“I know my way around the kitchen. Please have the cook leave the stews simmering and Her Grace and I will serve our guests.”
“This is most unusual, but kind Your Grace… my granddaughter will be so happy. Thank you.”
“Think nothing of it,” Benedict said with a wink, returning to his sport with a cookie in hand.
On the other side of the towering marble fireplace, Isla was still seated with Eilidh and Aunt Honoria on the other sofa. All three sipped hot tea, utterly charmed by the spectacle in front of them.
“You cannot find entertainment this lively, even at the theatre!” Aunt Honoria said with a chuckle. “I am most taken with your stepson.”
“As am I, Aunt Honoria,” Isla said with a wide grin.
Eilidh leaned forward, watching her brother-in-law chase her nephew. “I still cannae quite believe it. He looks like a different man altogether, Isla. He’s light now. The shadow is gone.”
Aunt Honoria was as stately as ever in rich plum silk, dressed elegantly even for the casual event. “He is indeed. He was a good, honorable man hiding beneath a mountain. You gave him permission to be happy, my dear. That is no small contribution. You are a marvel, and daresay… your parents would be very proud of you, dear.”
Isla stirred her tea, her gaze soft as it followed Benedict’s movements. “I am just happy that they are happy. Oliver has his faither, and Benedict has his son, unrestrained by the ghosts of the past.” She smiled, her happiness radiating.
Eilidh took a sip of her own tea. “Speaking of ghosts, I suppose the arrest is finally done? Is that menace truly gone for good?”
“Forever,” Isla confirmed, placing her cup back in its saucer with a click. “Lamfort is in Bedlam. They deemed him entirely unfit to stand trial. The poor soul lives completely in his own delusion now.”
“How terribly sad,” Eilidh said with a shiver.
“Benedict arranged for him to have the highest level of care and security,” Isla whispered, not wanting to disturb the merriment around her. “For the safety of everyone, including himself. He will never trouble us, or anyone else, again. I hope he receives the support he needs…”
“A tidy, if tragic, end,” Aunt Honoria remarked. “Now, enough of villains. Look at them, they’ll be winded before we sup!”
A half-hour later, the men were disheveled but satisfied, settling around the grand mahogany table now groaning under the weight of the afternoon Christmas feast they had set together. The atmosphere was joyful, punctuated by the clinking of silver and the easy flow of good wine.
“You are still sweating, Your Grace,” Kenneth teased, gesturing with his wine glass. “A proper Duke should not sweat. Clearly, the boy is proving your age.”
Benedict, wiping his brow with a napkin, smiled good-naturedly. “Wait until you have one of your own. Just wait and see.”
Callum snorted, carving himself a piece of turkey with the servants at their own family feasts. “I’m years away from that kind of domestic destruction. And both of you are old men. I can outrun you both and still have room for two more slices of honeyed ham.”
Oliver, having finished his own plate, ran around the table and nestled against Isla’s side. “Mama, Callum said Papa is old! Is that true?”
Isla chuckled, kissing the top of his head. She looked across the table at her husband, her eyes full of love and mischievous challenge. “He has a point,mo chridhe. Perhaps you should take a seat. I fear you’ll strain your back and become too tired...”
For nocturnal activities, she thought as she winked at her husband across the table.
Benedict’s gaze met hers then, a searing heat passing between them. He raised his glass to her, a deep promise in his eyes.
“I assure you, Your Grace, that my fortitude remains unyielding… let us all raise a glass, to good health and good cheer!”
“Here, here,” Kenneth said as he drained the last of his wine. “Can we have old Flark bring up another bottle from the cellar?”
“I am already prepared, my lord,” Benedict said, as if on cue. He poured a fresh round of wine for all, the consummate host. “A merry Christmas indeed.”
After the sweet course, a delicate lemon and almond pudding, had been brought in by Isla herself, the room fell quiet. The act was a small breach of decorum, yet one the Duke observed with an appreciative nod.
“The chef has outdone himself once more,” Kenneth said as he ate so quickly.
“It is not your last meal,” Benedict said with a laugh. “Although this is a most delightful dessert, although no gateau.”
After they finished, the table had been cleared by Isla. The family then adjourned to the drawing room for the final, more intimate exchange of gifts between the adults.
It was a simple, joyful affair, filled with thoughtful presents that bypassed expensive glitter for personal meaning.
