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Thinking the idea was now firm in his mind, Robbie replied, “I have only recently decided.”

“I see you watching William’s sister,” observed Muriel. “Is she in your sights?”

“If she were to show an interest, she certainly would be. However, at least for the moment, Nash seems to be occupying the field.”

Robbie watched the nine skaters gliding around the ice: Nick and Tara, now that she was restored to her husband, Mary and Hugh, as athletic on the ice as on horseback, William and Emily, absorbed in each other, and Nash and Ailie. All skated as couples. Martin, skating alone, was taking on some fancy jumps.

“Martin has an aptitude for the ice,” he said. “I must have forgotten. Do you also like to skate, Kit?”

“Not so much as Martin.” Her pencil moved in quick jerks over the sketchbook.

Robbie leaned over to look at her drawing. In the middle of the large pad, Kit had sketched the pond and the skaters, not so you could discern their features, but the figures were clearly drawn so that he could make out who they were. At the four corners of the drawing, she had added smaller individual pictures: the countess on the bench, Martin in a leap, the two setters running and Robbie taking a fall.

“Did you have to include my disastrous fall from grace?”

Kit chuckled. “I thought to round out our afternoon of skating. Things do not always go well and you so rarely fall, Robbie. Besides, I would have my sketches reflect real life.”

“That is to your credit, my dear,” said the countess.

William skated over to them, Emily in tow. “Are you finished?” he asked. “I think the group is ready for some hot wassail.”

“Wassail sounds delightful,” said Kit. “I can add what details remain when I am back in my chamber.”

“Bless you, dear man,” said Muriel. “A hot cup of wassail is just the ticket.”

Robbie smiled to himself. Or, perhaps a warm brandy and a few moments with the Mistress of the Setters. Surely, “circumspect” did not mean he could not enjoy her company.

“Allow me,” offered Nash, taking two cups of wassail from the footman’s tray and passing one to Ailie. “This will warm you up.” They had returned with the others from the pond just as the sun had dropped behind the hills. Still feeling the chill off the ice, they had gathered in the parlor, clustered around the fire to get warm.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” Ailie inquired, taking a sip of the hot spiced cider that smelled of cinnamon and oranges.

Unable to hide the joy of being with her, he grinned. “Tremendously, but for the most part, that was due to the company.” They had talked of their childhoods and laughed over their foibles. She had not mentioned George Kinloch so Nash hoped she did not hold against him his views. They had enjoyed themselves so much they were the last to leave the ice.

Ailie’s sherry-colored eyes glistened as she looked at him over the rim of her cup. “You are a very good skater, you know.”

“One of my few talents.”

“I suspect you have many, Nash Powell. Were you athletic as a child? I neglected to ask.”

“Robbie and I played cricket at Eton but, after that, Father insisted we learn the family business and sail with him. Not that we hadn’t been on ships as small boys but, from that time on, the lessons were of a more serious nature. My athletics were mostly climbing the rigging and swabbing decks. Eventually, as we gained experience and Father trusted us, we learned to sail as shipmasters.”

“Were you happy for the change?”

“Oh yes. Being with our father is always an amazing adventure. Captain Simon Powell,” he said, “the very name is like magic to the men of Powell and Sons. You would have to see him on the deck of his ship firing orders in a storm to understand. Only Nick has achieved our father’s skill as a shipmaster.”

“Ships have been in my blood since I was a wee lass, though I have not sailed far.”

“With my father, I have sailed to the West Indies, America, France and much farther.” Nash remembered how William had described his sister. Regarding her with admiration, he said, “Your brother described for Robbie and me your determination to become a designer of ships.”

A pretty blush pinked her cheeks. “Aye, I made a right keen nuisance of myself in Father’s shops in Aberdeen.”

“I admire you, Ailie. One day you will be known for the Ossian’s unique design, I’ve no doubt.” What he didn’t say was that he planned to be with her when that day arrived.

Behind him, Emily drew everyone’s attention. “Our cook tells me dinner will be in a half-hour’s time, so plan accordingly!”

The footman collected their cups and Nash escorted Ailie to the top of the stairs where he told her he would see her at dinner. She turned one way and he the other.

Dinner was a jolly affair as they recounted the day’s adventures on the frozen pond. The meal, after the usual soup and fish, consisted of a braised leg of mutton. When he inquired of Ailie about the bacon he would have expected to taste along with the sheep’s meat, she told him, “Martha would never use bacon.”