He nodded his understanding.Only one road led up the mountain to this cozy village.He must have glimpsed the Harper estate on his way in.
As soon as they passed the smithy, however, Miss Godwin commanded, “Turn left.”
Christopher complied out of surprise.“Left?This is a trail, not a street.You said Miss Harper lives on the southbound road out of town.”
“She does,” Miss Godwin agreed.“Don’t worry.We’re not breaking any rules.We’re taking a detour.”
He stared at her.“A detour inherently means deviating from the expected path.Doing so without provocation is—”
“Christmas trees,” she exclaimed in delight, leaning into him to point at the evergreen forest straight ahead.“Most families haven’t adopted Queen Charlotte’s Germanic customs, but those who wish to decorate a tree on Christmas Eve come here to collect them.”
He closed his eyes and breathed in the crisp, pine-scented air.“I can only imagine what it must be like to bring an evergreen inside one’s home.”
“You don’t have to imagine,” she said with a laugh.“Go caroling on the twenty-fourth of December, and you’ll see them all firsthand.”
He opened his eyes and turned toward her.
Her upturned face was still a mere breath from his.
“I don’t even know where I’ll be in December,” he said softly.
“I know where I’ll be,” she answered.“Right here.Taking part of tradition.Enjoying Christmas.Don’t you have traditions?”
“The only one I have is never to stay more than a month in any one place,” he admitted.
He had always believed the freedom to bounce about at will afforded him a privileged life.
She was making him wonder if he was missing something by trying to have everything.
“Besides, I’m not fit for caroling.Your neighbors do not want to hear me sing,” he said, and the spell was broken.
He sent a surreptitious glare over his shoulder at the maid who was supposed to be watching them.
Madge batted her eyes at him innocently.
Gloria motioned for the chariot to continue down the snow-packed trail.“This path brings us up to the rear of the Harper estate.See those horses up ahead?”
He did see those horses up ahead.
The pieces clicked cute together.He had not met Miss Harper, but he had certainly heard of her horses.“Is this the stud farm?”
Miss Godwin nodded.“It is indeed.Although it legally belongs to the Harper family, Olive has acted as matriarch to the studs her entire life.”
“‘Matriarch’ is the wrong word,” Madge whispered.“She’s the madam of a horse bordello.”
Miss Godwin ignored this.
“You want someone who can be counted on?”she asked.“Look no further than Olive Harper.Practical?Yes.Well-versed in stallion facts?Yes.More than due for a holiday?Yes.”
“She sounds perfect,” Christopher admitted.Yet he leapt from the carriage with less enthusiasm than expected.
They made their way past the primary residence to a fenced-off section, where a talented horsewoman in a smart riding habit gentled an enormous, all-but-rabid stallion.Christopher would not have approached without three layers of armor.
“Gloria!”Miss Harper said in pleasure.“Don’t come any closer.Blitzen has learned to jump the fence.”
All three of them halted in place.
Miss Harper pulled a carrot from her pocket and led the kicking, whinnying stallion back to the stable.Moments later, she exited the other side, brushing off her hands as if that lovable scamp Blitzen had delicately lifted the carrot straight from her palm.
