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 . . . Sleep in heavenly peace.
In the darkness, she reached for his hand, but he only gave her fingers a brief squeeze, then put his arm
around her and held her closer for warmth. A breathless silence settled over their cheerful company as
the delicate music shivered into nothingness.
Damien quietly ordered the coachman to drive on.
Jacinda stared longingly at the frozen ornamental lake.  We must remember to go ice skating before the
Serpentine melts. Lizzie, Miranda, shall we go on Monday?
Miranda shuddered and shook her head.  Not me, thanks.
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 Why not? the girl protested.  It s fun.
 And good exercise, Lizzie chimed in.
 Why don t you try it? Damien asked her in an intimate tone, his eyes aglow. No one seemed to mind
or even to notice that he had his arm around her.
She shivered.  Not for me, thanks. None of their easy assurances could have talked her out of her utter
phobia of the water.
Soon they viewed the illuminations at Apsley House, stately Buckingham, and the prince regent s
Carlton House behind its screen of Italianate columns.
Back at Knight House once more, they drank negus in the drawing room until Mr. Walsh, with a red
carnation tucked in his buttonhole that did little to make festive his grave manner, announced that dinner
was served. Their Graces led the way, followed by Lucien and Alice. Old Mr. Hamilton offered Lady
Jacinda his frail arm; Lizzie went in with Alec, doting helplessly on the golden rogue every step of the
way. Last of all, Damien offered Miranda his arm and escorted her in to dine. The chandelier blazed
above; the room held the faint perfume of evergreen boughs. Miranda had never beheld a table so
magnificently laden. It was bedecked with silver and exquisite china, yards of creamy white damask, and
gleaming candles whose flames were reflected in the great mirrors on the walls.
They all joined hands around the table as the handsome young duke offered up a simple grace of thanks
for God s gift of his Son this holy night; for their country s victory and peace after twenty years of war;
and for the fact that, at last, Christmas found them together again. His prayer brought a lump up into
Miranda s throat, though she had only known these people for a short while. She stared down at her
shiny Sevres plate, then looked over at Damien as he gave her hand a gentle squeeze.
She thanked God most of all for her guardian guardian angel, as she sometimes thought of him.
 And may our baby be healthy, the duchess added softly.
 Amen, her husband answered, leaning over to kiss her cheek.
 And God also bless Jack, wherever he is, Jacinda added, casting a brief, melancholic look around the
table at her brothers.
 God bless Jack, Lucien and Alec echoed, but Robert and Damien remained silent, exchanging a grim
glance.
The duchess gave the footmen a nod, and they began to wait on them.
 Who s Jack? Miranda asked cautiously.
 He is our brother, Alec answered in a mellow, faraway tone.  He is the second-born, after Robert.
 He could not be with you tonight?
 He does not live in England, Lizzie said delicately, giving her a warning glance.
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The subject of their missing brother seemed to be an awkward one, so Miranda dropped it, turning her
attention instead to the meal, which was sumptuous even by Knight House standards. A silver tureen of
pease soup held pride of place in the center of the table. On one side, there was a roasted turkey with
celery sauce; on the other, buttery cod and a rich, red chine of lamb. Mincemeat pie and fillet of pork
with sharp sauce graced the foot of the table; at the head was fried sole, which Miranda did not fancy,
and two whole chickens with broccoli. And this was only the first course of three.
 None of my new clothes are going to fit anymore, she told them with a laugh.
 They had better, Damien muttered, giving her a teasing look askance.
Next came apple puffs and startled-looking woodcocks, arranged lifelike on the plate; pickled lambs
ears; galantine. The flaky sturgeon was done to perfection, nearly as good as the hare with mushrooms.
Miranda took one bite of a savory cake. It was delicious, but she could not finish it. She marveled at the
days less than a fortnight ago when sometimes all she had had for dinner, provided she was not being
punished with starvation on any given night, was a hunk of stale bread and a tepid cup of tea.
Again, the four liveried footmen posted in the corners stepped forward, cleared the table, neatly brushed
off the crumbs, and refilled the wineglasses. Miranda s thoughts drifted. She studied each face around the
table, memorizing them, in her gratitude, and relishing the wonderful feelings this night had given her.
She took particular pleasure in simply looking at Damien and his collection of tall, handsome brothers.
Though there was a family resemblance, it puzzled her that they did not look more alike. Robert, the
eldest, was in his mid- to late thirties, with jet-black hair touched with silver at his temples and penetrating
brown eyes. If he had not possessed such a kind smile, Miranda would have been impossibly intimidated
by the duke. She did not need to know how many estates he owned or how many seats in Parliament he
controlled to feel his aura of power, yet when he gazed at his wife, one could see him turn smitten.
She looked at Lord Alec next.What a rogue. She shook her head to herself with a wry smile. She quite
adored him, for they were similar in nature, Alec and she both flamboyant, provocative creatures who
loved to be the center of attention. He was the youngest of the Knight brothers and the one Damien had
called the current darling of Society. She could see why. Lord Alec was utterly gorgeous and knew it. He
spoke his mind with frank, rapier wit and, like any true arbiter of fashion, took pleasure in his own [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]