Seated on the settee beside Nicole, Regina leaned forward and said, “Don’t let him fool you, Uncle Edward. Daffin needed stitches for his trouble.”
“Egad!” Grandmama exclaimed, her ubiquitous handkerchief fluttering near her cheek.
“A flesh wound, I assure you.” Daffin side-eyed Regina.
She pressed her lips together to withhold a smile.
“You’re here now and you’re safe.” Lady Harriet reached out and patted Regina on the knee. “Thank goodness. Now, let’s talk about something more pleasant.”
“Ah, yes,” the duke said, the hint of a smile lighting his rheumy blue eyes. “I have a surprise for you, Regina.”
“Ooh, I love surprises,” Regina replied with a bright smile. “What is it?”
“I’ve invited the Earl of Dryden to Christmas dinner.”
***
An hour later, Daffin was walking around the perimeter of the house, checking all of the entrances and windows. He couldn’t shake the memory of Regina telling him he was special in the coach earlier. She thought he was special? She was wrong. He was hardly the type of man who should put his soiled hands on her. She didn’t know the truth about him. If she did, she wouldn’t want him to touch her.
Bright laughter floated on the cold air. He glanced up to see Regina on the snow-covered lawn behind the manor house. She was alone and she appeared to be… building a snowman. She was bundled up in a red wool coat, white scarf, and black boots, a jaunty red wool cap on her head and white fur mittens on her hands. She looked bright and happy. She made him smile, though he couldn’t help but worry about her being outside alone.
Daffin had strictly forbidden both ladies from going outside, but Regina had insisted upon getting some fresh air. Meanwhile, he was scouring the grounds for any sign of an intruder. So far, he’d found nothing. Hopefully they’d escaped London without the attacker being any the wiser, but Daffin refused to let down his guard until he knew for certain.
He changed course and headed in Regina’s direction. “What are you doing?” he called to her.
She turned to look at him and her smile widened. “What does it look like?”
He pursed his lips and came to a stop next to her and her creation. “Building a snowman?”
“On the contrary. She is a snowwoman. Can you not tell from her eyelashes?” She batted her own.
Daffin peered at the short, black, vertical stripes above the snowperson’s eyes. He poked at them with a gloved finger. “Eyelashes? What are they made from?”
“Licorice,” Regina replied, her eyes sparkling with delight. “I got it from Cook. She always has black licorice at Christmastide.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and watched her. She was obviously pleased with her task. She’d seemed happier since they’d arrived. “You grew up here, didn’t you?”
She kept her gaze focused on her work. “Yes. After my parents died, my uncle became my guardian. Grandmama came back here and moved into the dower house to watch over me.”
Daffin turned back to look at the enormous manor house. “It must have been quite a life, living in an estate like this.”
She stuck a carrot in the center of the snowwoman’s round white head to make her nose. “It’s the only home I know. I barely remember my life before my parents’ accident.”
Daffin understood that sentiment. Sometimes his life before his mother’s death seemed more like a dream than reality. He tugged on his gloves. The wind was getting colder. The protective part of him wanted to usher Regina inside where she would be safe and warm.
“As for the snowwoman,” Regina continued. “It’s a tradition for me at Christmastide. I’ve been doing it since the first year I came to live here.” She glanced around. “I must admit I’ve been looking over my shoulder this year. I feel safe with you here, however.” She gave him a tentative smile.
“I’m glad to hear that,” Daffin replied. Keeping her safe was his first priority, but he’d begun to look forward to theirtalks, too. He nodded to her creation. “Snowwomen are your tradition. Do you have any others?”
“Our family has a tradition of trading small gifts on Christmas Eve. Nothing extravagant.”
Daffin stared off into the copse of trees several yards away. “My mother and I gave each other gifts at Christmastide, too.” He’d never admitted that to anyone before. It was getting easier and easier to share things with Regina, but the memory still made his throat ache. He shook his head. “What sorts of gifts do you give each other?”
She stepped back to squint at the snowwoman’s nose, adjusted the carrot a bit to the left, and sighed. “One of my favorites was a tiny frosted gingerbread man Uncle Edward gave me when I was still a girl. I ate it so quickly no one else had a chance to see it. Grandmama laughed for hours.” Regina tilted her head to the side and blinked at him. “What was your favorite gift?”
A lump formed in Daffin’s throat. He scrubbed the back of his glove against his forehead. “A dagger. My mother gave me one. That Christmas Eve before she died. It was the last gift I received.”
Regina swallowed. “From anyone? Ever?”
