Page 31 of One Naughty Christmas Night

“Only one this time, Robert,” her mother said, waggling her finger at him.

“Louisa—”

“No. The doctor said one a day. I know that hasn’t stopped you, and I’m putting my foot down.”

Victoria pulled her book up to cover her face, watching her father sputter.

“I do hope that Heath will invite that lovely widow to the ball this year,” her mother said, changing the subject. “What was her name again? Victoria, you remember.”

“Amelia Cromwell,” Victoria replied, suppressing the jealousy that arose at the mention of Amelia.

I’m not jealous. I can’t be.

Amelia was a baron’s widow that Heath spent some time with two years ago, over Christmas. She was a lovely woman, tall, blonde, and thin.

“She was delightful and such a nice fit for Heath,” her mother commented. “I wonder why he didn’t court her further.”

“I don’t believe Heath thought they were as compatible as you, Mama,” Victoria said, her words tinged with bitterness.

“Oh, no? How disappointing. Well, hopefully, he’ll find his perfect match someday. As will you, my dear,” she replied, patting Victoria’s hand.

“I’m sure we will,” Victoria said.

Victoria checked her reflection in the mirror, smoothing the small hairs on the top of her head down and checking her curls, making sure they stayed together. A mass of curls were piled on her head in an elaborate up-do, a few ringlets teasing the nape of her neck.

“You look lovely, miss,” the maid, said.

“Thank you so much, Susan,” she replied. “Thank you for making me look so lovely.”

Susan’s face pinkened. Victoria took her hands and squeezed them.

Time to go.

She took a deep breath and smoothed the emerald gown, then left the bedroom.

A few minutes later, she arrived in the parlor, the swishing of her gown announcing her arrival before she walked in.

“Oh my,” she said, looking at the tree. Presents were piled high next to it, decorated in varying colors. The large tree brushed the ceiling of the parlor and was decorated with a beautiful garland, interspersed with yet another popcorn one, the candles on it not yet lit.

“Hello, Victoria.”

She whirled around to see Heath leaning against the chair, the only person in the room.

“Hello,” she replied, her stomach in a knot.

Standing, he made his way over to the tree. His shoulder brushed her arm, he was so close.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” she whispered, cupping one of the expensive glass balls.

“It is,” he replied. Leaning down, he tipped her chin up to look at him.

“But not as beautiful as you.” His kiss was sweet and gentle, tugging at her heart.

Her face flushed, the two of them stepping apart when her parents’ voices reached them in the parlor.

“Hello, you two,” her mother said, hugging Heath.

“Victoria, are you all right?” her father asked.