She laughed out loud. “Well, there is one particular gentleman. Mr. Mortimer. He will be spending Christmas here alone, so I feel rather sorry for him.”

Baxter straightened. “It always amazes me how some people can run away to a strange place to be alone, especially at Christmastime.”

“Sometimes it’s easier than being surrounded by the familiar.” Cecily frowned. “I can’t help feeling that this gentleman has suffered some kind of tragedy. He barely speaks and keeps his face hidden by one of those awful slouch hats that painters wear. He didn’t even sign his first name, just an initial, J. Mortimer. A very unhappy man, I would say.”

“I do hope you are not going to spend the entire Christmas season worrying over a complete stranger who might simply be suffering from a bilious stomach.”

“No, dear. Of course not. I shall be far too busy.” She held up the two ends of a string of pearls. “Would you be an angel and fasten these for me, please?”

His fingers fumbled at the back of her neck, sending delicious little tingles down her spine. “It sounds as if we have a mixed bag of guests as usual.”

“We also have two children staying with us. Lord and Lady Millshire have brought their son, Wilfred, and their daughter, Adelaide. Rather rambunctious, I’m afraid. “

His hands stilled. “There goes the peace and quiet. Young children?”

“About the same age as Gertie’s twins. It’s too bad the twins are in London until Christmas Eve. They could have played together.”

“I hardly think our guests would allow their children to associate with the offspring of a housemaid.”

“Chief housemaid.” Once more Cecily gave her husband a worried look. “Good heavens, Hugh, the twins are your godchildren. You didn’t have to sound so derisive. Gertie has been with us since she was a child herself. She’s part of our family, as is all our staff. You’re not usually so contemptuous. You really must be out of sorts.” She rarely called her husband by his first name, and usually did so when she was annoyed with him.