A Match Made in Mistletoe

“Over my dead body,” said Serena’s mother from the doorway.

Serena sucked in a relieved breath. She had no chance of soothing Paul’s outrage. Her mother, however, might bring some sense into this chaos.

“Lady Talbot, this isn’t your concern,” Paul said coldly, glaring at Giles.

Her lips flattening, Serena’s mother stepped inside and shut the library door. She cast a disapproving glance at the overturned table. “If you’re going to bellow your head off like a charging elephant, when I have a house full of people, it does indeed concern me.”

“I don’t mean to cause trouble…” Paul began, only to receive a blistering look for his pains.

“Then don’t.”

Giles’s “Lady Talbot, I must apologize…” clashed with Paul’s furious “It’s a matter of honor.”

Serena’s mother leveled an unimpressed stare on Paul. “Losing your temper and alerting the world to scandal will damage my daughter’s good name. Is that what you want, young man?”

Paul’s jaw set in a stubborn line. Serena knew from old acquaintance that when his obstinacy kicked in, he was impossible to shift. “If you knew what I saw when I came into this room, you’d want your daughter’s honor avenged.”

Serena’s mother subjected the three participants in this drama to a comprehensive inspection. Serena blushed, certain that her mother had a good idea just what she and Giles had been up to before Paul’s belligerent interruption. “High spirits and Christmas cheer have lured you all into being a little more uninhibited than usual. It’s nothing to make a fuss about.”

Just like that, she transformed potential tragedy into a mild social faux pas. Ridiculously Serena wanted to cry, even as she said a silent prayer of thanks. She’d felt sick when Paul hit Giles. She’d felt worse when the shadow of the dueling field arose.

“Mamma…” she began, but her mother gestured her to silence.

“You need to fix your dress. It seems to have caught on something.”

Serena’s blush heightened to fire. It had indeed caught on something. Giles’s exploring fingers. But when she met her

mother’s gaze, to her surprise, she found not anger, but compassion.

That only made her feel worse. She deserved a stinging rebuke. Someone needed to give her a stern lecture and remind her what she wanted out of life.

“I will, of course, leave Torver House as soon as possible.” Giles stood rigidly, as though he faced a firing squad. The flesh around his eye turned purple. Tomorrow, he’d look like he’d lost a boxing match.

“Don’t be silly, Giles,” Serena’s mother said, again with a remarkable lack of censure. “It’s snowing like mad out there. You won’t get ten feet from the house.”

“After what he’s done, you can’t let this blackguard remain,” Paul protested.

A repressive expression placed his masculine posturing into the same category as a toddler’s tantrum. “In my house, I can offer shelter to anyone I want.”

“But he…”

Under her mother’s unflinching regard, Paul subsided into disgruntled silence.

“I believe it’s time you returned to the great hall, Paul.” She glanced across to Giles. “And, Giles, you should go downstairs to the kitchens and get some ice for that eye.”

“Thank you, Lady Talbot.” Giles bowed. Grimness hardened his features, and that telltale muscle jerked in his cheek. “I’ll call on you tomorrow morning and make my apologies before I leave.”

“No need to rush off. This is a storm in a teacup.”

“My lady…” Paul sounded like he was strangling.

“Our hostess has spoken,” Giles said. “There’s been enough theatrics already.”

“Well said, Giles,” Serena’s mother murmured. “If you’ll both excuse me, I’d like a word with my daughter.”

Serena’s stomach sank into her slippers. She should have known a scolding awaited. Feeling ill with humiliation, she prepared for what was to come. Her wanton behavior had nearly sparked a catastrophe.

As he marched out, Paul shot Giles a contemptuous glare that promised future retribution. On his way, Giles paused beside her mother. His eye had turned a virulent shade and swelled shut. It must hurt like the dickens.