Читать книгу Make Her Wish Come True Collection - Ann Lethbridge - Страница 19
ОглавлениеLittle voices warbling ‘Hark the Herald Angels Sing’ drew Gregor from his dressing table to tug open the bedroom door. On the threshold stood the twins, their youngest cousin standing behind them gripping Miss Daisy’s hand. Their voices faded away as Gregor smiled down at them. The excitement of last night had taken hours to leave him and he’d spent the better part of his time in the dark trying to forget the memory of Lily in his arms and the heaviness it created low in his body. Sleep had at last come to him early in the morning, but it hadn’t lasted much past dawn. Too restless to remain in bed, he’d risen and dressed, eager to see the woman who’d filled his thoughts through most of the night.
‘Aw, this one’s already up and dressed. There’s no fun in that,’ one of the twins complained.
‘Then let’s try someone else,’ his brother suggested and the two of them shot off down the hall, leaving Miss Daisy and her tiny cousin behind.
‘Merry Christmas, Lord Marbrook,’ Miss Daisy offered, her cheeks as red as if she’d been out in the snow.
‘Merry Christmas, Miss Daisy, and Miss Adelaide.’ He bowed to the toddler who watched him with wide eyes, one fat hand in her mouth.
‘Come on, Daisy, stop dawdling,’ one of the twins called as they stood at the door of their next victim.
Daisy looked back and forth between Gregor and her cousins as if debating whether to stay or go. Her youthful exuberance won out over her girlish infatuation and she rushed off, dragging little Adelaide behind her.
Once they were all together at the next door, the children sang their carol at the tops of their lungs. The door to the room opened and out stepped Sir Timothy, still clad in his nightshirt, his cap askew over his grey hair.
‘A merry Christmas to you all,’ he boomed, scooping Adelaide into his arms and whirling her around to the delight of the other imps.
Gregor watched, enjoying their laughter and high voices. There’d never been such Christmas morning joy at Marbrook Manor. He’d tried it once a very long time ago, knocking on his parents’ door in excitement, only to receive a stern whipping which had made sitting through the dull sermon in church difficult.
The butler appeared at the top of the stairs, chuckling as he passed the scene before approaching Gregor. He held out a silver salver with a letter on top. ‘My lord, this arrived for you.’
Gregor recognised his mother’s handwriting at once. He was tempted to refuse the missive, sure it was not full of cheerful Christmas wishes, but he picked it up, eager to be done with the unpleasant task. As Gregor broke the seal, the butler made for downstairs, trailed by the singing children.
Gregor leaned against the doorjamb as he unfolded the letter, the merriment of the morning draining from him as he read the elegantly written lines.
I can’t tell you how disappointed I am that you’ve chosen to spend Christmas in the north and with the Rutherfords of all people. They’re so below us in rank and station. I don’t know why you favoured them with a visit.
Your brother never would have shown such poor judgement, nor left me to oversee your duties at Marbrook Manor, but since he is gone I suppose I must deal with you. I’ve distributed the beer as you instructed, but saw no need to waste an entire cow on such coarse people as the tenants.
What with your raising of their wages and forgiving their debts last year, something your father never would have approved of or done, surely they now have more than enough to purchase their own beef with which to celebrate.
Please do not linger too long in the north. Your presence there has already been remarked upon by your uncle and heaven knows who else.
There was no loving postscript to close the chiding missive and Gregor folded it in half, running his fingers over the crease, wanting to rip the thing to shreds. Instead, he must answer it at once and send separate instructions to his steward about distributing the beef as originally intended. The order would not reach Marbrook Manor before the day was out and he could well imagine the disappointment of many tenant families when their tables were much lighter for their feasts this year, but he would see to it they had something for Boxing Day. He’d even instruct the housekeeper to put together gifts for them in order to make amends for his mother’s meanness at such a generous time of year.
‘A hearty greeting to you on this merriest of mornings.’ Lily’s beautiful voice broke through the cloud of Gregor’s ire.
A deep red dress of velvet trimmed with blue ribbon wavered around her legs as she approached from the other end of the hallway. The bright fabric set off the whiteness of her neck and the delicate décolletage just visible beneath her snow-white fichu. For a brief moment Gregor forgot the letter and everything but the memory of her lips against his last night.
‘Good morning, my queen.’ He dropped into a bow, noting the slight furrow of her brow as he rose.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘I’ve received tidings from my mother and they aren’t of great joy. I’m afraid I must remain behind from church to see to it my tenants receive the good wishes intended for them, the ones my mother is thoughtlessly denying them.’ He didn’t mention the rest of the missive, or the aspersions his mother threw on Lily’s family. The reminder of every cold and lonely holiday he’d ever known at home was already dimming the warmth of last night and the cheerfulness of the day.
‘But you’ll be here when we return and you’ll attend the ball?’
Her eagerness to be with him brought back a measure of the happiness with which he’d first greeted the morning. ‘Most definitely.’
‘Then I’ll leave you to your work and see you very soon.’
He peered up one side of the hall and down the other to make sure no one was about. Then he took her hand and raised it to his mouth. He pressed his lips against her soft flesh, rubbing one finger against her palm and enjoying the shiver it sent racing through her to make her skin pebble against his. What he wouldn’t give to draw her into his room, close the door and forget his problems with her in the deepest of embraces. He couldn’t, and with his mother’s letter acting like a ballast stone on his mood he let go of Lily and straightened.
Lily rubbed her hand in disappointment as Gregor quickly retreated into his room and closed the door, leaving her in the hall, confused. Despite the heady press of his lips and his teasing caress, it was as if the Lord of Misrule had abandoned him completely and he couldn’t be free of her fast enough. Was it just the letter troubling him or was it something more, something to do with seeing Lily? Maybe he regretted being so open and intimate with her last night and this morning was an attempt to make clear to her there could be no more between them than a Christmas Eve kiss.
Lily’s stomach tightened with worry, and the shame she’d experienced when he’d turned from her on the dance floor swept in to blot out the excitement from last night until she forced it back. Surely whatever was distracting him this morning had nothing to do with her. He’d told her so and she’d seen it in his face when he’d mentioned his mother and the troubles at home.
Lily raised her hand, tempted to knock and offer him some of the comfort she felt he needed, but didn’t. Her parents might be lenient with many things, but even they would look askance at a single young lady alone in the bedroom of an unmarried gentleman.
She wandered off down the hall towards the stairs, knowing she must wait until later for Gregor to look to her for support, assuming he decided to do such a thing. Despite the kiss last night, there was no promise of more between them and no reason why she should expect further confidence and intimacy than what they’d already shared.
Ahead of her, Rose’s bedroom door was cracked open and she could hear her and Petunia talking inside. She headed for Rose’s room, eager to join them and forget her worries, when Petunia’s voice made her freeze.
‘You shouldn’t encourage her with Lord Marbrook.’
Lily leaned towards the opening to listen, careful not to call attention to her presence.
‘Why not? I think it’d be an excellent match. They’re very much alike in temperament,’ Rose countered. ‘And imagine Lily as a viscountess.’
‘It isn’t likely to happen.’ Petunia sniffed.
‘Afraid our little sister will outrank you?’ Rose teased.
‘I’m afraid she’ll be humiliated again. It’s troubling enough Mother allowed him to come here at all, but for him to show Lily special attention is beyond the pale, especially since everyone knows a Marbrook, no matter how amiable he is to our family, is never going to disgrace his own grand name by marrying so far beneath him.’
‘I think you’ve misjudged Lord Marbrook. His brother might have been arrogant, but I’ve seen no such tendency in him, at least not now.’
‘But what about four years ago?’
‘He was a boy then, and Lily just a girl. They’ve both matured a great deal since.’
‘Perhaps, but I’ve heard rumours his mother is pushing him to marry Viscount Daunton’s daughter. Most people expected an announcement last Season.’
‘If he didn’t ask her last Season, he probably won’t. Beside, Lord Marbrook doesn’t strike me as a man to be pushed into a marriage he doesn’t want, especially not by his mother.’
‘Nor is he the kind to rush into anything. He might play the fool at the servants’ ball, but he won’t do so in London, especially not with Lily,’ Petunia insisted.
Lily’s chest constricted and panic surged through her. Last night, in the dark of her room, when the moon was high and reflecting off the small arches of snow snug in the corners of the window panes, she’d allowed herself to believe there might be something more between her and Gregor. Hearing Petunia state the truth so plainly, she realised there wasn’t. Petunia was right, it was one thing to make merry in the country and quite another in the stately homes of London.
Lily balled her hands and pressed them against her forehead. She’d been weak and foolish with Gregor, granting him favours no young lady should give a man of such slight acquaintance. Then to further lower herself, she’d told him about her troubles with her family, pouring out her heart like the lonely drunk in the public house she’d once read about in a novel. For all she knew, she’d been dallying with a man on the verge of a betrothal and the letter from his mother had something to do with Viscount Daunton’s daughter and not Marbrook Manor. It would certainly explain his quick retreat from her at his door, the memory of which made the shame sting even more.
‘What are you doing skulking around doorways?’ Laurus’s voice rang out from behind her.
Lily pushed away from the wall and, catching her brother by the arm, pulled him to the stairs.
‘Do you ever speak softly?’ she hissed.
‘No more than anyone else in this family.’ He stopped at the top of the stairs to study her, concern furrowing his brow. ‘Is something wrong?’
She twisted her hands in front of her, wanting to confide in the one sibling who understood her, but she hardly knew where to begin, or if she wanted to reveal her humiliation and confusion. Everything Petunia had said was right, she knew it, yet it contradicted everything she’d come to feel about Gregor last night. Surely he wasn’t the man Petunia described, though the one who’d greeted her this morning was so different from the one she’d kissed, confusing her more than her father’s Latin names for his plants.
‘Lily?’ Laurus prodded as she struggled to bring her thoughts under control like she always did at her easel, when everything around her was a whirlwind of noise and motion.
‘Nothing’s wrong, only we must go down for breakfast. If we don’t eat soon we’ll be late for church and you know how Father is about Christmas service.’
As Lily began to descend, she glanced back at her sister’s room to catch Rose standing in the doorway. Petunia watched anxiously over her shoulder, the pity in her expression as irksome as the worry drawing Rose’s lips thin.
Lily hurried down the stairs, refusing to give them any hint she’d heard their conversation, though it was plain to all she had. She gripped the banister tight as she descended, trying to fight back the panic and not let it trip her on the stairs. She’d made yet another mistake trusting Gregor, one which would heap more derision on her if it was ever made known. She might not mention it, not even to Laurus, but what might Gregor say to his friends or at his club in London? He might laugh and talk about Lily’s morals being as clumsy as her dance steps. Such a story would ruin her reputation for good. She’d worried last night about Daisy’s behaviour reflecting badly on the Rutherfords. Her father had been right to scold her for it, especially since it was Lily’s behaviour which risked tainting them now.
* * *
Overhead, grey clouds began to blot out the blue sky which had greeted them this morning. There would be snowfall by this evening, nature’s decoration for the Rutherford ball. For now, ice clung to the bare branches of the trees and the top of the portico balustrade. Gregor paced back and forth across the cold stone, his boots crushing the ice as he moved, his leg a touch stiff this morning because of the cold and his exuberant dancing last night. Pygmalion sat inside at the window watching him, willing to remain his constant companion, but not loyal enough to wander too far from the hearth. Gregor didn’t blame the little creature. If he possessed any sense, he’d be inside too with a cup of tea instead of torturing himself out here in the frost.
The distant bells of the church began to toll, bringing Gregor to a halt. Church was over and soon the family would return to the house and their Christmas celebration. Their happiness would help lift the dreariness which had descended over him while he’d composed a letter to his estate manager, instructing the man to distribute the beef as Gregor had promised his tenants. Then, it’d taken time for the Rutherford’s butler to find a man willing to travel so far to deliver the missive on this festive day. A few pounds from Gregor’s pocket had at last persuaded a local farmer with no family to ride south to Marbrook Manor and undo the damage of Gregor’s absence.
Turning to make his way back across the portico, he vowed some day to see the kind of joy he experienced at Helkirk Place light up the halls of Marbrook Manor. There would be children to laugh and run through the halls like the ones did here, sons and daughters he would raise up to care for one another without fear of expressing it. They’d be kind to those around them and as full of life and love as a woman like Lily. He stopped at the far end, the image of Lily as a mother as startling as the scratch of Pygmalion’s paws against the glass urging him to come back inside. Gregor hadn’t come to Yorkshire with the intention of finding a wife, only forgiveness, yet the thought of pursuing the young lady with the eyes like coal and an open, welcoming nature warmed him more than his thick redingote. In the eagerness of her kisses he’d tasted her passion not for the Viscount Marbrook, but for Gregor, the soldier and the second son, and he didn’t want to let it go.
The image of her troubled face as he’d closed the bedroom door on her this morning rose up to disturb him. He wanted to enjoy again the lively woman from last night, the one who’d danced and laughed with him as he’d shrugged off the shadows of the last few years. He’d never experienced such freedom and mirth with anyone. He paused to take in the white-and-grey garden, wondering how different the last few years might have been if he’d defied his father, helped Lily to her feet, then stood beside her in her embarrassment and furthered the friendship they’d started.
As beautiful a fantasy as it was, he knew it would never have come to pass. His father would have seen to its end, one way or another, and at the time there was no way of knowing if he would survive France. Nor could he have imagined inheriting the title and the freedom it offered. With both in his possession, he was determined to not let the next few years slip away without Lily in his life.
The crunch of carriage wheels on gravel and the jangle of equipage carried through the chill air, announcing the return of the Rutherfords. Gregor stepped inside, pausing before the fire to warm his hands as he considered what to do next. Pygmalion watched him from his place on the hearthrug, the small bells on his collar tinkling each time he moved. Gregor could hardly rush down the hallway to greet Lily, not with her whole family watching. Perhaps she could be tempted out to the greenhouse and he might taste again her sweet lips. Or they could walk down the snow-covered lawn and engage in the lively sport which had sent her laughing over the garden path yesterday. Her bright smile and glittering eyes would drive back the blackness brought on by his mother’s callousness.
The twins’ voices filled the hall, joined by the noise of the adults and the patter of the dogs’ feet as they hurried down the stairs to meet their mistress. Gregor wanted to rush with them, but with measured steps made his way to the entrance hall, Pygmalion jingling at his side.
He spied Lily before she noticed him, watching in amazement as she pushed the red-velvet hood of her cloak off her hair. She adjusted a couple of pins holding the luscious mahogany curls against the back of her head, then turned, catching his eye from across the room. She didn’t smile as she had this morning, but appeared troubled, as if something had happened between their parting and this meeting. He thought of last night at dinner and wondered if someone had said something to her to dull the excitement of the morning.
Gregor exchanged Merry Christmas greetings with the other ladies and gentlemen as he pressed through the Rutherfords to reach her. She watched him with more anxiety than anticipation, and the gut feeling it was he and not her family which had brought about the change in her mood began to creep in beneath his desire to be near her. Then she flicked a glance at her second-eldest sister, the one Gregor knew the least. He dared to follow the line of her gaze, noting the wariness in Lady Winford’s eyes before the demands of her small daughter drew her attention away. When Gregor looked back, Lily was gone. He hurried to the front door to see her walking quickly down the drive and he dashed out into the chill to follow her.
‘Lily,’ he called when they were some way from the house.
She stopped, but didn’t turn around. He came to stand in front of her, the cloud of their breaths mingling in the crisp air between them. ‘What’s wrong?’
She drew the hood back over her hair, settling it just above her forehead so it framed her face. ‘Nothing is wrong, only the carriage was so crowded, I needed some fresh air.’
‘Then allow me to escort you in your walk.’
‘No.’ She looked back at the house, twisting her gloved hands in front of her before fixing him with a wan smile. ‘I’ll only be out here a moment. Father always likes me to help him oversee the last arrangements for the ball. He says I have a mind for organising things.’
Gregor laid one hand over hers, squeezing it gently. It was a bold move, especially here in the open where anyone upstairs might see them, but he couldn’t let her get away, not with such worry shadowing her. ‘Lily, please tell me what’s troubling you.’
She pressed her lips tight together, studying his face as though debating whether to trust him with her concerns. Then the hesitation fled, replaced by irritation, and she pulled away her hand. ‘Don’t be so intimate with me. Have you no care for my reputation?’
‘I care very much for it and you.’
‘If you did, then you wouldn’t have taken such liberties, not last night and not this morning.’ She stomped off down the drive and Gregor rushed to fall into step beside her, not caring for the cold or the way it cut through his coat.
‘Did someone see us? Did someone say something to you?’ he pressed, trying to get to the heart of what was vexing her.
‘No, but I overheard my sisters talking.’
At once he understood the change in her attitude. ‘They don’t approve.’
‘Rose does, but not Petunia.’
‘And you agree with her?’
They walked in silence, the gravel crunching beneath their feet. Around them a few birds twittered, making the bare tree limbs rub together as they took off from their perches. At last Lily took a deep breath and spoke with measured words. ‘I think our freedom with one another last night was a mistake. I was foolish to forget myself with you when I know I’m nothing more to you than a mere country dalliance.’
Her words stung as much as the cold air in his lungs. ‘You’re very mistaken.’
She whirled to face him. ‘Am I? You already cut me once and everyone who hungered after your family’s approval or based their behaviour on their opinion followed suit. Why do you think I haven’t returned to London? I couldn’t face the whispers, the derisive looks.’
Gregor toed the snow at his feet, uncovering a clump of brown weeds. ‘I didn’t realise.’
‘Of course not. Like all Marbrooks, you only think of yourself.’
His head jerked up to meet hers. ‘Don’t lump me in with my family. I’m nothing like them. I never will be.’
‘You have been once already. I won’t let you make a fool of me again.’
The remark hurt like a slap. There’d been so little time for him to show her his true self, but he thought she’d recognised it and understood—he was beginning to suspect he was wrong. ‘Have you heard nothing of what I’ve said to you about my past, my life or these last four years?’
‘I have, if I hadn’t I never would have accepted your apology.’
‘Yet you haven’t, not really, or you wouldn’t doubt my sincerity, integrity and my concern for you.’
‘I trusted you once and you let me down.’
‘And you’ll always hold it against me, no matter what I say or do.’
‘How can I forget it when I can’t escape it?’
‘You could if you truly wanted to, but instead you’ve hidden yourself away here, imagining your troubles to be much greater than they really are.’
‘How dare you.’ She marched off around the corner of the house and out of view of the upper windows.
Gregor followed, quickly closing the distance between them before he grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. She landed against his chest, clutching his upper arms to steady herself. Her breath caressing his neck above his cravat nearly startled the words from him, but they didn’t abandon him completely. They were driven out of him by the anger welling up from deep inside him, fuelled by France, his parents and his own failings. ‘You think you know suffering, but you don’t. It isn’t rumours or people staring, it a field full of shattered men bleeding and dying, your friends alive one moment, then ripped from your side by a cannonball the next. It’s lying in an abandoned barn for three days with your leg bleeding, passing in and out of consciousness, your tongue swollen with thirst while you watch the sun set, wondering if it will be the last time you see daylight.’
He shifted closer, his chest brushing against her as she listened. The care he’d craved from her only half an hour before filled her eyes and tore at him the way the musket ball had torn through his leg.
‘I’m sorry, Gregor, I didn’t know,’ she whispered, reaching up to brush the hair off his forehead.
Tears for him glittered in the corners of her eyes, but with the cries of his men and the cannon fire echoing in his ears, he couldn’t accept her sympathy. ‘How could you? You talk of my faults, but what of yours? You hide here, afraid to be embarrassed by me, your family, yourself, looking for the worst in others because of how it might reflect on you.’
This time she didn’t object to his words, but lowered her head and sagged a touch in his arms. He’d humbled her as much as France and his father had once humbled him, and he hated himself for it.
Sliding a finger beneath her chin, he raised her face to his. ‘You were brave once, approaching me when you thought I needed a friend, despite my family name and rank. Be that brave woman again, Lily, and you’ll stun yourself and everyone.’
* * *
Lily stared into Gregor’s green eyes. He was right. She’d lived for so long in fear of being embarrassed she hadn’t really lived at all. Yes, the ball four years ago was unfortunate and he’d made a mistake, but the time afterwards was her mistake, not his. He’d learned to battle on in spite of the heartlessness of his family and in the face of his horrors in France. Instead of picking herself up and carrying on with the fortitude of a Rutherford, she’d hidden herself away, more ashamed than proud of her family and herself. While she’d imagined herself wronged, Gregor had suffered real tragedies, ones she couldn’t fathom. Then, when he’d come to her for understanding, she’d scorned him, too blinded by her own slight troubles to see his.
She wasn’t worthy of his friendship. She deserved to be alone.
She let go of his arms and stepped back. He didn’t cling to her, but opened his fingers and let her go. Whatever had passed between them last night was gone now. She’d killed it with her fears and accusations. It was as terrible a misstep as the one she’d made with him at the wedding ball.
Snow crunched beneath her boots as she fled off towards the garden, rounding the house to make for the greenhouse standing alone at the end of the flower beds. She slipped inside, the moist heat stifling after the dry cold. She wasn’t ready to return to the house to humour Aunt Alice or be pestered by Daisy or the twins, or, heaven forbid, Petunia.
She paced the length of floor, avoiding the small puddles sitting in the narrow spaces between the stones. Neither the blooming plants nor their scent brought her any pleasure. All she could focus on were the red poinsettias and the image of Gregor standing across the bright leaves from her, trying and failing to tell her of France and to apologise. He’d been so open and honest with her, and this time it was she who’d refused to acknowledge him. In her grudge, she’d failed to see the wonderful man he’d become and had thrown away any chance they might ever be real friends, or possibly more.
The door swung open and Laurus entered with a cold draught. ‘What are you doing in here? Father is looking for you. He needs you to oversee the decorations for the ball.’
She moved one poinsettia so its pot was in line with the one beside it. ‘I needed some time away from all the noise, a chance to be alone before all our guests arrive.’
‘Why? What’s wrong?’
‘What makes you think there’s anything wrong?’ Lily straightened her shoulders, trying to conjure up an air of indifference and failing.
‘Because you were lit up like the Yule log last night with Marbrook and today you look as dour as if it were Ash Wednesday.’
Lily shifted on her feet, trying to think of some flippant response to send him away, but instead she sank down on to the bench beneath the window and buried her face in her hands. ‘I’ve made a mess of things with Gregor.’
‘Gregor?’
She looked up as her brother approached with one eyebrow arched with interest.
‘I mean Lord Marbrook,’ Lily nervously corrected. ‘Do you know the real reason he wanted to come here for Christmas?’
‘I do.’ Laurus sat down beside her. ‘He told me when he asked if he could join us.’
‘Then you knew he’d come here to apologise to me?’
‘I did. Otherwise I wouldn’t have let him come. He might be my friend, but I remember what happened. It’s why I haven’t brought him around before.’ He gently pressed against her with humour. ‘Some of us in this family do have a regard for your feelings.’
She wished she had as much regard for the feelings of others, especially Gregor. ‘Did he tell you what happened to him in France?’
Laurus shrugged. ‘He said he was shot and spent some time in the hospital there, but nothing more.’
‘He told me what happened and it was awful.’ So was the way she’d treated him today. Just as she’d sensed his suffering four years ago, she should have guessed it yesterday and let it and not her own fears guide her.
‘I think it’s good Marbrook trusted you with such a thing.’
Lily shook her head. ‘He didn’t tell me out of trust but anger. He flung it at me as if it was the greatest insult he could imagine and it was because of how I’d insulted him.’
She explained to her brother the aspersions she’d cast on Gregor. ‘He came here to make amends and I made a muddle of it. It would have been better if you’d refused his request to come.’
‘I’m glad I didn’t, dear sister, because I can see he has as deep a regard for you as you do for him.’
‘We hardly know one another.’ And what she’d learned of him she’d tossed aside because of her own fears.
‘Look at Mother and Father. They barely knew one another before they married, yet two people couldn’t be more perfectly matched.’
It was true, but at the present, Lily wasn’t as trusting in providence as her parents. ‘Petunia doesn’t think Lord Marbrook and I are suited.’
‘Petunia thinks too much of herself, while Rose thinks too well of everyone. Daisy doesn’t act as she should, Mother and Father are too involved in their plants to check her. I take nothing seriously while you take everything much too seriously. It’s part of your charm.’ He cuffed her under the chin and she knocked his hand away.
‘Try to be serious, Laurus. What am I going to do? He surely hates me now.’
‘There you go, imagining the worst again.’ Laurus knelt down in front of her. ‘After coming all this way to see you, after four years of thinking about you when he might have easily forgotten you, I don’t think he’ll be so easily put off by this misunderstanding.’
‘I’m not so sure.’ She wanted to believe him, but whatever image of her Gregor had held on to in France, she’d surely shattered it with her aspersions today.
‘Then it might be time to swallow your pride and find out. Apologise to him like he did to you.’
It couldn’t be so simple. ‘I don’t think it will make a difference.’
‘There’s only one way to find out. Now come inside and get ready for the ball.’ He rose, taking her hand and pulling her up with him, something of the Lord of Misrule coming into his face. ‘You’ll see there’s Christmas magic to be worked yet.’
