She leaned a little to the side, resting against the well-padded arm of a chaise in the white drawing room of Newberry Park while she petted her sleepy dog’s head. She was glad Vicar was finally still. He’d spent the whole of the day either chasing or running from the horde of angry cats
that populated the Duke of Newberry’s country estate.
It was a miracle, in her opinion, that she’d not been scolded for the young pup’s antics. Everyone, though, seemed to find the great chases hysterically funny. Everyone seemed to accept her presence. Even Lord George Ford had wished her a merry Christmas.
A pair of silver eyes regarded them belligerently from under a nearby chaise. “He is asleep,” Matilda promised the hissing black cat.
“Oh, don’t worry about Horace,” Lady Sally Hastings, William’s cousin, assured her. “He’s just annoyed he’s missed out on all of tonight’s table scraps.”
“I can’t believe how much Vicar has been eating.”
“The dog and his master too.” Sally’s eyes slipped to William where he stood in talks with his aunt. An amused smile turned her lips up. “It is good to see my cousin has not lost his competitive nature.”
Matilda winced. William had both surprised and worried her this past week. He was quite different around his family. He laughed more. He talked more and dragged her into everything eventually. “He’s happy.”
“No one can miss that he is,” Sally assured her. “Happy Christmas, Matilda. I’m glad you could be with us this year.”
“To you too.”
She sauntered away as William dropped into the space at her side. “Are you warm enough, darling?”
“Yes, Will,” she promised. On her lap, a thick woolen blanket covered her legs to ward off the chill of any draft. All the Ford women had their own, which meant she must have one too. She had been supplied with a nip of warm rum and a plate of shortbread to nibble on. Matilda had never experienced a Christmas like this, not even when her father had lived.
She’d never imagined being as included as she’d been this past week.
“I think I ate too much,” William complained, pressing his hand to his belly and groaning.
She glanced at him but smiled. “Well, what do you expect when you keep sneaking extra helpings of the plum pudding?”
“To win.” He burped into his hand and then apologized profusely. “I had to keep up with Hastings.”
She glanced across the room. Mr. Hastings and Sally were currently kissing beneath mistletoe. The pair had married months ago and still appeared inseparable and very happy together too. “He was trying to impress his wife and seems to have succeeded.”
“I can understand that desire.” William winked. “But I beat him, I’m sure.”
“Yes, William. I’m sure you taught him a lesson he’ll soon not forget.” She smiled fondly at her husband. William’s playful streak was a rare commodity, and she cherished each and every glimpse into his lighter soul. “What happens next?”
The family Christmas gathering was quite a bit more involved than she’d first imagined. After a communal breakfast, they had taken to sleighs and delivered gifts to all the tenants of Newberry Park. William, despite his naval career, was well known at Newberry, and he’d greeted many of the farmers with such joy in his eyes he was breathtaking. He’d introduced her to everyone and remained with his arm around her back, supporting her during the lengthy conversations.
“Next we all troop outside carrying torches, light the bonfire, and watch it burn.”
“All of us?”
“Perhaps not Aunt Pen this year. She was just complaining of the cold and plans to retire shortly.”
Matilda fingered her blanket. “I should give her my blanket before we go out.”
“That would be very kind of you, but I was hoping you would take it with us. It is very cold outside tonight, and I had plans to wrap us both in it.”
“It’s not a very large blanket, William.”
“Large enough for me to wrap my arms about you and huddle together under it while we watch the fire burn. And after a while I had hoped to slip away with you. Somewhere private where we might be ourselves.”
A blush heated her cheeks and she squirmed. She had plans for the night that required them to remain indoors. Matilda just hadn’t told him yet. She had finally figured out her husband’s secret, the one thing he dared not reveal about his desires. She’d known he was holding back but was rather astonished it had taken her so long to figure him out. “I’d like that, but can we stay indoors if I promise to be very quiet?”
“You’re hardly ever quiet these days,” he complained without real disapproval in his tone. It had been a week since he’d laid a hand to her bottom, and she missed the warmth and comfort such touches inspired. He glanced at her quickly, considering her request with the gravity it deserved. They would have some explaining to do if they were overheard. “Perhaps the bonfire can wait.”
“Thank you.”