After a rousing rendering of “Hark! the Herald Angels Sing” we walked back up the drive, no longer sleepy but revived by the lively singing. I fell into step beside Darcy.

“I see you came to the church of the heretics with us,” I said, trying to make it sound as if I was joking. “So tell me, does your Catholic religion really mean that much to you?”

“I came with you because I thought it was polite to my hostess,” he said, “and also because the law says we don’t have to attend mass if the church is more than three miles away and if we are a traveler. The nearest Catholic church is at least ten miles away and I didn’t want to put anyone to the trouble of driving me in this weather.”

“Oh, I see,” I said.

“And as to whether my religion means anything to me, I can’t say I’m always a devout Catholic, but I try. My mother converted to marry my father, you know. And she became very devout. So I’m conscious of that.”

We walked on in silence while I digested this. As we took off the various layers of coats and scarves, Lady Hawse-Gorzley announced that there was brandy and hot mince pies in the drawing room to warm us up. I was about to go through when Darcy grabbed my arm and held me back.

“It’s Christmas Day,” he said, “and I want to give you my Christmas present.” And he took a small box from his pocket. “If I’d known you were going to be here, it would have been something rather different and a little more special,” he said, “but I wanted you to have something, to think of me when I’m not with you.”

I took the box and opened it. Inside was a silver Devon pixie on a pretty silver chain. I started to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” he asked. “Don’t you like it?”

“Wait and see tomorrow morning,” I said. “And I do like it. Thank you.”

“And in case you haven’t noticed,” he said, “I planned ahead. You’re standing directly under the mistletoe.”

Then he took me in his arms and kissed me—not a perfunctory meeting of the lips, but a real, warm and wonderful kiss.

Chapter 19

Chapter 19

CHRISTMAS DAY AT GORZLEY HALL

DECEMBER 25

I floated up to bed in a rosy haze. Darcy loved me. Nothing else in the whole world mattered. Queenie was lying on my bed, snoring away. Presumably she had been waiting for my return to undress me and had not been able to stay awake any longer. I roused her gently. “Queenie, you can go to bed now,” I whispered. “Happy Christmas.”

“Same to you, miss,” she muttered and promptly fell back to sleep again.