Page 26

Convincing him that he felt the same—that would be the remainder.

“Excellent work, cousin.” Gryff removed the stool from behind her and placed it against the wall. Returning, he took Tamsyn’s hand and swept her beneath the Bunch. “We shall not let your gallantry go to waste.”

He bent her sister back and kissed her soundly.

Nearby, Miss Frances Dallimore tittered. Her cousin, Lady Ivy Dallimore, merely looked disapproving. Gwyn glanced at Lord Locryn to gauge his reaction, but he still looked—at her.

She blushed.

“That’s quite enough of that!” Morgan came over, scolding. “Your Christmas Bunch is lovely, though, Gwyn.”

“Thank you. I’m afraid Gryff does have the right of it, though. It’s made for kissing and romping—isn’t it, Mrs. Bray?”

Thankfully, the housekeeper agreed. Gwyn hoped she could convince Lord Locryn to romp a bit beneath it. What else was all of this work for?

“You mentioned a ceremony, did you not?” Tamsyn sounded a little breathless as Gryff stood her up again.

“I did, yes. Nothing too elaborate, but we must wait for midnight. In the meantime, there is tea and a lovely assortment of refreshments.”

Laughter and teasing reigned as the group gathered and fell on the food. A few tables had been set up and the holiday spirit flowed along with the tea and something stronger from Gryff’s flask. Only Rose stood aloof, huddling into her wrap. Tamsyn stuck close to her betrothed, as did Locryn, but her sister managed to pull Gwyn into their group once she’d seen everyone taken care of.

She was going to miss Tamsyn. And what was going on with Rose?

“Gwyn, I’ve just discovered that Lord Locryn is a naturalist!” Tamsyn smiled at him and waved a hand toward her sister. “Gwyn is the one you will wish to speak to, out of all of us. She’s mad for growing things. She even has her own project afoot out in the gardens. She’s worked on it relentlessly in the weeks since we moved to Keyvnor.”

“Oh?” Lord Locryn turned to her, brow raised. “What sort of project is it?”

“Local plants, is it not?” Gryff interjected. “I always liked the sound of it, Gwyn. Perhaps you’ll show it to all of us, if we can squeeze in a moment before the weddings.”

She nodded, but the door opened and Mrs. Bray entered. A line of servants followed her in and moved to stand along the wall. The last two, a pair of footmen, carried a pipe and a fiddle.

“Goodness, it must be time!” Gwyn rose and went to stand beneath the Bunch. “Everyone gather around,” she beckoned. She took a lit candle from the housekeeper. “Gryff, you are tall enough. If you will do the honors?”

Everyone applauded politely as he carefully lit the candle in the middle of her bedecked hoops.

“Now, we join hands in a circle and dance together to welcome in the Lord of Light.”

Mrs. Bray clapped her hands at the line of servants. “You lot form a circle around the family and their guests.”

“Now, what fun is that, Mrs. Bray?” Tamsyn grabbed a young maid and an older groom by the hand and pulled them forward. “It is the holidays. Surely the Lord of Light shines upon us all?”

Her sisters joined in and soon everyone, servant, family and guest, were joined in a loose circle beneath the Cornish Bunch. Tamsyn, in her whirlwind maneuvering, managed to put Gwyn’s hand in Locryn’s.

The music started. Mrs. Bray started the group moving. Gwyn kept her eyes locked on the housekeeper—but the entire rest of her being was focused on Locryn’s hand in hers.

Hardly more than a handshake, and yet that light touch sent warmth surging into her, soothing places she hadn’t even known were dark and lonely.

She never wanted to let him go.

She had to, though, when the circle broke up. The music continued, as did the fun. Couples began to prod each other on to make use of the mistletoe. A dashing valet, one of the visiting servants, broke the barrier at last. He twirled Mrs. Bray beneath the Bunch and bussed her right on the cheek. Applause and laughter erupted and others followed suit. Gryff kissed Tamsyn again. The Earl of Hayfield tried to coax Lady Ivy into the circle, but she shook her head and went to stand along the wall.

Gwyn waited, but Lord Locryn merely observed the revels, his expression interested, but serious. He did smile and respond when someone spoke to him, but he never moved to take part.

Gwyn gave an aggrieved huff. What was he waiting for? She took the risk and began to edge toward the Bunch.

Mrs. Bray stepped past her and clapped her hands. “Now, you’ve had your fun,” she said to the frolicking servants. “Each of you give Lady Gwyn your thanks. It’s time for you to get on to your beds.”

A chorus of appreciation rang through the room and the servants began to file out. The guests began to follow on their heels. Gwyn’s disappointment fled as Lord Locryn crossed the room and stood before her.