He desired her. He wanted her. And since it did not at all contradict his purpose to do so, he would do nothing to quell the feeling.
"I believe that the mistake many people make," he said, "is looking at the whole vast problem of poverty and social inequality and feeling helpless and guilty. For there is nothing the average man or woman can do to solve a universal social problem. But all of us can do something on a very small scale. There are thousands of children in England suffering untold hardships at this very moment. But twenty children who would have swelled those numbers by only an infinitesimal amount are well fed and well loved, have their futures secured, and are at the moment having a boisterous good time."
The unfortunate Toby was having his face rubbed in the snow again by four screeching girls.
"That lad," the marquess said, "is going to have to learn something about diplomacy. Or something about running fast."
"Why did you do it?" she asked, looking up at him, frowning. "Just because your friend needed the financial backing?"
"Partly, I suppose," he said. "And partly because I was a lonely child."
"Were you?" Her frown had deepened.
"An only child," he said. "It was a terrible fate. Perhaps it was not my parents' fault since my mother died when I was an infant. But I have always vowed that when I married I would have either no children at all or half a dozen."
Her flush was noticeable even against the rosiness that the cold was whipping into her cheeks. Those children might have been yours too, he told her very deliberately with his eyes. Ours.
"It would be dreadful to have no children," she said. "Mine have been the light of my life for several years."
"Even before your husband died?" he asked her quietly.
Her eyes wavered from his and fell for a moment to his lips.
"Was it all worth it, Judith?" he asked her. "Were you happy?"
She looked ahead of her again. He heard her swallow. “It was my choice," she said at last. "I chose my course and I remained committed to it."
"Yes," he said, "I believe you did. It is a pity sometimes, is it not, that it takes two to make a good marriage."
Her arm had stiffened on his. Perhaps he had gone too far, he thought. Perhaps he was moving too fast. Perhaps he should not have started calling her by her given name, though she had made no open objection to his doing so. Perhaps he should not have started yet caressing her with his eyes. And perhaps he should not have made any reference to the past or to her marriage, which was, after all, none of his business.
However, he was saved from the present situation when a soft, wet snowball collided with the back of his hat, tipping it forward over his brow, and he turned sharply to detect the culprit. One moment later he was darting after seven-year-old Benjamin, whose flesh had been so deeply ingrained with soot two years before when he had dropped down the wrong chimney in the marquess's town house to land in the study hearth when his lordship was occupying the room that it had been impossible to know even what color his hair was.
"Attack an enemy from behind, would you, Ben?" Lord Denbigh roared, grabbing the child about the middle. "There is only one fitting punishment for that: to be strung up by the heels and forced to contemplate the world upside down."
He dangled the shrieking and giggling child by the ankles while all the other children cheered and jeered and advised his lordship to drop Ben head first into the nearest snow drift.
Ben was hoisted onto the marquess's shoulders for the remaining distance to the trees. Judith had joined Mrs. Harrison.
Mr. Rockford volunteered to take the largest sled and the three largest boys to find and load a suitable Yule log. Kate, who was still on Daniel's shoulder, and Rupert went with them. Mrs. Harrison took some of the girls to find mistletoe. Mr. Cornwell took several boys and a few of the girls to gather holly. He needed people who would not squeal too loudly at pricking their fingers once or twice, he said.
"That excludes you, Val," he said cheerfully and winked at the girl.
"Violet, Lily, and I will come too," Amy said. "Holly has always been my very favorite decoration. There could not possibly by a Christmas without holly."
"Pine boughs for the rest of us, men," the marquess said. "Toby and Ben, haul a sled apiece, if you please. Mrs. Easton, if you would care to stay here, we should not be long. The snow is very deep among the trees."
"And miss the fun?" she said, smiling at him. "Never."
And they waded off through the deeper snow toward a grove of pine trees. Half an hour later their sleds were laden and their arms too, and they were at leisure to look about them for signs of the other groups.
Judith gasped suddenly. "Fire!" she cried. "Someming is on fire. Rupert! Kate!" There was panic in her voice. She started forward.
The marquess laid a firm hand on her arm and chuckled. "A cozy fire inside a gamekeeper's cottage," he said. "The children all know about it and visit it as often as they may. It is Rockford's group at a guess. I don't believe either Mrs. Harrison or Cornwell would allow the children to indulge themselves when there is work to be done. But one group is enjoying some warmth and some indolence."
Two young boys in their group whooped with delight and made off through the deep snow in the direction of the line of smoke.
"Kate and Rupert among them," she said, relaxing beneath his grip. "They are with Mr. Rockford's group."
"They will all be punished," he said. "They will miss the fight and be as furious as a pack of devils."
"Fight?" Judith asked.
"Snowball fight," he said. "We cannot expect all work and no play from such a large number of children, now can
we? A good fight is what everyone needs as a reward before we start back to the house."
"Oh, dear," she said.
But everyone else, emerging from the trees at about the same time, greeted the idea with wild enthusiasm.
"Men and girls against ladies and boys," the marquess announced. "Five minutes to prepare and then battle in earnest."
He grinned as the two teams lined up a suitable distance apart and began feverish preparations. The boys on the other side were building impressive ramparts and snow banks, which would be largely useless as they would all be unable to resist coming out in front of them to fight when the action started anyway. His girls were busy making a reserve supply of snowballs.
The missing party, newly warmed from their rest at the gamekeeper's cottage, arrived before the five minutes were at an end and joined in the preparations with enthusiasm.
"Time up!" the marquess yelled when the five minutes were over, and the air rained snowballs. There were squeals and yells and bellows and giggles, and sure enough, his girls had the early advantage as the boys abandoned their fortifications and were forced to make their weapons while defending themselves against continuous attack.
Miss Easton, he saw, flanked by two of the larger boys, who were certainly as large as she, was engaged in a duel with Spence. Mrs. Harrison was defending herself against attack from a group of her girls. Rockford, laughing and clearly enjoying himself, was allowing a group of little boys, including Rupert, to score unanswered hits on his person.
And then a large snowball shattered directly against the marquess's face.
"Oh, no," Judith Easton yelled as his eyes locked on her. She was laughing helplessly. "I have lamentably poor aim. I was throwing at that little boy who just hit me." She pointed at Trevor.