Page 48 of A Wish for Father Christmas

Though he couldn’t tell if he was more eager to speak with Mr. Allen again or to see Lady Nightingale. Not that he would ever admit such aloud.

“You’re sure you’ll be all right if I go?” he asked Aunt Margarette. She seemed to grow a bit older with every passing day. He half-wondered how he would ever convince himself to leave his aunt when the holiday was over. Especially when they’d grown so fond of one another, and she was looking quite frail.

“I have all the help I need at only the pull of a bell. You run along.”

Isaac hesitated, but only for a moment. The draw of Evergreen Cottage seemed to have securely wrapped its way around him in the last couple of minutes and now would not let him go. He bid his aunt farewell and hurried out to don his greatcoat and have his horse brought around.

* * *

Lord Oakley did call on Alice, just as he’d told Mr. Allen he would.

As he sat across from her, Alice’s mind whirled and spun, taking in each turn of phrase, each subtle movement he made, and assessing it. Lord Oakley was quite polite, very polished. More still, his smile held a bit of warmth—something her late husband’s smile never had.

Day before last, she’d not learned as much about Lord Oakley while playing cards with Lord Brooks, Lord Robins, and Lord Sempill as she would have liked, but she had learned some things. Lord Oakley was the oldest in a family that contained three daughters and four sons. Alice couldn’t even imagine what a handful that must have been for Lord Oakley’s mother.

He was generally liked and highly respected. He was not known to lose fortunes at cards nor take on with unsavory company. All in all, he seemed quite the sort of man she’d been searching for this whole Christmas season.

And yet, her heart refused to be affected. Stubborn organ.

“My brother is finding Oxford much to his liking,” Lord Oakley said. “It seems going into the church will suit him quite well after all.”

Alice smiled. “That is good to hear.” But her smile felt like the one she’d worn for years among society—polite and poised but far from sincere. It wasn’t at all the smile she’d worn while playing cards with Lord Brooks or building a snowman with him. It certainly wasn’t like the smile she’d fought to hide when they’d been caught beneath the mistletoe.

“Did the late Lord Hoskins attend Oxford, or was he a Cambridge man?”

The question surprised Alice, and she froze, her cup of tea halfway to her mouth.

“I only ask,” Lord Oakley hurried on, “because I was wondering if you’re set on having your son attend one university or another. If you aren’t, I would highly recommend Oxford.”

Alice’s shoulders eased a bit. Of all the men who’d ever come to call on her, he was the first to mention her son. Most gentlemen seemed to prefer to ignore his existence. Not only that, but Lord Oakley was asking her opinion.

“The late Lord Hoskins attended Oxford as well.” Which was why Alice was leaning toward sending her son to Cambridge. “But nothing is decided upon as of yet.”

He nodded pleasantly. “Either option would be a fine choice, I’m sure.”

Alice liked his easy manner and even more that he hadn’t jumped to the assumption that a man needed to make a decision for her.

And yet, her heart still felt nothing.

The door swung open abruptly and Joseph came tearing into the room. He ran directly up to her, taking her hand, and bouncing it up and down.

“Lord Brooks is here,” he said excitedly. “I saw him from the nursery window. Can he make a snowman with me again?”

Lord Brooks—here?

Heat skittered over her chest and cheeks. Alice tightened her jaw and willed her composure back into place. He would be here to see Mr. Allen, not Lady Nightingale.

Lord Oakley sat his cup of tea down and leaned forward. “This must be the very young man we were discussing.”

Alice put a hand on Joseph’s shoulder, hoping that would calm him a bit, and then introduced her son to the man sitting across from her. Joseph, blessedly, acted quite civil, bowing most respectably and giving Lord Oakley a sweet welcome.

The well-polished young man disappeared almost immediately, however, when Joseph turned back to Alice once more.

“Please?” he begged. “I want to build another snowman.”

Their first snowman from the week prior was nothing but a mound of half-melted snow now. But they hadn’t received any more snowfall these past few days. “There isn’t enough snow outside, I’m afraid.” Moreover, she wasn’t about to impose upon Lord Brooks a second time, no matter that building another snowman with him and Joseph did sound far too alluring. “I’m sure Lord Brooks is quite busy, too.”

Joseph placed an elbow on her lap, resting his small head in an upturned hand, and frowned.

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