The Earl’s Mistletoe Bride by JOANNA MAITLAND Page A

own careful choosing. He planned to take his time. Eventually, he would install a new countess at the Abbey, and his mother would move back to the Dower House. Eventually, he would have peace.
    The door opened. Jon ignored it. It was his mother’s role to give instructions to the servants.
    ‘Oh, forgive me!’ It was a young and educated voice, not a servant’s.
    Jon spun round. Standing in the doorway was possibly the loveliest young woman he had ever seen, with guinea-gold curls framing a heart-shaped face and eyesthe colour of bluebells. Damn it! His mother was match-making again! Just how many beauties had she installed here to tempt him? Had she turned his working visit into a house party on the sly?
    The young lady dropped Jon a very elegant curtsy and then came into the room. ‘Forgive me, ma’am,’ she said again. ‘Had I known you had company, I should not have intruded.’
    ‘This is not company, this is my son, Jonathan, home to do his duty as host. And about time, too.’ His mother rose. ‘You will permit me to present him to you?’
    The girl blushed the colour of overripe strawberries.
    ‘Lady Cissy, I should like to introduce my son, the Earl of Portbury, lately a major with the army in Spain. Jonathan, make your bow to Lady Cissy Middleton, second daughter of the Duke of Sherford.’
    Jonathan swallowed his ire and bowed courteously. It was not the child’s fault, after all, that his mother was overstepping the mark yet again. As a dutiful son, he could not possibly respond in kind.
    Lady Cissy sank into a deep curtsy. When she rose, she offered him her hand with practised elegance. ‘I am delighted to meet you at last, my lord,’ she said, looking up at him through thick golden lashes and then opening her eyes very wide, as if she were beholding something amazing.
    ‘Practised’ was definitely the word, Jon decided, with an inward groan. Why did his mother always choose rank and artifice over principles and honesty? He found himself remembering Beth Aubrey’s sharp retorts with more admiration than he had felt at the time. She toldthe truth. She defended the weak. And she did not flirt. Unlike Lady Cissy.
    He helped the girl to a seat beside his mother. He had a feeling this was going to be a very tedious afternoon.
    Three sentences from the lady’s lips confirmed his worst fears. She was as empty-headed as most of her ilk. What’s more, she had a high-pitched giggle that would drive any sane man to drink.

Chapter Four
    J on ignored his brother and ate his breakfast in silence. His house party ordeal was almost over. Three interminable weeks, just as he had feared. Escape had been impossible, of course, for what reason could he possibly have given for deserting a houseful of his own guests? He had been trapped by his own good manners. At least, none of the resident beauties had trapped Jon into proposing, in spite of the underhand tricks that one or two of them had tried. The rest were either so shy that they were struck dumb in his presence, or so empty-headed that their conversation bored him to death. They all had rank or beauty, to be sure, but that was no compensation. It was a relief that they would all be gone on the morrow. There was not one restful woman among them.
    The door opened to admit an unexpected visitor.
    ‘Miss Mountjoy! How splendid!’ Jon’s brother, the Honourable George Foxe-Garway, sprang up andstepped forward to bow over the lady’s hand. Then he waved the butler away and pulled out a chair for her.
    Jon also rose and bowed, distantly. From their very first meeting, a week before his wedding to Alicia, he had instinctively distrusted Louisa Mountjoy, who was Alicia’s long-time companion and bosom bow. He had discovered soon enough that his instincts were right.
    In the early weeks of their marriage, Alicia had played the loving, doting wife, in public and in private. For Jon, it was a glorious liberation from his father’s emotional tyranny. He dared to