Page 20 of An Earl's Christmas Seduction

Chapter 8

Amelia’s cheeks were tingling as she entered the warmth of the drawing room a few moments later. The rest of the guests had gathered to inspect the yule log, and there was much admiration for Amelia and the earl for having found such a fine specimen.

“It’ll burn for days,” Sir Samuel said, and the others expressed similar sentiments.

On entering the room, Amelia had been surprised to find her mother and the others once again in hushed conversation. There was a familiarity between them, and Amelia wondered what they had discovered to connect them. She could not imagine what it might be. Her mother was sociable, but hardly to the extent she now displayed. It was as though they were old friends, even as Amelia felt certain they could not be.

“Let’s get it ready for the fire,” Edmund said.

He had remained quiet outside, following the lead of the others, but now, he took it on himself to remove the ropes they had dragged the log with, instructing the footmen to lift it and ready themselves to throw it into the embers.

“The poem first,” the viscount said, holding up his hands.

“You recite it for us, Lord O’Neil,” Mrs. Bennett said, clapping her hands together in delight.

“Anon the weary sun’s at rest,

And clouds that hovered all day by,

Like silver arras down the sky

Enfold him–while the winds are whist

But not the Christmas jollity,

For little space, and wassail high

Flows at the board; and hautboys sound

The tripping dance and merry round.

Here youths and maidens stand in row

Kissing beneath the mistletoe;

And many a tale of midnight rout

O’ Christmas-tide the woods about,

Of faery meetings beneath the moon

In wintry blast or summer swoon,

Goes round the hearth, while all aglow

The yule-log crackles the crane below.”

As the viscount finished his rendition of the poem, a shiver ran through Amelia, caught up as she was in the magic and mystery of the Christmas season. She watched as the yule log was cast by the footmen into the flames. The rest of the company gathered, silent, as the sparks burst forth.

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven,” Hugh said, glancing around him, and the others raised their eyebrows and looked at one another in surprise.

“Seven for a secret never to be told,” Mrs. Bennett said, her face growing pale.

The yule log spluttered in the fire, the flames engulfing it and throwing out such a heat as to make Amelia step back.

“Oh, nonsense,” a voice behind them exclaimed, and the party turned, finding Constance standing in the doorway.

“It’s not nonsense,” Mrs. Bennett replied, drawing herself up haughtily.