Seasons of Love: A Sweet Regency Romance Boxset: Seasons of Love, #7

By Emily Murdoch

Seasons of Love sees five of Emily Murdoch's regency romance novellas brought together for the very first time in this beautifully moving collection.

A MICHAELMAS WAGER Rufus Lovell has been thrust unexpectedly into riches with nothing too big to gamble on – even marriage. So when a tipsy party joke becomes a wager on Rufus' marriage, he knows he should said no. But Juliana Honeyfield, the unwitting and unknowing focus of the gamble, is not the simple and malleable young woman that Rufus' friends take her for. Will it be possible for Rufus to charm the winning Juliana or does he owe her the truth about his initial interest in her?

A CHRISTMAS SURPRISE Every year for thirty years Lord Robert, the Viscount of Marchwood, throws a Christmas Ball. But this year the Marchwood Christmas Ball holds extra importance as his daughter, Lady Audrey, has just turned 18 and it is time for her coming out. With the Marchwood family fortune all but gone, Lord Robert is keen to secure her a prosperous match. But when a handsome, masked stranger threatens to steal Audrey's heart, will it prove to be a good or bad Christmas Surprise.

A VALENTINE'S SECRET Jonathan Brodie, the only son of Sir Roger and Lady Brodie, has lived in the village of Maplebridge his whole life. Penelope, the daughter of the local florist, was adopted by the Baldwins when she was just a baby. They could not be more different and yet, one blustery January morning, their paths collide in a chance encounter that is destined to change their lives forever…

A JUNE WEDDING Victoria Walsingham's heart will only ever belong to Isaac Quinn, the son of the Duke of Daventry, but their opposing social standings force them apart. However, when her brother unexpectedly inherits the title of the Earl of Cheshire, Victoria's life is transformed and she is thrown into high-society. But when Victoria finally returns home in the hope of reconciling with Isaac, an invitation is waiting for her to the wedding of Mr Isaac Quinn and a Miss Hestia Royce. With time running out, will Victoria ever get her happy ending?

A HARVEST PASSION When teacher Leo Tyndale moves to the small English town of Sandercombe after five years in India, he does not expect that his time at the local school will be a long one. But a brief encounter with the beautiful – and fiercely independent – Hestia Royce soon has him changing his mind. But Hestia is an outcast in the town after leaving Sandercombe a year ago to be married, only to return without a husband to a place abuzz with speculation. Will they ever be able to admit their feelings for each other? Or will society deny them their happily ever after?

*** Each of these books are sweet Regency romances with happily ever afters and no cliffhangers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Emily Murdoch
• Release date: Jun 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215422977

Emily Murdoch

Emily Murdoch is a writer, a poet and a lover of books. There's never a time she's without a book. Her debut novel, If You Find Me, released in 2013 to global high praise and critical acclaim through St. Martin's Griffin and Orion/Indigo UK. If You Find Me, a Carnegie Medal 2014 longlister and a Waterstones Children's Book Prize 2014 finalist, has earned starred reviews from Booklist, Kirkus, and School Library Journal; is a Young Adult Library Services (YALSA) Best Fiction for Young Adults (BFYA) selection of 2014; was named a New York Times Book Review Editors’ Choice for June 2013; an Irish Times Editors’ Pick for 2013; an Editor’s Pick for UK’s The Bookseller 2013; a Booklist Youth Editors' Choice for 2013; and a Booklist Top Ten Pick of 2014. If You Find Me has also been nominated and included in numerous state awards/high school master reading lists, amongst those in: SC, TX, KY, RI, PA, WI, OR, DE, CT, SD, NH, OK, VT, and AR. If You Find Me was also a finalist for the Goodreads Choice Awards Best Books of 2013 in the Best Debut Author and Best Young Adult Fiction categories, and was a finalist for the German Children's Literature Prize 2015, along with a finalist for the German Buxeholder Bulle Award 2015. If You Find Me has been translated and published in Canada, the UK, Germany, the Netherlands, Spain, Korea, Taiwan, Italy, Brazil, Hungary, Turkey, and Vietnam, as well as in Braille. When she's not reading or writing, you'll find Emily caring for her horses, dogs and family on a ranch in rural Arizona, where the desert's tranquil beauty and rich wildlife often enter into her poetry and writing. Emily's other passion is saving equines from slaughter. She uses her writing to raise awareness of this inhumane practice, with the goal of ending the slaughter of America's horses and burros through transport to slaughterhouses in Canada and Mexico. She provides sanctuary to abused and slaughter-saved equines who dazzle her daily with their gentle gratitude in exchange for security, consistency, food and love. As Mahatma Gandhi said, “Be the change you want to see in the world.” Emily hopes her penchant for writing will do just that. All-in-all, she's a lefty in a right-handed world, writing her way through life and smearing ink wherever she writes.

Book preview

Seasons of Love

An Omnibus

Emily Murdoch

© Emily Murdoch 2016

Emily Murdoch has asserted her rights under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

First published in 2016 by Endeavour Press Ltd.

To Sophie and Dave - may seasons of love follow you for all the years of your lives together.

Table of Contents

A Christmas Surprise

A Valentine’s Secret

A June Wedding

A Harvest Passion

A Christmas Surprise

Chapter One

U tterly preposterous !

Lord Robert, the Viscount of Marchwood was not happy, and he wanted all to know it. The fact that it was only himself and his valet in the room had not occurred to him.

Indeed, said his valet smoothly, holding out an array of cravats for his lordship to choose. Most preposterous.

At my time of life! Marchwood fumed. To think that I am incapable of organising my own affairs – little though they are – and to instruct me on proper etiquette! It should not be borne, Thomas, and I will not stand for it!

Thomas knew better than to offer any words of advice, or any words at all for that manner. The Viscount was often fractious in winter, and this winter had been one of the coldest and more miserable in living memory. Even the thought of the Marchwood Christmas Ball had not been sufficient to raise his spirits.

Thirty years! The Viscount of Marchwood boomed. Thirty years Thomas, that I have celebrated Christmas in this fashion, and yet I am still considered a babe in arms!

I am sure that is not the case. Thomas handed over the blue cravat that Marchwood had gestured towards, speaking in the pause that his lordship had left. The butler here ...

The butler here knows nothing, Marchwood said petulantly, trying unsuccessfully to tie his own cravat, and trapping his finger in the process. If I had known that such an ingrate idiot was running Scotchmore Castle, I would never have chosen it as our Christmas Ball location.

Thomas said nothing, but reached over and released Marchwood’s finger, which was starting to turn the same shade of blue as the cravat. His lordship grunted his thanks, and Thomas bowed slightly.

In all of the five years that Thomas had been the fourth Viscount of Marchwood’s valet, he had never seen him in such a state. Of course, if the rumours that were currently circulating were true, then Marchwood had much bigger problems than a simple festive party.

Scotchmore Castle, nestled in the centre of the Scottish Highlands, was large and dominated the landscape in which it sat. A dramatic looking castle, nestled between two large mountains and surrounded by a loch it had two tall towers were pinched together in the north, and the high crenellations were peppered with statues of gargoyles and grotesque goblins. And yet, somehow, in the thin and weak winter light, Scotchmore Castle still seemed to be a haven of safety and of warmth in the barren Highlands landscape.

It had been in a warm, summerly light admittedly that Marchwood had first seen Scotchmore Castle. He had been visiting his sister, who lived nearby, and on a ride on a blustery June day had happened upon the place. It had seemed then like a fairy tale castle, hidden just out of sight of the ordinary visitor. Marchwood had felt as though he had disturbed a dream. When he had returned home to London, it had not been difficult for him to discover the name of the inhabitants, and from there to contact them, anonymous at first, naturally.

The current owners were celebrating the joys of the season in Bath, and had let out their seat to the Viscount – though they had insisted on payment before he took possession for the month, considering the news that they had recently heard about his finances. Nothing was certain, of course, and no one would dream of saying aloud in company that the Viscount of Marchwood was in dire straits and short of more than a little money ... and yet in every coffee house and every private home in the land, such unmentionable things were, quietly, mentioned.

My lord, Thomas said gently. If the funds to host such a lavish festive ball are not ... immediately to hand, then perhaps –

Immediately to hand? Marchwood repeated, eyes wide. I have not the faintest clue what you are referring to, my lad.

Thomas ignored the term ‘my lad’ – it had not been true for over a decade, but then, at the age of twenty six, he was barely his master’s peer either. Evidently any mention of financial circumstances were simply not to be borne. Instead, he cast a discerning eye over his lordship’s current attire. Although Marchwood clung slightly to the older ways of dressing – lace poking out of the cuffs of his sleeves, and much looser fitting breeches – Thomas had managed to bring him back to modernity in small, subtle ways. His pantaloons were cropped, as were those of all fashionable men in society, and his leather boots had been polished to reflect the candlelight. The silk shirt had been perfectly cut by the Viscount’s tailor to match the coat’s lapels – though it could be midnight before Thomas managed to get him into it.

Thomas coughed. ’Tis still a week before Christmas, my lord; I am sure that McGerald –

It takes more than a week to train a butler, Thomas, you of all people should know how much training it takes to work well, Marchwood interrupted. Three different blue silk waistcoats were lying on the bed, and he spoke absentmindedly as he perused them. You would think that I pay these people enough to offer myself and my guests true service.

Smiling, Thomas stepped forward and ignored his master. The dark blue waistcoat I think, my lord. Anything lighter would remove the attention from one’s face.

Marchwood nodded, his long grey hair becoming more and more unkempt as he rushed around the room. I need this Christmas ball to be perfect, Thomas, absolutely perfect. For Audrey’s sake, it must be perfect.

Thomas was just finishing the Viscount’s toilette, and as Marchwood spoke those particular words, he was holding a large bottle of scent – which he dropped. He was fortunate, though: the large Aubusson rug was soft, and caught the glass bottle safely, with no part spilled.

Careful, Thomas! Marchwood was not cross, but was too worked up about his disagreement with the Scotchmore Castle’s butler to moderate his tone.

Cheeks flaming red, Thomas picked up the bottle, muttering apologies. He put the glass bottle back onto the side table, and caught a glance of his reflection in the giltwood mirror. His blush deepened.

The Lady Audrey, as Thomas knew her, had just turned eighteen. The Christmas ball was her first introduction to society, and it was well known by all that this was probably her first, best, and only chance of securing a husband – before the Marchwood money coffers ran completely dry.

Every young lady of her age had a coming out ball, or an event hosted by her family to formally introduce her to society. In attendance would be all the normal people – family, godparents, friends of the family, people that she really did not need to be ‘introduced’ to – and then those who were important, and influential. A good report of a young girl’s first society ball could dramatically increase her chances of attracting the most promising of suitors.

Clearing his throat, Thomas lifted the dark blue waistcoat, unbuttoned it, and helped his lordship into it.

Her ladyship’s entrance into society will certainly be a success, my lord, Thomas said, and he was proud to hear that there was no tremble in his voice. You know from many sources that she has been a great triumph in the small gatherings where she has appeared over the last twelvemonth; indeed, I have heard from many other valets of my acquaintance that there have been countless people desirous that her coming out into society had occurred more than a year previous.

Marchwood raised an eyebrow. Indeed, Thomas? His voice sounded hopeful, and he seemed to have forgotten about his momentary quarrel with the new staff that he was to use for his sojourn in Scotchmore Castle.

Thomas nodded. It can be no surprise to you, my lord, as she takes after you in all the best ways. You should be, and here there was only the smallest catch in his voice, should be very proud of her. She is a real credit to you.

The Viscount was not impervious to compliment and charm. Well, Thomas, I thank you for your words, they are kindly received. I will admit, raising that poor child as a widower was certainly not the way that I thought I would see the end of the family name. It has not been without its problems.

Carefully folding and hanging various elements of clothing that Marchwood had rejected for that evening, Thomas could not help but smile. The Lady Audrey was certainly a strong character – and yet she had a softness about her that only those who lived within her home would ever see.

She will make a good match, Marchwood had continued talking. It will do my bones good to see her go to a good home, and become a mother herself.

Thomas clenched the silk cravats that were in his hands, and thanked God that he had his back to his master. The thought of Lady Audrey leaving her father’s house was one that had crossed his mind, every now and again, but it had always been a far off moment, a time that would never be reached by mortals. And now that time was at hand.

And it must be perfect, fretted the Viscount. Perfect, I tell you Thomas!

I can see no reason why perfection cannot be attained, my lord, he said smoothly, and you have a full week, as I have said, in order to demonstrate your high and exacting standards to McGerald, and the rest of the staff here.

Marchwood looked at him hesitantly. The years had not been kind to the Viscount; the early loss of his wife, the main culprit. His grey eyes peered out from a deeply wrinkled brow, and his whiskers had been grown long.

You truly believe so, Thomas?

I know so, the valet said comfortingly, placing the thick velvet black jacket over his master’s shoulders. Each Marchwood Christmas ball is a triumph, and I see no reason why this should be any different.

Marchwood nodded slowly, slightly falling, slightly sitting into a silver gilt and silk embroidered chair. The remaining set of five were placed around the room, with the rug forming the centre piece of the room, perfectly reflected in the painted ceiling, a myriad of colours and geometric patterns. Not, perhaps, the most modern interpretation of household décor, but considering the age of the castle, it was a miracle that it was still intact.

It was, in fact, the second best chamber that Scotchmore Castle had to offer. The first, naturally, had gone to the lady of the house.

Before either of them could cry out or exclaim in shock, the double doors to the chamber that opened out into the corridor were thrown open with such force and violence that they both smacked into the walls. Thomas could see a large dent in the wooden panelling on the left hand side, and winced. The Viscount would have to find the money to pay for that.

A woman stood in the doorway, cast into shadow by the lack of candles that Marchwood had instructed for all corridors in the castle whilst he was its occupant. As she took a step forward, she moved into the light. She was not as old as she had immediately appeared; her hair was blonde and neatly tamed; her features slight and delicate; her frame petite – and yet there was a fire burning in her eyes that Thomas had seen many a time.

Audrey, her father said in delighted tones.

Father. She spoke angrily. I find you at last.

Chapter Two

Find me? Marchwood repeated, slightly confused. I was not hiding, my dear.

Stuff and nonsense, Lady Audrey pushed away his words with a flap of her hands. She marched into the room and sternly deposited herself in the chair by the bed, in full view of both her father and his valet. She was wearing a beautiful dress – green as ivy, with the palest lace trimming the open cuffs of her sleeves and around the bodice. She wore no jewellery, but then the Lady Audrey of Marchwood never needed any artificial adornment.

My dear, her father said genially, turning around as she walked across the room, I am dressing for dinner. The gong has gone, you know, and I would not want to be late.

Stuff and nonsense, Lady Audrey said decidedly, but there was hesitation in her tone. You know full well, father, that we have not finished the discussion that we began in the coach, and I am determined to finish it now, in time for us to return back home.

The Marchwood’s residence in Scotchmore Castle had been decided before the summer was out – though it had taken Marchwood rather longer than that to break the news to his daughter. He knew her disappointment of missing her friends in Bath over the festive season would be severe.

Thomas kept to the back of the room, unobtrusively folding the myriad of clothes that the Viscount had not chosen to wear that evening. It would do no good for him to be caught in this particular argument. It was one that he had heard frequently before, and he knew before it even began that neither Marchwood was going to budge. The Viscount’s daughter had inherited every single iota of her father’s stubbornness.

My darling child, Marchwood said wearily, tugging at his cravat, twisting it into a crooked position to the left, and then the right in quick succession. You know that we have come here to Scotchmore Castle for a reason –

I do not see what was lacking from our home! The fire in Lady Audrey’s eyes blazed. It was the one feature that all who met her always commented on; the colour of her eyes. At once green and blue, they were like opals, constantly changing the more that they moved. The fire in them, on the other hand, only appeared in situations such as these – when Lady Audrey was beside herself with rage. I demand that you tell me exactly why we have travelled to this cold and uninviting land, and to this unfortunate castle with – really, father, I have never encountered such an irritating butler in all my life!

Now, Audrey, do not fret. I merely thought that this year we would make our Christmas ball that much more special, by having it here in the wilds of Scotland! I have not brought you here, out of the way of our friends and family, for long. They shall all be joining us before the week is out.

Lady Audrey’s left eyebrow was raised suspiciously. Join us here?

The Viscount sighed, and shook his head slightly. Child, you are now eighteen years old. This is a momentous time for any young person, but for a young lady it marks the time when she is to be considered no longer a child, but a woman. A woman ready to marry.

Lady Audrey snorted, disbelief in every feature of her face. Stuff and nonsense! Why, there are plenty of my friends who are over that august age, and they have not been forced by their parents into a matrimonial suit that only benefits them!

I do not force you into marriage, Marchwood said. In many ways, far from it! I will be bereft when I lose you, my dear, and yet that is exactly what must happen. You know that this Christmas Ball ... could be our last.

Lady Audrey winced slightly. She had never seen fit to speak to her father directly about the mutterings that she had heard about his finances. It was true, she had never felt particularly the lack of money that all around them spoke about in hushed tones – but then, her father was probably depriving himself for her benefit.

Having said that, Lady Audrey thought resolutely, a mere lack of economic prosperity was not enough of a reason to force her into the marriage bed quite yet!

Last Christmas Ball or not, I see no definite reason why this should be the time for me to marry, argued Lady Audrey passionately. Her respect for her father, though great, never extended to her zealous debate when she believed that she was right. If indeed this is to be our last Christmas ball, and many things are to change with us, then there is all the more reason for me to stay with you, and comfort you.

Her father sighed. My child, you must marry.

Why? Lady Audrey’s voice was no longer complaining; she had a worried tone, and the fierceness left her eyes and was replaced with confusion. Do you ... do you not want me to live with you any more, father? I don’t want to leave you.

Hush, Marchwood said reassuring, and with a gentle smile on his face. Of course I do not want you to leave me, Audrey. You know that you have been the main source of comfort for me these last years – yet you are eighteen. You should have been introduced into society over two years ago, and it is my own selfishness at keeping you by my side that has robbed society of such a jewel.

Lady Audrey smiled, but it was clearly difficult for her to keep it on her face as she spoke. The fiery sparks had once again returned to her eyes. I do not understand. What if I do not meet anyone at our Christmas ball that I like enough to even consider?

Thomas had finished folding and hanging the clothes that his lordship had discarded for this evening, and had run out of things with which to keep himself occupied. He was now forced to make a decision; move closer into the room and be noticed, or stand awkwardly at one side. He hesitated.

He lifted his eyes to the Lady Audrey. The fire sparking from her eyes was bright now, and he could not help but continue to stare at her. Any moment that he had to gaze at her uninterrupted was one that he took – especially if they were to end soon with her marriage to one of the idiots that his lordship had invited to this year’s Christmas ball.

Lady Audrey continued to argue with her father, and he responded calmly and gently to all of her questions, and still Thomas glorified in her presence. The two slender arms that could be seen from the sleeves of her dress, cut short at the elbow, moved elegantly as she spoke, her tender and silky skin matched only by that at her throat when she threw back her head to laugh at something that her father had said.

It was exactly in that attitude that Thomas had found her when he had first joined the household of the Viscount of Marchwood, just over five years ago. She was standing in the grounds, right by the stables and the servants’ entrance to the house, with a woman who could only be her governess in front of her. She could only have been twelve, or thirteen at the time, but the beauty that was evident in her now had already started to surface. She had thrown her head back and laughed, and Thomas could see that this irritated the governess immensely.

Well, really Lady Audrey! Her voice had been cross. There is no need to behave in such an unladylike manner! All I suggested was that you wore your fur lined coat as you –

Stuff and nonsense, said the thirteen year old Lady Audrey. Thomas could see that she was just wearing light riding clothes, even in the autumn wind – though she was not shivering as her governess was. By the time that I am riding, I shall not feel the cold at all. I shall merely revel in the speed and in the – Her voice had broken off as she caught sight of a tall man with dark hair who was walking slowly towards her. Can I help you?

And Thomas remembered how he had smiled, and it had been returned by the scrap of the woman that she had been then. Through the years, they had spoken often: she, a woman growing into a fashionable young lady that wanted to know of the world outside her father’s gates; he, a man who could not help but see the power and intelligence warring in her frame against the tight grip of her father. The Viscount loved his child so much that he would do anything to protect her – even if that meant keeping her with him, away from society.

Thomas had always answered the Lady Audrey’s questions, and as she grew older she began to depend on him more and more for conversation. They were the only two of a similar age within Marchwood’s household, after all: there were only five years between them. But when the Lady Audrey had reached eighteen a few months before, that friendship, for want of a better word, had started to change. She was about to be released from the gilded cage, and that meant only one thing: marriage.

The Viscount’s deep voice brought him back to where he was with a thump.

Marchwood had sighed once more. Dearest child, you know that I am right; please do not argue with me for the sake of the argument.

Lady Audrey opened her mouth, hesitated, and closed it again.

May I have your permission to leave, my lord? Thomas spoke in a deep and low tone, but as much as he had tried to slink inconspicuously into the conversation, he caused both father and daughter to jump, and twist their faces to stare at him.

Thomas, Lady Audrey said with a hint of surprise. My goodness. I had not even noticed that you were there.

Red flame burned through Thomas’s cheeks, but he did not reply. There were many things that he was desperate to say to Lady Audrey, but now, just like every other moment that he spent in her presence, was not the right time. Certainly not while her father sat but mere feet away from them both.

Instead of speaking to her, therefore, he turned and bowed low to the Viscount. My Lord, I believe that the gong for dinner has already been sounded. I must beg your permission to leave.

Leave? Marchwood was slowly catching up. Oh, yes, by all means Thomas, by all means.

Without waiting to help his lordship up out of his chair (something that he ought to have done), Thomas strode past the pair of them, and out of the room – face still burning with the shame of being unable to speak his mind one more time.

Chapter Three

It had taken four full days for Lady Audrey to acclimatise herself to the fact that it was absolutely impossible for her to avoid the Christmas ball that her father was hosting that year, and another day to accept that she herself would have to attend. Resigning herself to these facts, however, did not mean that she had completely given up on having her own way.

On the evening of the twenty-second of the month, she and her father were enjoying their dinner in the Blue Dining Room. The butler McGerald, having suffered through several talkings-to from his transient master, was by now accustomed to the little quirks and preferences that it is every butler’s duty to memorise; and so far, he was doing well. A minimum of cutlery had been put out, despite the fact that Scotchmore Castle had three full sets of silver, and there was a large silver pitcher filled with water on the table, instead of the wine that was much more traditional. Worst of all, a footman had gone down with a nasty bout of influenza, forcing McGerald to ask Thomas, his lordship’s valet, to wait table.

McGerald tried not to show his distaste. Thomas was very willing to be of service, but he had never been trained as a footman – his knowledge lay as a valet, and that was all. Dining in this way was certainly not something that McGerald would ever have even dreamed of for his own master and mistress, but he had been carefully instructed by them just before their departure that he was to fulfil all, and absolutely all, of the requests that his seasonal master gave him. And so he was; under silent protest.

Father, Lady Audrey said suddenly, breaking the silence that had permeated from the soup that began the meal right through to the fish course that they were currently enjoying, I have been thinking more about this Christmas ball.

Marchwood tensed, readying himself for the fight. My dear, I thought that this discussion had been ended with, and put to bed most thoroughly. The Marchwood Christmas ball is a time-honoured tradition, one that my great-grandfather, the first Viscount of Marchwood instituted in our familial seat, and I see absolutely no reason why I should stop it merely because it does not please you.

McGerald and Thomas were standing by the wall of the Blue Dining Room, straight and stiff as if they were two more pairs of suits of armour, six of which already lined the room. Thomas could not help but dart his eyes to Lady Audrey.

She coloured slightly. Father, I do not want to displease you – and I accept that the Christmas ball is truly something that is part of our family, and I agree that it should continue.

Marchwood started, and looked at his daughter across the table from him in surprise.

However, continued Lady Audrey smoothly, playing with her fork as she spoke, I am still a little confused as to why I have not been consulted on the exact details of the Christmas ball this year, especially as it is nominally for my marital benefit.

McGerald once again fought the urge to let his emotions display on his face – but this time it was laughter, and not disapproval, that sought to free itself from his mind. Thomas shifted on his feet, face stony.

The Viscount blinked, completely stupefied. Marital benefit?

Indeed, Lady Audrey nodded. If, as you suggest, this would be the perfect opportunity for me to find a spouse, then surely the Christmas ball should be – at least in part – a visible expression of my tastes. This man may not know me, after all?

Which man? Marchwood had completely lost track of the conversation, and he had a suspicion that he was about to lose control of his Christmas ball as well. He threw a quick glance over to his butler, and McGerald immediately stepped forward, anticipating exactly what his new master required. One glass was raised, and filled with red wine. McGerald rolled his eyes when he knew no one was looking. He knew his lordship would not be able to go through a meal without his favourite decanted red.

Lady Audrey smiled. She reached out her left hand, glass held aloft. Thomas almost stumbled over his own feet in his attempt to reach her before McGerald did, and he gently poured ice cold water into her glass, but his efforts at care did not even cause her to look up at him. Thank you, Thomas. The man I am to marry, of course, she replied to her father. If he comes here to our Christmas ball three nights hence, he will look around for the examples of my good housekeeping, my good taste, my elegant decision making on food, and music, and décor. I had thought this would have occurred to you.

Marchwood shook his head slowly as he chewed his last mouthful of salmon. I will admit, my dear, that these things had barely crossed my mind.

I had thought as much. Lady Audrey allowed just a hint of sadness to creep into her voice. I suppose that all of the arrangements have been made; and I would not alter them for the world, of course. Mind not my words, Father.

She cast her eyes down onto the food on her plate, and continued to move it about with her fork, her appetite – to all eyes in the room – completely gone. McGerald and Thomas had returned to their stations by the wall, and even though the Lady Audrey had her back to them, it was evident what she was trying to do.

Her father sighed. Raising his eyes once more to McGerald, the two servants moved forward to clear the plates. It was not until they had been taken downstairs, and the puddings brought up from the kitchen (apricot ices, made fresh that morning), that he spoke again. My dear, if you believe that you can charm me into letting you have your own way, then you are very much mistaken.

Lady Audrey smiled bashfully, pushing her spoon around her ice. That hasn’t been working for a while, has it?

Not since you were around eight years old, Marchwood said with a smile. It was then that I cottoned on to your charming ways; very much like your mother, you know.

I wish I could have known her better, Lady Audrey said wistfully.

Marchwood nodded slowly. Her loss felt like only mine when it happened, but as time goes on I realise the detriment to your own life. You know, her favourite Christmas ball we ever held was your first? You were but a babe in arms.

Lady Audrey leaned forward, intrigued. I have never heard you speak of this.

He shrugged easily. I have never felt the need to until now. Besides, it was ... painful.

His daughter waited a moment for him to collect his thoughts.

It had snowed early that morning, Marchwood said slowly, eyes transfixed on something that was not visible to mortal eyes. We had taken you out to see the first snowfall, and that was the morning that you had first smiled. We spent all day outside; wandering through the Long Walk that we had just planted, sitting in the folly that had been completed only the summer before. We had such plans, your mother and I, he said fondly, and Lady Audrey smiled at him. And that evening, we held the Marchwood Christmas ball; the Marchwood masked Christmas ball.

Lady Audrey started in her seat. Masked?

Marchwood nodded. It was the one year that we attempted it, and I must say that we outdid ourselves. It was as if Renaissance Venice had been swept up and dropped in the ballroom, just for us to enjoy. The music, the food – and the masks! It truly was the most enjoyable Christmas ball that I have ever held.

Lady Audrey smiled, but she knew better than to ask for more details. She knew that the festive season that year had not ended happily; the snow that had fallen, that had kept her parents outdoors all of that day, had been the same snow that had given her mother the fever that stole her away forever before the New Year had arrived.

Marchwood coughed gruffly. You know that none of the details are fixed in stone for our Christmas ball; if there are any that you wish to alter ...

Well, Lady Audrey said thoughtfully, a masked ball is such a wonderful idea ...

She waited for her father to reply, but he said not a word. Lady Audrey began to smile, but it was a hesitant one. I do not wish to bring back ... painful memories, Father.

But her father was shaking his head. Nonsense, my dear! If you wish to have a masked ball for your first Christmas ball as a woman in society, then I see no reason why we cannot make some last minute changes.

Thank you! Lady Audrey was beaming ear to ear, and she began to pile up her spoon with the delicious apricot ice that they had been served. "Do not worry about a