Cecily frowned. “Baxter said the same thing. I suppose we could move it there. After all there’s a lot more room in there.”

Madeline chuckled. “You are expecting a good many people to take advantage of it, then?”

“I’m expecting people to admire it, at least. But you’re both right. It needs plenty of room to show it off properly. I’ll have one of the footmen move it this afternoon. But before I do, I’m going to make use of it right now.”

She bent her head and pressed a light kiss to the baby’s soft forehead. “Merry Christmas, little one. May this Christmas be the first of very many happy ones to come.”

Angelina gurgled in response and stretched up a pudgy hand as if reaching for the huge ball above her head.

Cecily drew her away. “You don’t want to play with that, precious,” she murmured. “That has holly in it and will prick your fingers.”

“You’re forgetting whose daughter she is,” Madeline said, as Cecily headed for the stairs. “She has a fascination with all kinds of plants.”

She’d said it with a note of resignation in her voice, and Cecily felt a thump of apprehension. The one thing Madeline had worried about was that Angelina would inherit her mother’s special powers. Dr. Kevin Prestwick would not accept his daughter’s abilities lightly. As a man of science, his methods of healing differed vastly from his wife’s and had proved a formidable bone of contention in their marriage.

Once inside her suite, Cecily motioned Madeline to take a seat, then sat down herself on the chaise lounge. Still holding the baby, she rocked her for a moment or two, then said lightly, “So how is your husband adjusting to fatherhood? You haven’t mentioned much about Kevin recently.”