Page 41
Christmas Day, 1817
Fawntonbrooke Hall
Willow swept her regard over their guests. How odd to think of these people as her guests, too.
“How much longer do we have to stay, love?” One arm about her waist, Ansley planted a kiss on her temple.
Glancing upward, humor dancing in her green eyes, she chuckled huskily. “Darling, the ball didn’t begin until ten, and it’s just now half-past eleven. We’ll not have supper until midnight, and many, if not all, of our guests, will be up until three in the morning.”
She well knew what frustrated her very virile husband.
He groaned and closed his eyes, hugging her tighter to him. “This is precisely why I’ve eschewed these sorts of damnable functions since I came into my title.”
She stood up on her royal-blue slippered toes and whispered in his ear. “I know, but just think of the reward afterward, my love.”
To her absolute delight and surprise, Fawntonbrooke Hall’s staff had been thrilled that their lord had married the housekeeper. Even Reeves had recovered from his sulk.
That might have much to do with the new housekeeper’s, Mrs. Duval, arrival a fortnight ago. A plump widow of two and forty, with the energy, efficiency, and stamina of half a dozen maids, the woman was a godsend. And from the blushes sweeping her rounded cheeks whenever Reeves put in an appearance, Willow would vow Fawntonbrooke Hall would host another wedding very soon.
“There you are, my dears.” Willow’s new mother-in-law glided toward them, resplendent in a silver and pink gown. Diamonds twinkled at her throat and ears and in the tiara atop her intricately styled hair. Casting an approving glance around the mingling and dancing guests, she nodded. “You have outdone yourself, Willow. The decorated orange and lemon trees from the conservatory are a stroke of genius. And the gingerbread village—why, it’s quite the cleverest thing I’ve ever seen.”
High praise, indeed.
“The camel mightn’t have been the best idea.” This from Ansley with a slightly bemused frown. “Willow did warn me they spit.”
“Not a bit of it,” his mother countered. “The adorable white donkey, sheep, goats, and that precious cow, more than made up for the ill-mannered camel.”
“I’m not certain the Duke of Pennington would agree,” Ansley said, even as he nodded to said duke across the room. “I believe his coat was quite ruined.”
Mary Twistleton gave Willow a conspiratorial wink. “I knew you were the perfect woman for my son the moment I laid eyes upon you.” She bussed her cheek. “And I’m so very glad you agreed to be his countess. Anyone can see how happy you are together.”
“We are,” Ansley said, bending to kiss his mother. “Thank you.”
Willow gripped her mother-in-law’s hand. “And I also thank you, Mother.” Mary wouldn’t hear of Willow calling her anything else. “I am happier than I have ever dreamed of being.”
A friend caught Mary Twistleton’s eye. “Oh, dear. Winifred looks as if she’s about to burst with some naughty tidbit or other. I’d best make sure she’s not about to launch an international hullabaloo.” With a jaunty wave, she swept away.
“I’m not certain I’ll ever acquire the finesse one born into the aristocracy possesses, Ansley.” Not the least discomfited, Willow surveyed the revelers. “But your friends—particularly the Marquis of Sterling and all those dukes you introduced me to, along with their lovely wives—they aren’t at all what I expected.”
Not haughty, or snobbish, or condescending, but instead, quite warm, welcoming, and kind.
Only three people who’d previously accepted the house party invitation had later sent their regrets upon learning Ansley had gone and done the untenable and married his housekeeper. Honestly, she’d expected more to decline to attend.
“Many peers are snobs and elitists,” he said with another tender kiss to her temple.
Rather outrageous, his displays of affection in public. Not that she minded.
“However,” he murmured, for her ears alone, “there are also many who are truly decent people. I have tried to surround myself with the latter.”
“They’ve all been most kind.” Initially, she had been a nervous wreck, but within an hour of meeting their house-guests, she’d been put at ease.
The musicians struck the first plaintive chords of a waltz, and Ansley bowed before her. “Countess, will you honor me with this dance?”
Eyeing the other couples making their way to the chalked floor, she smiled widely. “Thank goodness, my grandfather believed that in addition to book-learning, I should also be accomplished at dancing. Although, why he never thought I should learn to play an instrument when most ladies do, I’ll never know.”
Her hand upon his arm, she permitted him to guide her into the throng. Her gown of sapphire blue and silver and Brussels lace swirled around her as her husband took her in his wonderfully strong arms. She could scarcely believe this magical Christmas ball was real. Or that she was actually married to this incredible man.
She must’ve spoken her thoughts aloud, or else Ansley read them, for he lowered his head and whispered, “It’s real, my love. It’s very real.”
