Drat.Bart had gone off again.
Following the screaming, she found her son: he was tearing down the corridor on his short legs, carrying aburning branch in each hand.
“I make fire!” he cried gleefully.
Tessa hurriedly caught hold of him, removing the smoldering sticks from his little fists. When a spark dropped onto the carpet, she hastily stomped it out, grimacing at the burn spot.
“Bart, what did I tell you about playing with fire?” she scolded.
“It fun?” he guessed.
“No, it isdangerous. You mustn’t do that again.” She wagged her finger for emphasis. “Bad boy.”
He stared up at her from beneath his mop of chestnut hair. His bottom lip began to quiver, his big brown eyes glimmering. A single tear rolled down his chubby cheek.
Thunder and turf. I’d rather take on a band of cutthroats than a two-year-old.
Sighing, Tessa crouched. “Now, dear, there’s no need to carry on—”
“Mama mean,” he accused. “Want Papa!”
I want your papa too,she thought wearily.
“Papa isn’t here right now, but he will be here soon—”
“Want Papa! Want Papanow.” Bart stomped off.
As Tessa was about to follow, Harry’s sister Polly and her husband, the Duke of Acton, stopped her.
“We’ll look after Bart.” Polly’s aquamarine eyes were filled with gentle understanding. “Why don’t you take a break?”
“Are you certain? Bart can be a handful,” Tessa said doubtfully.
A smile tucked into Polly’s cheeks as she exchanged a look with Acton.
“The only thing more trying than one hellion,” Acton said dryly, “is two. We speak from personal experience.”
“We will return Bart to the nursery along with our children,” Polly said. “I think all the tots could use a nap if they’re going to stay up for the festivities this evening.”
Gratefully, Tessa accepted the pair’s help. Watching them go off together, Polly so pretty with her lustrous golden-brown hair and voluptuous figure, Acton her tall and dashing counterpart, Tessa felt a wave of self-pity. Pushing it aside, she straightened her shoulders and returned to the group.
The rest of the day thankfully passed in a flash. Supper was a feast that offered both English and Scottish fare. Roast goose, beef, and vegetable aspics shared the table with cock-a-leekie soup, meat pies, haggis, and a mixture of potato, onions, and turnips baked with cheese. For dessert, there were cakes, sweet puddings, crisp buttery shortbread, and Cranachan, a confection of toasted oats, whipped cream, and berries.
Everything was delicious and plentiful, and Tessa ate until she was stuffed. She had trouble keeping her eyes open during the entertainment that followed. Rosie sang, Thea accompanying her on the piano, and furniture was pushed aside for dancing in the drawing room. Although several of the husbands asked Tessa to dance, she pled fatigue.
She was tired. And she missed Harry, her grandpapa, and mama…and, yes, Swift Nick. As the image of her furry, bright-eyed companion rose in her mind, her throat thickened. Her heart ached for the feel of him curled over her shoulders, the sweettuk-tuksounds of contentment he’d made.
Perhaps…perhaps it was time to get another pet.
As the midnight hour neared, Emma gathered everyone around. She embodied the festive spirit in her red velvet gown, sprigs of winter berries adorning her coiffure.
“After the singing ofAuld Lang Syne,” she announced, “we will all remove to the antechamber for the first footing.”
“What is a first footing, Aunt Emma?”
This came from little Sophie Kent, who was cuddled next to her bosom chum Miranda Corbett. Like the rest of the children, the girls were beginning to get droopy-eyed.
“The first-footer is the first person who enters the house during the new year. In Scottish tradition, it is considered good luck to have that person be a tall, dark, and handsome man.” Em gave her husband a mischievous look. “I asked Strathaven to do it, but he said he wanted to stay by the fire and didn’t want to go out in the cold.”
