"Yethderday. First one fell out some weeks ago, and yethderday the other one fell out when I tried to bite into an apple. What do I do when they all fall out, and I shall have no teef at all? And it is Chrithmath!"
Mira tucked away the curls from her face. "They will grow in soon, my love." She looked up with a smile as the older woman approached. "Miss Pearson. I'm so glad you have arrived safely."
"I must say that was quite a trip, but thankfully uneventful given all the snow." Miss Pearson said as she handed the bundle of shawls to a footman.
"We saw deer!" Clare chimed in.
"We did indeed. But let's mind our manners, child." Miss Pearson looked at the assembled guests at the top of the stairs.
"Ooh, look at this pretty place, and all the pretty people."
Clare stepped in front of the three gentlemen standing at the top of the stairs: the duke, Lindenstein and Atherton, all three watching the scene with some bemusement.
"Which one of you ith my papa?" Clare demanded, leaving them all dumb struck.
They would arrive latefor mass. But perhaps that was understandable, for it wasn't every day that the marquess was reunited with his long-lost love and little daughter, of whose existence he had not known until recently.
He'd stared, stunned, at the little girl who'd scrutinised each of the three gentlemen, only to look up at him with an adorable, wide, gap-toothed grin. "I think you are."
"I think so too," he'd replied.
"Kit Taylor, you wretch!"Miss Pearson lifted her stick as if to threaten him with a thrashing. "Disappearing like that, causing us a head and heartache to no end. I have aged twenty years before my time. Do you see my hair? It has turned completely grey, thanks to you. We shall have to have a word about that later. Let me look at you, my boy. I see you have put some flesh on those lanky limbs of yours." She patted his cheeks. "You may even have grown a little. Your mother would have been proud."
Atherton wrapped her in a hug and nearly lifted her off her feet. "Miss Pearson. You have no idea how delighted I am to see you. My world has not been the same without you in it."
"Nonsense, boy. Put me down and introduce me to your friends." She pointed her stick at the Duke of Aldingbourne, who stood next to him. "Who are you? You look important."
Atherton made the introductions. "Your Grace, may I present Miss Pearson. Miss Pearson, this is His Grace, the Duke of Aldingbourne."
She sniffed. "I've heard all about you. You dabble in foreign politics. I follow the news closely, you see. Do bring this miserable war to an end so that the rest of us can finally sleep in peace. But mind you, don't get yourself killed in the process."
The duke looked taken aback. "I'll do my best not to, ma'am."
"And you?" She met the unyielding gaze of Princess Florentina.
Once more, Atherton introduced them.
The two women appraised each other, and it was clear that the princess had finally found her match.
"You have looked after our Kit all this time," Miss Pearson said. "I suppose I owe you thanks for keeping him alive and well, considering the circumstances."
"Considering the circumstances, indeed," the princess replied with a touch of irony. "It is, in turn, a pleasure to meet the woman who took in Atherton and cared for him when he lost his mother. I have heard a great deal about you. You seem to be a remarkable woman."
"Balderdash. One does one's Christian duty, no more and no less. But I see you are about to attend mass. Clare and I shall join you," Miss Pearson declared. "After all, it is Christmas."
Family,the reverend preached, was what it was all about. The child in the humble manger, the embodiment of the birth of the Lord and the purest symbol of love. He reminded them that this sacred season was about coming together with those held dear, whether it be the bonds of immediate family, the cherished companionship of friends, or even the stranger sitting beside you in the polished wooden pew.
Clare sat between her parents, one hand in Mira's, the other in Atherton's. She'd fallen asleep as the reverend rambled on and on. Her head dropped on Kit's shoulder.
Mira saw the expression of wondrous tenderness on his face as he looked down at his daughter's dark locks, not daring to breathe lest he disturb her sleep, which made her catch her breath.
Their eyes met above their little daughter's head.
Mira's filled with tears of joy.
Family, indeed, was the true meaning of Christmas.
ChapterNineteen
