“Julian, we’re in a shop full of people,” she said, and giggled as his lips traveled along her collarbone.
“It’s fine, we’re married,” he said in a low brogue that made her shiver with delight.
“Hopefully, this bump in business will take us through the end of the holidays, well into the new year,” she said.
“I think it will. Many of the other new businesses are up and running, and the entire area is attracting people even from jaded London.”
“I’m so happy for Uncle Carlton and everyone who worked so hard,” she said, feeding her husband another forkful of the pastry.
“Hmm…so good. What is it? And are there more, because I’m going to polish this one off.”
“Of course, there are more. It’s something Mrs. Atwell came up with especially for our tearoom anniversary celebration. She calls it the crescent spice coil.”
“I brought this plate of coils for you two lovebirds,” Aunt Rosalind said, approaching the table.
“Thank you, Aunt Rosalind. That’s so thoughtful,” Serafina said.
“We are having such an enjoyable day. The four of us have decided to help more often.” Aunt Rosalind winked. “I should get back to the customers. Enjoy the pastries!”
“We’ll have what you’re having, Strathmoor,” her uncle said as he, Landon, and Danforth pulled out the other chairs and sat. “There’s nothing that soothes sore muscles better after five rounds in the ring like dessert and a hot cup of tea, right, Strathmoor?” Richmond clapped Julian on the back.
“I think pastry is good for anything.” Julian grinned as he popped another bite into his mouth.
“We missed you this morning, Strathmoor,” Landon said. “Sparring numbers are always evenly matched when you’re in town—that is, when you actually show.”
“I’ll join you in the ring tomorrow morning.”
“Good, because it’s much more fun to spar with friends…you’re always forgiven if you break a nose…usually.”
The four friends laughed while Serafina poured everyone tea and served up the pastries.
“This is delicious,” Danforth said. “I taste raisins with…mmm…claret?” He wiped a dollop of glaze from his mustache. “I’m still not used to this mustache, but Lydia likes it.”
“Yes…Catherine likes mine as well. And I’m only too happy to please her,” Uncle Carlton said, smoothing his handlebar. “What did you call it? A coil?”
Serafina nodded. “Mrs. Atwell calls it a coil, because it…well, coils. And that glaze on top is made with apricot preserves. It’s perfect with the orange pekoe tea.”
“I was certain you had it paired perfectly,” her uncle said. “Business is certainly booming. And I am quite in awe of the four duchesses in aprons, serving guests tea and crumpets.”
“Will they come to Strathmoor Castle and help us when we open your second tearoom?” Julian chuckled.
“If you promise to have this much business and fill up the room with handsome men speaking in that delightful brogue of yours, Julian,” Aunt Dora said, bringing a fresh pot of tea.
“I’m certain we can work something out, Aunt Dora,” Serafina said, grinning. “There are plenty of brogues and rogues to go around in Scotland.”
“You’re simply glowing, my dear,” Aunt Dora said. “Do you by chance have something to tell us?”
Serafina bit her lip and exchanged a glance with Julian. They had intended to wait until Christmas Eve, but she knew how sharp her aunts were.
Dr. Gordon had visited her shortly before they departed, verifying her suspicions that she was with child. Though she had wanted to tell Julian herself, he’d insisted on speaking with Dr. Gordon, who had let it slip. Julian hadn’t stopped grinning since.
“Now?” she whispered to Julian.
“Now what?” Aunt Sophy and Aunt Bianca said in unison, approaching the table.
“I’ve got a plate full of cinnamon scones fresh out of the oven,” Aunt Rosalind said, setting a steaming plate down.
“I think now is as good a time as any.” Julian cleared his throat. “Given that you are all gathered here…we have something important to share.”
