Page 96 of The Secret Holiday Kiss

‘I haven’t even seen your binding room,’ she pointed out.

‘Sophie loves you – and May. Imogen’s great, too.’

‘I like them all,’ she said, then shook her head. ‘I love Sophie. And you need someone to help with Felix.’

‘I need an army to help with Felix.’

‘So we’ll open this place together, bring the bookshop back to Mistingham.’

They were grinning at each other. ‘The Book Ends,’ Harry said, and she saw his Adam’s apple bob, his eyes crinkle at the edges as if he was trying to hold back his true emotions.

‘It does,’ Daisy agreed. ‘It always does. But then you start a new one.’

Chapter Thirty-one

When she and Harry got back to the manor, agreeing not to mention anything right away – other than to Sophie – because they needed to focus on the ball, the hall was a hive of activity. Dexter was bringing in boxes of mince pies, Scotch eggs and mini cranberry pork pies, with Imogen and Lucy helping (Lucy only slightly distracted by the dogs) and Sophie, who had beat them back home, was directing them along with May.

‘I’m so sorry.’ Daisy hurried to take off her coat. ‘We were longer than we thought.’

‘Don’t worry about that,’ Sophie said, ‘it’s all in hand.’

‘I can carry things!’

‘Of course you can,’ May said, ‘but you don’t need to.’

‘What can I do, then? Crockery?’

‘On the tables in the ballroom,’ Sophie said.

‘Dance cards?’

‘In Harry’s study in a box, ready to be handed out when people arrive.’

‘Music?’

‘Speakers are set up in the corners,’ Harry said, ‘for when we’re DJing, and the quartet for the early part of the evening are getting here to set up at six.’

‘In the window?’ Daisy needed to fill that space, because she was still annoyed that she hadn’t come up with something better.

‘Sure,’ Harry said, distractedly taking a tower of boxes from Imogen. ‘Why don’t you go and make drinks?’

‘Wine?’ Daisy suggested. ‘Tea? Coffee?’

There was a chorus of cries for tea and coffee and Lucy asked for lemonade, so Daisy whistled to the dogs so they would follow her and get out from under everyone’s feet, and busied herself in the kitchen, turning the carols on the radio up loud while she prepared a tray. Excitement bubbled low in her stomach, the anticipation of a fun night ahead, the glitz and glamour, the music and dancing and conversation.

A weight had been lifted now she’d told Harry her idea, and he hadn’t laughed in her face, or said that she belonged in London. She didn’t think she did any more, and maybe a couple of months was a short amount of time to change your whole life plans, but she felt more sure about this new path, this new adventure, than she had about anything for a long time.

She added a jug of milk and a bowl of sugar to the tray, and was about to take them to the ballroom when everyone came flooding into the kitchen, chatting and laughing, Lucy eating a mince pie but trying to pretend she wasn’t. Daisy handed out the drinks and got swept up in conversations about dresses and music choices, about what sort of mischief Valerie and Frank would cause, whether Jazz would dance openly with Omari, and who would fill up their dance cards the quickest.

‘Is Felix coming?’ Lucy asked, and Harry and Sophie exchanged a look.

‘I’m not sure a grand Christmas ball is the best place for him,’ Imogen said carefully.

‘Artichoke can’t come because you’d have to spend the whole evening looking after her,’ Dexter added, ‘and we want to be able to enjoy ourselves and not worry about where she’s got to or if she needs a wee. That’s the same for Harry and Sophie with Felix.’

‘With the added worry that Felix will nibble his way through everyone’s fancy frocks and we’ll have to pay for the damages,’ Harry added wryly. ‘But, if you want, Lucy, you can have a special visit with him before the dancing?’

‘I would love that,’ Lucy said. ‘Thank you Harry. You’re the best man in all of Mistingham.’