“There are the occasional prints from squirrels and birds. Some from children too,” Snowdon said. “Like the ones over there. Looks like they’re building a snowman.”
Rowena chuckled. “Remember when we used to do that? We’d always come back inside with frozen fingers and toes.”
“And Cook would have scones with clotted cream and jam waiting for us by the fire.” Snowdon’s manner of speech conveyed his fondness for the memory. “We’d eat while Mama played the piano and Papa smoked his pipe.”
“She’s not the best pianist in the world,” Rowena said, “but the pleasure she finds in her music has always been palpable. It is a joy to watch her play.”
Josephine hadn’t known the woman still lived. The duke had made no mention of her before, which she found rather odd, all things considered. “Why didn’t she come to Town with you?” she asked. “Surely she does not wish to spend Christmas alone in the country.”
Snowdon dropped a look in her direction. “Mama has gone to Scotland for the holidays to visit her sister, who’s married to the Laird of Glenmoore.”
“She asked me to go with her,” Rowena said, “but I chose to remain at Bevelstoke. Whenever our mother and Aunt Rose get together, they’re like two young debutants, gossiping and giggling, sharing confidences. Frankly, I find it hard to stomach. And it turns out I made the right decision since I got to meet you instead.”
“I am grateful to you for coming to London on such short notice, Rowena,” Josephine said. “I realize it isn’t much fun this time of year.”
“It is hardly less entertaining than Bevelstoke. At least here I have the two of you to keep me company. I must say I have no complaints.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Snowdown said as they came up over a small rise below which the Serpentine could be seen in full view. It snaked its way across the snowy landscape, providing skaters with a smooth surface on which to glide. “I’ve asked the servants to put up some pine and ribbons so the house can be more festive. We’ll have a goose on Christmas Eve, with a chocolate and caramel tart for dessert. I hope that agrees with both of you. If not, you’re welcome to make alterations.”
Josephine liked his agreeability, but since she had no issue with his suggestions, she said, “I think it sounds wonderful. I haven’t had goose in years.”
“Then you must eat to your heart’s content,” he told her with sparkling eyes.
She wasn’t entirely sure why it pleased him to know she approved of the menu he’d chosen, but it was obvious it did. In fact, there was something softer about him right now, something less serious, as though he was letting himself forget the responsibilities clinging to him at every moment of every day. She’d resented the duty because it made him insist she give up her employment, the strict adherence to protocol preventing her from continuing her work. Even now, after discovering she’d lost her job because of one of his employees, Snowdon refused to let her resume it. Indeed, she ought to be furious with him. More than anything, she ought to resist the ever-present attraction developing between them.
But she couldn’t. Because the more she considered the situation as a whole, the more she understood him. And if there was one thing she could say with certainty, it was that understanding him undermined any wish she might have to disapprove of his actions. He was, after all, a duke, a principled gentleman who’d made a promise to a friend. If he broke that promise for her, he would no longer be the man she’d come to admire. So although she disliked the effect his promise had on her life, she appreciated his insistence to honor Priorsbridge’s wishes.
