Lady Crenshaw's Christmas Read Online Free Page A

mirrors that lined the ballroom on either side, each of them festooned with boughs of holly and sumptuous red ribbons.  Hanging from the ceiling in front of each was a large kissing ball bursting with mistletoe.  Both ends of the room boasted a fireplace, the mantel of each decked out in red candles and festive greenery while candelabra of varying heights flanked the doorway and lighted the corners of the room.     
    “It’s enchanting . . .” Ginny murmured.  “Oh, Anthony, could this room be any lovelier?”
    “No, my dear,” he answered with a tender look, “and you are the loveliest thing in it.” 
    Ginny turned to Grandaunt Regina, hoping she was satisfied with the decorations and caught the grand dame wiping a tear from her eye.  “It’s just as in the old days,” she pronounced.  “One can’t expect anything better than perfection.  You might have done a sight worse, my dear, a sight worse, indeed.”
    “Hadn’t we best take our places?” Anthony suggested.  “The cream of the ton should be landing on our doorstep at any moment.  I find I am very much looking forward to it.”
    The three of them hastened to stand in a line in front of the fireplace at the far end of the room, smoothed whatever might be awry, and took a deep breath.  Within moments, the great double doors once more swung wide and Ginny felt her heart jump into her throat.
    “It’s all right, Ginny, it’s just Garner,” Anthony said.  The elderly butler was alone as he entered and began his slow trek to the far side of the room.  Anthony ran a finger along the inside of his cravat and Grandaunt Regina sighed.  Ginny thought she might scream from the tension but, finally Garner came within hearing distance in order to ask if everything was ready.
    “Yes.  Ready.  Quite,” Anthony snipped.   Taking a deep breath, he added, “That is to say, yes, there is nothing left to do but welcome our guests.”
    Garner bowed.  “Very well, my lord.  I shall be most happy to usher them to your side once they have arrived.”  Turning, he made his laborious way back to the front hall.
    Ginny and Anthony exchanged a glance.  “You did make out the invitations for eight o’clock, did you not?” he asked.
    “Yes, I think so,” Ginny said slowly.  “Grandaunt thought perhaps nine a better hour to start but I believe, I, uh . . .”  She turned to her husband and lowered her voice.  “This was one of those points upon which she and I did not agree.  She thought the later hour was best but I preferred starting at eight of the clock.  I was hoping for plenty of time for dancing before supper is served.  The trouble is, now I can’t recall if I made out the invitations for eight or nine,” she whispered.
    “A small setback at most, my love.  People tend to come late whenever they are meant to arrive.  Grandmama will simply assume everyone wants to make a grand entrance.  With guests such as Lord and Lady Avery, His and Her Grace of Marcross and my mother, the potential for drama is rife.”
    “Do remind me why we invited a single one of them,” Ginny groaned.
    “Well, let’s see,” Anthony said, rocking back on his heels.  “You claim Lady Avery is your most constant caller.  Perhaps it is best we learn to get along with her.”
    “Yes, but that hand-clapping!” Ginny said with a sigh.  “At least she seems to have abandoned the lisping.”
    “My uncle the duke and his wife require no explanation,” Anthony asserted.
    Ginny, finding no fault in this statement, merely nodded.
    “And my mother. . . would that she could find herself an Italian count and move to sunnier climes.”
    “It would certainly be sunnier for me,” Ginny murmured.  “Perhaps they will all be quite tardy and I shall be too busy with my other guests to speak with them.” 
    “And perhaps Her Grace will have your head on a platter for breakfast,” Anthony said tartly.  “As for Lady Avery, there is no escaping her.