Page 3 of Snowbound with the Earl (Snowbound #2)

“I did. Remember you promised me I would not be snowed in.”

Eva waved a hand. “‘Tis but a few flakes. I’ve been praying for snow so we might build snow people and make snowballs. Oh, it’s really true what I always say.”

“What’s that?”

“Anything is possible at Christmas, Noelle.”

Noelle smiled. She certainly hoped so. She would need a miracle to survive the next few days under the same roof as Evergreen.

“Once you’ve changed, you must join us in the drawing room for refreshments. I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

“I will.”

Eva squeezed her hands again. “Noelle, I am so happy you’ve come.”

“So am I.” And she meant it. In Lady Dorsey’s presence, it was impossible to feel melancholy for long.

***

GRAHAM HADN’T READ another word after the arrival of Lady Bonneville.

Bonneville. No, she’d always be Miss Lincoln to him.

He’d imagined her hundreds, perhaps thousands, of times in the last ten years.

In his mind, she’d looked just like the last time he’d seen her.

She’d been barely eighteen, and tears had streaked her face.

In his mind’s eye, she’d looked the same.

But when he saw her in the large Dorsey foyer, he was shocked at the change in her.

She was still beautiful. In fact, now one might say she was strikingly beautiful.

But there was no trace of the girl in her any longer.

The chestnut hair he remembered had darkened into a deep, glossy walnut.

Her eyes seemed to have darkened from a honey brown to more of a warm cognac.

Her thick, black lashes contrasted starkly with her pale skin, which was drawn just a little too tightly over her cheekbones, making her lips and her eyes look slightly too large.

She looked as though she hadn’t been outside in years.

He hadn’t been able to see anything of her body given that she wore a long mantle, and he hoped he was enough of a gentleman not to have looked.

She was still a short woman at just a couple inches over five feet, but he didn’t know if she still had those irresistibly voluptuous curves.

Perhaps that old fool Viscount Bonneville had leeched those away along with the best years of her youth.

Mr. Halifax opened the door to the billiards room and peered inside. “Ah, there you are, my lord. Lady Dorsey was looking for you. Refreshments are being served in the drawing room.”

“Tell her I shall be there in a moment.”

“Capital. Wouldn’t do to keep the ladies waiting.”

Graham hardly imagined Lady Dorsey waiting on him. She had enough to occupy her without wondering where he might be. Still, hiding away in the billiards room all day would be rude. He rose and made his way to the drawing room.

As he neared the room, Lady Bonneville walked toward him.

The sounds of voices and laughter faded as she neared, her bright yellow dress like a spill of sunshine in the middle of a rainstorm.

She hadn’t lost her curves. The dress was modest and the waist high, but he caught the hint of her small waist and the flare of her hips.

He shouldn’t have taken his time admiring the rest of her, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from appreciating the way her generous breasts pushed against the muslin of the dress, their lovely excess spilling out under the gauzy white fichu she’d tucked at her bodice.

She stopped before him, and his gaze snapped to her cognac-colored eyes.

Faint shadows, like bruises, darkened the porcelain skin beneath those eyes.

Graham had the impulse to tell her she should go back to her chambers and rest, but he had no authority over her.

Even if he had, he wasn’t the sort of man to bark orders or issue dictates.

“My lady,” he said, bowing and gesturing toward the drawing room.

“Thank you, my lord.” She breezed past him, the scent of cherry cordial following her.

Graham had always been partial to cherry cordial.

But not any longer. They were under the same roof for the next four or five days.

That did not mean they need speak beyond pleasantries.

He could angle for one side of the room, and she could claim the other.

They’d stay on their own sides and soon enough they’d part, never to see each other again.

“There he is, Lady Dorsey,” Mr. Halifax said, gesturing to Graham from one corner where he stood with his wife, daughter, and their hostess. “I told you he’d be along in a moment.”

“I wasn’t concerned in the least,” Lady Dorsey said, giving Halifax a bewildered look. She smiled at Graham as he joined them. “You missed our foray into the woods, my lord. Considering how cold and wet it was, I’m beginning to think by staying in, you were far cleverer than any of us.”

“Goodness,” Mrs. Halifax said. “I am still chilled.” She sipped from her teacup and gave her daughter, a blond debutante of perhaps eighteen, a pointed look.

“As am I,” the girl said, then turned bright red.

Graham had only been introduced to the Halifaxes last night at dinner, and he’d been seated beside Miss Halifax—he couldn’t remember her Christian name.

He’d had Miss Anne Rummage on one side and Miss Halifax on the other.

While he found it easy to converse with Miss Rummage about books as, by her own admission, she was a bit of a bluestocking, Miss Halifax stammered and blushed whenever he turned to her.

He had a shy nature himself and was uncomfortable in large parties, and he had done his best to make her feel at ease and carry the conversation.

He did so again now. “I thought I saw snowflakes from the window in the billiards room,” he said.

“Miss Halifax and I discussed the possibility of snow at dinner last night.”

She gave him a grateful smile. “Yes, we did.”

“As I recall you said you believed it would snow while I doubted that forecast.”

Miss Halifax looked at her father and then back at Graham. “Only a few flakes fell, barely a dusting.”

“You needn’t soften the blow, Miss Halifax,” Graham said. “I can admit when I am mistaken.” He smiled, and the girl’s pink cheeks turned red.

“Would you care for tea, my lord?” Lady Dorsey asked.

“I would, but I can fetch it myself, my lady.” He nodded to the Halifaxes.

“If you’ll excuse me.” Graham accepted a cup of tea from the butler at the caddy then moved to stand at the refreshments table, where it just so happened he had a perfect view of Lady Bonneville chatting with Lord Jersey and Mr. Turlington across the room.

Graham didn’t know either man very well, but he knew both were unmarried.

Lord Jersey was closer to forty, but Turlington was in his middle twenties.

He dressed stylishly and wore his auburn hair fashionably tousled.

Now he leaned against the mantel wearing a rakish smile. Graham wanted to wipe it off his face.

He forced himself to take a breath. Lady Bonneville was not his concern. She was a woman of almost thirty and a widow. She did not need his protection—or his interference. Nor did she want it. In fact, she did not look at all troubled by either Turlington or Jersey’s attention.

“She’s quite pretty, isn’t she?” asked a voice at his side.

“No,” he said without thinking, then turned to look at Lady Dorsey standing at his elbow. “Rather, who is it you are speaking of?”

“Miss Halifax, of course. She’s very pretty.”

Graham glanced over his shoulder at the Halifaxes.

Miss Halifax was looking down at her toes.

He supposed she was considered pretty to most of the ton.

She had blond hair and blue eyes and a willowy figure.

But to Graham she looked pale and colorless and likely to blow away if caught by a strong wind.

She was still a child, really, though Noelle had been only eighteen when he’d fallen in love with her.

Somehow, Noelle Lincoln had seemed older—or perhaps he had just been younger.

“Yes, she’s pretty,” he admitted, “but very young.”

“She’s eighteen and was presented at Court during the Season. Her great-uncle is the Marquess of Lansdowne.”

“So her father told me after dinner last night.”

Lady Dorsey smiled. “I believe Mr. Halifax would welcome the match.”

Graham furrowed his brows. “What match?”

Lady Dorsey gave him a pained look. Clearly, she’d thought him quicker than this. “A match between you and Miss Halifax, of course.”

“Oh.” All the breath seemed to leave his body at once. “But I’m not—”

“Aren’t you?”

Graham didn’t answer. How many letters had his aunt sent hinting that it was high time he married?

This past year, the hints had turned to suggestions, and he assumed as the Season neared, the suggestions would turn to directives.

He shouldn’t be surprised. He was an eligible earl.

Of course, he was a catch for any father looking to marry his daughter well.

“You are how old now?” Lady Dorsey asked. “Four and thirty?”

“Five and thirty,” he answered.

“And you have how many brothers?”

“None.”

“But you do have an heir?”

“A cousin in India.”

“Dangerous place, India. Men die of disease there all the time.”

“Lady Dorsey, I didn’t come to volunteer as your latest matchmaking prospect.”

“I would never presume so, my lord. I am only speaking in passing. Miss Halifax comes from a good family, and she’s very pretty. You are in want of a wife. I am simply making observations.”

He wanted to tell her to make her observations to someone else, but that would have been unkind.

He did like Lady Dorsey. He did not like being managed.

“You are kind to think of me, my lady. Perhaps Lord Jersey or Mr. Turlington would be more amenable,” he suggested, gesturing to where the men were still standing with Lady Bonneville.

What the devil were they talking about for so long?

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to pull them away from Lady Bonneville,” Lady Dorsey said. “She looks thoroughly entertained, and after the year she has had, she deserves that. Don’t you agree?”

Graham did agree. Except he wanted to be the one entertaining her.