Chapter Fourteen

Essex, United Kingdom

Christmas, 1820

Evergreen wreaths made of ivy, holly, and hawthorn decorated the room, which smelled of mulled wine, citrus, and cinnamon. "How wonderful it is to have a white Christmas. The children are enjoying it so much," Charlotte said as she joined Lady Rose and Mrs. Warsham at the drawing room window. "I rather think your father and General Warsham are enjoying it more. Look at the pair of them. They are worse than the children."

"I quite agree," Mrs. Warsham said.

Charlotte laughed to see her father, General Warsham, Hugh, and their two little boys lob snowballs at each other as they chased one another and laughed, delighting in the snow and the Christmas spirit together.

A snowman stood in the center of the garden, complete with twig arms, a twig nose, button eyes, and Sir Benedict's top hat upon its head. It wore General Warsham's yellow cravat around its neck and held a card in each hand, symbolizing the gentleman's love for playing cards together.

"Oh, it looks like they've had enough of the cold and are coming inside," Lady Rose said.

"No doubt their stomachs have informed them that it's time for tea," Charlotte noted as two maids carried in trays stocked with tea, hot chocolate, biscuits, plum pudding, and mince pies. They set the trays on a tea table next to the blazing hearth, curtsied, and left.

"Mama!" Five-year-old Simon raced into the drawing room, followed by his three-year-old brother, Gabriel. "We built a snowman. Grandpapa dressed it in his top hat, and the general tied his cravat around its neck. Then we put cards in his hands, so he could play a game with us."

"I know. I saw him from the window. He's a very handsome snowman, indeed."

"It was hard work, I tell you," Sir Benedict said as he came up behind the children with General Warsham and Hugh. "I'm famished."

"Me too," General Warsham said, scooping up Simon in one arm and Gabriel in the other and carrying them to the sofa next to the blazing hearth. "Time for tea, my boys!"

Hugh, still chilled from the outdoors and smelling of clean, fresh air, and snow put his arm around his wife and kissed her forehead. Charlotte rested her head on his shoulder and sighed contentedly as she watched her family sitting around the hearth—each grandfather bouncing a delighted little boy on his knee—while Lady Rose and Mrs. Warsham poured tea and dished slices of pudding onto plates.

Just then, the nanny entered the drawing room, carrying Charlotte and Hugh's nine-month-old daughter.

"Here's my little Rose," Hugh said, taking the child from her nanny. Blonde ringlets framed her cherub face, which broke into a smile when her papa kissed her cheek.

She gurgled and pointed to her brothers and grandparents, her blue eyes twinkling with delight as Hugh and Charlotte made their way over to the hearth and sat down to join all of their happy family. And to think, Charlotte mused, it was all because—prompted by their two loving mothers—she'd taken a chance on true love, and won.