Since they’d arrived in the late afternoon, too late for luncheon and too early for dinner, Merry welcomed the sandwiches and tea tray someone—the housekeeper, Mrs. Vines, perhaps—had sent up soon after Alex’s departure.

Effie, who had already unpacked the meager wardrobe Merry had thought adequate for a few days’ journey, was downstairs doing what she could to ensure the single gown suitable for evening wear was at the very least unwrinkled. Not one to worry overmuch about fashion, Merry found herself in the unusual position of wishing she’d at least fortified herself with a few dresses that made her feel the sort of strength she’d need to get through a dinner with Lady Wrotham at one end of the table.

Still, there were other, perhaps more important, issues to be concerned about. Like the unexpected proposal from Alex that she allow him to pay his addresses to her.

It was impossible to be unmoved by the gleam of determination in his gaze when he spoke of it. And she’d felt a mix of excitement and fear at the prospect. It had taken her years to get over him. Surely it wouldn’t be as easy as all that to pick up where they’d left off? Too much hurt lay between them. Not to mention that the true reason for her stealthy departure five years ago was currently living in this house and no doubt plotting some way to ensure that her grandson didn’t attempt to win her back.

She’d just finished a second cup of tea and was brushing sandwich crumbs from her hands when a soft knock sounded at the outer door. Since Effie would knock more loudly before coming in, Merry frowned.

Surely Alex hadn’t returned to plead his case again.

She called out that whoever it was should enter, and a young lady who bore the unmistakable features of a Ponsonby stepped inside, a bundle of silks draped over her arm.

“Miss Parks?” she said with only a shade of hesitation. “I’m Elizabeth Ponsonby, Will’s sister, and Lord Wrotham’s cousin. Alex asked me to bring you a few gowns since you weren’t expecting to be away for so long. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

The girl was pretty, even if the dark winged brows she’d inherited from her family were a bit severe. Her smile was genuine, however.

“Of course you aren’t disturbing me,” Merry said, rising from the small table where she’d been eating. “Won’t you have a cup of tea with me, Miss Ponsonby? You may put the gowns on the bed for when my maid returns. I fear she will be ecstatic at the addition to what we brought. She was quite upset with me for being so foolish.”

“I’d like that,” the girl said, smiling shyly. “Just let me set these down.”

Once the gowns were dispatched to the counterpane, they took seats at the tea table.

“I haven’t had the whole story from my brother,” Miss Ponsonby said as she accepted a cup of tea from Merry, “but I do know that you were the one to bring dear little Lottie to us, and I cannot tell you how grateful I am. I only wish I’d been able to meet her mother.”

Merry was surprised that the news of Lottie’s arrival had spread so quickly, but she supposed William would have wished to tell his sister before she learned of it from someone else.

“I’m happy to have brought Lottie to her family,” Merry said, realizing that she was sincere. She might have begun the journey feeling that she was bringing an infant into the lion’s den, but the news that William Ponsonby had reformed some of his most destructive habits had given her a more sanguine attitude toward handing over his daughter to him. He might not be a saint, but he was, at the very least, aware of what he’d done and seemed genuinely determined to do right by her. “Charlotte, her mother, was a dear friend, and I was fulfilling a last promise to her by bringing Lottie here. I’m quite pleased that your brother welcomed his daughter with open arms.”

“She’s a sweet little thing,” Miss Ponsonby said with a smile. “I’ve never had a niece before, but I can see already that she’ll have me wrapped round her finger before long.”

“Indeed.” Merry knew all too well how easy it was to become attached to that baby. It would be difficult to take her leave when the time came. She supposed she should be grateful the snow had delayed her good-byes to the child for a few days at least.

Thinking to change the subject before she got teary, Merry said, “Are you here for the holidays, Miss Ponsonby, or do you make your home here at Wrotham Keep?”

“Oh, dear me, no,” the other lady said with a laugh. “I couldn’t endure Grandmama all year round. Though I suppose it’s indelicate of me to say so.”

Merry couldn’t help but sympathize given her own difficulties with the dowager.

“She rules with an iron fist, I’m afraid,” she continued. “And though we do our best to stay out of her way when we can, most of us manage to return to the Keep for Christmas. If only to see the family members we actually enjoy.”

“That sounds . . .” Merry searched for a word that wouldn’t be offensive, but Miss Ponsonby offered one instead.

“Dreadful?” she asked, her grin infectious. “I suppose I’m exaggerating a bit. She is my grandmother, after all, and she does hold us all in affection. But she can be difficult when crossed. Since I was unlucky enough to be a disappointment during my three seasons, she’s not been particularly kind to me of late.”

Merry, who well knew the ignominy of a failed season, gave the other lady a sympathetic look. “Not everyone was intended to be a toast,” she assured her. “And I’m sure you’re worth more to your family than your success in society, Miss Ponsonby.”

“Oh, I wish you’d call me Beth,” she said with a bit of impatience. “Miss Ponsonby is such a mouthful, and I can tell already that you are not one to stand on formality. Shall I call you Merry?”

Startled at the girl’s forthright manners, Merry nevertheless nodded. She wasn’t particularly enamored of formality. And though they’d only just met, she liked the girl.

“Very well, Beth it is,” she said with an answering smile.

“Excellent,” Beth said. Then her gaze turned mischievous. “Now that we’re on such intimate terms, perhaps you’ll tell me if it’s true that Alex is smitten with you? For I don’t believe I’ve ever seen him so intent on ensuring another guest’s comfort at the Keep.”

Merry felt her face redden. “I’m sure I can’t speak for Lord Wrotham,” she said a little stiffly. “He is a friend, and perhaps . . .”

“Hardly a friend when you were once betrothed, Merry,” said Beth a little wryly. “I had the whole story from Mrs. Vines, the housekeeper. She is normally not one to gossip, but since she has a soft spot for Alex, she felt your jilting him most keenly. And since I was far too young to be told much of anything then, I was shocked to hear that someone had actually said no to Alex.”

Not knowing what to say in response, Merry poured herself another cup of tea and spent an inordinate amount of time stirring sugar into it. She wasn’t sure if Alex’s cousin was chastising her or teasing her. It felt a little like both.

“Don’t go all prickly on me, Merry,” said the other lady, patting Merry’s hand. “I don’t mean to insult you. I suspect you had your reasons for leaving. It wouldn’t surprise me, to be honest, if Grandmama had a hand in it. Because she does like to get her own way. And, if you don’t mind my saying so, you don’t seem stiff-rumped enough to be the sort of wife she’d choose for my cousin.”

Having her own opinion of the dowager confirmed by that lady’s own granddaughter didn’t do much to reassure Merry that her stay at Wrotham Keep would be a pleasant one. Especially when Lady Wrotham learned that Alex was trying to win her back.

“I don’t know if you’re aware of it,” Beth continued, her expression turning serious, “but Grandmama has invited a few young ladies for the Yuletide celebrations who do meet her stringent requirements to be the next Lady Wrotham.”

Merry sighed. Of course she had. Feeling the beginnings of a headache form between her brows, she pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Don’t take that attitude, Merry,” Beth chided. “Grandmama isn’t going to get her way this time. I can feel it. And what matters is that Alex has chosen you. He’s the one whose opinion truly matters. Only Grandmama hasn’t realized it yet.”

Given the dowager’s response to Merry’s presence at the Keep that afternoon, Merry could only imagine what she’d say if she knew her grandson had actually made a formal declaration of his intentions to her. She already felt like an archery target had been painted on her back. If Lady Wrotham knew the truth of things between Merry and Alex, she’d do whatever it took to separate them.

“If it were up to me, I’d have left for London this afternoon,” she assured Beth, though she felt the ring of untruth in her words even as she said them. “So, your grandmother has no reason to fear anything from me.”

“Oh, she certainly does,” Beth said seriously. “I’ve seen the way Alex looks when he talks about you. Grandmama had better gird her loins for disappointment. Because Alex can be very persuasive. And you aren’t as indifferent to him as you’d like me to believe.”

With that, Miss Ponsonby set down her teacup, thanked Merry for the cup of tea, and left.

Feeling as if she’d just been caught up in a whirlwind, Merry sat back in her chair.

When Effie entered a few moments later, she was still sitting there, feeling a bit overwhelmed.

“What happened?” the maid asked, looking concerned.

Her attention snapping back into focus, Merry shook her head. “Just a bit of Christmas mischief,” she said with a weak smile.

If she wasn’t careful, Lady Wrotham was going to see to it that she and Alex were separated again. And for the life of her, Merry wasn’t sure whether she would be heartbroken or relieved.

* * *

To Alex’s frustration, his grandmother had seated Merry on the opposite end of the table from him, choosing instead to see that he was flanked by the two young ladies she’d apparently invited to parade before him as prospective brides. He’d asked his grandmother only a few months ago to let him be, but clearly she’d ignored his request.

He was polite to the ladies, who were pleasant enough, if entirely unsuitable to be his wife, given that he had already chosen for himself. And if he wasn’t mistaken, one of them—Lady Katherine—spent more time than was usual gazing in the direction of his cousin William.

When he was able to glimpse Merry across the table, she seemed to be conversing pleasantly with his cousin Beth and the vicar, who had been invited at the last minute to make up the numbers, and who, fortunately, lived close enough to walk given the snow.

Merry herself was radiant in a deep green silk gown that showed her bosom to advantage and wore a simple strand of pearls that emphasized the hollow of her collarbone, where he knew from experience she liked to be kissed.

He realized he was staring when his uncle seated across from him had to repeat his question about the quality of the roads on the journey from London.

When Miss Delaford, the daughter of a wealthy family with excellent, if not noble, bloodlines, made a remark about the snow, and he responded with some polite reply, he caught his grandmother’s look of triumph at the other end of the table.

Like a pair of duelists looking at one another across a dewy morning’s stretch of grass, he and the dowager exchanged a long look before he turned back to his dinner companions.

She might believe she had the upper hand, but Alex was determined to best his grandmother in this game, if game it was, and see to it that this time around he would emerge the victor. Well, he and Merry. And if it meant he had to banish his grandmother to the dower house, where, if truth be told, she should have repaired to years ago, then so be it.

Fortunately, dinner passed without any disturbances that he could see, and though it seemed his uncles lingered longer over their port than absolutely necessary, at long last he was able to lead the gentlemen into the drawing room.

Since their arrival that morning, the room had been further adorned with greenery and holly berries on every available surface. And to his delight, a sprig of mistletoe had been hung from the arch dividing one side of the room from the other.

But despite his noticing the new decorations, his gaze went to Merry almost immediately after. She was seated beside Beth, which was a good sign, since he trusted Beth far more than he did his other cousins. Unfortunately, it appeared that the circle around them also included Lady Katherine and Miss Delaford, as well as his cousin Cassandra Northman, whom, unlike Beth, he didn’t trust in the least.

“Ah, there you are, Wrotham,” Cassandra got up and walked to him, slipping her arm through his, with the avid gaze of a cat about to pounce on a mouse. “Do come and give us your opinion, for I know you’re accounted to be a man of refined tastes.”

Suspicious, but unable to say so without being rude, Alex let her pull him into their group. “I would hardly call myself refined, Cassandra.”

“Now is not the time for modesty, my lord,” Lady Katherine said with a playful grin. “We need your expertise.”

Merry, whose face was free of expression, seemed to be uncomfortable, but he could have no way of knowing why.

“Then, by all means pose your question,” he said, thinking it better to get it over with.

“Well,” Cassandra said, with that silky way she had when she was teasing her prey, “Lady Katherine and I believe that for true refinement, a lady must be able to play and sing. Or at the very least, one or the other. There are only a handful of accomplishments that mark a truly refined lady, and surely a musical talent is one of the most important. Do you not agree, Wrotham?”

He knew immediately why it was that Merry looked so distressed. Since her mother had died when she was still in the schoolroom, and her father had considered academic education far more important than the feminine arts, he’d neglected to hire the necessary instructors for musicianship. Merry had no musical skills. Though he knew from her one season, where they’d met, that she was an excellent dancer.

He said, “I feel sure you believe you know what a refined lady should be, my dear cousin, but I fear that such assessments rarely make any difference in what it is a gentleman considers important in a lady. Though I do enjoy a musical interlude from time to time, it’s hardly the most important talent I look for in a potential bride.”

As if his mention of prospective brides had ignited her like a flame, Lady Katherine asked a little breathlessly, “What do you look for in a bride, Lord Wrotham?” Then, perhaps realizing how desperate she sounded, she added, “Surely most ladies would like to know what a gentleman like you prefers.”

“I do not speak for all gentlemen, Lady Katherine,” he said, though his gaze met Merry’s. “I most appreciate a lady who is, above all things, loyal and kind. And if she also happens to be well versed in ancient Greek poetry, well then, I’m hers for the taking.”

He saw Merry’s cheeks turn pink at his words, and when the hint of a smile graced her pink lips he wished like the devil that they were alone instead of in a crowded drawing room.

Cassandra, who hadn’t missed their byplay, tugged on his arm, as if to remind him of the fact. “You’re a spoilsport, Wrotham,” she said with a practiced pout. “How is any young lady expected to live up to that sort of standard. I cannot think of a single one—at least not one who is eligible for a splendid match—who can read Greek at all.”

Beth, whose eyes were narrowed upon Cassandra, whom Alex knew she’d never been fond of, placed a hand on Merry’s arm. “You read Greek, do you not, Miss Parks? I believe you said so during dinner when you were in conversation with the vicar.”

“I . . .” Merry bit her lip, as if trying to decide if she should answer truthfully, or demur. Then, apparently the truth won out. “I do, as it happens. I have assisted my father, who is a scholar of the classics, for some years with his work. But I’d hardly say it’s necessary for refinement. Though I’d also say that as one who never learned the pianoforte and who sings with enthusiasm but a sad lack of skill, I am no one’s ideal of anything.”

Before Alex could respond, Cassandra was sharpening her claws. “I believe Northman read an article in one of his gentleman’s magazines that said too much education was dangerous for a lady’s mind. Turned them into hysterics, I think it said. You’d best watch yourself, Miss Parks. Though I suppose you’re rather long in the tooth to be considered eligible anymore, are you not?”

Merry’s eyes widened at the blatant insult, and even Lady Katherine looked uncomfortable.

“Cassandra,” Alex said in a low voice. “Behave yourself. And apologize.”

He felt her stiffen beside him, but then, with at least the veneer of remorse, she said, “Oh, I do apologize, Miss Parks. I didn’t mean to imply anything rude. I only meant to warn you. One can never be too careful when it comes to one’s health.”

Fortunately, at that moment, his grandmother called Cassandra to her side, and the little circle of ladies broke apart, leaving the seat beside Merry empty.

Taking his chance, Alex moved to take it, causing both Lady Katherine and Miss Delaford to stop in midstride as they made for his side.

“I am sorry for Cassandra,” he said to her in an undertone so that he’d not be overheard. “She takes after my grandmother, I’m afraid. And it would appear that Lady Katherine has taken her as her role model. Not a good thing if she wishes to marry well.”

“I must admit,” Merry said with a half smile, “it’s been quite a long time since I was insulted for having few ladylike accomplishments. There’s little call for them among Papa’s set. And my own friends are either just as tone-deaf as I am or they have their own secret flaws.”

“I don’t want to talk about Cassandra, Merry,” he said, wishing once more they were alone.

Then, an idea came to him.

“Come onto the terrace with me,” he said. “There’s an overhang, so we should be safe from the snow.”

Merry’s blue eyes widened. “Are you mad? We cannot simply step outside without being noticed.”

“What if I don’t care about being noticed?” he asked, tilting his head. “I’m serious about courting you, Merry. And a courting man is well within his bounds to take his lady for a stroll.”

She stared at him for so long he began to fear she thought he’d gone mad. Then, with a reluctant smile and a shake of her head, she said, “I suppose if you’re determined, I have no choice.”

But he could tell she was more agreeable to the idea than she let on.

And Alex, who hadn’t felt this triumphant in years, pulled her to her feet before she could change her mind.