Christmas in Wiltshire was far more beautiful than Marigold ever could have dreamed of. Winterberry Park was decorated from top to bottom with holly, ivy, silver bells, and the bright red berries that gave the estate its name. A Christmas tree that reached up to the ceiling took up one entire corner of the front drawing room, where Marigold, Alex, James, and their guests were gathered to celebrate the season. Its candles burned cheerfully, something Marigold could enjoy much more easily with two footmen keeping close watch from either side to make sure none of the branches caught fire.

“Surely there must be a safer way to illuminate trees,” she said to Alex, hugging his arm as they stood side by side, watching James playing with the new toys Father Christmas had brought him and, miraculously, sharing them with the village children who had been invited for tea that afternoon.

“With all the modern inventions sweeping the land, someone will likely come up with something electric soon,” Alex commented.

“I’m sure Mr. Edison over in America will come up with something,” Lady Stanhope commented as she joined Marigold and Alex in admiring the tree. “That man is a marvel.”

“Perhaps you should invite him for a visit, Mama.” Lady Stanhope’s son, Lord Rupert Stanhope, grinned at his mother, then turned a conspiratorial grin to Marigold. “Mama does enjoy entertaining famous and fascinating people at my house while I’m away at university.”

“What this incorrigible scamp means to say is that the doors of Briarcroft Abbey will always be open to those who can provide scintillating conversation,” Lady Stanhope said, smacking her son’s arm.

Lord Rupert made a show of rubbing his arm with a pitiful expression, but he couldn’t hold it. He was back to grinning at his mother in adoration within seconds. She winked at him with all the pride a mother could manage. Marigold had to raise a hand to her mouth to hide her giggle at the exchange.

Even more so when Bianca and Natalia Stanhope joined their group, and fifteen-year-old Natalia said with a dramatic grimace, “Ugh, Mother, are you being embarrassing again?”

“Of course, my dear,” Lady Stanhope told her with a smile. “It’s what I do whenever you join me in public.” To Marigold, she said, “It’s our family tradition, you know. I simply couldn’t go anywhere without embarrassing my children to death.”

Natalia made an undignified noise and looked away. She was the spitting image of her mother, especially when put out, but Marigold didn’t suppose the young woman would want to hear that.

“You should be grateful that Mama dragged you out in public at all,” Rupert said. “Seeing as neither of you two are out as of yet.”

“I will be next season,” Bianca said. “And I plan to make a sensation.”

“I’m certain you will,” Marigold told her. Bianca had her mother’s dark hair and striking blue eyes, but her features were softer and more feminine. She was on the cusp of being a dazzling woman. Lady Stanhope would have her hands full in no time.

“I’m not sure if I should join this group to improve my Christmas spirits or break it up as a threat to our nation,” Lord Malcolm said as he approached the group. A young woman with strawberry blonde hair who didn’t look much older than Bianca or Natalia held his arm, bright spots of pink on her cheeks. She had Lord Malcolm’s expressive eyes and nose, but her mouth was wider, and her lips fuller.

Natalia made another undignified sound, twice as loud as the last one, and shook off her sister’s arm. She deliberately turned her nose up at Lord Malcolm, then marched off, crossing the room to join Edward and his friends.

“Like mother, like daughter,” Lord Malcolm murmured, sending Lady Stanhope a sly look.

“Of course not.” Lady Stanhope met his look with a grin Marigold was certain was intended to inflame. Though whether she was inflaming his temper or his sensual side was unclear. It was probably both. “I have learned to be far subtler with my disdain.”

“No you haven’t,” Lord Malcolm grumbled, crossing his arms.

“Papa,” the young woman on Lord Malcolm’s arm scolded him under her breath. She glanced bashfully toward Lord Rupert. “I beg your pardon.”

Lady Stanhope arched an eyebrow at Lord Malcolm, but kept her lips pressed tightly shut. She darted a glance to her children, giving Marigold the impression that if they hadn’t been standing there, the fireworks display would have continued. She had the feeling that enough family drama was on display in front of her to make the stages of the West End jealous.

“Lord Malcolm,” she said, unable to keep the grin from her face as she performed her duties as hostess and brokered peace. “Is this the daughter I’ve heard so much about?”

Lord Malcolm sent Lady Stanhope one last look before smiling at his daughter and presenting her to Marigold. “It is indeed. May I present Lady Cecelia Campbell. Cece, this is Mrs. Croydon.”

“I’ve heard ever so much about you,” the young woman said, bobbing a shy curtsy.

It was a complete shock for Marigold to discover that a man of Lord Malcolm’s forcefulness had a daughter who was obviously shy. Then again, perhaps having so much energy around all the time in the form of a parent had left her with little to say. All the same, Marigold held out her hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you. Welcome to our home.”

“It’s a shame that we couldn’t have the whole gang here for the holidays,” Lord Malcolm went on.

“What gang?” Lord Rupert asked.

“I’m sure he means the group of us who were chased out of England with pitchforks and torches to go fight in the Crimean when we were your age,” Alex answered.

“Oh, Mama’s friends?” Lord Rupert asked.

“Don’t let Natalia hear you call them that,” Bianca laughed under her breath.

“They all were, they all are my friends,” Lady Stanhope. She smirked at Lord Malcolm. “Most of them, at any rate.”

Marigold had to stifle another laugh. Poor Lady Campbell looked embarrassed, but Lord Rupert sent her a reassuring smile. So reassuring, in fact, that Marigold was tempted to laugh harder. She wondered if Lady Stanhope and Lord Malcolm were aware of the attraction between their children.

“Peter won’t leave Mariah’s side while she’s expecting,” Alex said with far more seriousness than anyone else was displaying. “And Basil is, of course, still missing.”

“And devil take him,” Lord Malcolm grumbled, suddenly gruff.

“Who is Basil?” Marigold asked. “And why should the devil take him.”

“Basil is Lord Basil Waltham,” Alex explained.

Marigold’s brow shot up. “Oh! That Basil. The Missing Earl?”

“One and the same,” Lord Malcolm grumbled. “It’s all well and good for him to go gallivanting off to wherever he is when things in London are politics as usual, but not with the upcoming election.”

“Do you really think there will be an election, Lord Campbell?” Bianca asked, the only one in the group who wasn’t in a position to call him by a more informal means of address.

“Yes,” Lord Malcolm answered.

“Most certainly,” Alex seconded.

“Is it because of the bill your side has been proposing to increase the rights of women?” Lord Rupert asked. “Which I most fully support, by the way,” he was quick to add while looking at Lady Cecelia.

Lady Stanhope’s grin widened, and she sent Lord Malcolm the barest flicker of an eyebrow, as if saying not only that she was aware of the connection between Lord Rupert and Lady Cecelia, but she approved and dared Lord Malcolm to do anything about it.

“It’s not just that,” Alex answered with the briefest roll of his eyes. “The Liberals back a great deal of reforms, not the least of which is the extension of the franchise to a wider swath of middle and working-class men.”

“The changes are inevitable,” Lord Malcolm continued. “But it’s going to take an election to make them. Everyone knows which way the wind is blowing.”

“Which is why it really would be useful for Basil to come out of whatever hole he’s hiding in,” Alex added.

“Why?” Lady Bianca asked with a slight shrug of her shoulders. “He’s been missing for two years, hasn’t he?”

“Before he got into that ridiculous business with Miss Grey—” Alex began.

“Lady Royston,” Lord Malcolm corrected.

Alex nodded. “Before all that, he was one of our chief spokesmen in the House of Lords. He may not hold an elected office, but he is highly respected, particularly amongst the more liberal-leaning upper classes, and his influence could make the difference between another Disraeli government and the change we desperately need.”

“So it would be in everyone’s best interest, particularly his own, if he ended whatever game he’s playing and resumed his position in society,” Lady Stanhope finished.

“But where is he?” Marigold asked with a baffled shrug.

There was a moment of perplexed silence before Lady Stanhope said, “Nobody knows. He didn’t just slink off to the country to sulk, he genuinely disappeared.”

“Did he leave the country?” Lord Rupert asked.

“If he did, there would be records of his travel,” Lord Malcolm said.

“Unless he crept away under an assumed name or smuggled himself out in the dead of night,” Lady Bianca said.

“He sounds like a fascinating man,” Marigold said.

“He’s a bookish stick in the mud,” Lord Malcolm told her with a wry laugh. “When we were in the Crimea, he spent more time trying to learn Turkish than drilling or planning strategy.”

“As I understand it, those skills saved your lives,” Lady Stanhope challenged him.

“Theophilus Gunn saved our lives,” Malcolm told her.

“Who is Theophilus Gunn?” Marigold asked.

Both Alex and Lord Malcolm laughed. “He’s a story all of his own, my dear,” Alex said. “But the short version is that he’s an American who served as valet to our friend, Lord Stephen Leonard.”

“God rest his soul,” Lord Malcolm added. He and Alex were solemn and silent for a moment, remembering their friend, before Lord Malcolm went on. “I don’t care what embarrassment Basil thinks he’s hiding from, enough is enough. I am determined to find him and drag him home by his collar before any election can take place.”

“Do you have the slightest hint where he is?” Lady Stanhope asked, crossing her arms.

Lord Malcolm flexed his jaw. “All I know is that he has continued to make withdrawals on his accounts since disappearing, though his solicitor refuses to tell me where the money has been sent or what sort of communication he has had with the bastard.”

“Papa!” Lady Cecelia blanched. Lady Bianca too. Lord Rupert looked surprised, but the older people were so used to Lord Malcolm’s forcefulness that they barely blinked.

“I wish you well in your search,” Marigold said. “Even though it sounds like a difficult one.”

“I don’t plan to stop until I find him,” Lord Malcolm said.

The conversation shifted to far less incendiary topics. Marigold and Alex had other guests to greet, and by the time everyone gathered to go into supper, Marigold’s heart felt light.

“If you had told me in August that I would be this happy in December, I wouldn’t have believed you,” she said, holding tight to Alex’s arm and watching as Ruby and Ada gathered James and the village children to take them in to the child’s feast waiting for them in one of the other drawing rooms. “It almost doesn’t seem right to be so happy when so much is still unresolved.”

“There will be time to put whatever is still wrong to rights, my dear,” Alex said. Their guests had all gone ahead of them, so he swept her into his arms and planted a kiss squarely on her lips. “Turpin will have his day. Shayles will be brought to justice. Basil will be found. And Malcolm and Katya will stop vexing each other and realize they belong together.”

Marigold laughed at the way he added that last item to the list of unresolved problems. “I hope it doesn’t take a war to bring those two together.”

“Everyone who is supposed to be together ends up in each other’s arms in the end,” Alex said, kissing her again lightly.

“What a romantic sentiment,” she said, smiling up at him.

“Romantic, perhaps, but it is most certainly true. I have proof of that right here in my arms.”

He kissed her a third time, and in spite of the guests and the meal waiting for them, Marigold closed her arms around him and kissed him with all the emotion that filled her heart. Their whole marriage was based on heat and impulsivity, after all, and she hoped that it would stay that way always.

* * *

What happened to the mysterious, missing Lord Basil Waltham? Don’t worry, you’ll find out soon enough in May Mistakes, the third book of The Silver Foxes of Westminster series. It will be released July 20 (which, by the way, is my birthday), but you can preorder very soon! And since it might just have something to do with the indomitable Miss Elaine Bond of Brynthwaite, Cumbria, you might find clues in , part of the West Meets East series, which is available now. (wink, wink, nudge, nudge)

But before that, are you curious about what might have been going on behind the scenes with Mr. Gilbert Phillips and Miss Ruby Murdoch? There’s much more to their story than meets the eye, and you can read all about it in Winterberry Spark, available April 13^th. And what about that hunky schoolteacher, Mr. Timothy Turnbridge? It’s possible he might have his eye on Winterberry Park maid, Ada Bell. But someone doesn’t want the two of them to be together. Hijinks abound in their story, Winterberry Fire, coming April 20^th.

Be sure to so that you can be alerted when all of these exciting books are released!