Regency Christmas Wishes(94)

They were late to dinner.

But they didn’t waste the mistletoe. And this time she used it just as she should, for kisses and wishes. He was delighted to share them with her.



They were both smiling when they finally went to dinner. But Pamela found her spirits sinking as she came down the stairs. It was one thing to say she understood her husband’s feelings, because now she did. It was quite another to actually have to watch her family ignoring him, as well as to see how he bore up under it, however stoically.

“Here they are!” one of her cousins trumpeted as they went into the salon.

“Now we can get on with it!” her father said.

“Oh, sorry we’re late,” Pamela said, feeling her color rise. “But you didn’t have to wait for us. Though it was kind, because I did want Jonathan to see how we light the Yule log.”

“Couldn’t start without you,” her brother Kit answered. “We need the newest member of our family to help light it, remember?”

“What?” Pamela asked. “But why us? Little Gwyneth is our latest addition, she’s only been with us for two months,” she added, smiling at Gwyneth’s proud new mama.

“They refused to wake her for our pyrotechnics,” Kit’s twin, Harry, explained, laughing. “That leaves Rexford.”

“Surely not,” Pamela said in confusion. “That leaves Laughton.”

“Not I,” that gentleman said quickly. “I had the honor last year, remember?”

She hadn’t. But that wasn’t why she looked distressed. It was because that was still another “remember” that her husband did not.

“And weren’t you wary of doing it?” Charles asked Laughton.

“Aye!” Cousin Godfrey agreed merrily. “I think it was because he was afraid he’d set fire to one of his little friends. But so he did. Remember how many of the little beasties came scurrying out of that log as soon as it started blazing?”

Laughton smiled as everyone laughed, even Jonathan. Though he hadn’t been there, he knew his brother-in-law’s penchant for beetles.

“I didn’t see one rare specimen in the scramble,” Laughton said good-naturedly. “And so I didn’t mind the mad fandango you did on the escapees when they came near you either, Godfrey.”

“Yes, it’s Rexford’s turn,” his father-in-law said over the laughter that filled the room. “And high time he had a turn at something. Sad stuff this Christmas must be for you, my lord,” he told Jonathan. “We all go through our paces every year like trained ponies, doing what we always do, and enjoying it for just that reason. It has to be a dead bore for you, though. I know, you’re far too polite to agree. But now you get a chance to add your own bit and become part of our pageant. Then next year, you can share your experiences with the next in line.”

His voice became solemn. “Lighting the Yule log is very important for good luck in the new year,” he told Jonathan. “Now. I shall light the last bit of last year’s log that I saved for this year. And then you start us off anew.”

He took a thick charred stick of wood from where it had been propped at the side of the hearth, and ceremoniously lit it. Once he got it burning like a taper, he held it high to show the assembled company, and then solemnly handed it to his new son-in-law.

Jonathan took the glowing brand and bent to the hearth. He knelt, and set the blazing stick to the tinder surrounding the new Yule log, touching it in several places so that it would catch evenly all round the log. He blew on the tiny flames, fanning them until the tinder was burning brightly.

But the log wasn’t. It was huge, dark, and sullen-looking, a great brown lump surrounded by masses of easily leaping flames that were quickly consuming the tinder. Jonathan thought he’d never seen a less combustible piece of wood. It looked like it would never catch. The watching company seemed to hold their breath just as he was doing. Fine thing, he thought nervously, if the damned thing didn’t catch fire. What would that mean to his wife’s family? That he’d ruined their luck in the new year? Would he be the first new addition to their family in all its long history to be unable to light their new Yule log? Gads! What would poor Pamela think of him? It was a greater responsibility than he’d guessed. Was it a test? He reached for the bellows . . .

And then he saw a single sheet of flame flare up on the right side of the log. Then another erupted from the middle of the log, along with a thin plume of smoke that went straight up the flue. The log was suddenly surrounded by a flickering transparent blue aura. Then, with a loud snap, blue and orange flames began licking up and down the length and width of the great log. It popped, it hissed, it flared. The log was definitely on fire.