“Oh,”Beck said. He looked around at them all, then at Hollis. “It’s like that, is it?”
Lady Blythe propped her chin on her hand. “I think it’s lovely. Is it not lovely, Lord Iddesleigh?”
“He is a Weslorian, Hollis,” Leopold pointed out. “I thought you were on the side of the Alucians.”
Hollis laughed and looked at Marek. “I think I’ve changed my mind.”
The conversation eventually turned from Hollis and Marek. They were talking about family traditions during the holiday season, but Marek didn’t hear much of it. His attention was on Hollis, and hers was on him.
After he finished his meal—or half of it, as Hollis had put enough for two men on his plate—they all retired to the drawing room. He liked the look of it in here. It looked well used, the sort of room where a family would often gather. He wanted to know what that was like, to be with a family every day of one’s life.
There was mistletoe, and the married couples among them made a show of sharing a kiss beneath it. The judge talked about a new house he would move into soon and said he understood it had a view of the lake, and when he thought of it, he thought of the lake at Bibury.
The duchess, who had returned from putting the princess to sleep, announced they all had gifts in the tree. There were a few of them, and Marek watched as Hollis received a tiny notebook, and a necklace from her father that he said had belonged to her mother.
It was a lovely evening, but Marek grew more anxious as it progressed. He was aware of a ticking clock, aware of how much needed to be said, of how quickly time was passing.
It was Lady Chartier’s idea that they go around and announce their Christmas wishes.
“Must we?” Iddesleigh groused.
“Yes,” she said, and poked him in the ribs.
“Very well. My Christmas wish is that you would not make us state our Christmas wish,” he said.
“My wish is Lord Iddesleigh be made to go again,” Lady Blythe said, and everyone laughed.
“Very well.” He stood up and cleared his throat. “My sincerest Christmas wish is that we all find peace and prosperity in the New Year.”
“Hear! Hear!” the judge said, lifting his wineglass.
“Me, me, me!” the duchess cried, hopping to her feet. “My Christmas wish is for Cecelia to have a sibling.”
“Or, as we in the palace call it, a spare,” Leopold drawled.
More laughter.
“Caroline?” the duchess said.
“My Christmas wish is that my saplings grow and that our new home for the foreign-born women displaced from domestic service will be full this time next year.”
Marek didn’t know what she meant, but Iddesleigh smiled fondly at her. “Whoever would have thought that you would become the charitable one?”
His sister slapped him playfully on the shoulder. “I did! It’s your turn, Your Honor,” she said.
“My wish is for clean country air,” he said. “Poppy?”
The young woman he’d met in front of the Green Hotel blushed. “My Christmas wish is the same as it is every year, Your Honor. I wish for a beau.” That earned her whistles and applause.
“Do you mean Donovan?” the duchess asked slyly.
The poor maid turned crimson, but Donovan laughed. “Poppy, if you will do me the honor—”
“No!” Poppy cried. “I’ve always said you’re too handsome for me, Donovan. Your grace?”
The duke sighed. “My Christmas wish is for peace. We all deserve it.” He lifted his glass in toast to Marek. “Leo, to you.”
“My Christmas wish is to be reunited with my parents. It’s been too long,” he said, and glanced wistfully at Caroline. She caressed his face. “Ah... Donovan,” Prince Leopold said.
