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Attie nodded and secured a ribbon to the sprig of fir.
“And he’s so good with his hands!” Delilah continued. “Those wooden toys are a wonder. The children will love them.”
“I’m hoping to persuade him to give them to the children himself at the party,” Attie said.
“Perhaps he can be the Yule King’s little helper,” Delilah suggested.
“I’m sure I can find a costume for him,” Fraser said with a wink. “He can be the holly fairy.”
The deerhound lifted his head and whined.
“That must be Devon now,” Delilah said. “Didn’t I say he’d find his way back?”
“I can hear a carriage,” Fraser said. “Your sister must have arrived.”
“Go and take that ridiculous costume off, Fraser!” Delilah cried. “What will Dorothea think—not to mention Griffin?”
“It’s too late, my wee terrier, they’ll have to take me as they find me.”
The three of them approached the entrance hall just as the main doors opened to reveal Griffin carrying Dorothea in his arms, their teenage daughter standing beside them, and, bringing up the rear, two nursemaids, each carrying a baby.
“What’s going on, Thea?” Delilah cried. “Are you hurt?”
Dorothea shook her head, a mischievous grin on her face, as her husband carried her inside. She looked a completely different person from the woman Attie had first met in London. Gone were the stiff, gray dresses—replaced by a looser, simpler gown in a fresh, summery hue that suited her coloring. She looked ten years younger. Marriage agreed with her, and she was, at last, indulging in the joys of love with a man who adored her.
“Griffin insists he carry me over the threshold of every establishment we spend the night in together,” Dorothea said, “and I cannot refuse him when he does it so beautifully and rewards me so thoroughly.”
Her husband, who filled the doorframe with his huge, muscular body, blushed in the manner of a giddy debutante, the tips of his ears reddening. Delilah cleared her throat, and Fraser let out a roar of laughter. He stepped forward and slapped Griffin on the back.
“Welcome!” he cried. “I see you’ve discovered the merits of being wedded to a Hart sister. Hellions they may be, but that makes for better bedsport.”
Delilah gave her husband a playful slap on the arm, then approached Dorothea, and the two sisters embraced.
Attie hung back, and Griffin approached her and held out his hand.
“Lady Atalanta,” he said. “A pleasure to see you again.”
A clatter of footsteps heralded the return of the children from the kitchen, clutching oatcakes in their hands.
“Aunty Thea!”
“Uncle Griffin!”
Flora and Campbell ran toward Griffin, who gave them a bear-hug, and lifted them into the air while they shrieked with glee. Sebastian, the shyest of the three, approached Dorothea, who drew him into her embrace.
“Darling Sebastian,” she said. “How you’ve grown—you’re quite the young man, now, isn’t he Rowe?”
The young woman standing beside Dorothea nodded, then she approached Attie.
“Aunt Atalanta, I’ve been so looking forward to seeing you again.”
“And I, you, Rowe, dear,” Attie said. “I trust you’ve been keeping up your studies?”
“Oh yes! I have a new medical journal I’ve been wanting to show you. Perhaps we can read it before supper?”
“Aren’t you tired, Rowena?” Griffin asked. “Your mother’s in need of a rest, and I confess, I’m rather tired.”
He exchanged a glance with his wife, and Rowena gave an unladylike snort.
