One Perfect Christmas (Short Story) Read Online Free Page B

Lucas’s presence was irksome. Irritating. Distracting. Jane
     most desperately needed to focus on her future, not the past.
    “Yes, Mother, I do,” Jane answered, arching one brow at Lord Needles and inviting
     him to follow. “Only for a little while. I’ll return him shortly.”
    He bowed to the ladies and offered Jane his arm. “To the punch, Miss Merriweather.”
    Jane looped her arm through his and set off at a determined pace. Next to her, Lord
     Needle’s frame felt comforting, reliable, welcome.
    “I admire a woman who doesn’t dawdle,” he commented, smiling down at Jane.
    She purposely slowed, embarrassed by her impatience. “I apologize, Lord Needles.”
    “I wasn’t being facetious, Miss Merriweather,” he replied earnestly, releasing her
     arm as they stopped in front of the table. “You have a mind and you use it rather
     than hiding it away. That is to be commended.”
    He procured two glasses of punch then looked about the lively room. “Where shall we
     sit?”
    “Did you mean what you just said, Lord Needles? About a woman having a mind
and
using it?” Jane asked, searching his face for any evidence of dishonesty.
    “Perhaps the most important thing to know about me, Miss Merriweather, is that I always
     mean what I say. Otherwise, what is the point in saying anything at all?”
    Jane stared at him, waiting for a subtle curve to lift his upper lip or a tick to
     begin in his left eye. Nothing. The man appeared to be telling the truth.
    “Very well, then,” she said, continuing to watch him. “I believe we’ve need of a touch
     more privacy. Come, let us retire to the settee near the pianoforte.”
    Jane didn’t wait for the man to respond, but instead headed for the corner, dodging
     her mother’s frustrated glare and Lady Pearson’s encouraging smile along the way.
    She rounded the pianoforte and took a seat on the end of the settee, smoothing her
     skirts hastily as Lord Needles sat down.
    “Were you in fact thirsty? Or did I carry the punch all this way for nothing?” he
     asked with amused politeness, offering her one of the glasses.
    Jane accepted the offered cup and smiled conspiratorially. “Actually, I was. Quite
     thirsty, indeed.” She sipped her punch delicately.
    “As am I,” Lord Needles replied, taking a drink from his glass. “Inquests will do
     that to a person.”
    Jane choked on the fruity drink but managed to swallow the punch before spraying it
     all over the front of the man. “Yes, I suppose they do.”
    She watched Lord Needles empty his glass and waited for a passing footman to take
     it before she spoke again. “We’re being completely frank, then?”
    He settled back into the settee and crossed his ankles. “Completely,” he assured her,
     sincerity in his voice, honesty in his eyes.
    “In that case, tell me, Lord Needles, why are you in want of a wife?”
    He laughed out loud, filling the space between them with a deep, musical burst of
     joy. “Miss Merriweather, you are delightful.”
    Jane smiled widely, truly appreciative of the compliment. “And you haven’t answered
     my question.”
    He rested one arm across the back of the settee and tapped his fingers against the
     blue and white silk covered cushions. “No, I haven’t,” he answered, then cleared his
     throat. “You no doubt are aware that I am a widower. It has been five years since
     my wife passed away, during which time I’ve busied myself with travel and my passion
     for botany. But I desire a family—and companionship. And my estate requires my attention.”
    “And what of the women I feel sure have hunted you to ground in London?” Jane asked,
     pausing to sip her punch. “None of them were able to offer you such things?”
    Lord Needles captured her attention with a somber stare. “In a manner of speaking.
     You see, I cannot abide a silly woman. My wife was one of the most intelligent individuals.…”
     He paused, offering Jane a small, sad smile. “I must