by Jenna Jaxon
“Many people do, although Queen Charlotte had one for many years.”
“Yes, I’d heard that as well. And we are to decorate it this afternoon, aunt?” It sounded like a fun time. “And the Snapdragon? We will have that as well, won’t we?”
“Of course.” Aunt Arabella stopped to look around. “This way,” she called to the larger party following behind them and pointed to several large evergreen trees on her left.
“But what is running the mistletoe?” Jenny had almost forgotten about that mysterious event.
Aunt Arabella laughed, a ringing sound in the crisp air. “You know what mistletoe is?”
Jenny nodded. She’d seen sprigs of it hung over the doorway at home at Christmas and caught her parents kissing under it a time or two.
“Well, when we come to cut greenery for the house, we also find a ball of mistletoe to take back as well.” Her eyes twinkled. “Be careful going through the doorways for the next couple of weeks, Jenny. You don’t know who you’ll meet coming the opposite way. I suspect you’ll end up collecting a lot of little white berries.”
“What do you mean, aunt?” Collecting berries? How odd.
“For each kiss, the gentleman cuts off one of the berries and gives it to the young lady he kissed.”
Jenny’s cheeks heated despite the nipping cold, and her aunt laughed.
“But since the ball we find out here is high off the ground, we do something different in the woods. The story goes that several generations ago, in the Dowager Viscountess’s family, an earlier Viscount Marbury arrived with letters of introduction from England. According to family history, he was out in the woods with a large party, searching for a Christmas tree to cut down. He spied some mistletoe high in a tree, directly above a pretty young lady of the family. He gave a great shout and began to chase her. She screamed and ran, but he caught her underneath the mistletoe and kissed her hand.” Aunt Arabella smiled. “Marbury’s family has continued this tradition, although it’s changed a bit from that original run. Now the participants line up and the young men dare the ladies to run underneath the mistletoe. They give them a five count start and if they can catch them by the time they reach the mistletoe ball, they can claim a kiss.” Her aunt grinned and whispered, “That’s how I met Marbury.”
“Really, Aunt?” Jenny’s heart beat a little faster. Would she fall in love with someone who caught her under the mistletoe?
Aunt Arabella nodded. “I was invited for a Christmas party just like this one. I had met the Dowager Viscountess Marbury during my come out Season and she invited me on the spot. Her son had gone to Germany to attend to family business that summer and she wanted us to meet.” Aunt Arabella’s face took on a glow. “I believe she wanted us to marry from the first and so arranged for us to meet in the most romantic of ways.” Her smile spread as she remembered that day. “If so, she knew how to make the match. That one kiss was all it took.” Aunt Arabella shook herself and patted Jenny’s arm. “You shall have a chance at such a romantic encounter very shortly, my dear. Christmas is the season for magic and romance.”
With that, she squeezed Jenny’s hand and hurried off toward the evergreens. “Gentlemen, some of you with axes come with me. The others need to spread out and search for more greenery and a mistletoe ball.”
Lord Somersby immediately moved closer to her. “Do you see that stand of oaks straight ahead? Mistletoe often grows in them. Come on.” He started at a brisk pace, grasping her elbow to steady her on the uneven ground. As they sped through the scattered patches of snow, they kicked up dead leaves, leaving a trail of bright splotches for Celinda and Alec to follow.
“Is it getting colder?” Jenny’s feet were growing numb despite their fast strides. Her boots crunched the dead leaves, making her shiver harder.
“Yes,” Lord Somersby nodded, leaning a bit closer to her. “The trees shut out the sun, so the cold intensifies underneath their branches.”
“Would you like to borrow my overcoat, Miss Crowley?” Alec spoke up, already unbuttoning his long gray coat.
“Oh, no, thank you Al—er, Mr. Isley.” Oh, dear. She’d almost slipped up and called him by his first name. Instead she smiled and shook her head. “I will warm up with a little more exercise.” The last thing Jenny wanted was to seem as if she favored Alec.
“I assure you, you will get that exercise shortly, Miss Crowley.” Lord Somersby sent her a heated glance that spoke of more than mere exercise.
Jenny froze, then seized Celinda’s arm and began to out-stride the gentlemen. Somersby must be talking about running the mistletoe ball. It sounded like an exciting game. So why did her arms prickle with goose flesh whenever she thought of it?
“Slow down, Jenny. We aren’t racing to the greenery.” Celinda dragged on her arm and all but dug her heels into the leaves.
“But I need advice about running the mistletoe, away from the gentlemen,” Jenny whispered.
“Oh, well, that is a different matter. Gentlemen,” she called to Somersby and Alec, who had just caught up to them. “I need a moment with Miss Crowley. A slight repair to my hem. It snagged on a low-lying branch. If you would be so good as to continue ahead? Miss Crowley and I will be with you directly.”
“Of course, Lady Celinda.” Alec bowed and forged ahead.
“If you need further assistance, do not hesitate to call.” Lord Somersby bowed as well, although his attention seemed aimed more at Jenny than her friend.
“So what’s this all about?” Celinda dropped her voice as she bent over to inspect the perfectly fine hem of her pelisse.
“I found out what the running of the mistletoe is.”
“It’s a splendid custom.” Her friend shot her an impish grin. “I wish we could have it year round.”
“Celinda!”
“It’s such fun. You wait and see.”
“But that’s just it. I don’t know what to do.” Jenny glanced over her shoulder at Lord Somersby, who was inspecting a stand of green fir trees. Alec stood beside him, but kept looking back toward her and Celinda.
“For goodness sake, you let the gentleman catch you.” Celinda straightened so quickly she dropped her white fur muff. “How will you ever know if you suit if you don’t let him kiss you?” She bent again to retrieve the muff and brushed the dirt from it. “Drat. I’ll have to get Mason to clean it. Nevertheless, the safest place is on the cheek under the mistletoe with everyone from your aunt down to Hobbs the driver watching.”
“I don’t know if I want everyone watching when a gentleman kisses me for the first time.” Jenny shivered and hugged herself.
“Better have everyone watching than only one or two. Although if he kisses you on the mouth in front of witnesses, you’re as good as leg-shackled.” Celinda peered at her and took her arm. “Is that what you want?”
“No. Well, I don’t know.” Jenny’s thoughts wouldn’t stop whirling around her head. “He did pay me a lot of attention last night and this morning. I think he will try to run the mistletoe with me.”
“Excellent. When he kisses your cheek you’ll be one step closer to knowing if he’s the right one for you.” They started toward the gentlemen. “Oh, look, there. A wonderful stand of holly.” Celinda pointed to several thick bushes with pointed leaves and bright red berries. “Lord Somersby. Can you bring the ax, please?” Her eyes twinkled at Jenny.
“You could have called to Alec,” she hissed as Lord Somersby hefted the ax and turned back toward them.
“You’re not trying to catch him, are you?” her friend whispered back. “Thank you, my lord.” Celinda beamed at the young man as he joined them, smoke puffing from his mouth.
“My pleasure, Lady Celinda.” He grinned at them, his eyes lingering on Jenny. “You’ve found a fair stand of holly. Here.” He grasped the pointed leaves in his gloved hand and brought the ax down on a thick branch, snapping it off cleanly near the trunk.
“Miss Crowley saw it first.” Her friend cut her eyes at Jenny and raised her ey
ebrows violently. A smile teased the corners of her mouth as she seized the cut bough Somersby held out.
“You’ve got a good eye, Miss Crowley.” Somersby straightened and grinned at her. “Or more than a bit of luck. Either is a great boon for a lady.”
“Thank you, my lord.” Jenny ducked her head, unaccountably shy. She did like Somersby’s easy manner.
A less than gentle nudge from Celinda rocked her on her feet. After glaring at her friend, she forced herself to continue. “I hope that’s true, else we may be out here all day.”
“Oh, your eyes are very fine in my estimation, Miss Crowley.” He handed her a prickly bough and their gloved fingers touched.
A jolt shot up her arm and she almost dropped the holly. “Thank you, my lord,” she whispered. Oh, but she felt strange. Hot and cold in waves and prickly all over. He was so tall, and handsome and kind. To think he had an interest in her thrilled her to her toes.
“I fear you have chopped too much, Somersby. Here, I’ll take that.” Alec stepped forward, grabbing the boughs out of Jenny’s hands. “I wouldn’t want you to get stuck, Miss Crowley. Let me have yours as well, Lady Celinda. The ladies shouldn’t be burdened with such prickly objects.”
Celinda laughed and surrendered her holly. “I agree, Mr. Isley. And that holly tree does seem rather denuded.”
“Lady Celinda!” Jenny’s face flamed, despite the cold.
“The trunk is indeed bare,” Lord Somersby chuckled, standing back and taking stock of his handiwork. “Have we enough do you think?”
“If we don’t, we can come back.” Alec shifted his spiky burden.
Jenny eyed Lord Somersby’s lanky frame. Such a fine look to him, with his clothing so excellently cut. She’d certainly return with him if the need arose.
“We could, indeed.” He sent her a look that made her heart race. “In fact, I will volunteer to return should the need arise.”
“Are you sure we can’t help you, Mr. Isley?” Celinda turned, stepping closer to Alec.
“Yes, my lady, I’m certain. The leaves are sharp and the branches bulky but light. Please, lead the way.” Alec sent Celinda a smile, a very real, very warm smile, not the lopsided grin Jenny always got.
Unaccountably irritated, Jenny stepped up beside Lord Somersby, turning her back to the other pair. They walked silently for some minutes, Jenny casting about for some topic of conversation, but finding none to hand. What did one say to a young gentleman she scarcely knew? Talk about the weather? A safe subject, to be sure, but hardly stimulating conversation.
She had just plucked up the courage to ask about his horse, having remembered Celinda’s information about him, when she spied a group huddled together up ahead. “Oooh, what is going on there, Lord Somersby?”
The lord grabbed her hand and headed toward the gathering that included several gentlemen, all of the ladies, and her aunt and uncle, compelling her to hurry forward with him.
“It seems we are just in time for the festivities to begin,” Somersby said, a gloating tone to his voice. “This year will be even more memorable for me, I assure you.” He pulled her into the center of the circle of acquaintances and stopped, a very naughty glint in his eyes.
Chapter 9
Looking around at all the people staring at her, Jenny blushed, her cheeks fiery as though lit from inside by twin suns. Her heart sped up and her fingers burned with cold. Almost as one, the company craned their necks back to peer at a spot high over her head. She stretched her neck back to stare straight up, shielding her eyes against a bright ray of sun that had penetrated the woods. High in the massive oak a strange plant, oddly shaped, sat entwined with the tree’s limbs. One with deep green leaves sprinkled with small white berries.
She scanned the crowd around her, but no one was leaping out to kiss anyone, although they were all chatting excitedly. Perhaps the custom was harmless. Her aunt and uncle were here, what harm could there be? Surely she could indulge in this bizarre custom with no danger to her reputation. She’d just pray that Mama never found out.
“Ah, Miss Crowley, trying to get an advance on the berries?” Lord Claremont called to her, then elbowed his companion, Mr. Pace, and made a comment under his breath.
That gentleman laughed and eyed her with interest. “Shall I help show you how the game is played?”
“I think you might want to move a bit to your right, Miss Crowley,” Alec said, appearing out of nowhere and grasping her arm. He steered her from directly underneath the plant where Lord Somersby had strategically stopped. “Unless, that is, you want to accommodate all the young gentlemen here. That would gain you a reputation you might regret.”
Jenny frowned and shook off his arm. How dare he suggest her aunt and uncle’s entertainment might ruin her reputation? Any doubts she had melted as indignation filled her breast. “I’ll thank you to mind your own business, Mr. Isley,” Jenny whispered, gritting her teeth and stepping away from him so quickly she bumped into Celinda.
“You should have let Alec kiss you under the mistletoe. He seems quite kissable.” Celinda giggled as Miss Newel, Lady Mary and both the Misses Longworth ran to and fro underneath the ball, laughing and tempting the gentlemen. “What fun.”
“Why don’t you run beneath it, Celinda? Perhaps Alec will catch you.”
Celinda turned sparkling eyes toward her. “Oh, I intend for him to. I’m just waiting for the official game to begin.”
Jenny’s heart thudded in her chest. The thought of Alec kissing Celinda should certainly make no difference to her. Still, a pang of something that might actually be jealousy stabbed at her. Nonsense. She had Alec and didn’t want him. He stood easily beside Lord Somersby, laughing and talking with some of the other gentlemen. From time to time he would shoot a strange look at the young earl. Odd. Did Alec know Somersby?
Despite her pique at him, she had to admit Alec did cut quite a figure. His blond hair glinted in the cold sunshine, his coat accentuated his broad shoulders, and his easy smile drew her attention to his strong jawline. He wore his good smile, not the lopsided one reserved for her.
She pursed her lips and turned away. Alec felt nothing for her but friendship and perhaps a little concern for her welfare because they’d grown up together. And that was as it should be. She needed to find the man who would smile and laugh with her, who would adore her and make her feel safe and secure. Someone like Lord Somersby. Her gaze strayed to that gentleman, taller, more fashionable, more handsome than Alec.
“You should let Lord Somersby chase you, Jenny. And if you’re wise, let him catch you,” Celinda laughed into her ear.
“You are outrageous, my dear,” Jenny giggled back at her. Oh, how she longed to take her friend’s advice, but did she dare? Her aunt’s words echoed in her mind. Perhaps she should indulge the handsome lord with this thrilling Christmas pastime.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Lord Marbury called out, stepping forward into the impromptu ring they had all formed around the mistletoe ball. “We are happy you are all here for our traditional running of the mistletoe.”
An approving shout rose up from the gentlemen.
“Please take your positions. Ladies form a line on the right, gentlemen on the left.” He held his hand out and Aunt Arabella took it. He drew her to the edge of the circle, placing her on his right. The young ladies quickly formed a line behind her. Celinda shepherded Jenny to their places just behind Miss Longworth.
“Aren’t the gentlemen going to line up as well?” she asked Celinda. She eyed the young men, who to her surprise had not taken their places yet.
“They’re waiting to gauge the line,” Celinda replied. “Look. They get to choose who they are going to pursue.”
Her friend was right. Mr. Pace, Lord Claremont, Lord Butrram, her cousin Eric, as well as Alec and Lord Somersby and some others could be seen to be surreptitiously counting the line of young ladies. Lord Claremont moved into position first, opposite Lady Mary Cope, who immediately blushed and turned to consult
Miss Diana Longworth who stood behind her. The other men gradually found their places, although Jenny couldn’t quite tell who was in line opposite her.
When the two columns were complete, Uncle Marbury turned to the crowd of excited young people.
“Now, ladies and gentlemen, here are the rules of the run.” His breath frosted in the chilly air, but Jenny felt suddenly hot, as though a hearth fire burned under her cloak.
“The young lady at the top of the line is given the signal to go. She is then given a count of five to start running under the mistletoe. After that, the young gentleman opposite her can pursue her. If he catches her under the mistletoe, he can demand a forfeit of a kiss before forming another line.”
“On the cheek only, gentleman,” Aunt Arabella spoke up instantly. “And ladies.”
Everyone laughed and Uncle Marbury continued. “If the young lady has the misfortune, er…ah…good sense, to elude her gentleman, she may return to the present line and choose the next gentleman to pursue her. The gentleman must move to the next lines forming.”
Eager chatter erupted from the ladies’ line, while murmurs and nods of speculation arose from the men’s.
“This is such fun.” Jenny fizzed with excitement. She kept glancing at the line to her left, trying to judge who would be pursuing her. The men stood in a cluster more than a line, making it impossible to know if she stood opposite Mr. Symms, Lord Somersby, or Alec. “Can you tell who you’re paired with, Celinda?”
Her friend giggled and flashed a look at the gentlemen. “I believe I am to be pursued by your betrothed, Jenny. And I fear I have had the most unfortunate luck to get a pebble in my boot.” She stuck her right foot out and twisted her ankle about. “I simply cannot run very fast if I’m limping.” Her blue eyes sparkled as she laughed and sent a glowing look toward Alec.
That gentleman happened to look up just as she did, and he grinned back at her.
All the better. Let Celinda distract Alec. This morning had turned out to be the most enjoyable time she’d spent at her aunt’s, with the sole exception of dancing with Lord Somersby. And now Somersby seemed to have taken his place in line directly behind Alec. Which meant he had elected to chase her. She smiled in his direction and was rewarded with a bow of his head and a gleam in his eye. Jenny bounced on her toes, delighted at his response.
