They pulled on cue, and the crackers let off enormous bangs. Vivian gasped and then laughed. She looked over at Malcolm, who had a very satisfied expression on his face, and they both laughed even harder.

“Wait, that’s not it,” he said. “We have to wear our crowns.” He picked up the flimsy colored-paper crowns that had fallen from inside the crackers onto the table and unfolded them. “Hmm, I think . . . the purple one for you, the pink one for me.” He set the paper crown on top of her head and adjusted it carefully. “There. Beautiful.”

She watched him as he put on his own ridiculous paper crown.

“This is very silly,” she said. “I like it a lot.”

He smiled at her.

“I like it a lot, too.”

By the time they were done with the first course—pheasant cooked under a brick, which was surprisingly delicious—the entire table had on paper crowns. Julia kept bringing out more incredible food, and their compliments to her got more and more elaborate, as she poured them more and more wine. There was a mountain of tiny roast potatoes in their skins, crisp and tender Yorkshire puddings, beef Wellington, and oh, thank goodness, mince pies . . . though they didn’t look like any kind of pie she’d ever seen. For one, they were miniature—at home, people would probably call these cookies. They were delicious, though.

Finally, after an enormous and showstopping bûche de Noël, the whole party headed back into the sitting room for port.

Just as Vivian was about to walk out of the dining room, Malcolm stopped her.

“Wait, you dropped an earring,” he said.

She automatically reached up to her earlobes, and sure enough, one of her long, sparkly earrings was missing.

“Oh no!” She’d definitely had them both on earlier. They must be somewhere in either the dining room or the sitting room. She turned to go back to the table to look under her chair when Malcolm stopped her.

“Is this it?” He opened his hand, and her earring was in his palm.

“Yes! That’s it, thank you.” She reached for it, but instead he held it up to her ear and gently slipped the post in. His fingers stroked the outside of her ear, and she shivered.

“Oh. Thank you,” she said again. He cupped the side of her face and turned it toward his. “Don’t you think we should . . . ?” She looked into his eyes and suddenly couldn’t remember what she thought they should be doing other than exactly this.

He pointed up above their heads.

“Mistletoe. It’s a tradition. I don’t know if you do this in America, but in Britain, we have no choice but to kiss now.”

She smiled and moved closer to him.

“Well, I am in Britain, and I did say I wanted to learn about all of your Christmas traditions. Teach me this one.”

He bent down to her.

“With pleasure.”

He kissed her softly once, twice, then put his arm around her waist and pulled her even closer, and kissed her a third time. The third kiss started out softly, too, but when she wrapped her arms around his neck and licked his bottom lip, it quickly turned passionate. They kissed and kissed, their hands touching each other’s faces, their lips and tongues dancing, their bodies snug against each other’s, until they heard a discreet cough and broke apart.

Julia stood next to them, a platter of chocolates in her hands, not quite holding back a big grin.

“I see you found the mistletoe,” she said. “Truffle?”

Vivian supposed she should be embarrassed, but instead she just felt proud. Getting caught making out under mistletoe, at her age! She grinned at Julia.

“Thank you, I’d love one.” She reached out and picked one up with her fingers. “Malcolm?”

He, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to make eye contact with Julia. She didn’t know why. The whole mistletoe thing had been his idea in the first place!

“Ahem. Thank you.” He took a truffle and moved out of the doorway. “After you.”

Julia walked into the sitting room with the truffles, and Vivian and Malcolm followed.

“Would you like some port?” he asked her when they got back into the sitting room. “I see James pouring over there.”

When she nodded, he left to get their drinks. Maddie immediately appeared at her side.

“Where did you two disappear to, hmm?” Maddie asked, that smirk still on her face.

“My earring fell out of my ear in the dining room. I had to find it,” she said. Maddie’s annoying grin got even bigger.

“Ah yes, you ‘had to get your earring.’ I know that one, too.”

Vivian shook her head and tried to keep a straight face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Maddie giggled.

“Sorry, Mom, I’m just delighted by this.” Her face turned serious. “But honestly, one of the reasons I wanted you to come on this trip was to get a break from everything at home, work and the family and everything else, and I wanted you to treat yourself a little, which we both know you never do.” She glanced in Malcolm’s direction. “And that over there is a real treat.”

Vivian tried so hard not to grin, but she couldn’t help it.

“Isn’t he, though?”

They both dissolved into giggles.

Chapter Eight

Vivian woke up late on Christmas morning for the first time in years and smiled at the ceiling. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d woken up on Christmas morning without having to jump out of bed and rush around—when Maddie was little, it was to get up with her, open presents, have breakfast, and head over to her mom’s house. In recent years, as Vivian and her sisters had taken over a significant portion of the holiday cooking, it had been to finish up the many dishes she was cooking for Christmas dinner, and get them packed in the car, then go to her aunt’s, where the whole family would be for hours.

She felt a small pang thinking about that—the family would be there all day today, and she wouldn’t be with the rest of her family for the first time in her life. But it helped to remember that all she had to do today was to eventually get up from this cushy bed whenever she felt like it, put on some comfortable clothes, amble downstairs for some of Julia’s delicious tea and scones, and know that no one she saw all day would comment on if she’d gained weight since Thanksgiving, or if that dress was too young for her, or if she really needed to do something different with her hair.

Maddie must have been up hours ago. Vivian grinned to herself. How the tables were turned. Maddie had to get up early on Christmas morning to help the Duchess get dressed so she would look flawless for the much-photographed walk to church, and Vivian could just recover from her night of many glasses of wine right here in bed.

That had been a good Christmas Eve party, hadn’t it? The cocktails, the champagne, Julia’s amazing food . . . and then, of course, Malcolm’s mistletoe kisses.

Despite everything on her con list, she couldn’t imagine waking up this morning and knowing she’d never see Malcolm again.

She turned over in bed and smiled at her pillow. What was it going to be like, to see him again? Just the two of them, in London, not Sandringham? What would they do? Would they even like each other if they were in a different context?