Page 240 of Once an Angel
Justin stopped, frowned, then bounced back up three steps and peered into the man's face. "Why, I'll
be damned, it is Harold, isn't it!"
As he hit the bottom step, he grinned to discover the first floor of the mansion in utter chaos. Servants scurried from room to room, polishing gas lamps, scrubbing the baseboards, and draping the banisters with fragrant garlands of cedar.
A toothless cook thrust a tray of steaming biscuits under his nose. "Thirty dozen, Yer Grace, just as
you asked for."
The delicious aroma filled his nostrils. "Mmmm. Superb, Gracie! Did you bake any with raisins?
Children like raisins, don't they?"
"Mine allus did, sir."
He tweaked her plump cheek. "Twelve dozen more, then. Loaded with raisins."
"Aye, my lord. Right away." She bobbed a curtsy and scampered back toward the kitchen.
A disgruntled butler caught his elbow. "I really must protest, my lord. Someone has left a pony in the library."
Justin didn't even slow. "Imagine that. Take him into the ballroom. He'll have more room to frolic."
He came to a dead halt at the door of the drawing room, his eyes misting with wonder. Within the meager space of a day, the room had been transformed into a Christmas miracle. A towering tree crowned the corner, tickling his nose with the pungent scent of spruce. Edith perched on a ladder, lighting the tiny candles nestled in its boughs while his younger sisters, Lily and Millicent, giggled and offered her suggestions.
"What did you do, brother?" Lily called out. "Buy out every toy store in London?"
"Only the ones that would open on Christmas Eve." The flash of his purse had opened more than one door, and there was hardly room to walk for all the toys. There were mechanical elephants and drum-beating bears, skipping ropes and miniature stoves, paints and charcoals, clockwork trains and
even a cluttered dollhouse with a tiny grand piano. Two mechanical birds twittered from a golden cage hanging off one of the gasoliers.
Justin had no idea what a girl of ten would enjoy, so he had bought one of everything—including sacks
of glass marbles and a handsome regiment of iron Napoleon soldiers. Propped against the sleek spokes
of a velocipede was a shiny sled of just the sort he had always wanted as a boy. His father had denied him, but he would deny David's daughter nothing. He had already robbed her of too much in her life.
His mother swept in and gave the room a droll inspection. "I'm glad to see you're not planning on spoiling the child."
"Of course not. I shall rule her with a firm but gentle hand," Justin replied, kissing her perfumed cheek.
A grubby yardboy came pounding through the door, gasping for breath. "There's a carriage comin' this way, my lord. It looks to be the one."
Justin swallowed a jagged flare of panic. "Well done, lad." He tossed the boy a coin, then threw back his head and bellowed, "Penfeld!"
He took one last look around to reassure himself that everything was perfect. A dazzling array of dolls blanketed the top of the piano, pouting and simpering in yards of satin and lace. Out of their elegant depths protruded a grimy little porcelain nose. Seized by a strange compulsion, Justin rescued the doll
he had found in Claire's stark attic and set her on the music stand, arranging her stained skirts with painstaking care. Her haughty gaze seemed to mock him.
Penfeld came bouncing into the room, pausing long enough to pick an invisible speck of lint from
Justin's trousers. As a plain black carriage clattered up the drive, word flew through the mansion and the drawing room filled.
The servants lined up on one side, making last-second adjustments to their caps and aprons and trying
not to crane their necks to look out the window. Justin's sisters whispered together on the other side, backed by their stalwart husbands and the indomitable duchess.
The air quivered with a nervous hush as Justin took his place at the foot of the handsome tree.
