What a Lady Needs for Christmas by Grace Burrowes

handkerchief ceased circling on the right lens of his spectacles.
    “Do you suppose Margs might marry if you take a wife?”
    Interesting thought, and exactly what Hector’s restless appetite for angles, details, and contingencies might seize upon.
    “Joan will likely be an asset when it comes to finding a fellow for Margs. She’ll be an asset in many regards—if she’ll have me.” And increasingly, he hoped she would.
    “Can I fix you a wee dram, Hector? Ballater will be colder than hell.”
    Hector stashed his glasses away and rose. “Marrying a woman because she’s a marquess’s daughter with money is colder still.”
    “I thought you, of all people, would approve of an advantageous match, Hector.” Though Hector had been notably silent regarding Dante’s sortie to Edinburgh.
    Hector stalked over to the door, for once leaving his reports lying all about on the table. “I’d like to make the acquaintance of the English lady who’d consider taking you on as a spouse.”
    Dante did not particularly want to be cooped up in the same car with a man of business who’d grown moody at the mention of an advantageous match.
    “Hector, if I don’t replace the floors in Faith Mill, we could have an accident. That equipment is deuced heavy and shakes like doomsday hour after hour. Hope Mill needs a new roof, and the looms in Love will need replacing by this time next year.”
    From Rowena, Dante had inherited a great lot of problems—also ridiculous names for the mills—mostly because she and her father before her had taken a shortsighted view of profit. Five years after Rowena’s death, many of those problems remained unsolved.
    “Court your lady then,” Hector said. “I’m off to see if Charlie and Phillip might be up for a game of marbles.”
    Even in this comment, Dante felt a hint of the Parthian shot from Hector—for Dante had not been invited to join that game of marbles.
    “I’ll finish with your reports then.”
    Dante sat at the folding table and saw that Hector’s most recent list had been of Christmas presents Dante might purchase for his family. The possibilities for Margs were damnably few—they always were—while Charlie’s list was as long as Margs’s and Phillip’s put together.
    Dante set aside those lists—Christmas was several weeks off—and tried to focus on estimates for the new roof on Hope Mill. A roof could be constructed to allow light into the facility, but such innovation cost money.
    Everything cost money.
    In her situation, Joan would not want a lavish ceremony, and while Dante was in favor of saving coin wherever possible, he wished that particular economy not be imposed on the woman he might take to wife.
    ***
    Joan’s dignity lay in tatters all over her satin-lined cloak, which—much to Joan’s consternation—had been shanghaied into service as a field of play for the Great Christmas Traveling Marbles Tournament. The children and Hector had delivered a handy defeat to Joan and Miss Hartwell, amid much merriment and forfeiting of chocolate treats. Phillip played with a concentration and skill far above his years, Charlie made a lot of noise, and Margaret and Hector assiduously avoided the near occasion of flirting.
    While in the other car, Mr. Hartwell did… what ?
    “The train is slowing down,” Charlie announced, springing up and going to the window.
    “It’s dark,” Phillip said, also getting to his feet. “You can’t see anything out the window.”
    “I can see lights. We’re coming into Ballater.”
    “Somebody had best tear Dante away from his ciphering,” Miss Hartwell observed as she gathered her skirts. “Children, get your coats.”
    Hector reached a hand down to Miss Hartwell. Rather than wait for the same courtesy, Joan rose and poured the marbles into a decorated jar. Her cloak was a bit wrinkled, but otherwise in good repair.
    “Will your family meet you?” Hector asked, for Miss Hartwell had taken on the burden of fetching her