Page 20 of Once Upon a Gilded Christmas (To All The Earls I’ve Loved Before #4)

Thirty years ago...

Christmas was supposed to be a joyful time, was it not? Only two days to go until that blessed holy day—Honora's last Christmas with her family. Only two weeks to go until her marriage to Lord Charles. Then all the Christmasses after that would be with him.

That did not bring joy to her heart.

Neither did this party, hosted by Lady Temple.

Why the Mildmays insisted on dragging Honora everywhere baffled her.

Shouldn't this be a time for family, not gallivanting about London sampling from every hostess' awful wassail bowls?

Already Honora's heart ached for the simple pleasure of her grandmother's Christmas carols, and the flaming plum pudding, where everyone hoped to find the silver sixpence baked in.

Honora had only found it once in her young life.

The home of this particular hostess was festooned with so much greenery that Honora feared some forest had been completely denuded of its branches.

There would be roast goose for dinner and the promise of dancing and cards and all sorts of merriment later.

This promise was the only thing that kept Honora from fleeing Lord Charles' tedious company once more.

He took great joy in much conversation with his peers—friends who briefly admired his soon-to-be-bride in her lovely silver gown ("So festive!

" one had declared), and who forgot her as quickly as she'd forgotten their names.

Even Calpurnia had taken to their conversation, though usually her future sister-in-law did an acceptable job of including her.

Honora sighed and leaned against the wall. What few chairs had been set out had been taken by the elders, leaving the younger and fitter to stand.

She had no wish to stand. Maybe she should wander off, in case a settee had been forgotten in a corner. Even the staircase in the hall would do, if only there was someone to talk to.

"Such a sad face for a silver belle," a familiar voice murmured in her ear. "Especially at Christmas."

Honora turned to find Edward next to her. Her heart lifted. "Yours is a welcome one."

His hand slipped into hers every so subtly. "How are you?"

She hadn't seen him since that night of the snow. "Bored. Lonely. Maybe..." Should she admit the feelings she'd shoved down deep? "They've started reading the banns."

A soft intake of breath from Edward. "I suppose it had to happen sooner or later."

All she could do was nod. No, she would not cry.

Around them the party carried on, loud voices of some merriment as friends greeted one another. Laughter erupted in one corner as the hostess' daughter, the Honourable Miss Edith Temple, danced about with a long stick. Tied to the end was a bundle of mistletoe. With this she teased various guests.

At least someone was having a good time tonight.

Edward's voice was gentle. "How much longer?"

"Two more weeks."

He nodded. "You are not looking forward to it?"

Honora tilted her head side to side. "Mixed feelings.

On paper it is a brilliant match. My head cannot find fault with it.

My heart, however..." she sighed. "It is young and silly and thinks running away to sea is a splendid idea.

" Such a lovely, if foolish, thought. So why did it buoy her heart up?

Edward chuckled. "Ah, there's a smile, is there not?"

She confessed it was a smile. "I can't help it. When you are near, the world seems a better place."

Miss Temple came dancing by, the stick waving about the heads of the guests. She came to a stop before Edward and Honora. “Mistletoe…”. she sang, making Honora blush.

Edward’s hand gave her a quick squeeze before releasing it. “Oh dear,” he murmured. “We’ve been caught.” He reached up and plucked a white berry.

Honora drew a breath. Could they be so bold? She too plucked a white berry, drawing in a deep breath. "Edward...?"

"Mmm?" he answered, his gaze locked to hers. He held up his berry.

Honora touched her berry to his, before rising on her toes.

But as she leaned in, fully intending to complete the ritual, Calpurnia exclaimed. “Look, Charles! Mistletoe.” Calpurnia grabbed Honora and dragged her around until she was side by side with Lord Charles.

Honora squeaked in surprise, her face blushing ever so bright.

Miss Temple, taking the adjustment in stride, danced over before Lord Charles, who looked at her in bafflement. It was Calpurnia who elbowed him. “You’re supposed to take a berry then kiss your bride-to-be.”

Lord Charles looked to Honora. “Oh. Here you are. Where have you been?”

Honora could only gape at him.

“She’s been here the whole time,” Calpurnia insisted, giving him a strike on the arm.

Lord Charles reached up, plucked a berry, then planted a kind and gentle kiss on Honora’s forehead. This brought a few tepid cheers from their group, before they returned to their ever-boring topics.

Wait. That was it? That was all? Honora huffed out in her disappointment.

When Honora turned back to where Edward had been, he was gone.

Several hours later Honora sat in the Mildmay carriage on the way home. It was a scant relief that Lord Charles wanted to snooze and Calpurnia had no desire for any more conversation.

Honora did not want to talk to anyone. In her hand she still held the mistletoe berry, a little sorrier for wear.

After being dismissed by Lord Charles and company, she realised that they truly hadn’t noticed her there, no matter what Calpurnia had insisted upon.

It was an easy enough matter to slip away and search the party.

Yes, she was engaged, but she was not married yet. She had two more weeks of freedom.

With the berry in her hand, she roamed the entire party looking for Edward. A kiss. One kiss. That’s all she wanted. It was all she could claim. He was a second son. She was destined for another man. They couldn’t have anything else, other than futile dreams. And maybe one kiss.

But try as she might, Honora never found Edward that night. It was if he was a phantom that had slipped away like a dream.

She never saw him again.

Every outing she looked for him. Every party she listened to all gossip for word of him. In the mornings she scanned the society pages in hopes of even a hint of his name. Nothing. Honora kept that berry under her pillow until it shrivelled up.

One day it disappeared.

Three days later, she was married.

Christmas 1817

Honora and Juliana emerged from their bedroom to find Edward, Kendall and Jacob waiting. Edward came forward to take Honora’s hand, a smile on his face. “There’s my silver belle.”

Honora chuckled. “More grey than silver.” Juliana only rolled her eyes.

Edward stroked the elegant chignon. “In our golden years, you shall always be silver to me.” Kendall and Jacob had the self-consciousness to look away.

Edward offered his arm. “Shall we go to dinner?”

As they descended the staircase, followed by their children, Edward talked about Russell Christmasses of the past. Truly, Honora wanted to listen to him.

To listen to his voice for the rest of their lives comforted her more than she thought it ever could.

But it wasn’t just Edward’s voice she heard.

Behind them, Kendall apologised to Juliana. While Honora couldn’t fully catch the words, his tone did sound sincere. She only hoped Juliana had the grace to accept his apology and not push him down the steps.

By the time they all reached the ballroom-turned-dining room, a civil but cool truce had been reached. It would suffice. The doors to the ballroom were shut, guarded by two footmen. Other guests gathered outside, speculations about the inside of the room running rife.

Lady Frances bounced up to Jacob with the news. “They say we cannot enter until all the guests have arrived.”

Jacob took a quick survey of those present. “Only one more family.”

“As long as we don’t have to wait for Baby Jesus as well,” Kendall muttered. His father shot a warning glance at him, and he straightened.

Bertram and his father drifted over. Juliana brightened when he offered his arm to her.

She gave her mother a quick glance before accepting.

Of course Honora approved. If Bertram continued to treat her with the same consideration for the rest of her life, how could anyone object to the match?

(Brook had better approve, or Honora would turn her eldest son over her knee, earl or no earl.)

At last Lady Hammond appeared, her daughter at her side.

Lady Hammond wore a most splendid gown of light blue silk with a white taffeta overgown, cut and embroidered to look like a snowflake.

On her head she wore a crown of greenery, with several candles sitting on top.

Honora dreaded to think what the dripped wax would do to their hostess’ hair.

Lady Hammond looked like a cross between Saint Nicholas and Saint Lucia. “Welcome,” she called, instantly bringing her guests to silence. “I hereby invite you to our Christmas Wonderland.” At her gesture, the two footmen opened the doors.

Inside, the ballroom had been draped with more pale taffeta.

The pillars sported more than enough greenery.

Candles in little silver sconces lined the room, lending an ethereal glow about the table.

In the far corner a small orchestra struck up a familiar Christmas carol, possibly one of the many tunes they’d sung earlier in the day.

Honora approved of the music. It was not bright and cheerful, but thoughtful, almost solemn.

Instead of three long tables as they’d dined at days previous, one giant buffet table in the middle held roast goose and many other delightful dishes. Around this table sat many smaller tables of four chairs each.

As the guests moved about the room, one of the young ladies asked about seating arrangements, as there were no guest cards.

“You may sit wherever you like,” Lady Hammond said, waving her arm about. “It’s Christmas, and we are all equals under the eyes of God."

A bleating sound startled them all. Out ran a sheep from the pillars, chased by what looked like a shepherd boy. He grabbed it and quickly headed it back to an alcove. Some of the more intrepid young men chased after it, including Kendall.

To their delight, in the alcove were Shepherds or rather, servants dressed up to look like the Shepherds from the Christmas story, crooks and all, with their one token sheep. From the state of the floor, Honora did not envy the servant who would have to clean up after it in the morning.

Edward tapped her on the hand. “Honora, look.” She turned to where he pointed.

“Fear not.” The pronouncement drifted over to them, a beautiful tenor voice of an angel.

They followed it to the alcove where they found their angel gowned in white with wings and a halo.

As other guests drifted closer, said angel proclaimed their good tidings of great joy.

Honora remembered when Lord Charles had read those words to their children when they were younger.

As they looked about the room, along the wall were little stations of the Christmas story, including a small stable built of crude wood, manger and all. At least Lady Hamilton hadn’t brought in the donkey.

Honora spied one little alcove that appeared to be empty. Or was it? She squinted at the single ball of greenery hanging alone. Wait…

Without warning, Honora pulled Edward along.

In his bemusement, he followed. “What have you found?”

It wasn’t until they stood under the ball of mistletoe, brimming with white berries that she answered him: “What I tried looking for thirty years ago.” She reached up and plucked a berry. “Do you remember this?”

Edward’s merriment faded. He gave her a sad little nod. “I remember.”

Three hours, three days, two weeks and thirty years of frustration welled up inside her. “The last time I saw you, we had just plucked these berries. But you disappeared.”

“Lord Charles—”

“Lord Charles bedamned! You abandoned me. I looked everywhere for you.” She lifted the berry higher. “I was going to kiss you.”

Edward shook his head, then drew her close. “I would not have wanted to stop at a kiss. I wanted all of you. I could not have you.” His voice grew hoarse. “I had nothing to offer you.”

“You offered me love. And adventure. And a million different dreams.”

He held her close. “You cannot eat dreams.”

Honora whimpered and dropped her head to his chest. “I know. Oh, it took me quite a while, but I came to accept that.” She beat at his chest with her fist. “But couldn’t I have had that one kiss?”

Honora found herself pushed away from Edward’s chest. No sooner did she clock what had happened, than her lips were captured in a deep, hungry kiss. Edward cupped her face and savoured her taste. Her lips parted for his as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Her arms slipped about his waist, her fingers clinging to his back. No way was he escaping now.

Edward had been right to abandon her then, thirty years ago, as painful as it had been. She'd been betrothed to another man. Granted, Lord Charles had not been her choice, but she'd agreed to the marriage all the same. Her word had to be her bond.

Had she kissed young Edward Russell, second son with little prospect back then, would she have been able to stop at a kiss? Maybe he was right.

What greater act of love could he have given her, than to preserve her honour?

When he finally set her free, she blinked. “You have thirty years to make up to me.”

His eyes twinkled. “I am sorry I ran off; I regret that. I do not regret taking you away from what sounds like a not-too-bad life, for I will not be jealous of Lord Charles. That said, I regret never giving you that kiss. If only it could have been just a kiss..."

No. He was right. It would never have been just a kiss. If she reacted then as she reacted now, she would never have been content to stop at a simple kiss.

But now...

“From now on, I will never fail to kiss you every day for the rest of our lives. Never again will I subject myself to regret.” With that, he went on to show her how he intended to make up for thirty years of regret.