Mistletoe Kisses and Yuletide Joy Read Online Free PDF Page B

the house, or entertained at all. But the servants had deserved their Christmas dinner, and so they'd all eaten the usual fare, and in the evenings Kitty and her mother had heard the servants singing traditional songs.
    Christmas had been in the house.
    And on Christmas Eve, her mother had lit a Yule candle.
    Kitty's parents had started this tradition before she was born, a substitute for the Yule log which would never fit in their small hearth. They had a special mold, and made the thick candles themselves each year. Then, at midnight on Christmas Eve, they lit it in a special ceremony of light. They gave reverence to Christ, the light of the world, but also to more ancient gifts -- those of sun and fire.
    It was somewhat pagan, but Kitty's mother's special interest was ancient British traditions. She had felt that Yule -- the celebration of light in the darkest time of year -- was an important ritual.
    The bit Kitty had always loved most was the extra prayer at the end, one of thanks for the warmth and brightness brought by family and friends. Last year, her mother had lit the candle, and they'd remembered Kitty's father. They'd cried, but it had been a healing moment. This year, however, being all alone, Kitty had lacked the heart to try to celebrate all on her own. Perhaps that had been a mistake, for the season felt dark.
    At the end of Christmas Day, she climbed into her bed rather glad to have it over with. There were still the Twelve Days to get through, each with special memories, but surely the worst of the season was over.
    Then she found herself lying in the dark, waiting for the sound of Rochester serenading the object of his desires. The other cats were there, but not him. She went to the window to check. Another cat was in the center of the lawn, a paler one.
    For some reason, that seemed a depressing end to a dismal day.
    Lord Chatterton had doubtless left town to spend Christmas with his family and taken his cat with him. She should be glad. After all, she never wanted to speak to him again.
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Three
     
    The very next day, however, Kitty found that she was going to have to speak to Lord Chatterton again. Just as she was getting into bed, a noise alerted her. Not cats, this time. An intruder!
    Heart thumping, she crept downstairs, a poker in her hand.
    In the kitchen, however, she found Pol taking off a shawl.
    " Pol? Where on earth have you been?"
    For once the girl looked flustered. "Out in the garden, miss."
    " But it's gone ten o'clock!"
    " It's a nice night, miss."
    " It's December." Something about the girl made Kitty ask, "Have you been meeting someone?"
    Pol's ready color flared and she studied her shoes. "Perhaps."
    " Who?"
    Pol looked up and bit her lip, but a smile fought to get out. "Ned. Ned Kingsman. His valet. Lord Chatterton's valet."
    Kitty sat in a chair with a thump. "Pol! How could you be so wicked?"
    " 'Tain't wicked, miss. We're courting." Pol's cheeks were red as rosy apples.
    Suddenly Kitty felt as sorry for the maid as she had for her cat. "Oh, Pol. His intentions can't be honorable. He'll ruin you, that's all."
    " I won't be ruined," Pol declared with some indignation. "And anyway, Ned's not like that."
    " All men are like that. Off to bed with you, and we'll have no more of this."
    But as she checked to see that the door was locked, Kitty knew she had no way to enforce her command. It was also clear that Pol was as incapable of being rational on this matter as Sherry had been.
    The only thing to do was what they'd done with the cats -- keep both would-be lovers closely confined until the madness passed. That, however, would need the assistance of Ned's employer.
    So, the next morning, Kitty sent a neighbor's lad with a note requesting an appointment with Lord Chatterton at two in the afternoon. It seemed wise to insist on formality this time, but the prospect still made her shake with nervousness.
    The boy returned with a terse acceptance on heavy, crested