Angelika placed her arm on his elbow and allowed him to lead her into the dining room, relieved to see that the place settings were set across the short side of the long table. Had they been placed at the ends, it would have made conversation difficult for the two youngest children of Mark, Marquess of Stonely.
Richard pulled out a chair for her before moving to his own. One of the footmen, Thompkins, lifted the boy onto his chair, one that had two large books resting on the seat, and then pushed it closer to the table.
“You can serve the wine and the first course now,” Angelika said, her attention on the footman.
“Yes, my lady.”
“Do I have to drink wine?” Richard asked, a grimace wrinkling his nose.
“No. I’m sure cook has made something with milk for you,” she replied. Despite the cold, the cow continued to provide milk for the household.
Thompkins served the soup and poured wine for her. He set a silver mug of warm caudle before Richard, and Angelika inhaled softly.
“Cook assures me she didn’t add very much in the way of spirits to his drink,” the footman said when he noticed her reaction.
“Very good, Thompkins,” she said, not about to ask if she might have some, too. Given the time of year and her brother’s lean frame, she knew cook was doing her best to fatten up the boy.
“I received a letter from Father.” She watched as her brother correctly used the larger spoon to lift soup from his bowl. He managed to get it to his mouth without spilling it down his front. “Robert has returned to London. They’re going to do everything they can to make it here in time for Christmas.”
Richard’s eyes rounded. “Robert?” he repeated.
“Our older brother.”
He seemed to think on her response a moment before he asked, “Is he the one who used to come here for dinner sometimes?”
Angelika chuckled softly. “Yes. He actually lived here...” She stopped when she realized Robert had been away for most of Richard’s life, for school at Eton, then university, and finally his Grand Tour. “We’ll have to reintroduce you two when he comes home,” she added.
“I remember him when he was last here for a district ball.”
“You do?” she asked in surprise. “That would have been two years ago.” Their father hosted the annual event at Stonefield Manor, a means by which to gather the members of the nearby landed gentry for an evening of dancing and a midnight supper. Ever since her mother had died, Angelika had been responsible for the arrangements and invitations. “Shouldn’t you have been in bed at that time of the evening?”
Richard grinned. “I was supposed to be, but I was watching. From upstairs. Mrs. Cooper said she was going to be with her husband that night, so I didn’t go to bed until after everyone left.”
Scoffing, Angelika regarded her brother with a smirk. “Were you now? So... were you watching the dancing? Or...?”
He shrugged. “The dancing and the kissing.”
Angelika blinked. “Kissing? Do you mean Mr. and Mrs. Cooper?” Although the two had been married for longer than she had been alive, Angelika couldn’t imagine the two involved in anything as intimate as a kiss.
Furrowing his brows, Richard shook his head and made a sound of disgust. “No. Not them.” He was about to say more, but the footman appeared with the next course.
Although she was curious as to who her brother had paid witness to kissing during the ball, she thought it best she didn’t encourage him to share gossip. Her father had always said men were the worst gossips, and she was beginning to understand why.
They ate in companionable silence for a time, Richard determined to finish his soup before the footman could remove his bowl.
“Has Mrs. Cooper taken you outdoors today?” she asked when Thompkins appeared with their main course. Cook had dished up the plates in the kitchen, and Angelika was relieved to see steam rising from the vegetables. Tonight’s dinner would be hot.
“Not today,” he replied. “She said it was too cold.”
“It is cold, but it makes the snow all soft and powdery.”
“I saw you making a snow angel,” he said. “I was looking out the window. Will you teach me how?”
Angelika scoffed. “I do every year,” she reminded him, a brow arching in a tease.
“Did you make more than one today?
“Of course,” she replied. “West of here. The snow was perfect.”
