Chrystabel’s sympathy was nearly drowned out by her shock. She’d thought she knew her brother, but she’d never imagined he could fall to pieces like this. Not the brother she’d grown up with, the one who always appeared fully composed and in control.
Seeing his confidence shatter was both awful and awe-inspiring. If even Matthew could be humbled by his feelings, it meant everyone was equally defenseless. It meant they all shared this same capacity and weakness for love. It was a lesson she wouldn’t soon forget.
But beneath all that, she couldn’t help feeling a childish stab of envy, too. Matthew had kissed Creath after but a few hours of acquaintance, and yet she, Chrystabel, still had yet to be kissed. Why had Joseph frustrated her efforts in the conservatory? She couldn’t fathom his reason for resisting. She was of suitable birth. He obviously admired her. So what was the problem?
Whatever his misgivings, she would overcome them. She was ready to be kissed, and she had a plan to make it happen.
“Creath was just startled,” Chrystabel told her brother. “You took her by surprise. Her new feelings took her by surprise.”
Matthew finally turned from the windows, his dark eyes glazed. “She wasn’t the only one taken by surprise.”
“Of course you’re both surprised. Your feelings grew very swiftly. But just think, Matthew—you can save her from that awful Sir Leonard! If you marry her before he returns, she’ll be safe from his fiendish designs. You can be her knight in shining armor like in days past.” She gave a romantic sigh. “You must marry her, and quickly.”
Now it was his turn to look shocked. “Marry her? I just met her! And my whole life has been turned upside down. I’m being forced to move to Wales and start over, and I…I cannot begin to contemplate marriage, not on top of everything else.”
“I know the timing isn’t ideal.” Adding three drops of lilac to Creath’s scent, Chrystabel set down the bottle to fix her brother with an earnest gaze. “It’s true the two of you just met, but some things are meant to be. Not every man is lucky enough to meet his perfect match. Don’t you see that you have to act now, or she’ll be lost to you forever? She’ll be married to Sir Leonard and having his babies instead of yours.”
“Babies? One kiss and you’re talking babies? I cannot listen to this.” Matthew stomped to the door.
“Where are you going?” Arabel called after him.
“Away!” he growled. “To see that our servants cut and haul the yule log for your deranged sister’s illegal secret Christmas.”
The door slammed behind him.
“He wasn’t furious,” Chrystabel pointed out to her sister calmly.
“He is now.”
“He’ll get over it. Can you pass me the vanilla?”
Arabel didn’t. “I think you were right about Matthew and Creath,” she said slowly, tracing one of the stars embroidered on her gown. “He’s in love, even I can see that. And your plan brought them together—at least for a little while.” She met her sister’s gaze with reluctant awe. “Perhaps you are a bit of a matchmaker.”
“It would seem so,” Chrystabel said modestly, not wanting to appear smug. Though she had known she was right all along. “Matthew will sort things out with Creath, I’m sure of it. All that’s left now is to secure Joseph’s heart for myself. I’ve decided what to give him for Christmas.”
“A bottle of scent?”
Searching for the vanilla herself, Chrystabel shook her head. “Not a bottle of scent.”
“Why not? Men wear perfume too, you know.”
“Not Joseph. He likes growing flowers, not wearing them.”
“How do you know?”
“You think I don’t know the man I’m going to marry?”
Arabel laughed. “So what are you going to give him?”
“My roses.” Just saying it aloud filled her with anticipation. She couldn’t wait to see his reaction.
“What roses?” Arabel paused in thought. “You can’t mean your roses—”
“My roses,” Chrystabel confirmed. “He grows flowers, and he doesn’t have any roses here at Tremayne. They’re the perfect gift for him.”
“But you love those roses—you fought tooth and nail to bring them along. Lord, I thought you would rather have left Matthew behind than those bushes! Why on earth would you give them away now?”
“You’re not seeing the situation clearly,” Chrystabel said, adding two drops of vanilla to the bottle. “Joseph will have my roses, but I will have Joseph. He’ll care for them, I’ll have my essential oils, and we’ll live happily ever after.”
“Oh, Chrys…” Concern in her eyes, Arabel cleared her throat. “You know happily ever afters only happen in fairytales. Shouldn’t you lower your expectations, at least a little? Elsewise you’re bound to be disappointed.”
“I disagree. I think Joseph and I are destined to live happily ever after.”
“How can you be sure? Even if you are in love—of a sort—how do you know it’s the sort of love that lasts forever? Have you kissed him?”
“Not yet,” Chrystabel grumbled. “What has that to do with anything?”
“Don’t you remember what Martha said after her wedding?”
Chrystabel swirled the bottle. “That kissing the man you’re meant to be with is pure magic.”
“Exactly.”
“So…?”
“So don’t you think you ought to kiss him? You know, to make sure it’s magic?”
“It will be magic.”
Arabel shrugged. “I’d still kiss the fellow before agreeing to marry him. You wouldn’t want to find out that you were wrong after the wedding.”
“I’m not wrong! Anyhow, for your information, I mean to kiss him tonight. And when it’s pure magic, you will have to admit a second time that I was right. Now, smell this.”
Arabel rolled her eyes—good-naturedly, because she was Arabel—and raised the bottle of perfume to her nose. “It’s lovely. Creath will adore it.”
“Excellent.”
Arabel corked the bottle. “Are we done, then?”
“With perfuming. But there’s still so much to do.” Rising, Chrystabel took out her penknife and went to the wardrobe cabinet. Opening it, she
