It Happened Under the Mistletoe: A Holiday Novella by Valerie Bowman Page B

were many things to consider. Big, important things. “What about your reputation?” she countered.
    “What about it?”
    Cerian couldn’t seem to get enough air in her lungs. “What about Lady Kinsey’s threats?”
    Oliver squeezed her hands. “What about the fact that I’m in love with you, Cerian? And I cannot imagine my life without you?” He stood, cupped her cheeks with his hands, and stared deeply into her eyes.
    Very well. That did it.
    Tears dropped down her cheeks. “Yes. Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you, Oliver. Yes!”
    A relieved smile spread across his handsome face. He swept her up into his arms and the entire drawing room erupted into a cacophony of cheers.
    *   *   *
    Moments later, when Oliver let Cerian slide from his arms, she stared up dreamily into his eyes. The entire drawing room was issuing their congratulations to Oliver and best wishes to her. Something brushed against Cerian’s ankles and she looked down.
    The cat.
    This time the cat wore a bit of mistletoe on its head. The sprig was angled jauntily over one pointy ear.
    “Medford,” Oliver said to his friend who had re-entered the room. “This is the cat I asked you about.”
    “Yes,” Cerian said, looking toward Kate. “What is this cat’s name?”
    Medford and Kate glanced at each other.
    “I have no idea whose cat that it. It certainly doesn’t belong to us,” Medford replied.
    “Whose cat is this?” Kate called out to the assembled guests, turning in a circle to see who would claim the animal.
    No reply.
    Cerian bit her lip. “She doesn’t belong to Lady Kinsey and Lady Selina, does she?”
    Medford laughed at that. “Hardly. I can tell you those two ladies have no interest in pets.”
    Medford called to the butler, “Locke, where did this cat come from?”
    The butler shook his head. “Mrs. Hartsmeade has been asking me about this cat all week,” he said, referring to Medford’s housekeeper. “We assumed it belonged to one of the guests. Mrs. Hartsmeade has been decorating that cat for Christmastide every day. I dare say the animal seems to enjoy it.”
    They all laughed and Cerian bent down to rub the cat on the head.
    “Strange, but the cat doesn’t appear to have an owner.” Medford shrugged.
    Cerian scratched the cat under its little chin while the feline purred contentedly. “Well, she does now. She’s our cat.”
    Oliver glanced down at his affianced bride and smiled. “What do you intend to name her?”
    Cerian scooped the cat into her arms. “Why, Merry, of course. With an e and two r’s. She was responsible for bringing us together, wasn’t she? She’ll be a fine cat in a duke’s household.”
    Oliver patted the cat on the head and pulled Cerian into his arms for another kiss. “I think Merry is the perfect name,” he said. “And I think you and I are going to be very happy together.”
    Cerian nodded, tears in her eyes. “I agree, Oliver. Truly, I do.” She smiled at him over the cat’s fluffy gray head. “You know, I once thought it was impossible for a duchess to love her duke.”
    He tugged her hand to his lips and kissed it softly. “Tell me you’ve changed your mind, my love.”
    “I have. I absolutely have.” She glanced up at the ceiling where a festive bough of mistletoe hung. “And to think it all happened under the mistletoe.”

 
    Read on for an excerpt from Valerie Bowman’s next book
     
    THE UNEXPECTED DUCHESS
     
    Coming soon from St. Martin’s Paperbacks

 
     
    London, Late June 1815
    Derek Hunt stared across the crowded ballroom brimming with sparkling belles wearing the latest fashions and their gallant escorts wearing high-starched cravats. Laughter, champagne, dancing, and revelry filled the large room. Derek straightened his own cravat and slid a hand into his pocket. Had it really only been a fortnight since he’d been holding his dying friend’s hand on a blood-soaked battlefield in Belgium? And since then, he’d returned to London, been granted a