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Marina’s brows rose. At least he was willing to listen. That was more than she had expected.

“When I visited the vicar, we discussed the children in the village,” she began. “The orphanage is in a dire state of disrepair and needs to be rebuilt, on top of its other needs.”

“The vicar already receives a considerable contribution from this estate, but we can spare more to help repair the orphanage,” Ambrose replied.

“Yes, I know. And he is very grateful. But he was thinking that perhaps we could encourage others to contribute as well. The cost is great, and he does not wish to place all the burden on our shoulders.”

At the word ‘our’, he turned to her.

She drew a breath.

“He thought, and I agreed, that we might host a Christmas charity ball.”

Ambrose stared at her.

“A ball?”

“At Griffin Manor. On Christmas.”

His jaw tightened, and once again, she managed to silence him with another suggestion. Then, with maddening calm, he answered, “No.”

Marina’s lashes fluttered. She stared at him, certain for one foolish second that she had misunderstood. He had refused before she had even explained how much good the event might do.

Before she could form another argument, Ambrose rose and turned away. His hands came together behind his back as he set off through the garden.

“No one would attend,” he said over his shoulder, his tone deliberately final. “I have no intention of inviting half the county here merely to have them decline.”

At first she followed him only with her eyes; then she followed him in earnest.

“But you have not heard what I actually have in mind.”

“I have heard enough.”

She frowned. The audacity of the man. He could not simply dismiss a perfectly wonderful idea and then walk away as though he had not just given her another reason to torment him with questions. She had to remind herself of his kindness toward her, and of the fact that he was a man who had been dismissed and ignored most of his life.

“People will come,” she insisted, hurrying after him. “Even if only out of curiosity. Surely you must realize how eager they will be to see the Christmas Witch and the Beast of Griffin hosting a ball together.”

Ambrose stopped and looked at her.

Marina smiled as innocently as she could.

“And I shall take care of everything,” she continued. “The invitations, the decorations, the food, the entertainment. You need not trouble yourself with any of it. The vicar can help us invite the families who need assistance, and the orphanage staff, and the guests may make donations. We could make Christmas a little happier for a great many children.”

For a moment, Ambrose said nothing. His gaze remained upon her, and Marina wondered whether she had pushed him too far.

Then he sighed.

“Very well. There is no point arguing with you anyhow. You will simply talk and talk until I lose the will to argue back.”

“That is true. It is much easier for you to agree with me from the start. So, we can host the ball?”

“You may have your ball.”

Marina stared at him, hardly daring to believe it. She had prepared at least another dozen arguments, and now she found herself with no use for any of them.

“Is this an early Christmas miracle?” she asked.

“I would advise you not to test how miraculous it is.”