unbidden, her face warmed, and she couldn’t stop herself from blushing. Then she began to laugh, and he chuckled.
    Everyone in the room joined them. Hawksworth bowed, while she curtseyed. Someone called for another song, but Lady Bellamny rose. “It has been a long day for many of us. We shall have other evenings to enjoy the talents of our guests.”
    She led the others back into the drawing room, while Amanda, Lord Throughgood, Lord Hawksworth, and Meg put away the music.
    Glancing at Lord Throughgood, who was speaking with Amanda, Meg decided to speak with him and present her proposal. One way or the other, she wanted the matter to be settled. If he did not wish to marry her, she would make a list of gentlemen who would probably agree to her conditions. Some of the happiness she’d felt while she was singing leached away as she edged her way around the piano. She stiffened her spine. Better marriage with someone who was nice, than remain single. She wanted to take her place in Polite Society, and she wanted children.
    “Throughgood.” Lord Hawksworth’s deep voice commanded the other man’s attention. “Introduce me to your parents, if you