There wasto be a glamorous Christmas ball to end the festivities.
After that, the house party would be over, and everyone would return to their homes, except for Mira, Clare, and Miss Pearson. Mira had not yet got used to the idea that she would be staying on at Highcourt Abbey, for it was to be her home now.
It was inconceivable.
"Sometimes I still think I'm dreaming," she had told Kit earlier. They were lying on the grand bed in the yellow bedroom, oblivious to the fact that it was in the middle of the day. "I'm afraid I'll wake up and find myself back in my little servant's room in the attic. I must get up before dawn and light the fires in all the rooms, clear the chamber pots and fill the pitchers with hot water—"
Kit took her hand wearing his ring and kissed it. "These hands will never have to work again—unless you want them to. It will be entirely your choice, because I understand what it feels like to be told that you are not allowed to work. But you have servants a-plenty now to do the work for you."
"You said you'd build me a small cottage, Kit Taylor. You ended up giving me a palace with servants. I never said I wanted a palace. You always go to extremes, don't you?"
"I still want to build that cottage." He raised his hands to study them. "Brick by brick. From the ground up. I've always wanted to do it, on my own. Just to prove to myself that I can. Maybe I will. On the other side of the park."
"Make it a simple thatched cottage with a little fireplace inside," Mira murmured into his shoulder. "You know, where we can snuggle up in front of it and roast chestnuts in the winter."
"Anything my lady wants. What else?"
"A small kitchen and two rooms."
"Only two?"
"One for us and one for Clare."
"I'll make four."
She playfully bit into his shoulder. "You'll end up building another palace! Besides, what do we need four rooms for?"
He lifted her hand and lowered finger by finger, as he counted. "A bedroom for you and me." He folded her thumb. "Then a bedroom for little Clare." He folded her second finger. "One for Miss Pearson."
"Ah, yes. She deserves a room too. And the fourth?"
"The fourth, just in case." He folded down the fourth finger.
"In case of what?"
"You know. Our next child."
She met his smouldering gaze.
"I missed seven years of my daughter's life. I have no intention of missing our next one. Not a second, not even half a second. Starting—right now."
"Oh," she said breathlessly, and he kissed her.
A wondrous while later he said, "I changed my mind. Four isn't nearly enough. I should add ten more rooms. Definitely."
Clare had pesteredand pestered them to let her attend the Christmas ball. Mira had wavered, as had Kit. But allowing children at a ball was simply not done.
"Out of the question," Miss Pearson had declared, and her word was final. "There is no place for children at balls."
"I'm afraid it will be very late, my dear," Mira had told her daughter. "You would be the only child there and after ten minutes you would be very bored."
"It wouldn't be boring if I had a pretty dreth and if I could dance," Clare had insisted.
Kit had taken her in his arms and whispered something in her ear, causing her to break into a huge smile.
"Promith?"
"Promise."
