Page 20 of A Wish for Father Christmas

More still, she’d given birth to a baby. She doubted very much that a pampered popinjay such as Lord Robins could have endured something so very trying. If he had half a notion of who she was or what she’d experienced in her life, he would think twice before pronouncing himself her knight.

Alice planted her smile firmly in place; no matter that she strongly disagreed with Lord Robins, now was not the time to take him to task. They reached the far side of the room where the elderly lady was sitting, Mrs. Dowding now by her side.

“Mrs. Fudge, may I make known to you Lady Nightingale, currently of Evergreen Cottage.”

“It is a great pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Alice said with a curtsy.

“Lady Nightingale,” Mrs. Fudge said, her tone warm, “I have been quite itching to meet you ever since I heard of your arrival.”

Itchingto meet her? It was as unusual a turn of phrase as it was descriptive.

“And I you, Mrs. Fudge,” Alice said.

“Oh, no one calls me that. I’m Aunt Margarette, please.”

“If I didn’t know any better,” Lord Robins said in a fake whisper while leaning in closer to Alice, “I’d say she goes by that to avoid her absurd last name.”

“I’ll have you know,” Mrs. Fudge—or rather, Aunt Margarette—said, folding her fan and swatting Lord Robins in the thigh with it, “that ‘Fudge’ is quite a respectable name, dating back as far as William the Conqueror, or so my late husband always insisted.” The woman sat back in her seat and faced Alice, her voice turning merry. “But between you and me, I am imminently glad he had a pleasing given name. I’m not sure I ever would have fallen in love with him if he hadtworidiculous names. Could you imagine? Suppose he’d been a ‘Cornelius,’ or something equally horrifying?” The elderly woman giggled, putting a hand to her mouth.

Alice found herself laughing along, as did Lord Robins and Mrs. Dowding.

Almost without realizing what she was doing, Alice glanced over her shoulder. Lord Brooks was still watching her, the books in his hand still wrapped and tied with twine. His scowl hadn’t lessened, and yet it didn’tfeelas hard.

“Excuse me, everyone,” Aunt Margarette said, standing up and speaking to the room at large. “Dinner is served, and I hope you don’t mind, but we always dine informally here at Cresthearth.”

Alice turned back toward the elderly woman and just caught sight of a manservant striding away. She’d not even noticed he’d entered the room, so caught up had she been in Lord Brooks’s puzzling expression.

“Shall we?” Lord Robins asked her.

Alice nodded her consent and together they made their way toward the dining room, falling in line just behind Lord Parsons, who led Miss Turner, while Mr. Turner walked beside Aunt Margarette just in front of them.

Lord Parsons said something to Miss Turner, and she laughed lightly.

“I rather hope so,” she said, her words growing just loud enough for Alice to hear. “Otherwise, I might look frightfully out of place.”

Lord Parsons drew her in a bit closer to him. “You could never look out of place or frightful, no matter how hard you tried.”

Even from where she stood, a few paces behind the couple, Alice could see Miss Turner’s blush—and her pleased smile.

A small ache started in Alice’s chest at the sight. She’d gathered that Lord Parsons was soft on Miss Turner, but she hadn’t realized that both their feelings ran far deeper than a strong regard.

What would that be like, to be wanted? To be sought out and preferred over all other company?

“Are you finding Carlaby to your liking, Lady Nightingale?” Lord Robins’s question forced her back to the present.

“Yes, I am,” she replied. It was a proper, respectable answer, but not one that encouraged a greater acquaintance. And suddenly, she quite wanted that closer acquaintance. Not with Lord Robins, per se, but with someone. She was tired of always being ‘Lady Nightingale,’ of always being so aloof and unaffected. She wanted to be ‘Alice’ to someone. She loved Mr. and Mrs. Clarke dearly, but they were still in her employ. She had Joseph; he was her everything and more dear to her than she could ever express. But was it wrong that she wanted someone else in her life as well? Someone who would walk beside her, someone who would speak with her and listen in his turn?

“My lady?”

Alice blinked. Lord Robins was holding out her chair for her. They’d already reached the dinner table. Gracious, what a woolgathering ninny she was being tonight.

“Thank you,” she said, sitting in the offered chair.

He took the seat directly beside her, and soon the food was brought out. Lord Robins kept up a happy stream of questions and comments. Alice, for her part, did her best to stay attentive, but for whatever reason, her mind was not content to stay at the dinner table and insisted on roaming far more than was usual.

Perhaps attending tonight had been a mistake. It was becoming more and more clear, as the evening wore on, that there was little here for her. Her search for a new husband was not progressing while among this company.

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