Jenni Fletcher - Miss Amelia's Mistletoe Marquess

She pressed her hands to her furiously blushing cheeks, feeling as if his gaze itself had scorched her. Ironically after her evening’s adventure in the snow, now the whole room felt too hot. She stood up and moved away from the fire, trying to distract herself from the fact that she’d just poured her heart and soul out to a man she’d only just met. It was outrageous! Though on the other hand, it had felt good to talk to someone about her feelings for once, and it wasn’t as if she’d done anything very wrong. She’d only told the truth and it was an unusual night, after all, a break from her real life of virtue and self-sacrifice, a snow-covered secret that no one else ever needed to know about.

And he’d called her intriguing. That was the best secret of all.

‘Tea is served,’ Cassius announced, lifting the pot and pouring out two cups of steaming amber liquid.

‘Thank you.’ Miss Amelia Fairclough, as she was apparently called, clasped her hands around the rim with a pleased-sounding sigh.

‘Sugar?’

‘Two lumps, please.’

‘Two lumps.’ He dropped them into her cup and stirred. ‘I’m rather good at playing mistress of the house, don’t you think?’

‘Very proficient.’ Her lips—perfect, bow-shaped, rosy-red lips—spread into a smile. ‘All you need now is an apron.’

He chuckled and sat down on the hearth rug beside her, leaning against the armchair for comfort. It was strange how relaxed he felt in her company now. Positively serene, in fact. Since returning to England, he’d barely spoken about his time in Afghanistan and India to anyone, no more than was necessary anyway. He preferred that nobody knew how much the experience had affected him. Part of the reason he chose to sleep in the gatehouse was so that his staff, never mind Sylvia and her daughters, wouldn’t overhear his nightmares. He didn’t want anyone else to know that he had them at all, only Miss Fairclough had somehow guessed the truth. As to why he’d chosen to tell her the details, he had no idea. It wasn’t simply because she’d been there in a moment of weakness. It was her . She’d made him want to talk, to be listened to as well by someone who’d seemed like she might understand. She’d truly made him feel better. So much so that he wanted to help her, too.

‘Now I have a question for you, Just Millie , if you’ll permit me?’

‘I will.’ She lifted her cup and blew across the surface of the tea to cool it. ‘But I’ve told you my full name. You’re permitted to use it.’

‘But I prefer Just Millie . It suits you and Miss Amelia sounds far too formal. In my mind you’ll always be Just Millie , umbrellaed avenger!’

‘Now you’re being ridiculous.’ She laughed. It sounded soft and soothing, like water trickling over stones in a brook. ‘Very well, then, what’s your question?’

‘What do you want?’

She gave him a baffled look. ‘Pardon?’

‘You said that you’ve become someone you didn’t want to be so…’ he opened his hands, palms upwards ‘…what do you want? If you could do anything with your life, what would it be?’

‘Anything at all?’

‘Anything. Be Queen of England if you want.’

‘I believe the position is taken, but if I could do anything…’ She tapped her chin thoughtfully. ‘I’d like to be decadent, just for one day. I’d lie on a chaise longue , eat macaroons, read novels and have a cat.’

‘A cat?’ He lifted an eyebrow. ‘Did I mention that you could do anything ?’

‘Yes, but I don’t have any regal ambitions and I’ve always wanted a pet cat. My brother sneezes around them so it was never possible growing up.’

‘So you’re saying that you want a cat more than you want to be Queen?’

She nodded her head firmly. ‘I’d call it Electra or Orestes, depending on whether it was male or female.’

‘I see you’ve put a lot of thought into this.’

‘I have.’ She leaned forward conspiratorially. ‘I tried keeping a stray once. She was mewling so pitifully at the back door so I made her a little bed in the coal shed, but I must have carried her hair inside on my clothes. Silas still sneezed.’ She sighed plaintively. ‘Fortunately, I found her a home with an old lady on our street. They were both very happy.’

‘And why the Greek names?’

‘Oh, I’ve always liked Greek mythology. When I was little I had a book filled with stories and legends. I read it so much that eventually the cover fell off.’

‘You don’t think that Electra and Orestes have somewhat bloodthirsty connotations?’

‘They’re still nice names.’

‘I suppose so.’ His lips twitched in bemusement. The conversation was so odd he half-wondered if he was dreaming again. ‘Well then, can’t you have a cat now? Or does your brother still live at home?’

‘No.’ Her expression turned anxious. ‘He went to America to seek his fortune just over a year ago. He sent several letters at first, but now we haven’t had any word in seven months. We’re all worried.’

‘Naturally.’

‘I’m sure there are all kinds of good reasons why we haven’t received any letters, but if I were to get a cat, it would be like admitting he wasn’t coming back at all.’

‘I see.’

‘But maybe I’ll get one if—’ She stopped mid-sentence, her cheeks flushing a pretty pink colour.

‘If…?’

‘If I marry.’ She lifted her teacup and held it at chin level. ‘A friend of the family, our local Curate, asked me to marry him last week.’

‘Indeed?’ He felt a jolt in his chest, a reflexive stab of something like disappointment. ‘You don’t sound very enthusiastic.’

‘Because he’s a friend. I know we could get along perfectly well together. He’s a good man and I respect him, but I don’t know if I could ever care for him in the right way. As a husband, I mean.’

‘Have you told him that?’

‘Oh, yes, and he said he’s had similar thoughts about me as a wife, but overall he considers friendship more important than love.’ She took a sip of tea and then looked up abruptly. ‘Isn’t that odd? If you were married, wouldn’t you want your partner to be more than just a friend?’

Yes. Unquestionably. Undoubtedly. Unequivocally.

The words were on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed them with a mouthful of too-hot tea. ‘I suppose so. Some people might even say it was integral.’

‘He’s never even tried to kiss me.’ She murmured the words as if to herself and then blushed violently again. ‘Forgive me, I shouldn’t have said that.’

‘Why not? Kissing is another important aspect of marriage.’

‘Oh, dear.’ Her eyelashes fluttered. ‘That’s what I was afraid of. Only he doesn’t seem to want to and every time I even try to imagine kissing him, my mind just shies away from the idea. Last week I polished all the brass in the house just to avoid thinking about it! I know I oughtn’t to say it, especially to another man, but it just doesn’t feel right.’

‘Then I believe you might have your answer to his proposal.’

‘It’s not as simple as that!’ She sounded indignant. ‘I wish it were.’

‘But surely if you don’t feel the right way…?’

‘How I feel has nothing to do with it. My mother and sister and I are almost down to the last of our savings. Without my brother’s money coming from America, we can’t afford our rent, let alone food, at least not without taking money from the Foundation and Mother would hate to do that. If I don’t marry, then we could be destitute.’

‘You can’t marry just for a place to live.’