Chapter Seven

Porter had wrestled with his unexpected insight for two long days. Days in which Mrs. Northrop arranged for him to spend time with ladies he had no interest in. Vance teased him mercilessly about his distraction, and Lewis complained at length that Chloe hadn’t spent enough time with him. And in the midst of it all, Twickenham had grown a little nauseating in his attentions to her, beginning with his puppy-eyed gazes the night of the musicale.

Christmas Eve arrived without the usual cheer. His mind was heavy, and his heart was worried. The guests would be gathering the traditional greenery, divided in small teams.

Mrs. Northrop pulled him aside. “I know who I would like to see you teamed with. She comes from a good family.”

He knew where this was headed. “I am planning to ask Miss Munson. Lewis is joining me, and they enjoy each other’s company. We all enjoy one another’s company.”

She tipped her head a bit. “Miss Munson? I thought I heard Mr. Twickenham say he intended to ask her.”

Twickenham? The man was as irritating as a rash. Porter looked over the gathered people and found Chloe. She stood with Vance—not Mr. Twickenham. He crossed to her, forgetting in his haste to bid farewell to Mrs. Northrop.

“Have you a partner for the greenery gathering?” He asked the question without the slightest pause for a greeting. What was the matter with him today?

“I do,” she said.

His heart dropped.

“Lewis asked me this morning,” she said with a smile filled to the brim with mischief.

He felt an answering smile tug at his lips. He looked to Vance. “Will you be joining us as well?”

He shook his head. “Mr. Caster has invited me to join his wife and daughter, and I fully intend to accept.”

Relief swept over Porter. He offered Chloe his arm. She accepted. How was it he had never noticed before how pleasant it was to assume this very commonplace arrangement with her? Did she take pleasure in it as well? How he hoped she did.

The children arrived from the nursery in the next moment. Searching for Lewis proved unnecessary. He darted to them, throwing himself at Porter’s legs.

“Let’s go, Papa. Let’s go.”

Chloe simply laughed, neither distressed by Lewis’s enthusiasm nor displeased with Porter’s presence.

They were given a small sled to pull behind them as they traipsed through the snow in search of pine boughs and holly and all the other traditional Christmas greenery.

Lewis sat on the sled, eagerly taking in the scenery. Chloe was sure to remind him to hold still enough to be safe, though she walked with seeming contentment at Porter’s side. If not for Lewis so nearby, he might have made an attempt to discover if her feelings went at all beyond friendship, if there was any hope of something more.

Porter removed a few low-hanging pine branches with the little saw he’d been provided. Chloe helped Lewis pile them on the sled. He climbed atop the bows, and Porter pulled the sled to the next tree. Again and again they undertook the task. All the while Chloe kept Lewis calmly engaged without stifling him. Her wit and humor repeatedly pulled laughter from Porter.

They were never lonely when she was with them. Somehow he hadn’t ever seen that or recognized it.

“Do you think your papa can reach that?” Chloe was pointing up into the branches of a tree.

Lewis, standing beside her, looked up as well. “The green clump?”

She nodded. “Yes. It is the most important of the yuletide plants.”

Lewis bounced. “It is?”

“It is,” she confirmed.

Porter, curious, moved closer and looked up as well. Ah. “Mistletoe.”

“And we found it!” Lewis spun about in a circle.

“We certainly did,” Chloe said. “And do you know the tradition of mistletoe?”

Lewis shook his head.

“Two people who stand under the mistletoe at the same time are supposed to exchange a kiss.”

“Oh.” Lewis was not yet old enough to find the prospect displeasing. “Do they have to? Will they get in trouble if they don’t?”

“No,” she said with an empathetic smile.

“But they can give a kiss because of the missing toe if they want?”

She shot Porter a look of wide-eyed amusement and mouthed, “Missing toe?”

He managed to stifle his laugh.

Chloe turned back to Lewis. “They can if they wish.”

Lewis took her hand and tugged her downward. She hunched low in front of him. The boy stretched on his toes and gave her a sweet, little kiss.

Chloe pulled him into a hug. “Oh, I do love you, Lewis.”

Lewis looked past her to Porter. “Your turn, Papa!”

“My—” He choked against the words. “My turn?”

“You are under the missing toe. You are supposed to kiss her, but you won’t get in trouble if you don’t want to.” Lewis looked at Chloe, who stood facing Porter. “Did I tell him right?”

“Yes, you did.” She spoke to Lewis but watched him.

He leaned his saw against the trunk of the tree and took a single, tentative step toward her.

“Lewis did say you don’t have to.” She spoke quietly, not looking away from him.

“I know.” He reached out and took her hand. “You don’t have to either.”

“I know.” But she didn’t move, didn’t pull away.

Porter’s heart pounded as he closed the gap between them. He took a breath, trying to calm his nerves, but it helped very little. She set her free hand on his chest. His pulse leaped on the instant.

He wrapped his other arm around her waist. She bent her neck, looking up at him. He brushed his lips over hers, light and gentle. Her hand slipped from his chest to his neck, her fingers feathering along his chin.

He kissed her again, more fully, more deeply. She slipped her hand from his and wrapped her arms around his neck. She returned his kiss with all the fervor with which he offered it.

“Do I need to rescue you, Chloe?” Lewis asked.

Chloe laughed, and their kiss broke. He didn’t release her. She didn’t move away.

“Does he need to rescue you?” Porter asked.

“I understand rescue is only necessary if the one being kept doesn’t wish to be or the one doing the keeping no longer wishes to keep her.”

Porter nodded. “I’ve heard that as well.” He, himself, had said that the day they’d played in the snow.

Her hands shifted, resting at the front of his coat, her fingers fussing with his buttons. “No, Lewis. You don’t need to rescue me.”

All the nervousness he’d felt melted away. He was no longer uncertain, no longer worried about the future.

“Are we keeping Chloe, Papa?”

“If she’ll keep us,” he whispered.

She pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “That would be the finest Christmas present I have ever received.

* * *

“We agreed to this amount.” Mr. Bartrum had been trying for a solid ten minutes to convince Adelaide to accept the monetary consideration they’d previously agreed upon.

She assumed her most determined expression and posture. “I applaud your integrity, Mr. Bartrum, but please believe me when I say that being part of this party and enjoying the hospitality of our hosts for a week has been ample compensation for an assignment which required I merely nudge two people enough for them to see the truth right in front of them.”

Miss Munson slipped her arm through Mr. Bartrum’s. “You knew?”

Of course she had. “I did.”

“How quickly did you sort it?” Miss Munson asked.

With a smile she wasn’t entirely certain she kept free of amused pity, she said, “The very first day.”

Miss Munson laughed heartily. Mr. Bartrum watched his darling with unabashed tenderness. This soon-to-be family would be a thoroughly happy one.

“Why did you insist upon thrusting lady after lady upon Porter if you weren’t attempting to make a match?” Miss Munson asked with a smile.

“And attempt to impress Mr. Twickenham with Chloe’s musical abilities?” Mr. Bartrum added.

“Sometimes the best way to help people finally see what they already have is to show them what they could have but don’t want.”

“Chloe! Chloe!”

Miss Munson turned toward the open front door of Ellsworth Manor. Lewis was bounding across the entrance hall toward the threshold. Chloe hurried to him, catching him up in her arms.

Mr. Bartrum watched the scene, though he spoke to Adelaide. “You could have simply told me that I was in love with her since you sorted it so quickly. That would have saved us all a great deal of time.”

She shook her head. “The heart does not work that way. It cannot be told what to feel; it simply must make that discovery on its own.”

“My heart has given me the greatest Christmas gift imaginable,” he said.

Adelaide was not an overly sentimental person, but his sincere gratitude for the happiness he had found touched her. “This has been a fruitful Christmas house party for me as well,” she told him. “I have secured a new assignment thanks to my presence at this gathering.”

“You have? That is a fine thing.” Mr. Bartrum was a good-hearted person, precisely the kind she found pleasure in securing a future for.

“It is, indeed. And I depart immediately. So I will bid you farewell and wish you every happiness.”

Mr. Bartrum shook her hand and expressed his gratitude once more.

Miss Munson had just returned to where they stood, Lewis bouncing excitedly in her arms. “Are you leaving us?”

Adelaide nodded. “I don’t suspect you need my intervention any longer.”

Even with a wriggly child in her arms, Miss Munson managed to hug her. “Thank you again and again for everything.”

“It is my pleasure.”

“Are you ready, Mrs. Northrop?” her newest client asked through the lowered window of the traveling carriage.

The usual new-assignment excitement bubbled inside. “I am always ready.”

On that declaration, she climbed into the Cunninghams’ carriage, eager to help another deserving soul find her happiness.

The number of matches she had facilitated numbered in the dozens, all of them loving and promising and hopeful. A life spent in such a noble pursuit was a life worth living. And she meant to live it fully.