Mistletoe Kisses and Yuletide Joy Read Free Page A

reaction.... She pulled herself together and focused on the groom. "I want to know who owns the big, black tomcat that's been making a nuisance of itself the past few nights."
    The man slid her a look. "Oh, that 'un. You'll have to go to number fourteen about that, ma'am.  If you can get 'em to drown the moggy, it'd be a blessing."
    With a faint "Thank you" Kitty retreated back down the lane to Wells Street. She had no wish to sentence the poor animal to death. She just wanted it kept inside until Sherry had stopped attracting attention.
    She realized that the light rain had stopped and put down her umbrella. There was even the chance of the sun breaking through the clouds. That was surely a good omen.
    Chuckling at what her father would have said about such superstition, she retraced her steps, looking for number fourteen. Her mother might well have approved of her fancy, however. In her studies of customs and traditions, she'd often remarked on the symbolic importance of light.
    Number fourteen turned out to be one of the larger houses, double fronted, and with enough windows to cost its owner a handsome sum in window tax. The curtains were all drawn, however, and the gleaming door with a leaded fan-light lacked a knocker. At least she wasn't going to have to deal with a noble owner.
    She went down the steps to the basement area.
    The door here was plain, though in good repair, and a small window sat beside it. Kitty couldn't resist peeping through in an effort to discover what she must face.
    She gasped.
    It was some sort of servants' parlor, and before an extravagant fire sprawled that tom. It was not that which had caused her to gasp, however.
    Two male servants lolled at the plain, deal table in the middle of the room -- a table scattered with cards and coins. A number of bottles stood there, too, along with two used wine glasses. Not only were the scoundrels drinking their master's wine and squandering their all in gambling, they were doing so when it was not yet noon!
    Kitty reminded herself that it was no business of hers, but when she rapped on the door with the handle of her umbrella, it was in a particularly sharp and outraged manner.
    She saw the two men look at each other -- but without obvious alarm -- then glance at the window. She refused to flinch. She looked straight back at them. One -- the slighter built -- stood and came to open the door.
    " Can I help you, ma'am?"
    He spoke clearly enough, so wasn't horribly foxed.
    "Yes," she replied crisply. "I wish to speak to you about your cat."
    He glanced back into the room, then said, "Yes, ma'am?"
    " Invite the lady in, Ned," called the other man. "There's the devil of a draft and I'm still damp."
    Ned opened the door wider and stepped back.
    Kitty hesitated. It seemed unwise to enter such a disorderly household, and yet it was true that the open door must be letting in a chilly blast. Telling herself that the groom in the mews must know where she was, she walked in a few steps so the man could close the door.
    For once her height was an advantage, for Ned was a few inches shorter. Though in shirt sleeves he was not untidy, and his speech was close to correct but not quite. She guessed him to be a footman or perhaps even a valet.
    The other man, who showed no intention of rising, was more difficult to assess. Taller, she thought, and bigger-built, broad shoulders all-too-obvious under his loose-necked shirt which clung to him slightly.
    He'd said he was damp.
    A bathtub of dirty water sat close to the fire.
    She was torn between approval of his cleanliness, and horror at being in a room made intimate by that bath. She could definitely disapprove of his disarray. His shirt showed quite a bit of chest, and wasn't completely tucked in at the waist, and his damp, dark hair definitely needed combing.
    His square chin and straight nose did give him a rakish kind of good looks, even in disorder.
    But he knew it.
    He was a rascally tom cat, and had doubtless been the