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A servant brought a bowl of white soup and another loaf of fresh bread. She noticed that the servant, a young man with blond hair, did not dare to look up at Ambrose. In fact, his hand was shaking slightly. The man departed.

“You have your servants terrified of you.”

“I try not to scare them too much,” he said. “This particular one is not a great admirer of mine because a few days ago we had a rather uncomfortable incident when he attempted to murder a bird, and I did not agree with his plan.”

Her eyes widened. “What? A bird? Why would anyone do such a thing?”

“I believe he feared that the bird was going to wake me, and thus decided to come after it with a candle holder, because evidently the racket created by that was, in his mind, more tolerable than the birdsong.”

“And what happened to the bird?” she demanded.

“Nothing. It flew away. This morning I saw it building a nest in one of the oak trees. I am happy to show you. I know my reputation is that of a beastly monster, but I am rather partial to the local wildlife. They tend not to judge me.”

“I understand,” she said. She looked at Luna, who had walked in and was lying down in front of the fire. “That is why I love Luna so much. Although she does judge me. Usually if I do not feed her at the time she has set. Or if I dare attempt to sleep past six o’clock in the morning when she would like to have been let outside already. She judges me rather fiercely.”

He actually laughed at this, and she had to admit it suited him. Yes, he was frightful, he was arrogant, and set in his ways, but there was something about him. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. He was well-mannered, and despite his reputation, it was easy to talk to him. At least thus far.

“So, in general, is it just you and your cat dining together?”

She nodded. “Yes, though on occasion I have visitors, of course. My mother and my sisters.”

He nodded. “Yes, I believe I have heard of your sister. The Duchess of Netherton. Quite a tale. I followed it in the scandal sheets.”

She nodded. “I suppose she was considered quite scandalous.”

“A scandal-prone duchess and a forest witch,” he said. “I have married into quite the family.”

“You’re one to talk,” she said. “I am the one who’s married to the Beast Duke. And I am not a forest witch. I am the Christmas Witch. We really ought to address each other by the correct titles.”

He laughed once more, pressing a handkerchief against his mouth. He glanced at her, and his eyes flickered with something so genuine she couldn’t look away. Heat spread from her stomach into her legs and arms. He was handsome. And he had a sense of humor. And most of all, he did not judge her like everybody else had. During this conversation she had felt almost as she had when she was young, before she had made the unfortunate decision to marry her first husband. Before she had become the Christmas Witch. For a few moments, she was just a girl having dinner with a charming young man.

“What about your family?” she asked.

It was the wrong thing to say. She knew it at once. His visage darkened, and he tore another piece of bread off for himself, dunking it into his soup, and then chewed. When he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbed around the large bite, and then he shrugged.

“The only family I knew were my mother and father. They could not stand to be too close to me because they feared that whatever I have might be catching. My father appreciated my intelligence, which is the only reason why they did not attempt to send me away to Bedlam or some other horrid place where they send people who are less than perfect. I think he knew that I could manage to run the estate. But being admired for one’s intelligence does not make up for being despised for something I cannot help.”

She had noticed that the rash on his face had faded. It was still there, but very light. By morning, she was sure it would be gone. It most certainly would if he allowed her to give him one of her teas, but she was not going to press the matter today.

She opened her mouth, not quite sure what she was going to say, when there was a knock on the door and Ernest, the butler, entered. The man looked at her and gave her a curt nod.

“Good afternoon, Your Grace, and Your Grace,” he said, a small smile playing around his lips. “We have had a message. The vicar would like to speak to you.” He held a small note out. Ambrose opened it and nodded.

“Tell him he’s welcome to come and meet me tomorrow.” Ernest bowed and disappeared once more.

“What did the vicar want?” she asked. “Has he just now received the news that he has married a creature of the night off to a witch? Perhaps he is worried about his immortal soul?”

He shook his head but did not smile, though she herself thought her jest rather clever.

“No,” he said. “He wishes to discuss the needs of the community. There is a home for orphaned children in the village that has long been supported by the Dukes of Griffin. When winter comes, there is often more need, and he wishes to discuss such matters. There are also certain families in the community that require more assistance.”

She looked at him, surprised to hear this. Helping an orphanage, knowing of families in need, and meeting with a vicar were not things she had associated with a man with so beastly a reputation.

“Are there many struggling families?”

He nodded. “Yes. Not among my tenants. Our tenants, I should say. Our tenants are well provided for. We have ten tenant farmers on the estate. My steward knows to provide for them whatever they need without bothering me. But they also know they can come to Ernest if the steward ever falls short of his duties. The village is another matter. Griffin may bear the same name as the estate, but it is an independent village. Ludlow is the other neighboring village. It’s in even worse condition. There are struggling families in both. You see, this used to be an area known for mining.”

“I know it. My cottage might be some distance away, but I do know something of the area.”