Mistletoe Wishes: A Regency Christmas Collection
The Thorncroft estate had changed, too, now containing a complex of elegant buildings. Instead of ordering changes to the manor, Dr. Black had built three new lodges to Joss’s design, out of sight of the main house. Perfect for an influx of guests like this.
This year, the Festive Season was special for so many reasons. Not least because this was the first Christmas that she and Joss spent where their love had begun.
They played host to their family and friends. During the past six months, Dr. Black had transferred ownership of the estate to Joss. Maggie became the chatelaine where for so many years, she’d been a servant.
The fact still had the power to astonish her.
Joss came up behind her and slid his arm around her waist. She’d known he was there before he touched her. They’d reached such a level of closeness that she could sense his presence from a couple of rooms away.
“Our daughter is a demanding chit,” he said, drawing Maggie back against him. She basked in the warmth of his big body, familiar and beloved.
“Arabella wouldn’t let you go without reading her a second story?” Their four-year-old girl was clever and pretty and imperious, and knew she had her papa twined around her little finger. Maggie remembered the wonder in Joss’s expression the first time he saw his newborn daughter. He’d been the little girl’s slave ever since.
“I’m lucky I escaped before midnight. And that might have put our private celebrations back an hour or two, my love.”
Anticipation heated her blood. She and Joss always marked the night they’d come together as their true anniversary, instead of Valentine’s Day when they’d married at his parish church in Sussex. Oh, how Maggie still thrilled to recall those winter nights of sensual discovery five years ago, when they’d had this rambling manor house all to themselves.
It had taken some contriving to place a gloss of propriety on a courtship begun so unconventionally. Joss had left her on Twelfth Night, the day before Jane returned from Goathland as the proud grandmother of a little girl.
He’d arrived, ostensibly as a stranger, to meet and fall in love with Maggie at first sight. Not, as he said, that far from the truth.
Within a couple of weeks, he’d invited his parents to Fraedale to meet his betrothed. Maggie and Joss had then traveled south in a family party for a February ceremony, all chaperoned and above board.
How difficult it had been to sleep alone during those nights before the wedding, when Maggie had to pretend she was an appropriately virginal fiancée. Luckily, Arabella had arrived a respectable nine months after their nuptials, almost to the day.
Maggie glanced up at her husband. “Your son and heir couldn’t wait for me to go back to the party, so he could sneak out of bed to play with his blocks by the light of the moon.”
Thomas, three years old, and much quieter than his sister, was fascinated with building and the way things worked. Her husband’s brilliance as a designer had clearly descended upon the next generation.
Joss’s embrace tightened, and he kissed the top of her head. “We’ve been lucky, haven’t we?”
Maggie still delighted in his casual gestures of affection. After her lonely years, she’d never take Joss’s love for granted.
As she snuggled closer, a secret smile curved her lips. “Yes, we have.”
She raised a hand to press his palm to her midriff, just above where their next baby grew. Tonight she’d tell him the news in the privacy of their room, the room where they’d first shared a bed.
“It’s good to be back. You know, we could live here six months of the year and six months in London.”
“I’d love that,” Maggie said. “But can you leave your practice so long?”
“I can bring work up with me. In summer, getting in and out of Fraedale isn’t so difficult.”
“It is in winter.”
His soft chuckle brushed across her skin like velvet. “Winter here has other compensations.”
“Yes,” she said on a reminiscent sigh.
Below them, Joss’s mother Kitty was clearing a space for dancing. Maggie loved Kitty, who had welcomed her from the first and never shown any sign of minding that her handsome, successful son had chosen a girl who worked as a servant.
“And the practice has people lining up with commissions.” Joss’s architectural business was thriving. Another secret they kept this Christmas was the knighthood that became official in the New Year. Maggie Carr, humble housekeeper, would step into 1827 as Margaret, Lady Hale. The change still struck her as hard to credit. “I can afford to play the lord of the manor now and again.”
“Especially when you are the lord of the manor. How generous Dr. Black was to give us this estate.”
“Absurdly so. I’m so glad Uncle Thomas is here this Christmas.”
“He and his namesake have established quite the alliance. I suspect he might end up visiting Thorncroft more often, now he’s given it away, than he did when he owned it.” She stroked Joss’s large, capable hand. “The house ha