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The dinner that followed was a worthy feast. They ate the succulent roast venison with roast vegetables and potatoes while Will told stories of his first Christmas in London. He had celebrated the holiday with his chum, Ormond, who took him to his country home to meet his family.

“We did a lot of riding as I recall,” said Hugh.

“Aye, and a lot of eating and drinking,” added William. “If you think our home is large, Ailie, you should see the Duke of Albany’s estate in Ruislip outside of London.”

“That’s my parents’ home,” explained Hugh. “Most of the time, Mary and I live in our townhouse in London.”

Mary smiled at Ailie. “If you accept Muriel’s invitation, you must visit us in Mayfair. I will invite the ladies for tea.”

“That is most kind of you.” Ailie snuck a glance at Nash, seeing an invitation in his eyes.

For dessert, they had Will’s favorite, cranachan, a Scottish tradition their English guests had not sampled before.

“Anything in it we should know about?” asked Hugh, his spoon suspended above the layered confection.

“Not unless you are averse to toasted oatmeal, cream, honey, raspberries and a dash of brandy,” replied Ailie. “I assure you, no kale is hiding beneath the layers.”

Everyone laughed and picked up their spoons.

“Our cook bottled the raspberries herself last summer,” offered Emily.

Will licked some of the honeyed confection from his bottom lip. “If you don’t want yours, Ormond, old chum, I’d be happy to take it from you.” He made as if to reach his spoon toward Hugh’s cranachan.

Hugh raised his spoon like a sword poised to repel an attack. “You’re not getting mine ‘old chum’. I do believe I will like the dessert.”

Many chuckles echoed around the table.

“I like both the cranachan and the shortbread,” said Nash with a grin aimed at Ailie.

Ailie tossed him a teasing glance. “I’m relieved we have finally found a Scottish dish or two you like.”

When dinner was concluded, they retired as a group to the parlor for tea, port and brandy. Ailie played the songs on the pianoforte she had practiced for their guests: The Twelve Days of Christmas, While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks at Night and Joy to the World.

Everyone gathered around to sing.

Will’s strong tenor voice, at times, rose above the others. The Powell men sang with vigor, joining the ladies to make wonderful music, at times jolly and at other times reverent. Tara, it turned out, sang beautifully, so Ailie encouraged her to sing a solo from Joy to the World.

When Ailie finished playing, the faces around her all bore smiles.

As she rose from the bench, Mary encouraged her husband to take a turn at the pianoforte. “My husband is a remarkable talent,” said Mary. “His mother taught him to play as a boy.”

Ailie went to stand with the others as Hugh agreed to play for them. Nash made room for her, taking her hand, hidden in the folds of her skirt.

Hugh flipped the tails of his coat behind him and spread his long fingers over the keys. He began to play Handel’s Hallelujah chorus from the Messiah, filling the room with the glorious sounds. Ailie listened with rapt attention, transported by the spirited music.

When Hugh’s fingers lifted from the keys, there was silence for a moment. Then everyone burst into applause, even their dour butler standing at the parlor door, praising, Ailie thought, not just Hugh’s considerable talent, but also the Messiah for whom Handel had written the piece.

Christmas Day

At dawn, Ailie padded downstairs and set out into the cold morning. Knowing it would be a busy day, she wanted to give the dogs a run before they were fed. Like the day before, gray clouds hung low overhead. She sniffed the air, recognizing the scent of snow on the wind.

When she let Goodness and Mercy out of their kennel, they greeted her enthusiastically but were silent when normally they would have barked. They always acted that way just before a snowfall.

Heading toward the dock, she spotted a lone figure in a greatcoat and top hat walking ahead of her. The setters bounded ahead, wagging their tails.

“Ho! What have we here?” said Nash, bending to pet their dark heads. “A Happy Christmas to you, Goodness and Mercy.”

“You’re up early,” said Ailie, coming up to him. She could not hide the joy she felt at seeing him. Beneath his hat, his cheeks were red from the cold. He’d wrapped a green woolen scarf around his neck. Even in the dull light, his green and gold eyes sparkled.