Snowbound Wedding Wishes: An Earl Beneath the Mistletoe / Twelfth Night Proposal / Christmas at Oakhurst Manor. Louise Allen

Hugo Travers,’ Emilia said. But hearts had been broken before and no one died of it, not while there were stockings to darn and boys to feed and ale to brew. She swirled her big white apron around her waist and went to survey the larder shelves in search of inspiration for supper.

      ‘Have you done your Latin exercises?’ Hugo felt the concerted power of two sets of eyes on his back, but he did not look round from grooming Ajax.

      ‘Yes, Major. And we’ve done our chores and Mama says we are under her feet because she is trying to sweep. Is it ever going to be Christmas?’

      ‘Today is the twenty-third. Christmas Eve is tomorrow. How are the shelves coming along?’ He sponged Ajax’s muzzle and the big horse sighed gustily, spraying him with water. He was bored, standing in this stall. The deep, narrow paths through the snow were unfit for anything but walking, but he would take him out in a minute.

      ‘Really well, they are finished almost. Mr Daventry has carved a star on both ends for us and he is going to help us put our initials on it this afternoon.’ There was an anxious pause. ‘Do you think we have enough money to pay him for the wood and carving the stars and helping us?’

      ‘How much have you got?’

      ‘Two shillings and four pence halfpenny.’

      Hugo had already spoken to the carpenter, agreed a price and promised to make up the difference. ‘Well, that should do it. Do you want to come and help me exercise Ajax?’ He untied the halter rope, slid the bridle on to a chorus of excited agreement and led the horse out into the front yard. ‘Come on, then, up you go.’

      He swung Nathan up, then Joseph. They were almost too excited to speak. Hugo put the reins into Nathan’s hands and walked away into one of the pathways through the snow. Ajax plodded behind, the boys’ feet brushing the tops of the snow banks.

      It was a relief to get right away from the house. He had been trying to ever since he had yielded to temptation and kissed Emilia and felt the ache of desire sweep through him, felt the pain under his breastbone that he did not understand intensify. He had dug, visited, joined the other men in planning, helped clear the barn and select the beast for the roast. And every time he had gone back to the house the very lack of contact, the control with which Emilia ignored what he had done, scarified his pride.

      That would be sensible, she had said when he had summoned up every ounce of his crumbling will-power and said that they should put a stop to it. Whatever it was. She had spoken calmly, dispassionately, as if she had taken all she needed from him. Certainly she was not hurt or desperate to be back in his arms. He had thought she needed him more than he needed her and it seemed he was wrong.

      I do not need her. I need a wife.

      The ride had been a wild success. After half an hour Hugo swopped them around so Joseph had the reins, by which time they had their voices back.

      ‘Are you married, Major?’ Nathan asked.

      What? For an appalled moment he thought he was being asked his intentions towards their mother, then he realised his own conscience was imposing undertones on a perfectly innocent piece of curiosity.

      ‘No.’

      ‘Why not?’ Joseph enquired earnestly. ‘Aren’t you really old not to be married?’

       Chapter Six

      ‘I am twenty-eight,’ Hugo said. ‘Which is a perfectly good age to get married. And besides, I have been away fighting.’

      ‘So who are you going to marry?’

      ‘I haven’t met her yet.’ It felt important to state that.

      ‘How will you find the right one then?’ Nathan asked. ‘A wife has to be able to cook, doesn’t she?’

      ‘No, not always. I employ a cook. I will go to London after Christmas and attend parties and balls and hope to find the right lady.’ That was the plan. It had seemed perfectly sensible. It was perfectly sensible. It was how a gentleman found a wife.

      ‘How will you know? Will she be pretty?’

      ‘Perhaps she will.’ Blonde, blue eyes, tall. Cool. ‘How do you know when you like someone?’

      ‘But it’s more than liking, isn’t it?’ Joseph chimed in. ‘You’ve got to live with her for ever and ever and have babies and love each other.’ His voice trailed away. ‘Until one of you dies.’

      ‘We will have to like each other,’ Hugo said briskly. ‘Love could grow afterwards. And she will come from the same sort of background as me so she will know how to look after quite a lot of servants and tenants and a big house.’ He was not sure who he was trying to convince, himself or the boys. Or perhaps