Mistletoe Wishes: A Regency Christmas Collection

“Don’t talk nonsense.” Serena’s mother continued to surprise her. Perhaps she’d joined Cousin Charles in imbibing too much rum punch. “I’ve known you since you were a boy. You’ve turned into a fine man, Giles Farraday. And you’re always welcome in this house.”

Serena saw Giles consider arguing, before he decided disagreeing would achieve nothing. After all, no real harm had been done, although if Paul had arrived a few minutes later, the outcome might have been different. Serena had been so lost to passion, she’d have denied Giles nothing.

“Thank you, my lady.” After another bow, he was gone.

When Serena’s mother directed that steady gaze upon her daughter, guilt threatened to crush her. “Does everyone know?” she asked in a subdued voice.

The idea of enduring the rest of the house party under a barrage of curious, judging eyes made Serena cringe. Although given the liberties she’d allowed Giles, she ought to be a pariah.

A hint of a wry smile curved her mother’s lips. “Darling, don’t take this so hard.”

“Do they know?”

“No. I was leaving the hall, when I saw Paul burst in like a wounded bull. The noise from the party masked anything going on in here.”

The agonizing tension drained from Serena. It was hard enough to acknowledge her own stupidity, let alone having her whole family agog at her lapse. “Why aren’t you furious?”

“Because you’re human. Because it’s not a mortal sin to steal a kiss or two from a dashing admirer. Because I suspect you already feel bad enough for both of us.”

“I do,” she mumbled, avoiding her mother’s eyes.

“So let’s leave it at that. Although I don’t know how Giles is going to explain that black eye. By tomorrow, it will be truly spectacular.”

“And Paul will be a cranky bear.”

“A few setbacks might do that young fellow good. He’s become too complacent.”

Serena frowned. “I thought you liked Paul.”

Her mother looked surprised. “I do like Paul. But he’ll benefit from the occasional reminder that the entire world isn’t arranged for his convenience.”

“He’s so angry.”

“He’ll get over it.”

“I’m not sure.”

“Come here, Serena.” Smiling, her mother opened her arms. “I hate seeing you so unhappy.”

For a quaking moment, Serena stared at her mother before with a smothered sob, she rushed into her embrace. When immediate warmth surrounded her, she burst into the tears that had threatened since Paul had turned an act of surpassing beauty into something dirty.

“I usually love Christmas,” she sniffled into her mother’s shoulder.

Her mother laughed softly. “Not this year.”

“I don’t understand what’s wrong with me—and I still don’t know why you aren’t sending me to bed without any supper.”

“Do you want me to haul you over the coals? It’s late, and I’ve got a house full of people to cater to, and what you did wasn’t all that terrible in the great scheme of things.”

Serena drew away and stared, puzzled, into her mother’s face. “But I kissed Giles.”

The smile was definitely in evidence now. “And very nice I’m sure it was.”

Better than nice, but a girl couldn’t tell her mother that. “Don’t you care?”

“Of course I do, but you’re young, and the house is overflowing with mistletoe, and spirits are high. If you can’t break a few rules at Christmas, I don’t know what the world’s coming to.” She paused as Serena struggled to make sense of her mother’s astonishing tolerance. “I love your father with all my heart, but if I was twenty-one and a handsome fellow like Giles Farraday wanted to kiss me, I doubt I’d hesitate.”

“Paul’s the handsome one,” Serena said, and wondered when that had become so unimportant.