as if deciding how best to deliver bad news.
“A ball at a ball?” Helen remarked. “How odd.” But then, Lord Sutherland’s entire residence seemed rather strange. She did not see how he chose to decorate would matter to her. Grace seemed to tolerate the gloom and even be thriving in it. “Is this ball some ancient weapon or —”
“It is a kissing ball,” Grace said. “If a lady is found beneath it, she cannot refuse a kiss.”
Helen gasped. “Mistletoe! I did not think people really believed such things. Perhaps I shall change my mind and stay in my room.” She gripped Grace’s arm and looked at her plaintively.
“It is only superstition,” Grace said. “No gentleman will force you to kiss him. But Lady Sutherland said that if a couple in love exchanges a kiss under the mistletoe, it is a promise to marry and a prediction of happiness.”
“Well, I am not in love with anyone,” Helen declared as Mr. Preston came to mind.
“Then you needn’t worry,” Grace said. “I only told you so you would not linger in the doorway, as you are wont to do at such occasions.”
“I am wont to stay in my room,” Helen said.
“Too late for that.” Grace kept a tight grip on her arm, urging her forward. “Lord Sutherland has seen us. To turn back now would offend him.”
Helen looked down and saw Lord Sutherland staring directly at her and frowning.
“If he escorts us to the ballroom, we shall have to pass beneath the kissing ball with him,” Helen whispered.
“Then take care to turn your cheek,” Grace said, teasing in her voice.
“Easy enough for you to say. You’ve come to like the man quite well.” For herself, Helen could scarcely imagine a more frightening proposition than having to marry the formidable Lord Sutherland.
“He is more than likeable,” Grace said, a dreamy quality to her voice. She guided her sister down the stairs. “It is all right, Helen. Do not fear. He cannot marry both of us. I think we shall be safe enough until later in the evening.”
They reached the bottom, and Grace flashed an apologetic smile at Lord Sutherland. “Helen did not realize there would be so many guests. She is a little anxious.”
“Do you need to sit?” he asked, coming around to her other side and taking her free arm.
“Yes, thank you,” Grace said. “I think that would be best. If we can get her inside the ballroom and find a chair...”
They walked quickly across the foyer and down the hall, Helen feeling as if they were half-dragging her. If they would only let her go, she could walk by herself — which would be far better than suffering Lord Sutherland’s touch.
Just before the entrance to the ballroom, he paused and glanced up at the kissing ball, then over at Grace.
I am between them, Helen realized, supposing she had upset his plans.
They entered the ballroom together, and Lord Sutherland steered them toward the nearest grouping of straight-backed chairs in the long, high-ceilinged hall. Chandeliers shone down on dark paper covering the upper half of the walls and the many guests clustered about the room. Festive garlands matching that on the stair railing sectioned off a dais in the far corner, where the musicians sat tuning their instruments.
Helen sank gratefully into a chair as Lady Sutherland — who looked almost as frightening as her son, with every hair exactly in place, a gown that looked as if it cost more than Helen’s entire wardrobe, and a dour look upon her face — began making her way toward them. Having already made the dowager’s acquaintance the previous day and having been subjected to her presence and a steady line of questioning at breakfast that morning, Helen was not eager for her company.
“Will you do me the honor, Miss Thatcher?” Lord Sutherland asked as he turned to Grace.
Grace bit her lip and glanced at Helen.
Helen smiled encouragingly. “Oh please do dance, Grace. I should love to watch you.”
Lady Sutherland arrived.
Ensuring that
“A ball at a ball?” Helen remarked. “How odd.” But then, Lord Sutherland’s entire residence seemed rather strange. She did not see how he chose to decorate would matter to her. Grace seemed to tolerate the gloom and even be thriving in it. “Is this ball some ancient weapon or —”
“It is a kissing ball,” Grace said. “If a lady is found beneath it, she cannot refuse a kiss.”
Helen gasped. “Mistletoe! I did not think people really believed such things. Perhaps I shall change my mind and stay in my room.” She gripped Grace’s arm and looked at her plaintively.
“It is only superstition,” Grace said. “No gentleman will force you to kiss him. But Lady Sutherland said that if a couple in love exchanges a kiss under the mistletoe, it is a promise to marry and a prediction of happiness.”
“Well, I am not in love with anyone,” Helen declared as Mr. Preston came to mind.
“Then you needn’t worry,” Grace said. “I only told you so you would not linger in the doorway, as you are wont to do at such occasions.”
“I am wont to stay in my room,” Helen said.
“Too late for that.” Grace kept a tight grip on her arm, urging her forward. “Lord Sutherland has seen us. To turn back now would offend him.”
Helen looked down and saw Lord Sutherland staring directly at her and frowning.
“If he escorts us to the ballroom, we shall have to pass beneath the kissing ball with him,” Helen whispered.
“Then take care to turn your cheek,” Grace said, teasing in her voice.
“Easy enough for you to say. You’ve come to like the man quite well.” For herself, Helen could scarcely imagine a more frightening proposition than having to marry the formidable Lord Sutherland.
“He is more than likeable,” Grace said, a dreamy quality to her voice. She guided her sister down the stairs. “It is all right, Helen. Do not fear. He cannot marry both of us. I think we shall be safe enough until later in the evening.”
They reached the bottom, and Grace flashed an apologetic smile at Lord Sutherland. “Helen did not realize there would be so many guests. She is a little anxious.”
“Do you need to sit?” he asked, coming around to her other side and taking her free arm.
“Yes, thank you,” Grace said. “I think that would be best. If we can get her inside the ballroom and find a chair...”
They walked quickly across the foyer and down the hall, Helen feeling as if they were half-dragging her. If they would only let her go, she could walk by herself — which would be far better than suffering Lord Sutherland’s touch.
Just before the entrance to the ballroom, he paused and glanced up at the kissing ball, then over at Grace.
I am between them, Helen realized, supposing she had upset his plans.
They entered the ballroom together, and Lord Sutherland steered them toward the nearest grouping of straight-backed chairs in the long, high-ceilinged hall. Chandeliers shone down on dark paper covering the upper half of the walls and the many guests clustered about the room. Festive garlands matching that on the stair railing sectioned off a dais in the far corner, where the musicians sat tuning their instruments.
Helen sank gratefully into a chair as Lady Sutherland — who looked almost as frightening as her son, with every hair exactly in place, a gown that looked as if it cost more than Helen’s entire wardrobe, and a dour look upon her face — began making her way toward them. Having already made the dowager’s acquaintance the previous day and having been subjected to her presence and a steady line of questioning at breakfast that morning, Helen was not eager for her company.
“Will you do me the honor, Miss Thatcher?” Lord Sutherland asked as he turned to Grace.
Grace bit her lip and glanced at Helen.
Helen smiled encouragingly. “Oh please do dance, Grace. I should love to watch you.”
Lady Sutherland arrived.
Ensuring that
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