“Amen,” everyone murmured.
Holding the spoon like a magical wand, or perhaps a royal scepter, her grace waved it over the bowl.
“Cook has prepared and mixed the ingredients for our Christmas pudding, and we have the wooden spoon to represent Christ’s rib. Everyone will have a chance to stir it. Make sure you stir in clockwise direction thrice, and as you do, make three silent wishes. One is sure to come true. I’ll go first to demonstrate.”
She closed her eyes and stirred three times. When she opened her lids, her loving gaze met her husband’s, and their adoration for each other was so obvious, Griffin felt slightly discomfited, as if he’d invaded a private moment between them.
He couldn’t prevent a covert glimpse toward Everleigh.
From beneath her lashes, she observed him as well, but averted her gaze when she noticed his perusal. A rosy hue tinted her cheeks as she followed the others to the table for her turn to stir dessert.
“It’ll be the best stirred pudding of all time after we’re through,” Pennington muttered drolly as he stepped into the queue.
“Indeed.” Griffin chuckled. “And I believe the staff will have turns as well.”
Pennington arched incredulous brows over his one blue eye and one green eye. “With the same pudding?”
Griffin jockeyed a shoulder. “I dunno.
“Why, rather than a fork or spoon we’ll need a teacup to sip it Christmas Day,” Pennington said. “I suppose, then, my chances of finding the wishbone is next to none.”
“As if you need any more luck, my friend. Besides, I suspect the duchess will have made sure the pudding is full of coins and other charms.” Griffin wouldn’t mind finding the ring. The finder was said to be certain to be married within a year.
“Yes, well, I’m not having any luck getting Gabriella Breckensole to spare me so much as a smile,” Pennington muttered. “I declare she acts affronted each time I draw near, and I cannot imagine what I’ve done to offend.”
Had Pennington at last found a woman who captured his serious interest? Was that such a surprise?
Griffin had as well. His attention strayed to Everleigh once more.
Or maybe, if providence smiled upon him, he would find the ring. Hell, maybe he’d bribe the cook to add a score of rings to the pudding. He almost laughed out loud at the notion. By God, that could have all of the devilish dukes leg-shackled within a year.
Damn, he just might do it. Just to see the flummoxed expressions on their faces when they spooned their pudding.
He shuffled forward a few paces, the enthusiasm of the others creating a jovial atmosphere. To his surprise, he found himself contemplating what his three wishes ought to be.
Not surprisingly, one centered on the beauty who’d befuddled him since they first met.
Guest after guest dutifully stirred the pudding and made their wishes.
The men made quick work of it, laughing or jesting a bit self-consciously while the women took the matter more seriously. Many closed their eyes, and a few of the ladies’ mouths moved silently, almost prayerfully, as they made their wishes.
“Where’s Sarah, Your Grace?”
Everleigh had made her way to his side and looked around as if she expected Sarah and Nurse to pop out from behind him or from beneath the table’s lacy cloth.
“Didn’t you bring her with you? Surely she must have her turn as well.” Disappointment tinged her voice.
Over her fair head, Westfall waggled his eyebrows at Griffin.
Bloody ponce.
He couldn’t tell Westfall to sod off or even give him a cease-your-idiocy glare without alerting Everleigh. He’d not risk her realizing she was the subject of his friends’ speculation, even if it weren’t malicious.
Instead, he smiled and bent his neck to softly say, “She’s a trifle young to understand the meaning, don’t you think?”
“Oh, but that’s why she needs her chance. Yuletide is a magical time for children. They are so innocent, their wishes so pure.” She clasped his forearm. “If you hurry, you can bring her down in time. I’ll await my turn until she’s here.”
How could he resist?
He sketched a half-bow. “I’ll return momentarily.”
Aware several other males’ amused gazes followed him from the room, Griffin took care not to seem too eager. But the minute he was out of their eyesight, he hightailed it to the nursery, and perplexing poor Mrs. Schmidt, scooped Sarah into his arms.
“She needs to stir the pudding and make her wishes,” he said, quite out of breath from his sprint up two flights of stairs.
Sarah giggled and clasped his neck as he dashed back down the corridor from whence he’d come mere seconds before.
“I gets a wish, Papa?”
“Three wishes, cherub.” He clomped down the first flight of stairs, but slowed his pace to catch his breath on the second. He might have to plant one of his friends a facer if they laughed at him galloping back into the dining room.
He kissed the top of Sarah’s head. You’ll stir the pudding three times and with each stir, you’ll make a wish. Do you understand, pet?”
She nodded, that riot of curls Nurse tried—unsuccessfully—to tame bouncing about her shoulders.
He took a deep breath, and once assured his pulse had returned to a normal rate, sauntered into the dining room. With deliberate intent, he avoided the other dukes’ eyes.
Everleigh separated herself from her friends, and, a radiant smile lighting her face, she glided to his side.
He’d barely made it back in time.
Only Jessica Brentwood and Crispin, Duke of Banbridge, hadn’t yet stirred the pudding. From the perturbed expression on her pretty face, Miss Brentwood wasn’t succumbing to Bainbridge’s fabled charm.
“Did you already stir the pudding, after all, Mrs. Chatterton?” Griffin asked.
She nodded. “Yes, I decided it would be easier to help with Sarah if I did. You go ahead and stir, and Sarah can go last.”
“Evlee.” At once, Sarah extended her arms, wiggling her fingers.
Without hesitation, Everleigh placed Sarah on her hip, smoothing the child’s aster blue gown over her legs.
“Hello, darling.” Giving Griffin another smile, she took her place behind him at the end of the short line. “Have you ever stirred the Christmas pudding before?”
Sarah, suddenly shy with all the adults looking at her, shook her head and tucked her cheek into Everleigh’s shoulder.
“It’s the greatest fun,” Everleigh said.
“The pudding has all sorts of delicious ingredients in it: currants, raisins, spices, eggs, brown sugar or molasses, and other tasty things all mixed together. After that, coins and other charms with special meanings are added for people to find in their servings. Everyone takes a turn stirring it, and then on Christmas Day it’s served sprinkled with powdered sugar. It’s utterly scrumptious!”
When it was Sarah’s turn, Griffin pulled a chair before the table for her to stand upon.
Everyone’s attention was on the child, indulgent smiles on their faces. Probably each was recalling their own childhood holiday joy.
Everleigh had been right. Sarah should experience this tradition.
Sarah gripped the spoon in her two small hands. She squinched her eyelids shut tight, then popped them open again.
“I gets three wishes?”
Griffin nodded. “Yes.”
Eyes screwed tightly closed once more, she stirred once. “I wished a white puppy named Clarence with a green ribbon ’round his neck.”
A few swiftly muffled titters followed her sweet declaration.
His gaze met Everleigh’s.
They’d forgotten to tell Sarah to make her wishes silently. Well, at least he knew what to get her for Christmas. He’d have to ask Sutcliffe if he knew of any litters in the area.
Sarah stirred the conglomeration again. “I wished my dolly had a new gown.”
What about new hair and eyes and stuffi
ng? Or just another doll?
No, Sarah saw Maya through the eyes of love, so she didn’t notice the doll’s many flaws. If she wanted to put a new dress on the ramshackle toy, then he’d see to it Maya had a new dress.
Her face scrunched in concentration, she stirred a final time.
“I wished Evlee was my mama.”
Busy with Theadosia’s seemingly never-ending Christmastide activities, the next twelve days passed quickly. Each morning, weather permitting, Everleigh walked with Sarah and Mrs. Schmidt, and more often than not, Griffin joined them.
He hadn’t today, and he also hadn’t been at breakfast.
Others had also begun taking a morning constitutional. No surprise, given the rich foods and lack of occasion to exercise. During summer house parties, guests might play croquet or shuttlecock, practice archery, or go riding or boating, but there weren’t nearly as many opportunities to be outdoors and stretch one’s legs in the wintertime.
Today, Ophelia, Gabriella, and Jessica, arms entwined, walked ahead of Everleigh.
Ice skating was planned for next week, but since she’d never learned how to skate, she’d already decided to stay behind and work on her Christmas gift for Sarah: a new rag doll. A replica of Maya, wearing a crimson and gold striped dress—an exact match to the dress Everleigh was sewing for Sarah.
She’d picked up the material and supplies she needed in Colchester during a shopping excursion Theadosia had planned four days ago so that those who hadn’t brought gifts and wanted to exchange them Christmas Day might purchase a few trinkets.
There’d been much whispering and covert tucking of small packages into coats or reticles and brown paper packages tied with strings carried to the carriages by patient footmen, including Hampton. He still looked at her with more interest than he ought to, but he’d not been impertinent again.
Ridgebrook smelled wonderfully of pine and other greeneries. Thea had tossed aside the custom of waiting until Christmas Eve to decorate the house. Garlands, wreaths, and ribbons bedecked the doorways, fireplaces, and mantels. She created a truly festive atmosphere, and, each passing day, Everleigh relaxed a bit more.
Nearly every room bore signs of the holiday, and tonight, again flouting custom, they were to decorate the grand Christmas tree. Smaller trees had already been erected in most of the common rooms, complete with miniature scenes around their bases. For days, in the afternoons and evenings, as one guest or another entertained them with music or songs or even read aloud, many of the others strung popcorn, cranberries, cherries, and currants, or created paper chains for the tree.
Cook had been busy making sweetmeats to stuff in crocheted baskets, and she’d made dozens of pretty cakes and shaped biscuits to hang by ribbons from the tree.
Theadosia’s propensity to toss aside custom to entertain her guests and provide them with a Christmastide they would long remember was endearing. She’d forgone no expense or effort to assure them an unforgettable holiday, especially Everleigh.
Everleigh hadn’t told Griffin she planned on giving Sarah a gift for Christmas, fearing he’d feel obliged to reciprocate. It wouldn’t be proper to accept anything from him, so by being secretive, she saved them both potential awkwardness.
As it was, she was a touch discomfited he hadn’t attempted to kiss her again.
She wasn’t certain whether she was relieved or vexed. For the first time in her life, she’d enjoyed a man’s touch, his warm lips upon hers, and, after that first kiss, she’d even briefly entertained the notion of taking a lover.
If he was the man sharing her bed, that was.
Young and healthy, she was curious to know what all the whispering and giggling was about, and even dear Theadosia had tried to explain that physical intimacy could be wonderful. After Frederick’s assault and Arnold’s clumsy molestations, until Everleigh had met Griffin—well, until he’d kissed her—she’d thought she could be perfectly content being celibate.
Then again, she’d never desired a man until she met him.
The more time she spent with Griffin, the stronger her yearnings grew, and she feared she’d make a cake of herself one of these days. The wisest course of action would be to leave, but she didn’t want to go home now.
Plain and simple, she liked being with him. She enjoyed being with Sarah too.
In fact, Everleigh had even begun to appreciate the comradery of the dukes, though the ten scoundrels teased and harassed one another incessantly.
The storm that had threatened the other day had passed them by, but as she eyed the low-hanging, petulant clouds today, she felt certain their luck was about to change. There’d be snow by nightfall, or she wasn’t blonde and that wasn’t a doe peering hesitantly from yonder tree-line.
When she could cuddle beneath a warm throw before the fire and read a novel whilst savoring a strong cup of tea, she enjoyed the snow. There’d been so much commotion at Ridgewood every day, finding a quiet niche to read in hadn’t been possible.
The only respite she found from the constant tumult was in her bedchamber. A padded window seat ran the full length of the turreted window and also provided an exceptional view of the countryside. Even so, she hadn’t spent much time there, except to sew Sarah’s presents.
Everleigh hadn’t thought she was terribly lonely before, especially with Rayne’s company, but there was something to be said for the gaiety of gatherings with friends.
She quirked her mouth at her musings.
Was this the same woman who dreaded assemblies of any sort just a few days ago?
It was the company.
Thea had been true to her word. Except for Caroline that first day, the men and women were nothing like the sots and degenerates Arnold had regularly entertained.
Sarah, her eyes bright and face ruddy from the cold, skipped along the gravel path. Maya, appearing more bedraggled than ever, trailed along the ground as Sarah hopped on one foot, then the other.
“Evlee?”
“Yes, darling?”
“Read to me before I sleeps t’night?”
Everleigh slid Mrs. Schmidt a glance.
Worry puckered the sweet woman’s face. She also fretted that Sarah was growing too attached.
“I shall have to check with your Papa, but I think I might be able to. It also depends on what the Duchess of Sutcliffe has planned for this evening. Why don’t you go inside now and have your hot chocolate?”
That had become a tradition as well.
Sarah bobbed a little curtsy and clasped Nurse’s hand. “You come too?”
Everleigh shook her head and gathered her cloak a bit closer. “Not today. I have some things I need to attend to.”
After the mortifying incident with the Christmas pudding, Everleigh had almost ordered the carriage brought ’round to take her home straightaway. She wouldn’t have believed a room could grow so completely silent so speedily, but there wasn’t a doubt everyone had heard the child’s last wish.
Theadosia had hugged Sarah while claiming the spoon and redirected everyone’s attention. “Let’s all adjourn to the drawing room for a cup of mulled wine, shall we? I have another surprise for you.”
That was when she announced the treasure hunt for tomorrow, and, also, since they’d missed exchanging gifts on December 6th, St. Nicholas’s Day, those that wanted to do so, would now exchange gifts on Christmas Day.
“Mrs. Chatterton.” Griffin waved at her from the pathway leading to the stables. “Might I have a word?”
He’d no sooner asked than snowflakes began drifting down.
“Snow!” Sarah squealed and stuck her tongue out, trying to catch the fat, fluffy flakes.
“Goodness, child,” Mrs. Schmidt fussed. “Let’s get you inside before you catch your death.”
It wouldn’t have hurt to allow Sarah a few moments in the snow, but Everleigh refused to interfere. Sarah was Mrs. Schmidt’s charge, and, as Griffin had said, she wasn’t a biddable child. Nurse had a difficult enough time reining the child in with
out others throwing a wrench into her efforts.
The truth was, the cold probably aggravated Mrs. Schmidt’s arthritic bones.
Should Everleigh suggest to Griffin a younger, more energetic woman, a governess perhaps, might be in order? It wasn’t her place, of course, but Mrs. Schmidt wasn’t quite up to snuff, and though she obviously held Sarah in great affection, she was also a bit lax in areas.
Perhaps later, when the house party neared its end, Everleigh might voice her thoughts. For now, she’d keep her own council.
She made her way to Griffin, wearing a shocking red, green, and yellow knitted scarf about his neck. It was quite the ugliest thing she’d ever seen. She tried not to stare, but her gaze kept wandering back to the atrocity.
He chuckled, that wonderful resonance deep in his chest she’d grown to enjoy, much to her befuddlement, and pulled the ends tighter. “Widow Beezely insisted I accept it as a thank you for purchasing a spaniel puppy from her.”
Everleigh clapped her hands and practically bounced on her toes. “For Sarah?”
“Yes. I have her in the stables, and the good lads there have agreed to watch the imp until Christmas for me.”
“Oh, oh, a she?” Would Sarah be terribly disappointed?
“Yes. The males were spoken for, and when I saw this little darling . . .” He grasped her elbow to help her over an uneven spot on the pathway. “Well, you’ll see why I had to have her for Sarah.”
Inside the stables, she paused for a moment. Smells of hay, horse liniment, manure, and grains filled the warm building. Horses knickered softly every now and again, and a tortious-shell cat padded down the pathway toward them between the stalls. It gave a plaintive meow and another cat answered from the loft above them.
“Claire is down there.”
He pointed to a stall at the far end.
“Claire rather than Clarence? Very clever, I must say.”
For a man having a child’s care thrust upon him, he’d taken to the task of fatherhood with an aptitude many men lacked. He even permitted Sarah to call him Papa, and she couldn’t think of another man she knew who would’ve permitted that.
He grinned, a trifle self-consciously, and lifted a shoulder. “It’s the best I could come up with.”
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