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She took in a breath and squared her shoulders, trying to look every bit the lady her mother had trained her to be. Then she glided—or as close to it as she could muster—into the room.
Freddie turned, even though her entrance had been nearly silent. Could he sense her presence as she could his?
His smile was instant. “Ah, there you are.” He glanced at the clock. “And quicker than I expected.” Did he put that as a mark in her favor?
He handed her a folded paper with his seal affixed. “Open that, and we’ll begin.”
She gave him a quizzical look, but when he provided no explanation, she cracked the seal and unfolded the paper. Neat, upright script met her eyes.
To the esteemed Lady Pip,
Just as Arthur of old,
A quest is required of you.
Complete it before the Christmas feast
Or face the consequences of your inaction.
She dropped her hands in front of her, her head tipping to the side. “Oh, Freddie. You planned a Christmas Quest?”
His smile widened, which she didn’t think possible. “Indeed I have. I didn’t wish for you to earn Arthur’s ire this year.”
Anticipation danced in her belly. “What is it?” Then her smile fell. “Please don’t tell me we are meeting with the vicar.”
Freddie laughed. “Lud, I hope we don’t encounter him. I’ve heard enough from him to last me a lifetime!” He motioned to the paper in her hand. “I believe there’s a clue in the letter.”
She shivered with excitement as she continued reading.
Be warned, the quest is not an easy one.
The dragon your path will thwart,
lest you pay him for his hoard.
To find your first token,
you must seek age.
The guardian of the estate,
the most Christmases he’s seen.
His wisdom and treasure are up for the taking
But at his feet you’ll find the path,
Where all worthy quests begin.
For Camelot!
She frowned. She must seek age? What did that mean? Freddie was far more familiar with the estate. She closed her eyes and thought back to the tour they’d taken just after their arrival. Gracious, it wasn’t referring to Lady Dalmeer, was it? The lady would not appreciate it—she tried very hard to hide her age. Indeed, Pippy had not heard her mutter the same age to a single person—six and forty was the age Pippy had overheard her telling Lord Stanhope while fluttering her fan and lashes at him. She was quite certain Lady Dalmeer was substantially older than six and forty.
Pippy tapped her lips, then speared her husband with a look. “You have the advantage on me, Galahad. I did not grow up visiting the estate.”
“Galahad?” he asked with a raised brow.
Her cheeks warmed. “That’s how I thought of you all those years ago.” She lifted her finger to her mouth, but her gloves were in the way. She didn’t know if she was glad for that or not. “But it still fits,” she whispered.
