“I’m so pleased you invited me to dinner,” he said. “I wouldn’t have missed you in that dress for the world.”

She smoothed the dress at her hips. That quick, nervous motion made him smile.

“I’m glad you came,” she said. “I have no idea what Julia has in store for us, but whatever it is, I’m sure it’ll be delicious.”

He nodded.

“I’m certain of that. But speaking of, I wanted to know if you had any restaurant reservation preferences for our time in London? I don’t really know what kinds of food you like and don’t like, other than sandwiches and scones and shepherd’s pie.” He grinned at her, but her smile faltered. Was she a picky eater and was scared to tell him? No matter, they could figure that out. “Oh, speaking of.” He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. “Here’s your updated itinerary.”

She didn’t reach for the paper.

“My updated itinerary?”

He moved closer to her so he could show it to her.

“I contacted the Duchess’s private secretary, and she gave me all of the necessary information to change your flight. You’ll now be on the same flight back you would have taken on the twenty-eighth; you’re just leaving on the first instead.” She didn’t say anything, so he kept talking. “I also extended your hotel reservation; while you’re welcome to stay with me in my flat, I, um, didn’t want to assume.”

He absolutely had wanted to assume, and he very much hoped she would tell him there was no need for the hotel reservation when he had a perfectly fine flat in London they could stay in. But he wanted to at least give her the option.

She wasn’t smiling anymore.

“Why would you make my travel arrangements without talking to me about it first?”

He didn’t understand.

“We talked about it yesterday,” he said. “I said we’d have a great time, and you said it did sound lovely, and . . .”

Ah. There was no “and.” That was the problem. She hadn’t, actually, at any point, said yes, had she?

“That didn’t mean I’d decided to stay.” Her mouth was a tight line. “Did you think about consulting me, before you made these arrangements?”

He took a step back.

“Does that mean you’ve decided not to stay in London?” She could have at least let him know in advance, before he’d shown up here to be rejected.

“What’s this about you staying in London?” Maddie was suddenly at her mother’s side again. Excellent, an audience. Just what he needed. At this point, he wanted to turn around and leave Sycamore Cottage and never come back.

Vivian cleared her throat.

“Oh, Malcolm suggested—since this is my first trip to England, and just to see more of London, and all—that I should stay on after you leave, but I don’t think . . .”

Maddie looked from Vivian to him and back to Vivian with a big smile on her face.

“What a great idea! I was already feeling bad that you were only going to get such a short time in London; this is the best plan.”

Maybe Maddie had been just what he’d needed?

Vivian put her hand on Maddie’s arm.

“Oh, but Maddie, I need to consider . . .”

Maddie cut her off.

“You don’t need to consider anything. I’m sure you’ve already made a great pro/con list on this, and if it was dramatically imbalanced, you wouldn’t have even entertained the idea. You spend all your time working or helping Aunt Jo as it is, and you’re about to start your fancy new job. You keep saying this is your last vacation for a while. You need a treat. Don’t you always tell me life is too short?” She looked at Malcolm. “She’s staying. Take good care of her.”

Vivian sputtered.

“I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time. He doesn’t have to take care of me.”

Maddie locked eyes with Malcolm and shook her head.

“See what you’ve gotten yourself into?”

Just then, a gong sounded, and they all turned toward the front of the room.

“Dinner is served, everyone,” James announced. “Please come into the dining room.”

Malcolm offered Vivian his arm. She glanced up at him for a second and then slid her arm through his. They didn’t talk as they walked into the dining room, along with the rest of the Sycamore Cottage staff and friends of staff.

They sat down at the table, and Julia poured champagne in their glasses.

“Happy Christmas Eve, all!” she said. Everyone raised their glasses, and he turned to Vivian to touch her glass with his. She looked at him with a resigned expression on her face and then sipped her champagne.

He leaned closer to her so no one else would be able to hear him.

“Vivian, I apologize. I should have checked with you before making your travel arrangements. I can easily change them again, if you don’t want to stay. I don’t want you to feel as if you have to.”

He was glad he’d had years of work in government; he knew his face didn’t reflect just how much he cared about her answer.

She looked up at him and was silent for a moment.

“No, don’t. In the end, I guess I’m glad Maddie intervened. She was right.” She pointed a finger at him. “You are not allowed to tell her that.”

He laughed, and she finally—finally—smiled at him.

“I promise.” He put his glass down. “But I truly am sorry; I’m not used to spontaneity, and I suppose it went to my head. Can you forgive me?”

She touched his hand.

“I appreciate the apology. And if I didn’t think I could forgive you, I wouldn’t stay, now would I?” She lifted her glass to him. “To spontaneity.”

He laughed and looked in her eyes as their glasses clinked.

As Vivian drank her champagne, she couldn’t help but see Maddie’s smug smile from across the table. The next time Malcolm looked away, Vivian glared at her, but Maddie just gave her an innocent smile back.

She wasn’t actually that mad at Maddie for forcing her hand about staying in England. Now that that decision was irrevocably made, she was at peace with it. Maybe even a little excited about it. No, that part she was okay with; it was the constant smirks from Maddie’s side of the table that made Vivian want to send her to her room like she could when Maddie was little. This attitude must be revenge for when Vivian had known—long before Maddie had told her—about Maddie’s relationship with Theo. Could she help it if she knew her daughter that well?

“Time for crackers!” Malcolm interrupted her silent fuming at her daughter and handed her the gold-wrapped cylinder from in front of her plate.

She took it from him and looked down at it. How, exactly, was she supposed to do this? Was this a thing she should unwrap? Or was there some other trick to it?

Crack!

Vivian jumped at the noise to her right. She turned, and the chauffeur and his girlfriend were giggling over their open crackers. But she still hadn’t seen how they did it.

“We do it like this,” Malcolm said. He picked up both of their crackers, and held them out to her. “Now, hold on.” She took the other end of each cracker, and he smiled at her. “Now, I’ll count to three, then we both pull. One, two, THREE.”