He wished it was possible simply to love her. Simply to trust her.
Chapter 12
The Marquess of Denbigh dismissed his valet and glanced once more at his image in the full-length pier glass in his dressing room. Yes, he decided, he looked quite presentable enough to greet his neighbors and to host his Christmas ball. He felt as if he should look somewhat like a scarecrow.
His guests had found various amusements during the afternoon. His aunts had slept and gossiped with Lady Tushing-ham in one of the salons, Nora and Clement had gone out walking, taking three of the girls with them, Rockford had gone skating with some of the boys, Sir William had retired to the billiard room with Spence and a few more of the boys, Mrs. Harrison had taken several other children out to a distant hill to sled, Judith and Miss Easton had played games in the nursery with several of the younger children.
Everyone had seemed accounted for until, passing through the hall to join the billiard players, he had received a message from one of the grooms that some of the dogs who were not allowed in the house had been set loose and were causing something of a commotion in the stableyard. There he had discovered four guilty urchins who had been trying to make a dog sled until all six of the dogs had burst from their harness, flatly refusing to cooperate, and scattered to the four corners of the earth.
The marquess grinned at the memory. And sobered again at the memory of Ben, who had cowered and thrown both arms defensively over his head when he had seen the marquess approaching. It was hard to persuade the children to shake off old habits and expectations. He had once held Ben in his arms, soot and all, and promised him that never again would be he flogged for any wrongdoing, real or imagined.
He had taken all four boys out of the stableyard while his grooms gathered up stray dogs, and engaged them all in a wrestling match in the snow. Ben had soon been giggling helplessly.
They had eaten their Christmas dinner early and stuffed themselves with goose and all the good foods that went along with it. And they had all declared that they had not left even one spare corner for the pudding but had eaten it anyway.
The children's party had come next, a riot of games in the ballroom, which all his guests had attended though there was dinner to recover from and a ball to get ready for. He grinned afresh at memories of Aunt Frieda blindfolded in a game of blindman's buff and quite unable to catch anyone while the children had shrieked with laughter about her.
Rockford had caught Aunt Edith beneath a sprig of mistletoe and pleased her enormously by giving her a smacking kiss. Spence had kissed Miss Easton a little less smackingly and a little more lingeringly later beneath the same sprig. Lord Denbigh wondered if a romance was blossoming in that direction.
Judith had joined in one of the relay races and had raced the length of the ballroom and back, her skirt held above very trim ankles, her face glowing with the fun of it. His heart had somersaulted.
And now it was almost time for the outside guests to arrive, earlier than usual so that they could watch the children's pageant before the ball began and the children were herded off to bed.
It was no wonder he was feeling like a scarecrow, the marquess thought, turning to leave the room so that he could be sure of being downstairs before the first arrival.
No one had played a single hand of cards all day. And except for the wine at dinner, she had not noticed anyone drinking any alcohol. What a difference from Christmas at Ammanlea, Judith thought, taking a chair in the marquess's ballroom, nodding to neighbors she had noticed at church the night before, and waiting for the pageant to begin.
This Christmas had been wonderful. If there were not one more moment of it to come, it would be the best Christmas
she had ever known. But there was more to come. There was the pageant that the children had worked so hard to prepare and Rupert's excitement at being a shepherd.
"I am the one who cannot wake up, Mama," he had explained to her in some excitement. "I miss what the angel says and have to be told by Stephen and dragged off to Bethlehem. I have to yawn the whole time until I see the baby."
Judith smiled at the memory of Rupert practicing his yawns.
“It is hard to yawn, Mama,'' he had said, "when you are not tired."
"I am sure you will do quite splendidly when the time comes," she had assured him.
Kate climbed onto her lap and stared expectantly at the empty stage area.
And there was the ball to come. The dancing. She had always loved dancing. And he had asked her to save the opening set and at least one waltz for him.
There was a growing glow of excitement in her. There had been little time all day to exchange more than the occasional glance and word with him. But his looks had been warm, full of an awareness of what had happened between them the evening before. During the ball they would touch again and talk again. Perhaps he would find the chance to take her aside and declare his feelings.
He loved her. She knew he did. She could see it in his eyes whenever she looked into them. He loved her as she loved him.
She wanted him to kiss her again as he had kissed her the night before. She wanted him to hold her. She wanted to hold him. She wanted more than those kisses. She wanted everything. Her cheeks grew warm at the thought.
"There is Aunt Amy," Kate said, pointing across the ballroom to where Amy was taking her place at the pianoforte.
Conversation about them was dying away as attention turned expectantly to the empty half of the ballroom. Judith smiled and rubbed a cheek against Kate's curls and caught the marquess's eye across the room.
Amy sat down on the bench behind the pianoforte and looked about the ballroom at all the splendidly dressed ladies and gentlemen who had come for his lordship's ball. And she made sure that her music was in proper order on the music rest. She set her hands in her lap and waited for Mary and Joseph to trudge through the ballroom doors on their weary way to Bethlehem.
She had always loved Christmas because of church and the caroling and the decorating and because it always brought her nieces and nephews to a house that was usually quiet and lonely. And she had always liked to have her brothers and their wives close to her again, reminding her that she was part of a family. But she had never experienced a Christmas as wonderful as this one.
There was Lord Denbigh and the courteous, kindly manner in which he tried to see to it that all his guests were comfortable and entertained. And his interest in Judith, which would surely blossom into a splendid match for her sister-in-law, who deserved more happiness than she could have known with Andrew. And there were the other guests, all amiable, even the unfortunately tedious Mr. Rockford, and willing to accept her as an equal.
And there were the children. All the wonderful children with their exuberance and mischief, their fun and their wrangling, their sad and funny stories from their past, and their capacity to bring joy into any adult's heart.
And the snow and the food and the decorating and skating and snowball fights and… oh, and everything.
And Spencer. Amy could feel her heart thumping faster. She had never had a gentleman friend. Never anyone to call her by name and to talk with her and laugh with her and throw snowballs at her and set a careless arm about her shoulders. No one had ever kissed her beneath the mistletoe except her brothers.
Spencer had kissed her twice under the mistletoe and once without. He had kissed her outside the ballroom doors a few minutes before. The children had been ready in their dressing room, though a few of them had still been dashing about in