A Christmas Bride by Jo Ann Ferguson

woman he had created from his imagination. How many nights had he and Felix spent sitting in his book-room and making up details about Serenity Adams and the outings Timothy had enjoyed with her on their way to a betrothal? Egad, how would he recall the lot? Mayhap Grandfather had kept the letters. If so, he would have Branson obtain them for him.
    â€œLet me help,” he said when she fumbled with the ribbons on her bonnet.
    â€œThank you.”
    He bent to look at the tight knot. Prying it apart, he said, “You have made a complete jumble of this.”
    Her laugh stroked the side of his face with its warmth. As he drew aside the ribbons, she reached to lift off her bonnet. He halted her when his fingers edged slowly up her cheeks to lift it away. Her eyes widened at his presumptuous touch, and her hands settled on his. He smiled when she did not push him away. As the bonnet fell away to roll down the pillows to the coverlet, he let his fingers sift up through her sable hair. Her lips parted in the unspoken offer that had haunted his dreams, an offer that sent craving through him.
    A throat cleared behind him. He looked over his shoulder to see a middle-aged woman standing in the door of what he knew was the dressing room. He was torn between laughing and cursing at his grandfather’s wisdom. Mrs. Scott would be the best watchdog for any young woman in this house, for she had much experience keeping the maids and the footmen from entanglements that would create a to-do in Cheyney Park.
    As he reached past Serenity to pick up her bonnet, he knew Mrs. Scott had not arrived a moment too soon. He might be out of his head to have considered kissing Serenity, but it was the only thought in his head now.
    â€œLord Cheyney,” Mrs. Scott said in her no-nonsense voice.
    â€œMrs. Scott.” He nodded toward her, the temptation to laugh growing stronger. She could not rid herself of the habit of treating him as if he still were a child. If she could be privy to the thoughts in his head right now, she would know there was nothing childish left about him.
    She bustled into the room and over to the bed. She did not quite elbow him aside, but he suspected she would have if he had not stepped back.
    â€œYou must be Serenity Adams,” Mrs. Scott said as she took the bonnet from him.
    Serenity glanced from Timothy’s twitching lips to the pursed ones of this imposing woman. Although Mrs. Scott was shorter than Timothy and wore a dress the same color as her gray hair, she seemed to take control of the chamber with her calm demeanor.
    â€œYes, ma’am,” she replied. No one had to tell Serenity that Mrs. Scott was the housekeeper, for she had the air of a woman firmly in charge.
    â€œLord Brookindale asked me to see if you had everything you need, Miss Adams.” She scowled at Timothy. “He said nothing about your needs, my lord.”
    Serenity was sure her cheeks were as fiery red as a wintry sunset. When Timothy laughed, she wondered if her mind had been injured in the carriage accident as well as her forehead. No one here reacted as she expected them to.
    â€œI see,” Timothy said, “you remain as outspoken as ever, Mrs. Scott.”
    â€œOne learns to be outspoken here if one wants to be heard over the hubbub.” The housekeeper lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “They both are due to arrive within a week.”
    â€œBoth?”
    â€œYour aunt from the Continent and that woman your cousin Felix seems to have developed some affection for.” Her nose wrinkled as if the house were about to be invaded by some sort of plague.
    Timothy’s smile wavered as he glanced at Serenity. “You might as well know the truth right from the onset. Mrs. Scott speaks of my aunt Ilse, who married into the household of some minor Prussian state that I am sure you have never heard of. None of us had until she announced her plans to marry Prince