One Perfect Christmas (Short Story) Read Free Page B

to cut pine boughs and then supervised the weaving of garlands. Scarlet ribbon
     wound through the greenery and fragrant swags draped the fireplace mantels, outlined
     windows, and nestled atop tables.
    The dowager duchess and Matilda had also made good use of the greenhouses, and flowers
     in deep reds and glowing whites added their beauty and sweet scent to the mix.
    The guests were clearly enjoying the gathering. The sound of their chatter was interspersed
     with laughter, and the crowd shifted in swirls of color as the ladies in their festive
     gowns moved amongst the more sober blue, black, and greens of the gentlemen’s attire.
    Lucas accepted a glass of ratafia from a footman and stepped into the throng, eyeing
     the cheerful gathering for Jane.
    Pirates in the straits. A tiger attack in the West Indies. Marauding bulls in India.
     The more dangerous, the better it had always been for Lucas.
    But this wasn’t thrill-seeking. This was love. This was Jane.
    He saw her near the fireplace, speaking with her mother. She wore a moss green muslin
     gown, the neckline accentuating her long, slim neck. Her blonde hair was gathered
     on top of her head, wisps of soft curls framing her face. The mellow light from the
     fire cast a subtle glow upon her fair skin and deepened the alluring rosy hue of her
     full lips.
    Lucas wove his way through those gathered, smiling automatically at Jane’s endearing
     habit of using often wildly dramatic waves of her hands to underscore a point or illustrate
     a particularly thorny topic. From the looks of it, she and her mother appeared to
     be discussing something involving a tree. Or perhaps a church steeple.
    Jane glanced up and her gaze met his, light dancing in her beautiful blue eyes. She
     ceased gesturing and captured Lucas with an utterly charming grin.
    Why he’d never noticed its crooked tilt when they were young he could not say. But
     now it made his head buzz with anticipation in a way the ratafia never could.
    He stopped directly in front of the two, noting the way the fire shone about Jane.
     Ethereal, if he wasn’t mistaken.
    God, but he better get on with it. Sentimentality was sure to drown him otherwise.
    “Lady Merriweather, I am thankful you braved the elements this evening,” Lucas said,
     taking the woman’s outstretched hand and kissing her fingers lightly. “It would not
     be Christmas without the Merriweathers.”
    “You are your father’s son, Lucas,” Lady Merriweather replied distractedly.
    Jane rolled her eyes, her expression both exasperated and affectionate. “What Mother
     means to say is, happy Christmas, Lucas.”
    “That, too,” Lady Merriweather added, looking at Lucas and offering him a distracted
     smile. “Please forgive me. I am afraid my attention is rather divided this evening.
     And—”
    Jane elbowed her mother in the ribs.
    “Oh,” Lady Merriweather exclaimed, dragging her gaze from across the room to stare
     at Lucas as if seeing him for the first time. “Excuse me, won’t you? I must speak
     with Lady Pearson.”
    The woman trundled off in the direction of the pianoforte before either Lucas or Jane
     could respond.
    “Is she on pins and Needles, then?” Lucas joked, watching Lady Merriweather disappear
     into the cluster of ladies gathered near the harp in the music room.
    “It’s awful, isn’t it? The name,” Jane asked, cringing as she did so. “Do you think
     it’s an omen of some kind?”
    The temptation to fill Jane’s sometimes superstitious head with all sorts of truly
     disturbing ideas wasoverwhelming. He resisted, though. Jane needed to choose Lucas because she loved him—not
     because she had no other choice.
    “Not at all,” Lucas assured her, nudging her shoulder with his. “It’s only a name.”
    Jane turned to him, her eyes wide with uncertainty. “Only a name? Surely you remember
     Miss Dreary, my governess. And of course Mr. Root, who broke his neck—”
    “When he fell into his root