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Still tugging on woolen gloves, she descended the stairs and greeted the girls as they hopped from one foot to the other
at the front door. Even the footman’s lips inched up slightly at their exuberance.
“Look what I found in the attic.” Penrose walked up to them, holding two wooden sleds.
“Oh, Your Grace, thank you so much,” Charlotte cried.
Each girl took a sled and disappeared through the door. Merry tightened the scarf around her neck.
“You are really going to play in the snow?” Penrose regarded her, his eyes twinkling.
“Yes I am, and if you had anything left of the child inside you, you would join us.”
“Madam, I am a duke, not a school boy. I plan to stay right here where it is dry and warm.”
“Coward.”
He merely responded with raised eyebrows.
The sounds of the girls yelping and racing around in the snow as children had done for ages, greeted her as she stepped through the door.
Merry stood and breathed deeply of the bracing cold air. Everything always seemed magical when it snowed. Lights burning within the house, with snow decorating the roof and windowsills, soothed her with a sense of peace. The dreariness of winter would vanished and turn into a sparkling white play land.
The first order of business was building a snowman. Charlotte requested a hat, scarf, carrot, and two pieces of coal from the footman, who supplied them with a full grin on his face this time.
They all diligently rolled three different sized balls and stacked them, then decorated their effort with the supplies. The exercise warmed her, as did the lighthearted expressions on the girls’ faces. Children needed to young and carefree, even when they were ladies.
Once the snowman stood proud in front of the manor, Charlotte and Clare spent time on the sleds, whooping with laughter when Merry took a turn and tumbled into a snow pile.
“Bravo, Miss Chambers.” Penrose leaned against the front door, dressed in his greatcoat, scarf and hat. He crossed his arms and grinned as she stood and swiped snow from her pelisse.
“Have you decided to join us?” She dragged the sled toward where he stood.
“Merely to observe, I assure you.”
“Sir, you need to recapture your youth. You’ve told me to remember my place, but it appears you need to forget your place once in a while.”
“Indeed? I can assure you I never forget my place. And I find it’s much wiser to enjoy watching all of you get wet and uncomfortable.”
“Your Grace, we’re going to make snowballs and have a snowball fight.” Charlotte shouted from her position where she formed the small white balls, stacking them into a pile.
“And will Miss Chambers be joining you?”
“Of course. I always engage in the snowball fights.” Merry slogged through the snow to where Clare also produced snowballs and knelt to help her. “In fact, I am the snowball queen.”
“Aren’t you cold, Miss Chambers?” Penrose spoke from his safe spot, a smirk on his handsome face.
Merry studied him-all stiff and proper. Dry as a bone, and watching them from his comfortable perch at the front door. A tiny niggle of awareness settled in her middle. The cold brought out the color in his cheeks, his eyes snapping with his usual arrogance. Once again she remembered the kiss in the darkness of the library. How soft and warm his mouth had been, how hard his body felt against hers.
Now he appeared lofty, above her, a reminder of how far apart they stood. Before she could even form the words for what she planned to do, she picked up a good-sized snowball, and pulling her arm back, let it fly.
The snowball whacked the duke square in the face.
“Miss Merry!” Two astonished young voices screeched.
Chapter 8
The cold, wet mess slid slowly down Penrose’s forehead, over his nose, to his tightened lips, then dripped off his chin onto his coat. He dragged his hand down his face and headed toward his nemesis.
