Authors: Father Christmas
Being a gentleman had definite drawbacks. Lord Ware could not, for instance, tell Miss Ridgemont that they would not suit, not when he’d never made a formal address to her in the first place. Nor could he tell her and her giggly, gaudy friends to get the deuce out of his castle so he could enjoy the holiday season with his own family, not after inviting them to stay through the New Year.
And he certainly couldn’t grab Mrs. Warrington and press heated kisses on her lips as he was aching to do with every ounce of fevered blood that pulsed through his body. But he could catch her under the mistletoe! He could steal a legitimate kiss, by Jupiter, if she stood still long enough. Between entertaining the oldest members of the party and keeping the youngest out of everyone else’s way, Graceanne was busy conferring with Milsom and the housekeeper over meals, menus, and Boxing Day gifts for the tenants and the servants. She was rehearsing the pageant and making new costumes, and, yes, helping with choir practice. Leland hardly had a chance to see the elusive widow, much less entice her under the kissing bough.
He half feared that kiss, anyway. What if it branded him, seared her memory into his soul for all time? He was half afraid it was too late.
And he still had to play the host. The Duke of Ware was nothing if not a gentleman.
* * *
It was time to stir the pudding, Graceanne announced to the guests. Everyone was invited to the kitchen to make his or her Christmas wish, from the lowest potboy—in fair warning to those high-in-the-instep dowagers—to the youngest child—in fair warning to Miss Ridgemont. Eleanor went anyway rather than remain above stairs all by herself. She also wanted to keep an eye on that Mrs. Warrington; Ware was being altogether too watchful of the dowdy widow.
When they were all gathered in the kitchen—a ridiculous idea in the first place; ladies did not belong in hot, messy places—Miss Ridgemont found herself wedged between a footman and Miss Ashton-Highet’s deaf grandmother, which served her notion of propriety even less well. “This is absurd,” she muttered, “making wishes on a lump of potage.”
The deaf ancient didn’t hear her, but the twins did. They were waiting their turns with Shanna the nursemaid, and it would be hard to tell who of the three was the most excited.
“It is not!” piped up Willy.
Leslie added: “How else will Father Christmas know what to bring for Christmas?”
Eleanor was delighted to get revenge at last. “You poor, simple brats, don’t you know there is no such thing as Father Christmas? I’m surprised, Mrs. Warrington, that you permit such outrageous mummery in a good Christian household.”
So the boys started to cry.
“Why, next you’ll teach them to believe in fairies and elves and leprechauns.” So Shanna started to cry.
“Enough!” shouted the duke in his most awesome voice. The pots and pans shook on their hooks on the walls, half the servants disappeared without making their wishes, wishing to keep their positions more than anything else. “In this house,” he thundered, “pudding wishes come true. And Father Christmas is real, Miss Ridgemont, because I say he is. And finally, if the little people talk to Shanna, perhaps she is more fortunate than the rest of us.”
“Well, I never—” Eleanor began.
“No, and you damned well never will!” the Duke of Ware forgot his gallantry enough to say.
So Miss Ridgemont started to cry.
* * *
The next day Miss Ridgemont received an urgent summons, which never passed through Milsom’s hands, to attend a sick relative. She begged her friends to bear her company in this time of woe, which was due to last until they reached the Earl of Cranshaw’s house party.
Crow brought the lady to Warwick, so he was honor bound to escort her to her destination. He stopped to have a last toast with his friend while his valet was packing, a time-consuming task. Ware was worried that he’d placed a heavy burden on Crow’s padded shoulders, but Fanshaw reassured him that it was no such thing. “In fact, Lee, I came to ask if you’d mind me cutting you out with the lady.”
“I’ll hand you the saber, my best of good friends,” the duke replied, “Good luck to you. But are you sure? I mean…”
“Oh, I know the chit’s rep, how she’s hanging out for title and fortune, but we’re well matched. Same interests, don’t you know. Everyone says we make a handsome couple. She’ll run out of dukes and earls soon, and I’ll be waiting.”
Ware shook his friend’s hand, careful not to crush the fingers between the rings Crosby wore. “Then I’ll wish you luck, Crow, and my best wishes.”
* * *
By the time the company had all departed, some in better cheer than others, the afternoon of Christmas Eve had arrived. Graceanne decided she had to tell Leland now about Pru and the baby, before attending the holiest of church services with lies and distrust between them. She was well aware they’d never be social equals, but the hurtfulness had to end. And after all, Miss Ridgemont was gone; half of Graceanne’s Christmas wish had already come true. She sought his direction from Milsom.
Ware was determined to get her alone at last. He asked the butler where she might be found.
Milsom
almost
said, “Waiting for you, you nodcock,” but he hadn’t had quite that much of the lamb’s wool yet.
They met in the Adams room, and were admiring the newly installed Christmas tree and discussing how many carriages were needed to transport their diminished group to church that evening, while they each tried to get up the courage to speak.
Milsom cleared his throat from the doorway. “A military man has called, Mrs. Warrington.”
“Oh, one of Tony’s friends, I suppose.”
“No, madam, this is a naval gentleman, a Mr. Hallorahan. Are you at home?”
Not only was she at home, she was out of the parlor and into Liam’s embrace in the Great Hall in a flash. Leland stayed where he was, staring into the fire.
The deuce take it, he thought, he’d even pulled strings to get the fellow sent back. Now she’d go off with him again, and he couldn’t do a blasted thing about it. Leland wouldn’t stop her, not if it meant Grace’s happiness. He knew that now, that he could never be happy if she wasn’t.
Then he heard her ask Milsom to send someone to fetch the baby downstairs. Of course, the duke despaired, it wanted only that. How could he go on without the children? Her children. Liam’s child. His life.
He didn’t know whether to go offer his felicitations, forbid her to take the boys, or beg her to stay. He couldn’t just do nothing, he told himself. He had to move, to try. He went toward the open door and heard the Irishman’s voice.
“Aye, e’en if she’ll have me own carroty thatch, she’s a bonny, bonny lassie. Just like her mum, b’gor.”
“Yes, and she has the sweetness Pru used to possess before our father’s meanness changed her.”
“Ah, but she wanted only a bit of liveliness, did Pru. She was a good girl, I know. I could make her happy enow to bring back the sweetness.”
Graceanne didn’t want him to get his hopes up, when he kept swearing he was going to find Pru and marry her. “I’m afraid she’s dreadfully spoiled. Your father’s house on the farm…”
“Aye, and don’t I know that cottage is no place for Pru? I don’t intend to go back, and so I told my da. I liked the seafaring life, I did, and did well at it, too, after I found my way about. Saved the captain’s life during an engagement and got promoted right on deck. Now I mean to take my prize money and buy into a shipping firm. I can take a wife to all those places Pru wanted to see, b’gad.”
“That’s no life for a baby, Liam.”
“No, more’s the pity,” he said, looking down at the infant in his arms.
Graceanne sighed. “And I don’t think I could part with her now.”
“And I wouldn’t ask it of you. I could never offer all this”—he waved his hand around the opulent hall—“and I can see how you love the wee girl as your own. She’s yours, and God bless you for taking her in. The good Lord willing, there will be bairns aplenty for Pru and me when I find her, and after she grows up some. She’s just a babe herself, is my Prudence.”
“You are much too good for her, Liam Hallorahan, but I wish you Godspeed, that you might find her.”
“Merry Christmas to you, Mrs. Warrington, and God bless you and keep you, my darling babe. Forgive me.”
Liam left without looking back, not even seeing the duke standing in the hallway.
Leland wanted to rush in and gather Graceanne into his arms, but she already had a baby in hers, getting wet from her tears. He put his arms around both of them anyway. “I have been such a fool, Grace. It is I who has to beg for your forgiveness, for distrusting you even for an instant.”
Graceanne smiled through her tears. “I’ve been stubborn and too prideful to tell you. Can you forgive me?”
Leland finally got his kiss with the infant between them. It was necessarily a chaste kind of kiss, a bit distanced and much too quick, but enough to set his heart singing. If Miss Ridgemont’s fervent kiss was a pleasant jog in the park, this tender touching was winning the Breeders’ Cup at Newmarket.
Graceanne handed him the baby, worrying that if her knees were weak, so might her arms be. Of course, then they still had Nina between them, stupidly. They shared one more awkward kiss, though, which started bells ringing. Actually, they were the church bells.
“Oh, dear, the pageant!” Graceanne left him with the baby and a volume of unspoken words, to rush off to make sure the boys were ready.
Leland looked down at the babe in his arms, who was staring anxiously after her disappearing mother. “Don’t worry, precious,” he told her, “she’s coming back. And I’ve got you.” He buried his face in Nina’s soft talcum smell, making her chuckle again. “I’ve got all of you now.”
* * *
The pageant went well. The cow mooed from both ends, but Joseph and Mary were properly reverent in their roles, and Nina in her swaddling didn’t complain too much about the rough homespun next to her skin.
Afterward they went home to greet the carolers, to light the Yule log with great pomp and ceremony, Ware guiding Willy and Les’s hands holding last year’s burning sliver to the new log. It was amazing how much warmth the traditional fire put out when done the right way. Then they all toasted the season with wassail, even Nanny taking a sip.
Finally it was time for the boys to go to bed and for Graceanne to put out the last nursery decorations and the gifts for the twins to find in the morning. The duke had to go wrap the last of his presents and make sure those purchased in London were assembled just right under the tree in the parlor.
While he was gone, Graceanne slipped off to her own bedchamber, where she lay awake listening to the distant carolers, holding her Christmas wish to her heart. She wished by every good luck charm of Shanna’s, and said a prayer or two of her own.
* * *
On the morning of Christmas Day, Graceanne brought the children down to the parlor before breakfast. She was wearing an emerald green velvet gown and the boys had matching green velvet coats and short pants. They wore brand-new caps they didn’t want to take off, even to open the mounds of packages under the tree. Graceanne complained again that he was spoiling the children, but Leland was enjoying every minute of watching their delight, almost as much as he’d enjoyed shopping for the unicycles and croquet sets, the small-sized pocket watches and tiny high leather riding boots. There was even a huge wooden castle, complete with carved knights on chargers, to match Nina’s new dollhouse. And there were dolls. At least six of them stood or sat around the base of the tree, from rag babies to porcelain-faced beauties to peddler dolls with trays of tiny wares.
Leland shrugged off Graceanne’s “Six dolls? You bought a tiny infant six dolls? Why, some of them are bigger than she is!”
“I couldn’t decide,” was all he said.
“Silly, all Nina needs to make her happy is a simple teething ring.” Then she called the boys to her side and whispered into their ears. “But we have a gift for you, too, don’t we, my angels?”
“Another pen wipe?”
“Better.” The twins giggled, then together took off their new caps. Where Leland was used to seeing the twins with brown tousled heads, the riotous curls were all trimmed off and their hair was neatly combed—with parts on different sides!
“Les on the left, Willy on the wight,” they chanted merrily.
“That’s the best present of all! It’s one of my Christmas wishes come true! I do have to confess I cheated and made two. No, I cannot tell you what the other one is yet. I have a present for your mother first.” He turned to Graceanne and took a small box out of his pocket. “I hope you’ll be happy with a simple ring like your daughter.”
It was no simple ring at all, not with diamonds and sapphires, to match her eyes, he said. Graceanne had a horrible moment of doubt, that the ring was too ornate to be anything honorable.
But Leland was quick to read her smile’s disappearance. “No, no, the one that matches is the plain gold band, but you don’t get that one until you marry me, dear heart. I already have my solicitor and my bankers working on the dispensation to make a marriage between us legal. Will you, and make my other Christmas wish come true? Do say yes, darling, for I don’t think I can live without you, I love you so much.”
“Me or my children, Your Grace?” she had to know.
“All of you, each of you, but none more than you, my Grace.”
“Then yes, Leland, for I love you just as much, and now my wish can come true, too.”
“And ours!” chorused Willy and Les, jumping up and down.
* * *
No such thing as Father Christmas? Don’t dare tell the Duke of Ware, or his duchess.
Merry Christmas!