Hoots and laughter broke Ambrose’s reverie. When he saw the group up ahead, he smiled.
Silly of me to try to freeze a single moment,he thought.When other perfect moments are around the corner.
It appeared that an impromptu snowball fight was taking place, with females on one side and males on the other. Leading the charge for the ladies—unsurprisingly—was his sister Violet, her caramel-colored eyes lit up with delight as she pelted her husband Richard Murray, Viscount Carlisle, in his brawny chest. Their three young sons groaned at their mama’s prowess while Carlisle simply began to gather together a massive snowball, a wolfish gleam in his eyes.
Ambrose’s sister Polly giggled helplessly as she and Ambrose’s oldest daughter, Rosie, were cornered by their husbands.
“Don’t worry, Pols,” Rosie said, tossing her blonde curls. “They wouldn’t dare.”
Her husband, Andrew Corbett, exchanged a look with Polly’s spouse Sinjin Pelham, the Duke of Acton.
“She’s right,” Corbett said with a sigh. “I cannot hit my wife with a snowball.”
“See?” Rosie turned triumphantly to Polly…and that was her mistake.
In the next instant, Corbett snatched her by the waist and gently pressed the handful of snow he’d been hiding behind his back into her face. Rosie looked so comically shocked that Ambrose had to stifle a laugh.
“But Icangive her a proper face wash.” Smiling, Corbett bent and kissed Rosie on the nose whilst she sputtered.
Polly made a run for it, her golden-brown curls bouncing. Acton stalked her with determined strides, while their son shouted, “Hurry, Mama, or Papa will catch you!”
“Sophie, come play!” The shout came from Miranda, the Corbetts’ eldest who also happened to be Sophie’s bosom chum.
“May I?” Sophie looked at her parents.
“Go on,” Ambrose said. “Just watch out for your Carlisle cousins. They’re a bloodthirsty lot.”
As Sophie scampered off to join forces with Miranda and her cousin Olivia, Emma and Strathaven’s eldest, Ambrose put his arm around Marianne’s waist. She rested her glorious blonde head on his shoulder. In the distance, he saw his sister Thea walking hand-in-hand with her husband, the Marquess of Tremont, their twins racing over to join the raucous snowball fight.
Holding his wife, watching their family play around them, Ambrose knew life did not get better than this. He was grateful for all the blessings he’d been given and, of late, had been thinking about how he wanted to enjoy them fully. Things changed so quickly, and he wanted to make the most of every precious moment.
“Where do you suppose Emma is?” he said idly. “Apart from supper, I’ve hardly seen her all week.”
Marianne lifted her head from his shoulder. “She’s probably still redding the house. Frankly, I’m a bit worried about her. The poor dear has been working herself to the bone to make this holiday enjoyable for everyone…except for herself.”
Ambrose frowned. “Come to think of it, she does look a bit tired.”
“Yesterday, Beatrice, Tessa, and I tried to talk her into delegating some of the work, but she seems determined to do it all herself.”
“That sounds like Em.” Thinking of the years when he’d been the breadwinner and Em had managed their siblings and the house, he said with a pang of regret, “Since she was barely more than a child, she has shouldered much responsibility. She is used to managing everything, and I suppose it is a hard habit to break. For a stretch, Christmas, in particular, was a difficult time. My policeman’s wages barely put food on the table, let alone much of anything else. It was always Em who found ways to make the holidays fun for our younger siblings.”
“I know, darling. But that time is over,” Marianne said. “Emma deserves to enjoy herself.”
“You are right, of course. I will speak with her,” Ambrose decided. “See if she’ll listen to her older brother.”
“If she will be guided by anyone, it is you. And Strathaven, of course.” Marianne gave him a wry look. “Although His Grace looked none too happy to find the four of us tidying up his study.”
“I don’t blame the chap. A study is a man’s private sanctuary,” Ambrose said with feeling. “After the maid goes through, I can never find anything.”
Marianne aimed her gaze heavenward. “Harry takes after you, apparently. Tessa was remarking upon his tendency to, shall we say, accumulate.”
Amused, Ambrose said, “I am beginning to suspect that your bonding session with the ladies involved more than a few complaints. What else did you talk about?”
“What goes on between ladies stays between ladies.”
“Very discreet, I’m sure.”
“Although…if you’re going to have a chat with Emma, you might have one with Harry too, once he arrives.” Marianne lowered her voice. “Tessa believes he is losing interest in her.”
