The two took their leave of the library and found one another ten minutes later in the vestibule. Pruitt and Styles were both dressed for the weather while Bronson stood by with the household’s largest umbrella. He handed it to the duke after he had his coat and gloves pulled on, and Angelika gave her valise to Styles.
“I’m off for a tour of Dunfey Park, but I shan’t return until tomorrow,” she said. “Bronson, you’re in charge,” she added.
“Yes, my lady.”
She and Andrew made their way out of the house, immediately finding the tracks that led to Dunfey Park. Despite the dark, the snow seemed to provide its own illumination, helped along by a half-moon rising in the east. Ahead of them, Styles carried her valise and Pruitt held up a lantern.
“It’s so still,” she commented, white puffs forming in front of her face. “The air looks as if it has glitter in it.”
His attention on the path before them, Andrew appreciated Angelika’s attempt to keep his mind off the obvious.
Especially when they passed the impression he had left in the snow earlier that day.
“Your snow angel,” she said in delight.
“It doesn’t have much in the way of wings,” he said, wincing at seeing the trampled snow on either side of it. The sleeves of his great coat had supplied some semblance of an arch, but it ended at the shoulders.
When Angelika didn’t respond, he glanced over to discover she was looking up. He heard her inhale softly and noticed how she slowed her steps.
The wonder on her face had him dropping the umbrella back enough to see what had her so mesmerized. Arcing across the sky above them was a wide band of stars that glowed against the black backdrop, as if a jeweler had dumped all his diamonds onto a sheet of black velvet. Andrew slowly turned, his gaze following the band until it disappeared below the horizon. “The Milky Way?” he guessed in awe.
“Indeed,” Angelika replied. “Oh!”
“What is it?”
She pointed up to where a falling star was leaving a brilliant white trail behind it. “A shooting star,” she exclaimed, her finger pointed to the south. “You have to make a wish.”
“A wish?” he repeated. His gaze was still on where the last of the star’s streamer had disappeared.
“Yes, but you cannot say what it is or it won’t come true,” she explained, resuming the trek towards Dunfey Park.
Andrew chuckled as they passed the line of poplar trees. “I suppose that means you won’t be sharing your wish with me.”
She gave him a dubious glance and grinned, hiding her surprise when he didn’t immediately raise the umbrella back up over his head. “There will probably be another I can make a wish on,” she reasoned. “I wished for us to be happy in marriage is all.”
After hearing her wish, Andrew thought his rather selfish, but he didn’t put voice to it—that he wished he could go outdoors without feeling panicked. “I believe that will be a given,” he murmured. “At least it will be for me.”
She beamed in delight, their progress through the snow less cumbersome now that the land had evened out and the snow wasn’t so deep.
He lowered the umbrella so he could once again see the sky above. “It does humble a person, does it not?” he asked so only she could hear. The servants were well ahead of them now, obviously eager to reach Dunfey Park, while clouds of white surrounded their heads with their every breath.
“What do you mean?” she asked as she followed his gaze.
“This huge night sky. It’s like the interior of a giant black dome. Doesn’t it make you feel small?”
She shrugged. “I suppose,” she agreed.
“It does me, although it’s also... so far away. Unless it drops a falling star on me, it cannot... it cannot hurt me.”
Regarding him with awe for a moment, Angelika allowed her gaze to sweep across the expanse of black and stars. “I understand what you mean,” she said quietly. “Will you help me up?”
“What?” he asked.
Grinning, she fell back into the powdery snow and giggled as she flailed her arms and legs in the snow.
Letting out a guffaw, Andrew reached down and offered a hand. “Come here, my Angel.” He dropped the umbrella and helped her to stand. After brushing the snow from the back of her redingote, he pulled her into his arms. Their kiss might have continued long into the night, but crystals had begun falling, landing on the tips of their eyelashes.
“Snow?” he said in surprise, blinking several times as he looked up. The sky was still clear, though, and he chuckled softly.
“Angel dust,” she countered happily. “Isn’t it magical?”
He gave a start. “Are you casting a spell on me?” he accused in a voice filled with suspicion.
She dipped her head, noticing the open umbrella resting in the snow. Through her crystal-tipped lashes, she said, “I thought I already had.” Lifting the umbrella, she closed it, then hooked her arm into his.
They hurried through the snow, laughing as they burst into Dunfey Park.
