“It’s your first Waverly Christmas,” Violet chided playfully, “and you’ve handed the children explosives.”
“You’ll fit right in,” Aunt Margaret said with a grin, sending up a raucous cheer followed by several pops as the remaining crackers were pulled apart.
Lily grabbed the end of Philip’s cracker and raised a brow. “Do you remember how to do this?”
He nodded. “But I could use your help.”
Despite knowing what was coming, he still startled with the pop, and his wife released a sparkling laugh, like champagne bubbles spilling over the rim of a glass. She unfolded the tissue paper and lifted it, balancing the fragile crown on his head. It immediately slipped over one eye, and she snorted.
He loved how she snorted when she laughed.
“It suits you,” she teased, and he tapped his fingertip on the end of her nose.
He was ready to tease her in return when Salisbury caught his eye from across the table, the butler giving him a significant lookbefore his mouth curled into an uncharacteristic smirk. Philip’s lungs tightened, anticipation twisting in his gut.
He cleared his throat and tapped his knife against his empty wineglass. The family quieted with the soft chime. “Is it time to open presents?” he asked.
“Yes!” Matthew’s affirmative shriek sent Cricket into a barking tizzy—he’d been hiding under the sideboard while the crackers were being deployed—and the boys darted from their seats to dart into the parlor.
Philip was out of his seat nearly as quickly, but he caught Lily’s arm and held her back.
Her brows gathered. “What’s wrong?”
“You gave me three days. That time is almost gone, and… I don’t know if I’ve earned your forgiveness.”
Her lips parted, but her response was lost as a chorus of gasps and cries sounded from the parlor. The apprehension on her face evaporated, and she grabbed his hand, tugging him towards the commotion. Even though he knew what awaited them, he wanted to make the discovery with her, his breath coming in short bursts as gratitude overwhelmed him.
She trusted him enough to want him nearby, to have his company as they rounded the corner and took in the sight that had brought her family to stunned silence.
He hadn’t entirely known what to expect; he’d asked a contact in London had been to turn Lady Redbourne’s parlor into a Christmas garden, one to rival the gardens she cultivated outside the house. But her gardens were more than simply pretty; theyrepresented the love of her daughters, and judging by the reaction of the Waverly family, his request had been not only fulfilled, but exceeded.
Lily’s grip on his hand tightened. “Good heavens,” she breathed. Brilliant scarlet and pink variegated poinsettias covered the marble mantel above the blazing fireplace. Delicate hellebores and roses spilled from copper pots studded with ferns and greenery. Boxwood garlands woven with orange marigolds and purple violets draped over the door and window frames.
“A garden,” the viscountess gushed. “It’s a Christmas garden.” She spun to face her dumbstruck husband. “Did you do this?”
He shook his head. “I’d like to claim credit, but this was here when I arrived.”
“Then who’s responsible?”
Philip attempted to back away, but Lily caught the movement and swung her attention to him, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Did you do this?”
There was no accusation in her tone, but his heart thundered as he considered his reply and chose honesty. “I did,” he murmured.
“Why?”
He glanced over her shoulder to where his mother-in-law flitted like a butterfly between the blossoms, stroking their petals and grinning.
“To make her happy.” He lowered his voice further. “To make you happy.”
He was so lost in the wonder in his wife’s eyes that he missed Callum’s approach until the Scot chuckled. “I suspected this wasyer doing. First the horses and the debt, now this. Leave something for the rest of us, aye?”
Philip’s insides turned to stone and dropped, taking whatever happiness he held along in their descent.
Lily went stiff, her jaw flexing before she spoke. “What do you mean, the horses and the debt?” Before Callum could respond, she spun to Philip, her eyes glinting like shards of broken glass. “What is he talking about?”
“James told me,” Callum stammered. “I didnae realize she—”
“Excuse me, Callum,” she snapped. “But I need to speak to my husband.”
