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Hew and Duncan and
    the cart again?‖
    Andrew joined them, as Thomas had known he would. Had
    his friend not been there, Thomas was certain he‘d be as panic-
    stricken as the cook. But somehow Andrew calmed him and
    made it all seem manageable.
    Andrew quietly pointed out, when they arrived in the
    center of Barrington Village, that none of them had had a
    moment to eat since breakfast, and it was now well past
    midday. Thomas suspected this was more for the benefit of the
    boys, rather than Andrew himself, though neither of them had
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    complained at all. When the idea was broached, Duncan
    enthusiastically directed them to a local pub.
    After an unsophisticated but excellent meal of bangers and
    mash, the four of them practically cleaned out the local grocers.
    Hew and Duncan took it upon themselves to inform everyone
    they met about the dance at Barrington Hall, even though the
    invitations hadn‘t yet gone out, which delayed them a good bit.
    But Thomas didn‘t mind. He was having a better time today
    than he‘d had since he was a boy.
    By the time they got back to the hall, the servants had
    strung up the evergreen boughs and had begun decorating
    with ornaments retrieved from the attic. The portrait of Anne
    still adorned one of the mantels, but the hideous black garland
    had been replaced by much more festive balsam. Susan was
    awake again and ran up to her uncle and Andrew the moment
    they entered the hall.
    ―You said you would wake me when you put the ribbons
    up,‖ she accused them, while taking them each by a hand and
    tugging them inside.
    ―But I don‘t see any ribbons,‖ Andrew observed.
    ―Not yet!‖ the little girl said, clearly exasperated.
    Simcox approached, looking amused. ―The ribbons have
    been kept aside, sir, awaiting your return.‖
    Thomas laughed and scooped his niece up in his arms.
    ―There now, you see? Nothing to worry about. Come along,
    Andrew. We‘ve ribbons to do battle with.‖
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    Chapter 8

    AFTER Susan had tired of hanging ribbons on the evergreen
    boughs, and the hall was looking lavish with red and gold
    Christmas ribbons and ornaments, and not one but two
    towering Christmas trees, Katie escorted Susan up to the
    nursery for dinner. Andrew followed Thomas into the dining
    room, where both Duchess Barrington and Duke Barrington
    awaited them.
    Andrew could sense Thomas growing tense at the sight of
    his father, but he took his seat without a word, Andrew sitting
    across from him. For a long time, nobody said anything, as
    Simcox ladled out a rich vegetable soup in front of each of them.
    ―The decorations are coming along beautifully, Thomas,‖
    Duchess Barrington said cheerfully when the silence had
    grown oppressive.
    ―Thank you, Mother.‖
    The duke harrumphed. ―Though I‘m not quite sure how
    our Christmas ball became a Christmas dance .‖
    Andrew saw Thomas grit his teeth, but he managed to
    answer calmly. ―It‘s far too late to put on a ball, father.‖
    ―The dance was my idea,‖ Duchess Barrington interjected.
    ―The wager was for a Christmas ball .‖
    ―Then I‘m changing the wager,‖ his wife said dismissively.
    ―It will be a grand time, Henry. Don‘t be a lump.‖
    The duke glared at his wife, but apparently he knew when
    he was beaten. He remained silent through the rest of the meal,
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    apart from the occasional grumbled comment in response to
    something Duchess Barrington said. Thomas wasn‘t
    particularly talkative, either. But his mother managed to keep
    the conversation going with Andrew‘s assistance.
    After dinner—a dinner sorely underappreciated, for all of
    the work Cook put into it—Thomas and Andrew retired to their
    rooms.
    ―Your father seems to have mellowed a bit,‖ Andrew
    commented, as they stood in the hallway outside his door.
    ―Don‘t believe it for a second,‖ Thomas replied. ―He