“Nonsense,” Thomas decided. “It’s time you had one now. You can manage that now as a duchess, can’t you, sister?”
She couldn’t read Sebastian’s expression and wondered at the chaos that a cat could cause here. “I… I don’t know. I’m not sure what to do with a cat now.”
“Well, you’re holding her like a natural.”
Isabel giggled as the cat played at the ties of her dressing gown, swiping its paws about. She fixed her hold to confirm it was indeed a girl. A sweet little kitten named Pearl. Now that she was holding her, Isabel didn’t think she could ever put the pet down.
“I suppose I can keep her,” she sighed at last. “Thank you, Thomas. How thoughtful. Do come in, then. Wesley can take your cloak. I’m sure you’re hungry. Would you like some tea?”
“Oh, yes, please! Darjeeling if you have it, but only the one with the darkest powder. I’m famished. You don’t have any pheasant or lamb, do you?” He asked hopefully while removing his hat and cloak. “Oh, hold on, Wesley, old chap. I have one more thing for my sister.”
She had started to move back toward the drawing room but stopped. “Thomas, you shouldn’t have.”
“But I had to,” he beamed. And that smile took her back years to when they were children. He hadn’t always ignored her, after all. There had been days when they scampered about like the best of friends. Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a folded pack of papers that he brought out to show her.
“Clementi… Goodness, I thought we had lost that!” Isabel drew forward to confirm it was one of the music sheets she had been missing for the last ten or so years. “It’s Mother’s favorite.”
“And one of yours. You’ll have to play for us, won’t you? I suppose the duke hasn’t even heard you play.”
Sebastian stood at a distance, close yet far. “I have.”
Isabel clung to her new kitten while trying to usher the men into the room. “Do take your seats. We’ll sit for a spell and then go to the music room afterward.”
“I can’t.” Her husband stiffened where he stood in the hall. “I’m on my way into the village to deliver gifts to the people there.”
“Oh. Oh, I didn’t know you were doing that. I should go with you, I should think,” she added. Had he told her would do this? But Sebastian never spent Christmas here at Eastwynd. Pulling her thoughts together, Isabel wasn’t sure she should take the cat outside. “I just need to get ready.”
“No need,” Sebastian reassured her with a slight shake of his head. “You can have time with your brother and your new cat. I shouldn’t be gone long. Perhaps I can hear you play then?”
She beamed, accepting what felt like a compromise. It didn’t seem like he was comfortable around Thomas. Which Isabel understood. She wasn’t sure how she felt either yet. And hadn’t Sebastian said he once had an older brother? She needed to learn more about that. But then the cat tried escaping her hands and Isabel was distracted, trying to keep Pearl from hurting herself.
By the time she straightened up, Sebastian was gone.
Thomas was standing at the fire with a proud smile on his face. “What a fine Christmas this is, Isabel! How lucky I am to have you in my life again. I cannot ever imagine being apart from you so long. What shall we do this fine Christmas day?”
Her eyes drifted to the open doorway, empty since her husband had taken his leave. She wished he would stay. Sebastian was always such a grounding presence. With Thomas, she still wasn’t sure what to think or do or stay.
I’ll be reasonable and polite. But I won’t raise my expectations or my hopes. Besides, it is Christmas. What else am I supposed to do but spend time with my family? I can only pray that this will all go merrily.
CHAPTER 22
Sebastian handed off the last basket at the home of Widow Mary Mite just as the sun descended over the next hill. He had best be on his way as his horse didn’t like riding in the dark and he’d been gone longer than expected, but a duke couldn’t very well ignore his people.
“Oh, what a good lord you are,” Widow Mary’s voice warbled as she clasped her hands together in the doorway. “Your Grace, you are too kind.”
“And you are too free with your words, Mrs. Mite,” he said with a smile, hoping the strain didn’t give him away. “I’m only doing what any decent landowner should do for his tenants. It’s Christmas, isn’t it?”
Nodding, she wobbled backward to let him in through the door. He had to duck his head and, as always, it gave her a good chuckle. “It is, it is. But my niece tells me her landlord in London makes her pay more during the winter. He never brings her a basket.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Find her address and I’ll send her one myself,” he decided. “How is Elizabeth and Daniel?”
Widow Mary Mite was a thin, sallow-faced woman missing half her teeth. But she still had a fine eye for good leather stitches and she stubbornly refused to reside anywhere else but this little cottage where she had been born many years ago.
“You remembered!” She beamed while he offered her a chair. “Oh, they would be glad of that. I tell them they should return here to live with me.”
Family is family, after all. If I can live in a single room with two dozen other orphans, I’m sure three adults can manage in a cottage such as this. It’s cozy. It’s lived a caring life with every human inside. No matter the cracks in the walls, there is a warmth that Eastwynd could never truly contain.
Remaining standing, Sebastian thought to unload a few items from the basket before he might take his leave. “Perhaps you should. But I’m sure Daniel’s learning important woodwork still in London. Find their address and do let me know. I’ve added extra jams for you, Mrs. Mary. I know you like the lemon.”
