For some reason a vision of Clive popped in her head. Impatient with herself, she pushed the thought away. Clive was a good friend, but she could never think of him in that way. Only Dan could make her knees weak and her heart beat so fast she could hardly breathe.
She reached him, and he held out his arms. She went straight into them, regardless of who might see her. After all the worrying, the relief was like a warm blanket, wrapping itself around her and shutting out all the cold and darkness.
“How’s my sweetheart?” Dan murmured in her ear.
He always greeted her that way, and she never got tired of hearing it. Tonight, however, she needed more. She pulled back, tilting her chin up so she could see his face. “Am I your sweetheart? Really?”
“Of course you are.” He pulled her close, and would have kissed her, except she turned her face away. “What’s the matter?” He sounded irritated and the warm feeling melted away. “Are you still angry at me?”
“No.” Without the comfort of his arms the cold seemed to seep into her bones. She hunched her shoulders against the wind.
“It’s just that I never really know if you mean it or not.”
“Of course I mean it.”
He tugged at her arm, but she kept the space between them, wary of being swayed by his soft words. Deep down she knew they were at some kind of crossroads, and what was said in the next few minutes could change everything.
Dan let her go, and turned away. He took a few steps away from her, and for a frightening moment she thought he was leaving, but then he halted, and walked back to her.
“Look, Gertie, I’m sorry about what happened in the cottage. I was wrong to pressure you. I know that. If I didn’t care so much about you it never would have happened. It’s because I think so much of you that I got carried away. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
He still hadn’t said he loved her. He couldn’t say it, she told herself, because he didn’t feel it. He never had really loved her. Pride made her lift her chin and look him in the eye.
“I think perhaps I should go home. My twins will be arriving soon and I want to be there when they get home.”
“The train isn’t due for another two hours.” Dan’s face was grave when he looked at her. “Besides, I rather wanted to be there with you when they came home.”
He’d surprised her. She looked down at her feet and drew a circle on the pavement with her shoe. “What for?”
He didn’t answer right away, and when he finally spoke, his voice sounded strange. “Gertie, I was going to do this later, but I think this might be a better time.”
In utter disbelief, she watched him kneel down in front of her. “Gertie McBride, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife? I promise to take care of you and the twins, and try to be the best husband and father I can.”
Her mouth hung open so long her tongue froze. She tried to speak, but only a squeak came out.
Dan tilted his head to one side and peered up at her. “What was that?”
Gertie took a deep breath. “Bloody hell.”
Dan looked anxious. “Is that a yes or no?”
“Yes!” Gertie choked and cleared her throat. “I’d love to marry you.”
“Well, thank goodness that’s settled.” Dan got to his feet, grabbed hold of her, and soundly kissed her.
A burst of applause drew them apart. The lamplighter stood just a few feet away, his pole propped against his shoulder. “Congratulations!” he called out, and pulled off his cap to wave it at them.
Gertie felt as if the entire Esplanade was rocking under her feet. All the lamps along the seafront twinkled in the dusk, bathing their garlands of holly and berries in a warm glow. Gertie drew her hands to her face, still trying to believe what had just happened. Dan had asked her to marry him. Now it was really Christmas.
Cecily stood next to Baxter by the library door, hoping she’d put enough pins in her hair to keep it securely fastened all evening. Having been kept busy all afternoon, she’d barely had time to breathe, much less get herself dressed for the carol singing ceremony.
Inside the room, Phoebe was darting about, giving last-minute instructions to the fidgety schoolgirls who were opening the evening with the first carol. Behind them, the pianist and violinist were quietly arguing about an arrangement, while the other two members of the quartet sat on their chairs looking bored.
The colored glass balls on the Christmas tree slowly rotated in the draft, sparkling in the light from the chandelier above. Flames leapt in the fireplace, and above it boughs of holly and fir covered the mantelpiece, tied together with bright red and white ribbons. Holly wreaths clung to the wood paneling and Madeline had hung little golden bells among the prickly leaves. Satisfied that the room looked its best, Cecily prepared to greet her first guests.
Sir Walter arrived first, looking resplendent in a black morning coat. His wife, dressed in a gorgeous pink lace gown, clung to his arm as if afraid to lose him.
“You look utterly ravishing this evening, Mrs. Baxter,” Sir Walter murmured, as he raised her gloved hand to his lips.
Cecily felt a telltale warmth creep over her cheeks. “You are too kind, sir.”
“I speak the truth.” He turned to Baxter, who looked as if he’d swallowed a sour lemon. “Do I not, old chap?”
“If you say so, then it must be true,” Baxter said, his voice as stiff as his face.
Cecily hurriedly turned to Sir Walter’s wife. “Such a pleasure to see you, Lady Esmeralda.”
“And you, Mrs. Baxter.” She gave Cecily a gracious smile. “The library looks so festive. A perfect setting for singing carols.”
“Thank you.” Cecily turned to look into the room. “I was just thinking, it’s a shame I didn’t have the photographer come back this evening. He took such lovely photographs at the banquet. I must say, however, that Mrs. Prestwick surpassed herself this year decorating the library, and it would have been lovely to have photographs to keep.”
Lady Esmeralda nodded. “It would, indeed. I must confess, I’m anxious to see the photographs of the banquet. Walter and I don’t have that many photographs taken.”
“Ah, well, I left them in my office.” Cecily smiled. “I’ll have them all on display in the library tomorrow.”
“Splendid!” Lady Esmeralda took hold of her husband’s arm again. “Shall we, then?”
“Of course, my dear.”
“I do hope you will enjoy the evening,” Cecily said, giving her own husband a nudge.
Baxter coughed. “Yes, yes, do have a nice evening.”
“We’ll certainly try.” Lady Esmeralda sighed. “We almost didn’t come down. My husband has such a dreadful headache.” She sent him an anxious look. “He’s had far too many headaches lately.”
Cecily took a closer look at Sir Walter’s face. He did seem drawn and pale. “I’m so sorry. Can I get you a powder? Mrs. Chubb always keeps some in the kitchen for emergencies.”
Sir Walter shook his head and winced. “Thank you, no. A glass of your good brandy will soon chase it away.”
“That always makes him feel better,” Lady Esmeralda said. “He’ll be in good spirits once he joins in the singing. Though I must confess, it’s rather hard to feel festive when one is in fear of being murdered in one’s bed.”
Cecily felt a pang of dismay. Apparently word had spread faster than she’d thought. “We are taking every precaution to see that doesn’t happen,” she said, and received a questioning look from her husband, which she duly ignored. “I’m hoping the soothing effects of the carols will help take our minds off the tragedies.”
“Ah, yes. The carols. We adore carol singers, don’t we, Walter?”
“Positively, my dear.” Sir Walter patted the hand clutching his arm. “We always had them call on us at Rosewood. This is our first Christmas away from home. We would have missed the carol singing had we not been fortunate enough to enjoy it tonight. After all, it wouldn’t be Christmas without carols, is that not so?”