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The housekeeper stepped nearer, watching her with a curiosity she could barely conceal.

“How did Your Grace manage to persuade the duke?” she inquired. “I confess, I cannot understand it. It took Ernest years to convince him to open the curtains and windows at night to let in fresh air.”

The woman lowered her head, apparently realizing how bold her question sounded, before hurriedly continuing, “I always hoped that once he met the right lady she could convince him to be more lenient, but this has been rather swift. I know precisely how stubborn that gentleman can be. This is simply astonishing.” She paused as her eyes traveled toward the open balcony doors before adding, “Not merely here. The nursery curtains are open, and several others besides. I have never witnessed such a thing in this house.”

Marina turned back toward the plants. The right lady? She wasn’t sure that was the best way to describe what they were. What existed between her and the duke was much closer to a challenge than a love match. She had promised to prove that her arrangement could accommodate both his needs and hers, and she intended to keep that promise.

“It is not so difficult an adjustment. I believe he sees that too,” Marina replied rather playfully, yet the caution in her tone was unmistakable. “His Grace will simply knock when he wishes to enter the nursery or the breakfast room—or any other room where the curtains may be open in future.” They had only discussed her chamber, the nursery, and the breakfast room—but she had a plan in place that would soon see other curtains open also.

If her plan bore fruit. Mrs. Dalton looked rather confused, so Marina quickly filled her in on what had been discussed.

“Well, I am very pleased at the changes, and I hope he will keep them when he returns. He is bringing your plants? Ernest mentioned he would meet him there the day after tomorrow.”

“Yes, and he is bringing two carriages. He will need them, for I shall want all my plants. Mrs. Dalton, this house and the gardens will be splendid when I am done.” She paused as a thought came to her.

“Pray, would you show me the gardens? I have not seen them yet.”

Mrs. Dalton agreed, and the two walked out of the house and into the garden.

The garden, unfortunately, proved far less enchanting. Marina stopped walking, her smile fading. The garden looked almost lifeless. Several plants had withered entirely, while the surviving flowers were thin from neglect. Even the trees looked as though they had grown wild, with dry branches and leaves.

“His Grace does not venture outside during the day,” Mrs. Dalton explained solemnly, noticing the duchess’ expression. “So the gardens have never been much of a concern to him. I have attempted to revive them over the years, Your Grace, but without the master’s support, there was only so much I could accomplish.”

Marina breathed in, surveying the garden once more. That settled it. She would bring color back to this place. She had enough plants in her glasshouse to begin with, though she would need permission before she could retrieve them.

“I shall need to speak with His Grace,” Marina announced. “I have a lot of seedlings and such, but to bring this garden to life in the spring, I shall need far more.”

“Indeed, His Grace is on good terms with one of the tenants who supplies some of our plantings, for things like teas and such. I am sure he will help you get in touch with the gentleman.”

“Is he generally on good terms with the tenants? He told me they are well looked after but I imagine every gentleman would say such a thing.”

“Oh.” Mrs. Dalton paused. “I would not say that he is on good terms with them, as he does not speak to them himself, but he ensures everyone is taken care of by way of the steward. He always has been very good to the tenants. I wish more people knew this about him. It would make his life easier.”

She thought of the story he had told at dinner, of the children he helped. She hadn’t been sure whether this was a genuine concern of his or something he’d brought up to make her think of him as something other than a beast.

“Is it true he helps orphans?” she asked.

Mrs. Dalton nodded. “Oh yes, very much so indeed. He cares about children in the villages. I think he would like to meet them, to support them in a more direct fashion, but he has never been able to, because of his condition—and his reputation. I fear if he were to venture out, they would be frightened of him—and he would take it very hard.”

Marina nodded to herself. She could understand that fear, having experienced it herself. She and Mrs. Dalton spent the remaining hours until sunset outside, looking over the forgotten garden.

That night, when she went to her chamber, she sat at the open window and looked out over the estate. Everything he had told her thus far was true. There was one thing she was still uncertain about, however—his condition. She wished she had her books with her so she might research it further, for what Mrs. Dalton had said struck her deeply.

He wanted to be outside, to meet people, to help. But his illness prevented him.

But what if there was a way to help that? What if the Christmas Witch she had so carefully cultivated could actually do some good in his world?

The sun seemed determined to make up for all the years it had been denied entrance into Griffin Manor. By the following morning, its golden rays shimmered through the nursery windows, spreading a pale warmth across the polished floor, the wooden toys, and the little vases of plants Marina had placed wherever the sunlight could reach them.

Emma’s cries filled the room as Marina gently patted her back, trying to coax her to sleep. Nearby, Mrs. Dalton folded the little girl’s freshly laundered gowns before arranging them inside the wooden cupboard.

“Her young ladyship has been rather tearful these past few days,” Mrs. Dalton observed with concerned tenderness. “Perhaps the poor darling senses that His Grace has been away.”

Marina’s fingers stilled. Mrs. Dalton had caught her out.

She had deliberately avoided thinking too much about his absence. Yet, she felt it. She half expected him to come around every corner, scowling at her attempts to bring the estate back to life with the few flowers she had gathered from the grounds and the few Mrs. Dalton had bought in the village.

“When is His Grace expected back?” The question she had been meaning to ask escaped more quickly than she intended.