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He dressed in a cranberry waistcoat with matching tails and manilla brown trousers. By the time he reached the drawing room, he found Tia, Etta, and MacIntyre in an excited conversation.
“What happened?” he asked, worried they were planning to leave.
“Tia had the strangestdreamlast night.” Etta gave her sister a doubtful look. “She said ‘the countess’ visited her.”
Gus paused. “What did she look like?”
Tia described his grandmother, down to the cameo she always wore pinned to her breast. “It sounds like we both dreamt of Grandmama.”
“She promised my Christmas wish would be granted. And when I woke this morning, I could hear birdsong in my head, and Etta’s voice was as clear to me as if she’d spoken in my ear.” Tia’s clear blue eyes glittered with unshed tears. “I was so afraid I would forget.”
“I dinna doubt what the lass hears, only that a ghost was in her room last night.” MacIntyre shook his head. “Are ye sure it was no’ all here?” He pointed to his temple.
“It doesn’t matter. I remember,” Tia said, hugging herself. “It’s the best Christmas Day of my life.”
Later that day, over a cup of wassail, Gus gave Tia the book Etta had found in the library. She squealed, then curled up in a chair in front of the fire to flip through the pages. Mrs. Willoughby and MacIntyre sat together, deciding which parlor games to play after dinner. Gus noted the pleased smile she bestowed on the Scot and his tender tone as they spoke.
“It seems you’ve made my sister and our butler very happy this Christmastide,” said Etta. She sat down next to him on the chaise longue. “I only wish I had something to give you in return.”
He took her hand. “There is. Stay here.”
“I beg your pardon?” Those brandy eyes held his, searching for an explanation.
“It’s only been three days, and I don’t understand it myself, but I can’t bear the thought of you leaving.” He raised her fingers to his lips. “Tia was right. The heart is never silent, and mine declares that I’ve fallen in love with you.”
He’d said it. The spontaneous boy of his youth had reappeared, and now his fate was to be decided by this exquisite woman.
A tear fell down her cheek. Good God, he’d made her cry. Gus brushed it away with a finger. “I’m sorry, Etta. I’m afraid I’ve overwhelmed you.”
She shook her head, an umber lock falling from her chignon. “I feel the same, as if everything that has happened has led me to you.”
Blast! How could he kiss her with the stupid smile back on his face?
“Miss Henrietta Comden, will you be my wife?” He tucked the stray curl behind her ear.
She nodded, crying in earnest now.
“I warned you she cries all the time,” said Tia with a roll of her eyes. “Even at the happiest of times.”
“I told ye, lass, it would all work out,” spouted MacIntyre. “So, Dr. Wharren, I understand ye’re in need of a butler?”
They laughed as Gus rubbed his neck. But this time he didn’t look for the source of that chilly draft. “Thank you, Grandmama, for this wish,” he whispered, watching the two females hug one another in congratulations. “I love you too.”
