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“Now,thatI can believe,” Alice said, a gleam in her eye.
A clock in the distance struck seven times, and almost on cue, Miss Whitworth appeared. She bobbed a curtsey.
“Begging your pardon, Mr. Ross, sir,” she said, “but it’s the children’s bedtime.”
A chorus of complaints rose up, led by Amelia and Georgia.
“You heard Miss Whitworth,” Ross said. “Go on, the sooner you go to bed, the sooner Christmas will arrive.”
“But Papa!” Amelia cried. “I have to find somewhere to put all these stars which Georgia’s father made for me.”
“How about you decorate yours and Georgia’s rooms with them, Miss Amelia?” Miss Whitworth suggested. “You could put them in the windows. And I’m sure Master Harry would like one too. What say you, young sir? Would you like your very own star?”
“Ooooh—yes!” the toddler cried.
“And we mustn’t leave out Eleanor,” Amelia said. “Or Henrietta.”
“Of course not,” the nursemaid said. “You’re such a thoughtful child!” She held out her hands. “Come on then,” she said. “If you all come now. You’ll have enough time to decorate your rooms before it’s time to go to sleep.”
Georgia took her sister’s hand. “Come on, Ellie!”
Amelia approached the Westburys, taking Harry with her, and held out her hand to their daughter. Henrietta, suddenly shy, buried her face in her mother’s arms.
“Shall I take Henrietta, Your Grace?” Amelia asked.
“Thank you, dear,” the duchess replied. “I fear my daughter’s a little melancholy. She misses her brothers, you see. She’s not yet old enough to understand that young men often prefer the company of their friends, rather than their sisters. Even at Christmas.”
“Would you like a star for your room, Henrietta?” Amelia asked. The shy toddler nodded and took Amelia’s hand, and all the children trooped out after Miss Whitworth.
Westbury rose to his feet and helped his wife and sister-in-law up. “I must say, Trelawney, that was well done on the part of your Amelia,” he said. “Henrietta dotes on her brothers and has not taken well to their absence. She’s been clinging to Jeanette’s skirts from the moment Edward and Stephen left for London.”
“Where are they staying?” Ross asked.
“With Edward’s old schoolfriend from Harrow,” Westbury said. “Edward’s been invited to his first ball, and nothing I said could persuade him to come to Cornwall with us instead.”
“Which reminds me,” Stiles said, glancing at the clock on the mantelshelf. “Should we not be getting ready ourselves? We’re due at Lord Carlaggan’s at eight.”
“Yes, of course,” Ross said, smiling at the prospect of an evening’s dancing. “Alice, my dear?” He held his hand out to his wife, but she shook her head.
“I’m sorry, Ross, but I don’t think I can go,” she said.
Countess Stiles set her sketchbook aside. “But Alice,” she said, “you spoke of nothing but the Carlaggan’s ball when you invited us. Surely you wouldn’t want to miss it?”
“Forgive me,” Alice said, “but I’m very tired.”
“If I recall,” Ross said, “Lady Carlaggan promised to set aside a room for you, so that you might rest and enjoy the evening in relative peace. You will be well cared for.”
“I know,” she replied, “but I think I’ve overexerted myself today. I’m afraid I wouldn’t be very good company tonight.”
She smiled up at Ross and he caught a glimpse of fatigue in her eyes. Though he’d been looking forward to the ball, his wife’s wellbeing meant far more to him. He took her hand, and lifted it to his lips.
“Then I shall remain here with you,” he said. “Lady Carlaggan will understand.”
“Oh no!” she cried. “I wouldn’t entertain it, Ross. I know how fond you are of dancing, and…” she glanced at her body, “…you’ve been denied the pleasure for too long, given your wife’s ungainly shape.”
“Alice, you’re not…”
She grinned at him, mischief in her eyes. “I’ll not take no for an answer,” she said. “You can partner Miss Claybone for the evening.”
