Mistletoe Kisses and Yuletide Joy by Jo Beverley Read Free Book Online Page A

cynical intentions.
     
    ((---))
     
    By way of exploration, Kitty returned the back way, finding that a narrow footpath from the mews led down the back of the gardens on Suffolk Street to Charles Street. It was clearly a well-used shortcut. As Lord Chatterton had said, there was a gate in her garden wall, but it was firmly locked and covered by ivy. She remembered it now from childhood explorations, but wondered if it could be opened after all these years.
    She took the path down to Charles Street and returned home to explain the plan to Pol. Again, it was as if a candle lit behind the girl's eyes, they shone so.
    " Oh, Miss Kitty. Thank you! I know he's above me, but he's such a lovely man...." Tears started. "Thank you. Thank you!"
    Kitty gathered the girl into a hug. "Don't make your eyes red, dear. And mark, this is just to let you become acquainted. You might find you don't like him so well, or he you."
    Pol sniffed and blew her nose on a handkerchief, one of the ones Kitty had given her as a present. "I know that, miss. But at the moment, I just want to be able to spend time with him. I think of him all the time. I know it's daft, but I do. All the time."
    Kitty laughed. "Sounds like love to me, Pol. It can fade, but why not enjoy it while you can?"
    And that, she thought, was good advice for herself. She knew she was thinking of Lord Chatterton far too much, and was intrigued by his teasing ways. If she accepted that it was just in fun, she could enjoy it and give as good as she got.
    Memories of that nighttime kiss flickered. She could bear a repeat of that, too. Perhaps while Ned and Pol were exploring their love, she could enjoy a safe little flirtation with a dashing nobleman. It was a chance not likely to come her way again.
    And she could satisfy her curiosity, too. She did want to know why he was lurking almost alone in that magnificent house over Christmas.
    "Very well," she said to Pol, "but if you want to go a-courting, we'd best find a way to open that gate. The gentlemen might be happy to climb the wall, but I most certainly am not."
    It wasn't too hard. An old bunch of heavy keys provided one that turned the lock, though it took some squirts of oil to get it moving with ease. Kitty made short work of the ivy with a pair of garden shears, whilst Pol dug up two small bushes that had been planted where the path should be.
    Kitty surveyed their work with satisfaction, but then laughed. "You know, we really should have made the men come over and do all this."
    " Oh no," said Pol. "I think we have to each take care of our own ground."
    And that, thought Kitty, was very wise indeed.
     
     
     
    Chapter Four
     
    That evening, Kitty decided that she hadn't been in such a fluster since her first dance as a girl of sixteen. And it wasn't even as if she had anything to be flustered about. Not only was she a mere chaperone tonight, but her wardrobe offered only four black dresses, all of virtually the same plain design. None of them was suited to an evening with a lord.
    An evening with a lord.
    She acknowledged that she wasn't merely a chaperone. Lord Chatterton seemed inclined to flirt with her, and she intended to enjoy the experience.
    She was still in mourning, however, so she squashed the temptation to add some jewelry, and arranged her hair in its normal smooth knot high on her head. Then she grimaced at her plain reflection.
    He might have been inclined to flirt with her in the garden, when she was roughly dressed and her hair was flying loose. Now, however, she was Kitty Mayhew again, a woman men showed no amorous interest in at all.
    How tempting to dress wildly and leave her hair flowing loose. She laughed at the absurd idea.
    She did wish her hair would hold a curl, however. For fashion, she needed tight curls around her face, but she'd learned young that nothing would compel her hair to hold curls for an evening. She'd had nearly a decade to become used to that fact, so why was she even thinking of