The Seduction Of Lady Constance (Returning Grooms #1)

Chapter 10

The air at Southdale Estate was crisp and cool, the countryside blanketed in a soft layer of snow that glistened beneath the pale winter sun. The stately manor house, adorned with holly and ivy, was a sight to behold, its grand facade welcoming as ever. There was a certain magic in the air, a sense of anticipation that seemed to linger like mist, for it was Christmastime, and the Earl and Countess of Southdale were determined to make it a season of splendor.

Inside the manor, fires crackled in the hearths, spreading warmth and a golden glow throughout the richly decorated rooms. Garlands of evergreen hung from the banisters, and boughs of mistletoe had been strategically placed by the household staff, much to Lady Constance’s amusement. She had personally overseen the decorations, delighting in the small details that would make the house feel festive and welcoming. She had always loved Christmas as a child, but this would be her first time playing hostess to such an extravagant affair.

“It’s all coming together quite beautifully,” Vincent murmured, his voice low and warm in her ear as he joined her in the drawing room, where the finishing touches were being made on an enormous evergreen tree. Decorated with gold ribbons, glass ornaments, and hundreds of delicate white candles, it stood as the centerpiece of the holiday decor, a symbol of the season’s abundance.

Constance turned to her husband with a smile. “It does look rather grand, doesn’t it?” she replied, glancing at the array of candles and the boughs of pine scenting the air. “I only hope our guests find it as enchanting as I do.”

Vincent’s eyes gleamed with a quiet admiration as he watched her. “They will,” he said confidently, lifting her hand to his lips. “You’ve made this place come alive, Constance.”

The preparations for the Christmas ball had been underway for weeks, with the staff working tirelessly to ensure that every detail was perfect. From the sumptuous feast that would be laid out in the dining hall to the arrangements of musicians who would provide music for dancing, no expense had been spared. It was to be a celebration not only of the holiday but also of their new beginning—an opportunity to put the past months behind them and focus on the future.

As the night of the ball arrived, the estate was transformed into a glittering wonderland. Lanterns lined the drive, casting a golden light on the path as carriages arrived, bringing guests wrapped in furs and velvet, their cheeks flushed with cold and anticipation. The manor doors opened to welcome the stream of visitors, each greeted with a glass of mulled wine and a warm, festive atmosphere that instantly put them at ease.

Constance was dressed in a deep green gown, the color of pine, adorned with delicate gold embroidery that shimmered as she moved. Her hair was swept up, a few dark tendrils falling loose to frame her face, and a fine emerald necklace lay against the pale skin of her throat. Vincent had given it to her that very morning, a Christmas gift he had said was meant to complement her eyes. She had accepted it with a smile, touched by his thoughtfulness, and now, as she stood beside him to greet their guests, she couldn’t help but feel a thrill of pride for the event they had created together.

The ballroom was a sight to behold, its high ceilings draped with garlands of evergreen and crimson ribbons. The scent of pine and spiced wine filled the air, while the musicians played a lively tune that seemed to set every foot tapping. The atmosphere was joyous, a celebration of both the season and life itself. Constance took Vincent’s arm, and together they led the first dance, the crowd parting to watch as they waltzed across the polished floor.

In that moment, it was easy to forget the darkness that had threatened them only weeks before, the sinister plot that had nearly torn apart the life they were building. Here, surrounded by the laughter and music, the weight of recent troubles seemed to lift, and Constance allowed herself to bask in the simple joy of the moment.

As the evening wore on, the ballroom grew warmer with the heat of dancing and the flow of champagne. Constance moved through the crowd, speaking with guests, exchanging holiday wishes, and accepting compliments on the evening’s success. Vincent was never far from her side, his gaze often finding hers across the room, and each time their eyes met, a spark of understanding passed between them—a silent acknowledgment of what they had endured and the promise of the future they would share.

In one of the quieter corners of the ballroom, Constance found herself face-to-face with Lady Westwood, an older matron with a fondness for gossip. The lady’s eyes sparkled as she leaned in to speak in a low voice. “My dear Countess, I must say, your Christmas ball is the most delightful I have attended in years. But tell me, are you not worried about who might try to disrupt your festivities, given recent events?”

Constance’s smile did not waver, though she felt a flicker of irritation at the question. “I have every confidence that this evening will be unmarred by such troubles, Lady Westwood,” she replied with a poise that had become second nature. “After all, Christmas is a time for joy, is it not?”

“Indeed,” the older woman agreed, though her tone suggested she hoped for a bit more scandal. Constance left her with a polite nod, knowing that there would always be those who whispered about misfortune, even at the height of merriment.

Later that evening, as the clock approached midnight and the guests began to gather for the traditional Christmas carol, Vincent slipped his arm around Constance’s waist, drawing her close. The warmth of his touch, the steady beat of his heart beneath her hand, made her feel safe in a way she had not known she needed.

He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “Are you happy, my love?”

She looked up at him, her gaze softening as she took in the familiar lines of his face. “I am,” she said simply, the words filled with a quiet truth. “And I believe I owe that to you.”

The carol began, and the voices of their guests rose in unison, filling the grand room with the sound of "Silent Night." As the music swelled, Constance found herself overcome by a sudden rush of emotion—a blend of gratitude, relief, and something deeper that she could no longer deny. For in this moment, surrounded by friends and laughter, with Vincent’s arm around her and the promise of a new year ahead, she knew that she had not merely found happiness. She had found love.

And perhaps that was the true magic of Christmastime—that even in a world so often marred by darkness, there could still be moments of light so pure that they illuminated all the shadows, reminding them both that they were stronger together than apart.

As the final notes of the carol faded into the night, Vincent turned to her, his eyes filled with a tenderness that stole her breath away. “Merry Christmas, my dearest Constance,” he whispered, brushing a soft kiss against her lips.

She returned his kiss, her heart swelling with a joy that felt as though it would never end. “Merry Christmas, Vincent.”

For the first time in a long while, the future seemed bright, the past nothing more than a distant echo. And with each embrace, each glance that spoke of promises kept and trust restored, she knew that this was only the beginning.