Chapter Eighteen

The time arrived for the Twelfth Night celebration at Brier Hill. Adam had been quiet that day, but in a contemplative way rather than a sad one. Robbie wasn’t entirely certain what was weighing on him.

She’d been beside herself with worry when discovering, after bearing her troubles to Howard, that Adam hadn’t been in his bed. When Lord Jonquil had run him to ground in Lady Jonquil’s bedchamber, apparently sleeping quite soundly, Robbie had been more than relieved. She’d been reassured.

Whenever Adam was permitted to spend time at Brier Hill, he’d be loved and he would know he was. And, as Robbie meant to accept Lord and Lady Jonquil’s offer of employment until Adam was ready to continue on without her, she could offer him more of that reassurance when he was at Brier Hill.

All the preparations for their celebration were in readiness. Lord Jonquil slipped from the drawing room to fetch his wife, she being the only person in the house who was not privy to the plans for the night.

“Do you think she’ll like our party?” Adam asked.

“She will,” Robbie said. “I’m certain of it.”

He nodded. “I’m glad. I like when she is happy.”

Howard stepped up beside Robbie and set an arm around her waist. “It’s a fine thing when a man can bring happiness to the womenfolk, i’n’ it, Your Grace?”

“It is.” Adam gave Howard a conspiratorial look.

“What have I missed?” Robbie asked her sweetheart.

“The menfolk had a discussion in the garden,” Howard said, more formally and somberly than was necessary, enough so that she very nearly laughed.

“And you decided that you’d like to see the women in your lives happy?”

He pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. “Always.”

She watched Adam for signs of disapproval—he’d not countenanced her growing closeness to Howard the last weeks—but none was forthcoming.

In the next moment, Lady Jonquil and her husband appeared in the doorway of the sitting room. Her curious gaze swept over them all before resting for a moment on the cake, then the homemade crown, then the pile of games and toys.

A smile slowly formed on her face. “Twelfth Night?”

“Adam’s idea,” Lord Jonquil said.

The lady crossed directly to her tiny houseguest and gave him a quick hug. “Oh, Adam. This is wonderful.”

He shuffled his feet, looking down at the tips of his shoes. But spots of pleased color touched his cheeks.

“What are we to begin with?” Lady Jonquil asked.

“The cake,” Adam said. “There’s a bean in it. We have to find the bean, or we don’t know who is in charge tonight.”

Lord Jonquil took up the task of cutting and distributing slices of cake. They were all soon in possession of their own. While cake was not quite the rare delicacy in their lives as it had been for many people, they all still took their time and savored the delicious treat.

Slowly, the slices disappeared and the bean had not been discovered. Robbie watched Adam, praying he would find it. She didn’t know when next he would get to celebrate Twelfth Night. She wanted this evening to be glorious and enjoyable and a memory he’d carry with him for years to come.

“Lord Jonquil knew where the bean was,” Howard whispered to her. “He made certain our little duke’s piece contained it.”

Aye. This was a family that would love her dear Adam.

Quite suddenly, Adam jumped to his feet. “I found it!” He actually bounced with excitement. “I found it!”

Lord Jonquil fetched the homemade crown and brought it over. He set the crown of evergreen branches and flowers and herbs on Adam’s head and offered a deep bow. “Your Majesty.”

Adam laughed a little.

“Your Majesty?” Howard also dipped a deferential bow. “May I make a request for the first undertaking of the night?”

Adam nodded, clearly curious.

“I have a gift for Miss Roberta MacGregor, and I’d like to give it to her.”

This was news to Robbie

“I think you should,” Adam said.

From a hiding place behind a wingback chair, Howard produced a small paper-wrapped parcel. He gave it to her and watched with apparent pleasure as she slowly unwrapped it.

Inside was a wooden brooch carved in the precise shape of a thistle. “You made this, didn’t you?”

“After I finished with a certain horse.”

Adam’s horse, he meant. The one the boy carried about in his pocket.

“Considering the song you sing to our king, here, I thought the thistle a perfect choice,” Howard said.

“It’s utterly perfect.” She clutched it to her heart. “I love it.”

He slipped an arm around her waist and kept her tight against him.

“Your Majesty,” Lady Jonquil said quite seriously, “it is time for you to select our next activity.”

“I decree that next will be shovegroat.” Adam played his part a bit too expertly. How easily one could picture him being a very authoritative, perhaps even frightening duke when he was grown. Robbie hoped that tendency would be tempered by his good and compassionate heart.

“We don’t have a shovegroat board,” Lady Jonquil said.

“Oh, but we do.” Howard fetched the board he, Robbie, and Adam had painted the day before.

“Where did this come from?” Lady Jonquil addressed the question to Adam, though her eyes darted to the others as well.

“We made it,” Adam said. “Yesterday. I painted the lines—Nurse Robbie said I had to, even though I didn’t want to. But she painted the holly and the ivy on it. We thought it would look more like Christmas.”

“You both did a fine job.” Lady Jonquil gave Adam a quick side hug. He’d refused to be embraced when they’d first arrived at Brier Hill. How much he’d changed in so short a time.

“I don’t know how to play the game though.” Adam’s brow pulled low and tense. “Maybe it isn’t fun.”

“It is a lark.” Lord Jonquil had five coins at the ready and had already plopped himself onto the floor in anticipation of playing the game. He motioned for Adam to join him. “Each player sets a coin at the bottom of the board and then shoves it toward the top.” He demonstrated. “If the coin stops between two lines, the player receives the points for that spot.”

Adam didn’t play for the first couple of rounds, preferring to watch and learn. But even when he did join in, he seemed distracted. His thoughts were elsewhere.

“We can take up a different game,” Robbie said. “It’s for you to choose.”

He pushed out a deep and tense breath. She knew he took any and every responsibility very seriously, but she’d thought he would find that night’s assignment enjoyable.

“We need to wassail the tree,” Adam said.

To her husband, Lady Jonquil said, “We are taking a very traditional approach tonight.”

“Except for the Christmas greenery,” Lord Jonquil said. “His Majesty has requested it remain up, on account of his being very fond of it.”

“Then, it most certainly will.”

Even that kindness didn’t entirely lift Adam’s spirits. Why was he so heavyhearted? He’d planned the evening’s party and had seemed quite excited only the night before.

“Oh, Howard,” she whispered to her sweetheart. “I had such hopes that this would be a joyous Christmastime celebration for him.”

Howard put an arm around her as they walked toward the walled garden. “I do think he is pleased with our Twelfth Night festivities.”

Robbie rested her head against him. “You’re telling me I need to have hope?”

“We have a great many things I’m hopeful about, my Robbie. More hopeful than I’ve been in years and years.” He kissed her forehead and squeezed her shoulders. “I know you’re nervous for our dear little duke, but I think we’ve reason to be hopeful for him as well.”

They arrived at the newly planted rowan tree, where a bit of wassail and bread awaited their efforts. Adam did look pleased, even if his expression was a bit anxious. Howard kept to Robbie’s side, brushed his hand against hers, offered her reassuring smiles. Even with so much uncertainty in her future, Robbie did, in fact, feel hopeful.

The group made short work of the tree-wassailing ceremony, choosing not to include any poems or songs or such.

“That is supposed to make the tree a good tree,” Adam told Lady Jonquil. “And it means the people here will have a happy year to come.”

“I hope so,” she said.

Howard took Robbie’s hand. “Hope is a powerful thing,” he whispered.

“I’m learning that from you, my dear.”

Adam looked to Lady Jonquil. She smiled softly, encouragingly. Some-thing unspoken passed between them. Adam’s shoulders squared, but he didn’t move or speak for a moment. Lady Jonquil gave him a little nudge.

That seemed to be enough.

Adam turned and faced Robbie. “I’m the king tonight, so that means I can make another royal decree.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

“I decree that...” He paused. He took a breath. And swallowed. “I decree that you and Mr. Simpkin should get to be happy. And that means when he travels, you should travel with him.”

Never could she have guessed he’d say that.

And he wasn’t finished. “You can’t marry Mr. Simpkin and travel in his coach to build gardens if you’re a nursemaid. And you can’t be happy with him if you are waiting here for me to visit.” His chin quivered, but only for a moment. “I am too old for a nursemaid. And Lucas and Mother Julia’s baby would be happy to have you as a nursemaid. But you won’t be happy without Mr. Simpkin. And I want you to be happy.” His voice broke, but he pushed on. “I wouldn’t love you very much if I didn’t want you to be happy.”

“My dear, wee Adam.” Robbie bent down to look him more directly in the eye. “Too many people have left you. I can’t join their number. That’d be unkind.”

But he shook his head. “You aren’t leaving me though. Not like they do. They leave because they don’t want to be with me.”

That wasn’t entirely true, but she was certain it felt true to the sweet boy.

“Even when we aren’t together,” Adam said, “we’ll still be family. Family is who you choose.”

“And we’ve chosen each other, haven’t we?”

He nodded. “And you should choose Mr. Simpkin.”

Robbie twisted and looked up at her beloved Howard. “I really should.”

“You really should,” Howard said.

“And I have a suggestion of something else the two of you ought to choose,” Lord Jonquil said, pulling everyone’s attention to him. “We mean to have Adam visit us here whenever he can. And we’ve every intention of keeping in touch with Mr. Simpkin—I have a very important garden here, after all.” He smoothed his cravat and silk waistcoat, making a humorous show of feigned arrogance. “We can send word to the two of you as soon as we know when we are to expect a visit from our favorite duke. When at all possible, you can travel here to Brier Hill to see him.”

What a blessing that would be.

Robbie looked to Adam. “What do you say?”

“I would like that.” He could be very monarchical when he chose to be. And yet beneath that solemn tone was an eagerness he couldn’t entirely hide. “I could tell you about the people at the castle.”

“And I could tell you about the places we’ve traveled,” Robbie offered.

He nodded. “And you could sing me the song about the boy the size of a thistle.”

Robbie tucked him up close to her. With his handmade Twelfth Night crown and their wassailed tree and the joy of a Christmas celebration fresh around them, she sang.

Saw ye my wee thing? Saw ye my own thing?

Saw ye my bonnie boy down by the lea?

He skipped ’cross the meadow yestere’en at the gloaming.

Small as a thistle my dear boy is he.