Snowflakes and Scandals

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The crisp morning air sparkled with frost as dawn broke over London on Christmas Day. Eleanor stood at the window of her bedchamber, watching as the streets slowly came to life. She looked across at her old house and refused to let the memories of her life there dampen the joy of today. They had lived in Ambrose’s townhouse since her recovery.

Today was not just Christmas, but her wedding day, and her heart fluttered with a mixture of excitement and nerves.

A soft knock at the door preceded Sarah's entrance. “Good morning, my lady,” her maid said with a bright smile. “Are you ready to become a duchess?”

She turned, returning the smile. “I'm ready to become Ambrose's wife,” she replied. “The title is just a bonus.”

As Sarah helped her dress, Eleanor's mind wandered to the events that had led to this day. The fear of losing her to the icy waters of the Serpentine had finally broken down the walls around Ambrose's heart. In the days since, their love had blossomed, growing stronger with each passing day.

The wedding gown was a masterpiece of navy silk and delicate lace, with a high collar and long sleeves befitting a winter wedding. As Sarah fastened the last pearl button, Eleanor caught sight of herself in the mirror and barely recognized the radiant woman staring back at her.

“You look beautiful, Mother,” came a small voice from the doorway. Harry stood there, already dressed in his best suit, his eyes wide with wonder.

Eleanor held out her arms, and Harry ran to her, burying his face in the folds of her gown. “Are you happy, darling?” she asked softly, stroking his hair.

He looked up at her, his face serious. “I am. Lord Redington was actually nice to me when he visited with His Grace yesterday. I’m so pleased he’s out of my life. Are you happy?”

“Happier than I've ever been,” she assured him, her heart swelling with love for her son.

A commotion in the hallway announced Lillian's arrival. The little girl burst into the room, her face alight with excitement. “Lady Eleanor, you look like a princess!” she exclaimed, twirling in her own pale blue dress.

Eleanor laughed, drawing Lillian into their embrace. “And you look like a beautiful fairy, my dear.”

As the children chattered excitedly about the day ahead, Eleanor felt a sense of peace settle over her. This was her family now, and in a few short hours, it would be official.

The Duke transformed his townhouse for the occasion. Garlands of evergreen and holly adorned the banisters and mantels, their rich scent mingling with the spicy aroma of mulled wine. In the drawing room, they had set up a small altar before the fireplace, draping it in white cloth and adorning it with winter roses.

As Eleanor descended the stairs, she saw Ambrose waiting for her at the bottom, his eyes shining with love and admiration. He looked impossibly handsome in his dark coat and crisp white shirt, a sprig of holly pinned to his lapel.

“My God, Eleanor,” he breathed as she reached him. “You are a vision.”

She smiled, taking his offered arm. “And you, my love, are the handsomest duke in all of England.”

They shared a quiet moment together, their foreheads touching, before the sound of their guests arriving reminded them of the task at hand.

Penelope and Jonathan arrived with their children, Simon and Tiffany, all of them beaming with joy for their friends. “I knew from the moment I saw you two together that this day would come,” Penelope said smugly, embracing Eleanor warmly.

The small gathering moved into the drawing room, where a local bishop waited to perform the ceremony. Harry and Lillian stood proudly beside their parents, their faces glowing with happiness.

As the Bishop spoke, Eleanor found herself lost in Ambrose's eyes. The words of the ceremony washed over her, but all she could focus on was the man before her, the love of her life, her partner in all things.

“I, Ambrose, declare that I take thee, Eleanor, to be my wedded wife,” Ambrose's voice resonated with strength and clarity, brimming with emotion. “To have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.”

Her voice trembled slightly as she repeated the vows, her heart so full she thought it might burst. When the bishop pronounced them man and wife, Ambrose's kiss was tender and sweet, a promise of all the years to come.

The small group erupted in cheers and applause, with Lillian and Harry hugging their parents tightly. “Are we really a family now?” Lillian asked, her eyes shining with hope.

“We are, poppet,” Ambrose assured her, scooping her up in his arms. “Now and forever.”

“You’re my older brother.” Lillian said shyly to Harry.

“And sister, dear, as your older brother, I promise to always look after you.”

Eleanor had never been so proud of her son. “They’ll probably be fighting within a week,” she whispered to Ambrose and he laughed.

The wedding breakfast that followed was a joyous affair. The dining room table groaned under the weight of a magnificent Christmas feast—a golden roast turkey, glazed ham, several varieties of vegetables, and, of course, a towering Christmas pudding.

As they ate and drank, sharing stories and laughter, she couldn't help but marvel at how perfectly everything had fallen into place. She caught Ambrose's eye across the table, and the look of pure adoration he gave her made her heart skip a beat.

After their guests had departed for home, they retired to the drawing room, where a crackling fire and the twinkling candles and the Christmas tree created a cozy atmosphere. The children, full of excitement and perhaps a bit too much pudding, played with their new toys while the adults sipped mulled wine and basked in the warmth of friendship and love.

“I think it's time for presents, don't you?” Ambrose announced, to the delight of the children. One by one, Ambrose distributed and unwrapped the gifts, with each one receiving exclamations of joy and gratitude.

When it came to Harry's turn, Eleanor watched nervously as her son unwrapped the small box containing a miniature of the pony waiting for him in the stables. His eyes widened with delight as he realized what it meant.

“A pony? Really, Mother?” he gasped, throwing his arms around her.

Eleanor laughed, hugging him tightly. “Really, my darling. Ambrose and I thought it was high time you learned to ride.”

“And I’ll teach you myself, son,” Ambrose said.

As the excitement died down and the group settled into comfortable conversation, Harry approached his mother with a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Mother,” he said seriously, “do you remember our wager?”

Eleanor frowned slightly, trying to recall. “Wager? What wager, darling?”

“You said that if the present you got me wasn't what I’d wished for, you'd grant me one wish,” Harry reminded her. “And while I love my pony, it wasn't actually what I wished for.”

Ambrose, overhearing, raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Oh? And what did you wish for, young man?”

Harry's face broke into a wide smile. “I wished Mother would fall in love with Ambrose. While Lillian wished Ambrose would fall in love with you. And those two wishes came true! You found each other, with a little help from me and Lillian and our mistletoe plan.”

Eleanor gasped, her eyes filling with tears as she looked at her son in wonder. “Oh, Harry,” she whispered, pulling him close. “That was your Christmas wish?”

He nodded against her shoulder. “I just wanted you to be happy. And Lord Stuffington out of our lives. And now you are.”

“Stuffington?” and Ambrose burst into laughter. “Aptly named.” Ambrose moved to join them, wrapping his arms around both Eleanor and Harry. “You won’t have to worry about Stuffington ever again. I’m now officially your guardian, Harry.”

“Smashing. That’s another great present. Thank you, sir.”

“I think we all owe you and Lillian a debt of gratitude,” Ambrose said, his voice thick with emotion. “Your little matchmaking scheme certainly worked wonders.”

Lillian, hearing her name, bounded over to join the family hug. “Does this mean we get extra presents?” she asked cheekily.

The adults burst into laughter, the joyous sound filling the room. “I think,” Eleanor said, wiping away a happy tear, “that we all got the best present we could have asked for this year—each other.”

Ambrose raised his glass in a toast. “To family, both old and new,” he said warmly. “And to love that blooms even in the coldest of winters.”

As the afternoon wore on, snow fell outside, blanketing the streets in a pristine white cover. The children pressed their noses to the windows, marveling at the magical scene.

“Can we go out and play?” Lillian begged, turning to her father with pleading eyes.

Ambrose chuckled, sharing a glance with Eleanor. “What do you think, my duchess? Should we show these little ones the proper way to enjoy a snowy Christmas Day?”

Eleanor's heart soared at the use of her new title, spoken with such love and reverence. “I think that's a splendid idea, my duke,” she replied with a smile.

Soon, the entire party was bundled up in coats, scarves, and mittens, venturing out into the winter wonderland in their garden. Snowballs flew through the air as an impromptu battle broke out, with shrieks of laughter echoing off the surrounding buildings.

Eleanor found herself breathless with joy as she watched Ambrose chase the children around the garden, his deep laugh mingling with their high-pitched giggles. This was everything she had ever wanted – a loving husband, happy children, and a home filled with warmth and laughter.

As the sky darkened and the chill air nipped at their noses, they retreated inside. Rosy-cheeked and happy, they gathered once more in the drawing room, where hot chocolate and freshly baked cookies awaited them.

Ambrose pulled Eleanor close, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Happy Christmas, my love,” he murmured.

“Happy Christmas,” she replied, snuggling into his embrace. “And happy wedding day.”

He chuckled softly. “I don't think I'll ever forget our anniversary, will I?”

“Not if you know what's good for you,” she teased, tilting her face up for a proper kiss.

As the evening drew to a close, Eleanor felt a tugging on her skirt. She looked down to see Harry, his eyes heavy with sleep but still bright with happiness.

“Mother,” he said, stifling a yawn, “I'm glad my wish came true.”

Eleanor knelt down, gathering her son in her arms. “So am I, my darling boy. So am I.”

Over Harry's shoulder, she met Ambrose's gaze. He stood with Lillian dozing in his arms, a picture of fatherly love that made Eleanor's heart swell. This was her family now—a patchwork of love, brought together by mischief and the magic of Christmas.

As the grandfather clock in the hall chimed midnight, marking the end of this most extraordinary Christmas Day, she silently thanked whatever forces had brought them all together. From the depths of loneliness and fear, she had found love, security, and happiness beyond her wildest dreams.

“So, my son, what am I going to give you since you won our wager?”

On a yawn, Harry’s face broke into a cheeky grin. “That’s easy. A brother.”

And as she and Ambrose tucked the children into bed, whispering promises of more adventures to come, she too hoped for a child.

With one last look at the peaceful faces of Harry and Lillian, she closed the nursery door softly. Ambrose was waiting for her in the hallway, his eyes dark with love and desire.

“Shall we retire, my duchess?” he asked, offering his arm with a playful bow. “I overheard Harry. It seems you have another present to gift Harry, and I’m more than happy to help make that happen.”

Eleanor laughed softly, taking his arm. “Lead the way, my duke.”

As they walked towards their bedchamber, she glanced at the handsome man by her side and sent up a silent prayer of thanks. For mistletoe and meddling children, for second chances and open hearts, and for the love that had brought them all together on this magical Christmas Day.