His Mistletoe Bride by Vanessa Kelly Page A

.”
    She glanced at Lucas, offering him a shy smile. “Some people seem to expect me to deliver an evangelical lecture over dinner, and I cannot disabuse them of the notion. I suppose I must simply look and act too plain .”
    â€œNonsense, Phoebe,” said Annabel, obviously misunderstanding the Quaker meaning of the term. “You’re the prettiest girl in the room and you have the loveliest manners, too.”
    Robert looked thoughtful, which usually boded ill. “Well, Phoebe is a dashed pretty girl, Belle, but to be fair, there ain’t that many girls in the room to begin with. You and Meredith don’t qualify anymore—”
    Meredith reached over the back of the sofa and pinched him, but Robert simply grinned and carried on.
    â€œAs for the rest, given how old most of the guests are, it’ll be a miracle if one of them doesn’t keel over dead into the punch bowl by the end of the night.”
    Annabel rounded horrified eyes at her husband. “Do not let Grandpapa hear you say that. He’s certainly as old as most of the guests tonight. And you know how sensitive he is about his age.”
    Robert cast an alarmed eye in his grandfather’s direction. If there was one thing calculated to reduce him to silence, it was the fear of the old man’s wrath.
    â€œYes,” said Meredith. “Let us not upset the General. Although,” she added, trying to repress a laugh, “Lady Bellingham does look to be nodding off as we speak. I do hope she doesn’t begin snoring like she did at the Wellbourne’s musicale last week. She was so loud she drowned everything out, including Cissy Patterson’s performance on the harp. And you know Cissy. Any little thing pitches her into hysterics.”
    Phoebe blinked, clearly not knowing how to respond to that piece of information.
    â€œPoor Phoebe,” Lucas said. “We are all so gay to dissipation.”
    She laughed. “I do not mind in the least. While it is true that several of the guests are rather deaf, which does make conversation a challenge, one cannot fault their kindness or courtesy.”
    Robert gave a dramatic sigh. “I’m ready to hang myself, just to break the boredom.”
    â€œI’m sure your hanging would greatly enliven the evening,” Meredith said in a tart voice. “Enough nonsense, Robert. I’d like to hear how the new Lord Merritt is faring with his estate. I believe you have quite a mountain of work ahead of you, do you not, Lucas?”
    Now Lucas had to repress a sigh. The state of his holdings was another topic he’d rather avoid, but he couldn’t be rude to Meredith. If Silverton had asked the question, he would have rebuffed him, but Meredith had treated him with nothing but warmth and generosity from the day he’d met her.
    â€œI’m sorry to say the home farms are in a deplorable state, which is my greatest concern. The house needs significant repair, and the stable looks ready to collapse any minute, as does the dairy. The orchards are in better condition, which is the only blessing in the lot.”
    Phoebe listened to him with eager concentration. “The estate in Kent is quite large, is it not?”
    â€œLarge enough. There is also a small hunting lodge in Lincolnshire, but Mistletoe Manor is the primary seat of the earldom.”
    Phoebe scrunched up her nose. “Mistletoe Manor? It’s lovely, but rather an odd name.”
    â€œYou have no idea.” Whichever ancestor had applied that demented label to the once-dignified Elizabethan manor deserved to be whipped. The name was bad enough, Lucas mused, but the manor staff—most of them descended from families who had served the Merritts for generations—cherished a bizarre obsession with everything the name implied. Why, even the housekeeper—
    Robert’s laugh interrupted his gloomy thoughts. “I’d forgotten about that. From what Grandfather