Once Upon a Christmas Kiss by Manda Collins

Mrs. Fowlkes, who seemed to be having trouble making a decision between two scarves.
    And that, she realized suddenly—more important than scent, or looks, or charm—was what drew her to him. That Sir Lucien Blakemore, handsome enough to tempt any woman, rich enough to shun anyone he disliked without fear of social recriminations, should speak civilly with someone as unpleasant as Mrs. Fowlkes was extraordinary.
    Her father had once said that the true measure of a man wasn’t how he treated his friends, but instead how he treated his enemies. Mrs. Fowlkes wasn’t his enemy per se, but she certainly wasn’t a friend either. And though Winnie was clear across the room, she knew that Lucien spoke just as cheerfully to Mrs. Cowper’s sister as he would to the Duke of Ormond or to Lady Helen.
    He was just that kind of man.
    Was this what it was like, she wondered? To fall in love? She’d always thought it was something that happened all at once. Now she was inclined to see it as the gradual build of a hundred tiny moments: a caress on the hand, a sigh, a stolen kiss. But not just moments between the two of them. Add in a kind word to an elderly lady, a helping hand for a neighbor in need, thanks for a job well done to a tired servant—there were so many small things that made her fall for him. Too many to count. Suddenly her heart was near to bursting with it.
    She felt him staring at her in that way that they had. She looked up, and Lucien caught her gaze with a questioning look. When she only shrugged, he winked before turning back to Mrs. Fowlkes.
    Realizing that she should stop mooning over him and make her purchases before he broke away from Mrs. Fowlkes and found his surprise, Winnie took her choices to the sales counter and asked Mr. Lindhurst to wrap them.
    Still wanting to get something else for Cordy, she had just turned her attention to some sheet music when she heard a familiar voice behind her.
    “Well, I might have known I’d find you here. Spending his money already I suppose?” Turning, Winnie saw Mrs. Green standing behind her, arms akimbo as she glared.
    “Mrs. Green,” Winnie said coolly. “As pleasant as ever, I see.”
    “Don’t play the proper lady with me, Winifred,” the matron hissed. “You’re not a great lady yet. And won’t ever be if I have anything do with it.”
    Winnie’s heartbeat quickened. Was Mrs. Green actually confessing here for all to hear? “I think that’s not for you to decide.”
    “Oh, do not underestimate me, young lady,” the other woman said with a scowl. “It would only take a few words from me in the right ears to see to it that your reputation is ruined forever. And then where will your Sir Lucien turn? To my daughter, if I have anything to say about it.”
    “I am quite impressed with your confidence in your own powers of manipulation,” Winnie responded tartly, “but I must assure you that your confidence is misplaced. For even if you were to succeed in staining my reputation, there is no possible way that Sir Lucien will ever cry off based on what you or anyone in this village says. Much less marry your daughter. He’s not as easily led as you might wish.”
    “He is a man, isn’t he?” The older woman’s mouth twisted with contempt. “They’re all easily led. And once I make the truth about both you and your slattern of a sister known to him, he’ll wash his hands of the Nightingale sisters completely.”
    It was one thing for this harpy to insult her, Winnie fumed, but to slander Cordelia was beyond the pale. “What did you say about my sister?” she demanded through clenched teeth, stepping closer to Mrs. Green whose eyes widened in the face of Winnie’s fury.
    Even so, she did not back down. “You heard me. It’s not as if it’s a great secret. They’d seen her plying her tricks on Mr. Beesley.”
    “My sister and Mr. Beesley are in love,” Winnie said hotly. “And once they are wed, I think you’ll find it quite difficult to