Miss Mistletoe by Erin Knightley Page A

that foolish girl. She had responsibilities, and she wouldn’t abandon her father for the notion of a man who never even claimed to love her.
    “I don’t know what you are talking about.”
    “Don’t you? Then you haven’t been holding your breath whenever the viscount was near? And he did not draw in your scent each time you passed him? Perhaps my ears deceived me when you faltered when reading his letters to me, or took far too long to write out my missives to him.”
    There was no censure in his voice at all. In fact, there was such understanding, her throat tightened with the threat of more tears. “Whatever . . . feelings I may have had for him are long since passed.” It was a lie. She knew it the moment the words left her mouth. Taking a deep breath, she rose to her feet and went to kiss his cheek. “I find that I am exhausted tonight. Goodnight, Papa.”
    George listened to his daughter’s receding footsteps, shaking his head. No matter how she denied it, he knew that she loved the boy. The question was, how did Edgerton feel in return? Coming to his feet, he made his way to the doorway. “Mrs. Kelly,” he called, his gruff voice echoing down the empty corridor.
    The distinctive sound of her half boots clicking on the marble floor reached his ears and he stepped back and folded his arms.
    “You bellowed, sir?”
    “To the desk, if you please. I need for you to write a letter.”

Chapter Nine
    As the carriage pulled up in front of Hertford Hall, every window blazing with the glow of candles and Christmas cheer, Cece knew she should be happy. It was a momentous occasion, with her father traveling for the first time since losing his vision. It was something she had hoped for for a long time now, and with the backdrop of the falling snow and the sounds of music and merriment filtering from the house into the courtyard, it should have been a triumphant moment.
    Instead, she felt somehow hollow. A feeling that did not sit well with her.
    “Well, my dear, are you ready?” Papa’s voice was gentle, his face kind.
    “Yes of course. I know everyone is so anxious to see you again.” Cece’s eyes flitted to Mrs. Kelly’s beside her. Even in the darkness, compassion shone deep in their emerald depths. The color reminded her of Finn, and Cece forcefully pushed the thought away, smiling encouragingly at the older woman. “And Mrs. Kelly, thank you for coming with us. I’m certain you shall enjoy yourself.”
    “Of course, Miss.”
    The door opened then, and the Granville liveried footman helped them alight and led them inside. There, the warmth of the candles, the fireplaces, and hundreds of people greeted them.
    “The mistletoe is over there, dear cousin.”
    She turned to see Richard pointing to the alcove. He winked and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. Cece rolled her eyes. “Very funny, cousin.”
    “Just teasing, of course. I’m so glad that both of you could make it.” He gave her father a sound clap on the shoulder and the two of them launched into conversation, freeing her to look around. Without even consciously meaning to, her eyes seemed to seek a particular shade of mahogany hair as her gaze swept the ballroom. When she realized what she was doing, she sternly rebuked herself and rejoined Papa and Richard’s conversation.
    For the next hour, Cece mingled with the other guests, staying close to her father’s side. She served not only as guide, but as liaison as old friends converged on them. She tried to announce each of them to him, and he did a wonderful job of putting everyone at ease.
    By the time the clock struck ten, Cece was already exhausted. She couldn’t have been more relieved when Papa patted her arm and said, “I do believe I could take a breath of fresh air. What say we take a stroll to the conservatory?”
    He didn’t have to ask twice. “As you wish.” She made their excuses and led him through the ballroom and down the back corridor, eager to have a bit of quiet.