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“For a few moments, and then they were gone. They are here for a week at least. Please.”

Ambrose remained still, but Marina’s smile only grew as she added, “I want them to see the two people I have talked so much about.”

The words caught him off guard. His gaze shifted briefly toward the closed doors behind her before returning to Marina. Family.

“I am afraid my presence may frighten them,” he admitted quietly, clearing his throat.

Marina rolled her eyes. “You are being silly,” she scolded affectionately, and before he could defend himself, she stepped closer, snagged his wrist and gave it a small tug. “Come,” she whispered encouragingly.

Before his pride could object, his body followed. With Emma curled up in one arm, Marina led Ambrose inside.

The drawing room that welcomed them was nothing like the shadowed space Ambrose remembered from his last visit.

The curtains were closed and a footman slipped out, having just lit more candles.

He spotted her mother and sisters in the room at once. He had seen them at the wedding but had not exchanged more than five sentences with each. The only person who seemed entirely unaffected by his presence was the Duke of Netherton, who regarded him with a calm expression. He had met him on one occasion before, years ago, when he had ventured into Parliament one evening and sat in the back.

She seemed to understand what he was willing to endure for her. Ambrose did not allow himself to study that look for long. Instead, he stepped past her, taking the lead with the smooth authority of long habit.

The women rose. Lady Dashwood curtsied, eyes still wide. The Duchess of Netherton followed, amusement glittering despite her graceful descent. Meanwhile, Lady Sophia pressed her lips tight, clearly fighting a laugh. Ambrose inclined his head, acknowledging them. “Ladies. It is a pleasure to see you all again. Allow me to introduce my niece—Lady Emma.”

Marina sat first, then Ambrose took the seat beside her. For several seconds, the room was silent, then Emma giggled, and everything changed.

“Oh, look at her,” Anna exclaimed delightedly, leaning forward. “May I hold her?”

“Of course,” Marina answered, passing the child.

Within moments, the women had forgotten the intimidating duke. Emma was passed between loving arms, her cheeks kissed, her little fingers admired and her green eyes praised, while Ambrose watched the entire display quietly, the fire crackling in the background.

“How long has she been sleeping through the night?” the Duchess of Netherton asked.

“Not long,” Marina answered with a soft laugh.

A soft thud sounded from the corner, then another. Every head turned toward the Christmas tree just in time to see Luna emerge from beneath its lowest branches with a length of red ribbon clamped proudly in her jaws. Behind her trailed half a garland of holly, three gilded walnuts, and a paper star, which came loose and drifted gracefully to the carpet.

“Luna!” Marina cried.

The cat did not so much as pause. She dragged her prize across the rug, batted a walnut beneath the chaise for good measure, and settled before the fire to chew the ribbon with an air of deep satisfaction.

The twins shrieked with laughter. Sophia pressed a hand to her mouth. Lady Dashwood looked as though she could not decide whether to be scandalized or entertained, and settled upon both.

“I am so sorry,” Marina said, already on her knees gathering walnuts. “She has never done anything of the sort before.”

“I would not apologize on her behalf.” Ambrose regarded the cat, and the cat regarded him back, unblinking. “It appears your creature and I are finally of one mind. Neither of us has much patience for Christmas.”

Simon laughed outright, a deep, surprised sound, and the last of the stiffness went out of the room. Even Ambrose felt the corner of his mouth twitch. Luna, for her part, closed her eyes and went on chewing, entirely unrepentant.

He realized this was the first Christmas he had ever spent among people, surrounded by such warmth. As a child, he had always been locked away, hidden from the holidays. He looked around the decorated room.

His gaze settled on Marina. She was smiling a real, warm smile that was entirely her own. She was the prettiest thing in the room, far prettier than the candles, the greenery or the Christmas decorations surrounding them. He wanted that smile to remain for as long as possible.

He blinked when he noticed Lady Dashwood watching him, or more precisely, watching where his attention had been fixed. Ambrose cleared his throat and lowered his gaze, though his lips could not resist a tiny smile.

Later, the room grew quieter. The Duke and Duchess of Netherton sat near the window with their tea, while Lady Sophia had fallen asleep upon the chaise with Luna curled comfortably beside her. Lady Dashwood, meanwhile, had found the bookshelf in the corner of great interest.

Marina stood by the window. He waited a moment longer, then rose.

“Would you care to join me on the balcony?”