But Adelaide’s lips pursed, the faintest hint of a smile ticking one corner. “It’s a tricky thing, charm,” she said slowly. “Quite often, I find some claim to possess it when all it turns out to be is empty air for cooling tea.”

Harrison covered his mouth with the back of his hand as laughter rippled through him. Gage looked appropriately horrified, then burst out laughing himself, as did the others.

“A merry Christmas, indeed,” Gage managed between laughter. “And to think, I offered up my venison for this.”

Adelaide shook her head, grinning outright. “That is your own fault, and no one else’s. Come, let’s eat.”

The table settings were a work of art, perfectly encapsulating the Christmas season with its greenery and winter berries, and though Adelaide had dressed rather simply in a gown of green and gold, she perfectly encapsulated the same beauty.

He assisted her in her seat, taking a very brief moment to squeeze her hand. He did not trust himself to praise her for an excellent barb at Gage, for welcoming these friends into her own life as well as their home, for making Trevadden more than the house he lived in.

He was suddenly grateful for so many things where she was concerned.

By the time he reached his own place, Honora and Emblyn were already deep in conversation about something across from each other, while the rest laughed about some joke he had missed. It did not matter much, the spirit of the meal was already everything he could have hoped.

The cook had outdone herself this year, preparing roast beef and pheasant, along with the venison Gage had provided, matched by the mince pies, Christmas pudding, roasted vegetables, white soup, three different breads, black butter, preserves as far as the eye could see, and the largest plum pudding Harrison had ever seen. Each of them had been given a glass of syllabub as well as Madeira, though how any of them would manage room for any drink at all was beyond him.

“I don’t recognize these flowers,” Adelaide suddenly said, eyeing the décor on the table suspiciously. “They were not part of the arrangements before.” She looked at Harrison, questioning without words.

He glanced at the flowers almost in passing as he began to cut into the venison on his plate. “Ah, that is the Christmas rose, my dear. Black hellebore, it is called. Beautiful and apt but, sadly, poisonous to the taste.”

Adelaide cocked her head, a crease appearing in the center of her brow. “I hardly thought of consuming it, Basset. Why are they here?”

He did his best not to smile. “I saw all of the joy you received from the greenery being put up, so I thought why not add a little color to the scheme? Real roses, particularly your favorite white ones, being out of season at the present, I thought these might do. Was I in error?”