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Freddie breathed in deeply and closed his eyes, trying to calm his rising anger. He could not imagine God looked fondly upon those who raged at a sermon, but he could not seem to stop his irritation from growing.

Warmth spread across his upper arm, and he looked over to see Pippy’s hand. “Is something the matter?” She looked concerned, and he felt terrible.

He put his hand over hers and smiled as he shook his head. “No. I’m well. It’s just so…warm in here.”

She nodded. “Yes, I noticed that too. Perhaps if I scoot⁠—”

He reached out and stopped her. “No,” he said, louder than he intended. “Stay where you are. I’ll be fine.”

And then, as if by a Christmas miracle, Mr. Tomlinson said “Amen” and ended his sermon.

“Amen,” Freddie shouted.

Finally! They could pray and, at last, be on their way.

Thirteen

“We’re not doing the silhouettes?” Pippy asked.

Freddie shook his head, a sly smile on his face. “We’re not. I have something else planned.”

Her brows lifted. “Are your sisters to join us?”

His smile fell slightly. “They are not. Is that a problem?”

“No. I only wondered.” She shook her head. “Are you not to tell me what the activity is?”

His smile only grew. “Then it would not be a surprise. Now go dress warmly and meet me in the saloon.”

She tipped her head to the side. What did he have planned? From the look of mirth on his face, it was exciting. “How warmly?”

“We’ll be outdoors.”

She nodded, even though his answer told her only the bare minimum. “I’ll return shortly.” She turned and headed up the staircase toward their rooms. Was he not going to change also? He was still in his church coat. That hardly seemed appropriate for walking about outside. But then, if they were only walking around the groomed grounds, perhaps it was enough.

“Hilda,” she called as she opened the door.

The maid appeared from the dressing room, neither a smile nor a frown on her face—as always. “Yes, my lady?”

“Could you please help me change? Lord Weymouth wishes to take a turn outside.”

“Then you’ll be wanting your warmest gown.” The end of the sentence was called from the dressing room.

“Yes, please,” Pippy called back as she discarded her cloak on the end of the bed.

“What do you wish to wear for dinner this evening, and I’ll prepare it while you’re out?” Hilda said in a muffled voice. “I thought perhaps the deep-green gown.”

“Yes, I think it appropriate for Christmas.”

Hilda appeared with the dark blue dress in her arms. “You do not wish to keep Lord Weymouth waiting. He’s already changed his clothes.”

His valet must have slipped into the dressing room from the other door.

Pippy and Hilda were a picture of efficiency, and in no time she was tying the ribbons of her bonnet beneath her chin. “Thank you, Hilda,” Pippy said as she pulled on her matching kid gloves.

The maid dipped her head before disappearing back into the dressing room. It was times such as these when she missed the familiarity of Morley.

Pippy hurried down the staircase, pulling up short when she reached the door to the saloon. It would not do for Freddie to see her running like a child.