Oxfordshire, England
December 1818
Celia ducked into the library. A soft glow from the fireplace cast the room in shadows. Perfect. She always did better in shadows, away from the pitying eyes of others.
Music swelled from the ballroom. Cecily was probably being twirled around by some besotted earl. Robert was likely in a corner discussing politics while Mama discussed wedding plans with the mother of Cecily’s intended.
And no one would notice Celia was missing.
Papa’s globe beckoned to her, and she traced a finger over its smooth surface. If only she had taken that trip across the continent he always encouraged. Now he was gone, and she’d never go with him.
The door creaked, and she twirled to confront the intruder. Her heart stopped.
“James.” But she shouldn’t call him that. He was the son of a duke after all.
He closed the door behind him. “Your brother’s worried about you.”
“Oh, is it time for the announcement?”
“Not yet.” His footsteps quieted as he stepped across the Oriental rug.
Celia bit her lip and looked away. She couldn’t admire his steel blue eyes and auburn hair when he’d made it clear how he felt about her. Or rather, how he didn’t.
“Remember when we’d hide out here while the others went for a ride?” His baritone echoed off the walls.
“You mean when you took pity on the cripple?” She pushed up the spectacles on the bridge of her nose.
“Don’t talk about yourself that way.”
“It’s true.” The rawness of her heart spilled down her cheeks. “I’m the twin with the bum leg and the bad eyes.” The one no man could possibly love.
“Celia.”
She caught her breath. He hadn’t used her Christian name since…
Her thoughts stopped when he grabbed her shoulders and stared down at her.
“And Cecily’s the beautiful twin. Is that it?”
The truth cut more from his lips than she ever thought it could.
Taking a step back, he ran a hand through his hair as he raised his gaze to the ceiling. He froze for a moment before a small smile formed. “Mistletoe.”
She looked up. A sprig was attached to the chandelier above them, and her face warmed as her mind returned to the memory. It was what…three Christmases ago? They had stood in this very room underneath mistletoe. James had laughed and looked at her with sparkling eyes. “It’s tradition,” he’d said as he cupped her face in his hands. Then he’d kissed her gently, plucked a berry, and kissed her again until every berry was gone.
She could still feel the warmth spreading through her, the pressure of his lips.
“I knew.” His whisper pulled her from her musings.
“Knew what?”
“The mistletoe was here. Remember the maid who’d set her cap for your brother? I caught her hanging it, probably hoping to catch Robert underneath it.” He ran a finger across her cheek. “Instead, I caught you.”
She stepped away. “You left.” Her voice was more accusatory than she meant. “Even when Papa died, you didn’t come back.”
“I was–”
“An ocean away. More interested in former colonists than your friends.”
He grabbed her arm as she tried to step around him. “I didn’t know. About your father, that is. I didn’t get the letter until months later, and I boarded the first ship I could find.”
“Why didn’t you come back sooner? Why did you even leave at all?”
“I needed to go. I’ve started a church.”
“Why couldn’t you work at a church here?”
“God called me over there.”
“Then…” She clamped her lips tightly together. She shouldn’t say it. But the words pushed their way out. “Why didn’t you take me with you?”
“Don’t you think I wanted to?” He stepped closer. “Your father hoped for more than the third son of a duke. A son who would rather preach to Americans than his own countrymen.”
“But what about what I hoped for?”
“What do you hope for?”
She glanced up at the mistletoe. Propriety would never allow it. But tradition…
Pushing away any doubts, she stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips against his.
It was better than her memory.
His arms wrapped around her, and he pulled her closer. Kissed her back with the sweetness she’d craved for three years.
Until the door opened.
He pulled away and looked toward the door. His face reddened as he tugged at his cravat and cleared his throat. “Robert.”
She blinked. Her brother stood in the doorway, Cecily behind him.
Robert looked from James to Celia. “Well, you’ll have to marry her now.”
Cecily clapped her hands and hurried into the room. “Oh, Celia, we’ll both be married! Isn’t it wonderful?”
“I…I…” Why couldn’t Celia force words past her lips?
“I think we should give them time to talk, Cecily.” Robert’s eyes twinkled with humor. “Come along, sister. Your betrothed is waiting for you so we can make the announcement.”
Cecily beamed as she swept from the room, and Robert nodded toward James before closing the door.
James tugged at his cravat again. “Well, I…”
Celia shook her head. “I didn’t…I wasn’t trying…”
“I know.” He grabbed her hand. Squeezed. “I wanted you to go with me. I need you to know that. I asked your father’s permission, but you were younger then. Hadn’t had a Season yet. He wanted that for you.” He hung his head. “I always thought perhaps he wanted someone better for you.”
“There is no one better for me.” And she meant it.
He smiled. “So you’ll marry me, then? Go to America?”
She gave him an answer the best way she knew how. After all, mistletoe required a kiss.
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