What Happens At Christmas Read Free Page B

understand, it’s not simply that we are not especially traditional, but Nikolai seems to have some sort of odd passion for an English Christmas. Yet another eccentricity, but then foreigners can be so very . . .”
    â€œForeign?” Beryl offered.
    â€œExactly.” Camille nodded. “He has read all of Mr. Dickens’s Christmas works. Oh, The Cricket on the Hearth and The Chimes and, of course, A Christmas Carol. And I want to give him a traditional English Christmas, with a proper sort of English family. It’s what he longs for.” She forced a wistful note to her voice. “It seems so very little, really.”
    â€œAs well as convince him he would not be marrying into a family of questionable propriety.”
    â€œOh, well, yes. That too.” Camille waved off the comment.
    Beryl thought for a moment. “This is not the sort of thing Lionel would favor.”
    â€œBut surely for a man who wishes to be prime minister, it cannot but be helpful to know a foreign head of state.”
    â€œYou do have a point there.”
    Camille stifled a satisfied smile. “And you can make him see how important it is to me. Besides, it’s been years since either of us spent Christmas at the country house. It will be like it was when we were children. We shall decorate and have a Yule log and sing carols and it shall be quite, quite wonderful.” A pleading note sounded in her voice. “Oh, please, Beryl, do this for me. I promise never to ask you to do anything involving actors for Christmas ever again.”
    â€œOh, well, as long as you promise, how could I possibly say no? Besides, darling sister”—Beryl’s eyes twinkled with amusement—“I wouldn’t miss this Christmas for anything in the world.”

December 21st

Two
    â€œG ood to have you home, Grayson.” Lord Fairborough studied his nephew with an assessing gaze. “You’ve been away far too long.”
    â€œIt hasn’t been that long, sir.” Grayson Elliott’s smile belied the truth in his uncle’s words.
    Uncle Roland raised a skeptical brow. “I would say eleven years is a very long time.”
    â€œPerhaps.” Gray sipped his brandy and considered the older man. He looked far better than Gray had feared. In truth, the years had been kind to his uncle. His hair was a bit grayer; his face was a bit more lined; but, all in all, Uncle Roland wore his age well. Still, he couldn’t help but think a few of the lines in his uncle’s face might be attributed to Gray himself. He knew his uncle, as well as his aunt, had worried about him through these past eleven years. The only one who hadn’t worried was his cousin, Winfield. But then, on more than one occasion, Win had admitted his envy of Gray’s freedom to do as he wished and Win’s own enjoyment, if vicariously, of his cousin’s exploits. Gray would be the first to admit the regularity of his correspondence to his aunt and uncle had been haphazard at best. He had gone as long as half a year without sending a letter. He ignored a stab of guilt. “But it has passed quickly.”
    â€œFor you, perhaps, more than the rest of us.” Uncle Roland chuckled. “I suspect you have had quite an adventurous time of it.”
    â€œIt has certainly been that on occasion.” Gray grinned. There had indeed been adventures in the course of building his fortune, but it had by no means been easy. His efforts and subsequent investments in shipping and railroads and imports in America had been grueling through the years and had left little time for frivolities or the enjoyment of his success. But his hard work had paid off. He had the fortune now he had set out to make. “And I have you to thank for it.”
    â€œRubbish.” His uncle scoffed. “It was insignificant and you paid me back, with interest, more than two years ago.” He paused for a moment. “It