The Christmas Carrolls by Bárbara Metzger Read Free Book Online Page B

vol-au-vents of veal. Perhaps the—
    Just then Joia jumped to her feet, tossed her napkin on the table, cried, “Papa, how could you?” and fled the dining room. With a nod from their mother, Holly followed her, begging the company’s pardon.
    Lord Carroll looked from his guests’ shocked faces to his wife’s equally dumbfounded expression. Then he looked down at the forkful of meat in his hand. “Damn, I thought she got over that nonsense about venison years ago. If we don’t shoot the deer, they’ll overrun the woods and start on the farmers’ crops.”
    * * * *
    Neither sister returned to the dining room, nor were they in the drawing room when the gentlemen left their port and cigars to rejoin the ladies. Lord Comfort had the nagging notion that he’d find both venues equally as boring, without a certain blue-eyed beauty. He was quite disgusted with himself for automatically searching the room for Lady Joia when he came in, like a mooncalf. Obviously he must be coming on sick also, which had been the earl’s excuse for his daughter’s odd behavior.
    Comfort knew better, and knew he had to act quickly before his damsel in distress gave in to the pressure of her cousin’s threats. She was liable to announce the betrothal immediately, just to get the deed done, or else confront her father.
    While he was closeted with the gentlemen, the viscount had studied his host, wondering about a scandalous secret that could destroy such a close-knit family. Joia’s heart-wrenched “Papa, how could you?” certainly led one to guess the nature of the skeleton in Lord Carroll’s closet, or its gender, at least. How could he? the viscount wondered, angry on the countess’s behalf. Lady Carroll was the kindest, gentlest lady of his acquaintance, patently devoted to her husband and daughters.
    Infidelity might be the norm in tonnish marriages, but Craighton hadn’t thought it was part of this marriage. His own mother never cared about her husband’s numerous liaisons; Lady Carroll would care all too much, according to Joia and what he could see for himself. He wouldn’t let Joia be forced into a loathsome match—he’d feel the same about any female being coerced, he almost convinced himself—but neither could he let the charming countess be hurt. He might just have to put a bullet through Oliver after all.
    If that wasn’t enough in his dish, the ripe young widow was eager to fall into his lap. Comfort could recognize the signs; the lady was growing impatient for him to make a move. Aubergine meant to snabble herself a title by hook or by crook. The near bare-breasted bait hadn’t worked, so Lud knew what she’d try next. Comfort had a good idea, so he made sure his door was locked every night. He wasn’t born yesterday, but he was born with women chasing after him.
    *       * * *
     
    “But what did Papa do to overset you so?” Holly wanted to know. She was standing by her sister’s bedside, wringing out another towel soaked in lavender water to place over Joia’s eyes. “Did he actually go ahead and accept some gentleman’s offer for your hand without consulting you?”
    Joia groaned. ‘Twould have been better if he had, then Oliver couldn’t make his vile proposal. She should have accepted Lord Hopworth last year, drool and all. No, then Oliver would only blackmail Holly, the next daughter in line. Joia groaned again.
    “Surely he didn’t refuse someone you were interested in, for I think Papa would approve Mr. Humphreys’s suit rather than go back to Almack’s.” When that effort didn’t win her a smile, Holly tried a different tack. “No, the only gentleman remotely plausible is Lord Comfort, and Papa would be dancing for joy if he made you an offer, gouty foot or not. But you swore you’d never many such a rake, didn’t you?”
    Joia groaned louder.
    * * * *
    With Lady Carroll anxious to check on her daughters, the other ladies of the house party decided to retire early. Since Aubergine