Chapter 12

Tillie twirled around the dance floor in Frank’s arms. The orchestra was playing a waltz, and somehow their feet moved with it in a mystical harmony of their own.

“Happy?” he asked.

“Happier than I ever thought it was possible to be.”

Each time he looked at Tillie, more of the paralyzing grief he’d worn for nearly a decade fell away, until suddenly, tonight, with this smiling angel in his arms, he knew that the precious memory of those he’d lost had now expanded into the lining of his heart, and the pain of loss had at last found its balance.

Tillie’s father had announced their engagement a few moments earlier, and they’d been surrounded by a crowd of well-wishers until Frank led her to the dance floor. Now at last she was in his arms.

Frank turned her toward an alcove where they could be alone.

“I love you, Tillie,” Frank whispered in her ear when they were hidden away. “You made me a very happy man tonight.”

“And you made me a very happy woman,” she said, sitting on the cushioned bench inside the alcove.

Frank sat beside her, then leaned in for a long-awaited kiss. “When I think of how much I dreaded coming to Cherrywood with Lord Beckett, I want to laugh. I had no idea that this journey would change my life.”

“Every family should have their own miracle-maker,” Tillie sighed. “And we have my Uncle John.”

“I’ll have you know your Uncle John is no angel, but he certainly has made this Christmas magical.”

Their embrace was cut short when George and Corrine found them. “I thought I saw you two sneak in here,” George said.

Frank and Tillie rose and stepped outside the alcove. “Is everyone having a good time?” Tillie asked.

“From the rising volume of conversation and laughter, I’d say everyone is having a marvelous time,” George said. “How about you, Tillie? Are you having a good time?”

Tillie lifted her gaze to Frank’s. “Truly magical. I’ve never been happier.”

“I’d say, then, that my sister is the only person here who hasn’t yet embraced our Twelvetide cheer,” Corrine added.

Tillie looked around the ballroom until her gaze rested on Felicity. She was sitting on a chair set against the wall. Although there was an expression that might have passed for a smile to anyone not looking too closely, it was obvious her smiled was forced and she wasn’t having a good time at all.

“I think I’ll go over to her,” Tillie said.

“We’ll come with you,” Corrine said.

“No, let me talk to her. I’ll see if I can get her to join us. If I can,” Tillie said, “be sure to ask Felicity to dance, George.”

George nodded, and Tillie walked across the dance floor to where Felicity sat.

“I’m not going to ask if you’re having a good time,” Tillie said when she’d taken the chair beside Felicity. “It’s obvious you aren’t enjoying yourself.”

“Oh, Tillie, truly I am—”

“No, you’re not,” Tillie interrupted. “And I believe I know why.”

Felicity lowered her gaze to her lap for a moment, then looked up. “As hurt as I am by Jameson’s treatment of me earlier, and his horrid threats in those awful letters, I can’t bring myself to think he’s irredeemable.”

Tillie placed her hand over Felicity’s hands. “You have such a generous heart, Felicity. Hopefully, in time, Penview will discover that.”

Felicity gave her a sad smile, then they turned their attention on Lord Beckett who was approaching them with a merry smile on his face.

“There you are, my dear,” he said holding out his hands to Tillie. “My heartiest congratulations.”

Tillie rose. Instead of taking her uncle’s hands, she wrapped her arms around him and gave him a sincere embrace. “I have you to thank for this wonderful evening, Uncle. If you hadn’t brought the major with you, I would never have met him.” She leaned in to kiss his cheek. “And I would have never found the love of my life.”

“I brought you a special gift,” Lord Beckett said, “but I seem to have forgotten it in the study.”

“I can get it,” Tillie said with a smile on her face.

“No, I couldn’t allow you to fetch your own gift. I will go for it,” he puffed, feigning exhaustion, “after I’ve rested a bit.”

“I’ll go,” Felicity said rising to her feet. “I’ve been sitting long enough. I don’t want anyone to think I’ve been confined to this corner.”

“Thank you, my dear. You’ll find it in the study. I placed the gift on the left corner of the mantel.”

Felicity hurried off and Tillie turned to her Uncle John.

“She’s fairly heartbroken, you know.”

“Ah yes. At the moment I would say she is. But that could change.”

Tillie huffed. “I don’t see how. Penview has behaved so abominably I doubt she’ll recover from the embarrassment.”

Uncle John gave her a long look, then turned his head to peer across the courtyard to the study window in the east wing that sat opposite the ballroom. He lifted a finger to direct Tillie’s attention there, just as the glow of a lamp suddenly flared in the dark window across the way.

A moment later Felicity was framed in the window as she reached for the gift Uncle John had left on the mantel. But before she took hold of it, something startled her and she whirled about.

A figure rose from a wing-backed chair.

Penview.

“Oh no!” Tillie’s hand flew to her mouth.

“Never fear, dear girl. Just wait and watch. Wait and watch.”

Felicity’s posture showed her displeasure, and Tillie’s heart went out to the poor girl. But it was Penview who drew her attention. His pompous, egotistical pose was gone, and in its place stood a young man whose head was bowed in shame. He was saying something to Felicity.

“What do you suppose—”

“Ah-ah-ah! Wait and watch. Wait and watch.”

His long finger waved toward the window as he spoke.

The two figures exchanged words, and a moment later Felicity stepped toward Penview. Not in a challenging way, but in such a way that it was clear she was offering support.

He shook his head and turned slightly away. His hand swept roughly through his hair.

Felicity stepped closer. Penview’s shoulders shook as if he spoke with abject emotion, and a moment later Felicity moved close enough to place a hand on his arm.

He straightened, then turned. Her lips moved, and with each word he seemed to straighten more.

“They’re reconciling!” Tillie cried. “Uncle John, did you—”

Tillie turned to embrace her uncle.

But the bench beside her was empty.