Chapter 1
December 22, 1903
“Hark,theheraldangelssi-ing!”
“Glory to the newborn king,” Lily chorused back, her voice rising alongside those of her family gathered around the piano.
“Unh! Unh!” Thud!
Her mother, Lady Redbourne, leaned harder onto the keys, the next line emerging as a bellow. The fire crackled merrily behind them, casting a dancing light over the mahogany instrument and chasing away the winter cold. Lily inhaled the sharp pine scent of the garlands she’d strung over every flat surface in the room and forced a smile to her lips, hoping her mother wouldn’t realize what was taking place upstairs.
Marigold, Lily’s younger sister, leaned in, whispering while the rest of the family continued caroling. “Should we t-tell them we can hear them?”
Archie, Marigold’s former divorce barrister, put a protective hand on Marigold’s lower back and chuckled. “I don’t want to be the one to interrupt them.” He cast a pointed look at Lily’s sister Rose, and she lifted her hands in a defensive gesture.
“Absolutely not.” She nudged her husband, Ben, and he shook his head.
“They’ll be finished soon,” Lily hissed. “God willing.”
“Girls!” The sisters’ attention snapped to their mother. “We’re still singing!”
Lily’s father’s face had gone pink, almost puce, from where he stood at their mother’s side. Marigold’s sons, thank heavens, seemed blissfully unaware of what was taking place in the bedroom above and sang as loud as they could, proper pitch be damned.
“Oh God! Callum!”Something heavy above them shifted, and a drawn-out moan pierced the chords Lily’s mother continued to play.
Great-Aunt Margaret chortled from the settee behind them, sipping her sherry as she lounged against the tufted velvet. “He could at least have the decency to thrust in time with the song.”
The puppy jumped to his oversized feet and began barking furiously, circling the piano as if it had been the source of the obscene sounds before pausing to chew on a length of garland hanging from the candelabra casting light on the sheet music.
“Yes! There, there!”
Lady Redbourne slammed her hands down on the keys, and everyone startled at the dissonant clash. Pushing to her feet, she stormed across the room, lips pulled into a scowl. “If I’d knownthey would behave like this, I would have put them up in the stable!” she muttered, the puppy chasing her ankles.
The Viscount Redbourne rubbed his fingers on his temple. “I’m going to have a drink in the library,” he mumbled, and everyone understood this was not an invitation to join him.
Archie winked at Marigold and gathered her sons under his arm, guiding them towards the partially decorated tree on the opposite side of the room. “C’mon, lads. Let’s make some more paper angels, and then we can take Cricket for a walk.” Seizing the opportunity to cause a mess, the boys left without protest, and Lily’s sister watched them go with a fond expression.
“Considering how hard they tried and failed to be discovereden flagranteat that house party,” Aunt Margaret chimed in, “I’m impressed they’ve kept up the cause of being indiscreet in their interludes. Before we know it, Callum will have his head under Violet’s skirts beneath the Christmas tree.”
“Aunt Margaret!” Rose gave their eldest relative—and self-declared incompetent chaperone—a glare that lacked heat before moving to top off her glass of sherry.
Marigold glanced towards where Archie had lifted her youngest son, Matthew, onto his shoulders so he could hang an ornament on a high branch before swinging him to the ground. “I’m happy for them. They’re in love.”
“So are you.” Lily nudged her sister. “Do you think Archie will ask you tonight or tomorrow?”
Marigold’s pale cheeks flushed. She’d escaped her miserable first marriage the previous summer and fallen in love with her barrister,but they’d kept their relationship a secret until the buzz around the scandalous divorce quieted. Archie was as devoted to her as he was to her two sons, and her siblings expected a proposal any day.
“I’m not ready yet,” she said. “I just left a marriage, and I’m in no rush to be attached again.”
Archie’s booming laugh caught their attention as the boys attempted to tackle, then tickle the sturdy rugby player.
“Neither was Ben.” Rose handed each sister a glass of champagne. “But he changed his mind.”
Marigold took a tiny sip, then hummed. “I know. He’s slowly convincing me.”
“And you’re not stopping him.” Lily’s smile ached at the corners, and she longed to let it drop. She’d forced herself to accept being the only uncoupled person at the estate in Boar’s Hill, and the family knew not to ask questions about her husband or acknowledge his absence.
She’d learned to ignore the pain her loneliness dealt in pulled punches, swift, striking blows that wounded only enough to slow her down, but never quite break her.
