“He died.”
“What a pity,” Giana said. “He was a dear friend of my mother’s. He was a very famous painter, Leah. You remember the Turner paintings in the drawing room, do you not, Alex?”
“Yes,” Alex said, but his attention was no longer at the breakfast table, but on a letter he was reading. He raised his face, smiling widely. “Delaney should be here for Christmas,” he said.
“Uncle Delaney,” Leah said, slithering from her chair. “Oh, Anna, you will adore my uncle. Giana, he is so funny.” Casting a candid look at her father, Leah continued, “Though he is not nearly so handsome as Papa.”
“But he is younger than Papa, is he not, Leah?” Giana asked, giving Alex a droll look.
“He will doubtless improve with age,” Alex said. “Now,” he continued, rising, “who would like to come with me to cut down our Christmas tree?”
Giana was the one, bundled up to her ears in a heavy fur-lined cloak, who picked out the huge fir tree Alex cut down. They dragged it back to the city tied to a sled behind the carriage. Leah, exhausted from all the excitement, fell asleep in her father’s arms. Giana watched Alex wipe away the traces of ho
t chocolate from about Leah’s mouth and lightly kiss the child’s smooth brow. She felt tears sting her eyes, and quickly turned her head away. It was her pregnancy, she thought, that was making her foolishly sentimental. But it had been a day that would remain with her, she knew, a joyous day with so much laughter, one that would never fade from her mind.
“You are very quiet, Giana,” Alex said, closing his book to look at her full face as they sat in front of the fireplace in their bedchamber that evening. “Are you tired?”
She started at the concern in his voice, and forced herself to shrug her shoulders. “Of course not, Alex.” But his eyes held hers for a moment longer, and the hated, inexplicable tears swam in her eyes again. “I’m being foolish,” she said, swiping her fingers over her eyes. “It’s just that we never had such a Christmas tree. The past couple of years, Mother had one delivered, delivered like a package, to the back door. The servants decorated it. The damned servants. I always admired it, and duly complimented Lanson and the staff on their efforts, because I was supposed to. I always hated Christmas.”
Alex watched her silently. He wanted to tell her that if she but stayed with him he would erase all her bitterness. He would make her every Christmas a special time. He waited until she quieted, and asked her, “What were your Christmases like when you were Leah’s age?”
“I got lots of presents. Mother was so busy, Alex, I understand that now. But a child isn’t so understanding. Leah is such a lucky child.”
“More lucky this year, I should say. This is her first Christmas with a mother and a father. I much enjoyed today, Giana. You were as excited as Leah.”
Her smile became more natural as Alex continued. “We will let the tree soak for a couple of days, then bring it into the drawing room. Mrs. Carruthers is helping Leah make decorations for it.”
“That will be marvelous,” she said. “Perhaps Anna will show me how to make something.”
“I will show you. I am really quite good at decorating trees.”
“As good as you are at growing orchids?”
“Better. If you would like, it is sort of a tradition in this household to have an open house on Christmas Day.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Yes, so very much. Should you dislike me inviting the Lattimers?”
He said only, his voice perfectly bland, “No, that would be fine.”
“Sometimes you are terribly provoking, Alex Saxton.”
“Suffice it to say, princess, that Charles Lattimer will still gobble up your collateral when McCormick lets you down.”
“I shan’t fight with you about that tonight, Alex.”
“Excellent.” He patted his thighs. “I think I can still hold you comfortably.”
Giana readily left her chair and settled herself in his lap.
“You know,” he said after a moment, “I much enjoy family life. You are treating Leah as if she were your own child.”
“I love her,” Giana said.
“Would you love me if I were nine years old?”
His voice was light, teasing, and Giana answered, keeping her voice as light as his, “I can’t fight with Leah the way I fight with you.”
“I remember thinking once that we were like a couple of stray cats. At least the she-cat is resting as she should now.”