Page 31 of Holly & Folly

ARCHIE

Archie was late.

Mother had left to church some time ago, as had most of the guests.

Based on the lack of sounds coming from the next room, Miss Prescott had left some ten minutes ago.

He searched for his gloves, which were not in their usual place. When he had come to his bedchamber the night before, it was to find two footmen moving his belongings. Upon inquiry, they told him the countess had instructed them to have his things taken to the Lion Room in the west wing upstairs.

This had made him smile. Mother had discovered his proximity to Miss Prescott and was taking measures to put a stop to it.

Archie had told the footmen in no uncertain terms that his belongings were not to be touched without his express instruction, no matter what the countess said, and they had returned everything, even if not to their precise places.

When Archie opened the door to the church, a number of heads turned to look at him.

Miss Prescott was seated nearer the back, her brother on one side, Mr. Tinston on the other.

She raised her brows at him as if to say making a scene again?

He raised a brow back at her, indicating the man beside her, and she looked away quickly.

Archie made his way to the Dalmeer box pew, slowing as he noted that Mother was not alone within it.

He considered turning back the way he had come, but it was too late. Mother, the Caldwells, and the Bensons had all spotted him.

Mother waved him over eagerly and opened the pew’s door for him.

He suppressed a sigh and continued there as the vicar took his place at the lectern.

“Merry Christmas, Mother,” Archie said, kissing her upon the cheek, taut as it was with her smile.

No doubt she had feared he would not come at all.

“Merry Christmas, my dear,” she said, returning his embrace. “There is a seat for you just there.” She nodded to indicate the only space left in the box—a place between Miss Caldwell and Miss Benson, both of whom smiled at him.

He offered a polite one in return and tried not to tread on Mrs. Caldwell’s toes as he took the place created for him.

“Merry Christmas, Lord Dalmeer,” Miss Caldwell whispered as the vicar welcomed them to the service.

“Merry Christmas,” he murmured back, his gaze veering to Miss Prescott.

Her eyes danced.

The vicar of the parish, Mr. Tomlinson, was a young and handsome man who had a great deal to say on the subject of Christmas. On any subject, really. He delivered his sermon as though each word should be sipped and savored by the congregants until they were intoxicated. In reality, they were more likely to fall into a drunken stupor and let out a loud snore.

The restlessness that took hold after an hour had elapsed seemed only to give Mr. Tomlinson a renewed fervor for instilling his audience with the seriousness of the subject at hand. Was this the sort of vicar Miss Prescott had in mind? He would bore her to tears.

A look in her direction informed Archie that Mr. Tomlinson had not bored her to tears but rather to sleep. Her heavy lids struggled to stay open, but they were no match for the entire chapter of the Book of Mark being read at a snail’s pace. Her eyes shut, and a moment later, her head lolled toward Mr. Tinston beside her.

Tinston glanced over in surprise, but when he realized she had fallen asleep, he smiled to himself, letting his eyes take in her head on his shoulder.

Archie lifted a brow.

Tinston obviously would not mind becoming better acquainted with Miss Prescott. He was a decent gentleman, but while he would not bore her to tears, he was no match for her wit. She needed someone more engaging.

Though, she had said she wanted a sensible match.

Despite thinking it was a shame, Archie sympathized. His parents’ marriage had been for love. A quick courtship, then marriage, then Archie born less than a year later.