“We wish you a Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year!” Grace, Duchess of Somerset, sang out as loudly as she could, even though she knew she had quite a horrible voice. Singing had never been her forte, and yet, she couldn’t hold back. Not tonight. Not when so much joy and happiness filled her heart.
Evan squeezed her hand, and she glanced over at him as the group began a rousing rendition of Joy to the World. He was smiling just as widely as she was, and so was his mother, for that matter. A Christmas miracle, for sure.
Hannah and Graham, who ought to have been enjoying their wedding night, sang out loudly as well. It seemed the Christmas Spirit was with them all this evening.
As the song came to a close, the Duchess of Hart pushed through the cheering children and insisted that everyone come inside for wassail and gingerbread. No one was inclined to say no to Her Grace, so they all filed into the warmth of the townhouse.
Grace sought out her sister first, enveloping her in a hug that might have said they hadn’t seen one another in years, when really, they’d just been together earlier that day. Lizzie, however…
“Oh, Lizzie,” Grace said, tears welling up in her throat. “It has been far too long.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” her cousin said as they squeezed one another tightly. “I promise not to stay away so long next time.”
“And I promise to come visit you in the Highlands. Evan will be more than glad to get away from London after the ordeal we’ve all been through with Beeston.”
“Chloe only hinted at the situation in her letters. Come, let us settle in for tea and you can tell me the rest.”
Evan watched as his wife walked away, her sister on one arm, her long-lost cousin on the other, a smile as wide as the Thames across her face. She was a happy little thing usually, but now, with a babe in her belly, with Hannah safe and happily wed, and with her cousin back home, well…he’d never seen her quite so content.
“You’ll create horrible wrinkles smiling like that.” His mother appeared beside him, the smile on her own face stealing any sting from her words.
“And I won’t regret a one of them,” he replied. “It is nice to see you smiling, Mother.”
“Yes, well, I figured it was about time. Seventy years is a long time to hold one’s face in a perpetual frown.”
“I’m sorry your life was not worth smiling about,” Evan said, and he meant it. He knew what it was to be unhappy, and he didn’t wish it on anyone.
But the dowager only smiled wider. “There is nothing to be sorry about, my son.” She shrugged. “So it took me a little longer to find happiness…at least I found it before I died.”
Evan gave a little chuckle. “Indeed. Come,” he said, proffering his arm for his mother, “let us get a glass of wassail.”