The Mischief of the Mistletoe: A Pink Carnation Christmas

The Mischief of the Mistletoe: A Pink Carnation Christmas by Lauren Willig Read Free Book Online Page B

Book: The Mischief of the Mistletoe: A Pink Carnation Christmas by Lauren Willig Read Free Book Online
Authors: Lauren Willig
with all the trepidation he was feeling. “What are you thinking?” she asked quietly.
    Sally tossed her head, setting her earbobs bouncing. “It’s quite obvious. Someone has to go to Farley Castle. To keep the assignation!”

Chapter 5

    O h, no,” said Mr. Fitzhugh to his sister. “Oh, no, no. Don’t even think it.”
    Folding her arms across her chest, Miss Fitzhugh narrowed her eyes at her older brother. “Someone has to go.”
    â€œFor the good of the country!” chimed in Agnes, who clearly took her spies very, very seriously.
    Neither of the Fitzhughs paid the slightest attention. They were too busy staring each other down.
    They really did look remarkably alike, thought Arabella, especially now that they were sporting the same scowl. They were both above the average height, both possessed of the same bright gold hair, the same high cheekbones, the same cleanly cut Roman noses. Mr. Fitzhugh might be frequently likened to a vegetable, but there was no denying that he was an extremely attractive man. One could easily imagine him in a short white robe, about to slay the odd hydra or engage in a short concert on the lyre, while his sister would have made an excellent Athena, beautiful, imperious, and entirely aware of both those features.
    â€œIf someone has to go, I’ll go,” said Mr. Fitzhugh, exhibiting admirable brotherly resolve in the face of a decidedly Medusa-like stare.
    â€œHow would you know what you were looking for?” demanded his sister.
    â€œHow would you?”
    Outmaneuvered, Miss Fitzhugh said grudgingly, “Fair enough. But you will report back.”
    â€œYes, and take you for ices, too,” said Mr. Fitzhugh, generous in triumph.
    The ices carried the day. Miss Fitzhugh dropped her arms to her sides. “All right. But if anything interesting does happen, don’t forget that it was my pudding!”
    â€œWas that meant to be a good thing?” muttered Mr. Fitzhugh.
    â€œRight now,” Arabella pointed out with amusement, “I doubt it’s anyone’s pudding. Except maybe the rats’. We left the pudding part lying in the gutter.”
    Lizzy Reid jumped up from her chair, clearly ready to go haring out into the street. “What if there was more inside it? Secret messages!”
    â€œThere was a secret message,” said Arabella, neatly intercepting the younger girl before she could bolt for the door. This teaching job was certainly going to be no sinecure. Did they bar the school doors at night? She sincerely hoped so. “On the muslin. Why go to the bother of writing another?”
    â€œOh.” Working out the logic of that, Lizzy subsided. She looked more than a little disappointed, obviously having expected nothing short of codes and treasure maps, all buried within one small mix of fruit and suet. “True.”
    â€œStill,” said Sally brightly, “it couldn’t hurt just to be sure. . . .”
    â€œYes, it could,” said Mr. Fitzhugh, snagging his sister before she could get past him. “There’s no need. What nodcock would go about sticking messages inside a pudding? They would get all goopy that way.”
    â€œWhat nodcock would put a message on a pudding?” Sally countered. “The French are capable of anything.”
    â€œIncluding, but not limited to, flaky pastries,” murmured Arabella.
    Both Fitzhughs looked at her with identical expressions of confusion.
    â€œWhat?” said Sally, as her brother chimed in with, “I say, what was that?”
    â€œNothing,” said Arabella hastily. “Never mind.” Once they got on to pastries, there would be no going back. The girls would probably dismember every brioche in the place, looking for freakishly small spies.
    â€œI mean it, Sal,” said Mr. Fitzhugh, looking severely at his sister, or as severely as his genial features would allow. “No running about sneaking out

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