A Very Selwick Christmas Read Free

Amy. His new party trick had already garnered a proven record of tangible rewards from impressionable adults. Auntie Amy was no exception.
    “All right,” Amy capitulated. She scooped up the slice of pie and offered it down to him.
    “"Tis the season, after all.”
    “Mmmph,” agreed Peregrine, mashing a large quantity of mince against his face and a very little bit of it in his mouth. At least that way, thought Amy optimistically, he had small odds of stomachache, even if his velvet suit wasn"t likely to survive until Christmas Day.
    All around her, Uppington Hall was decked for Christmas. Greenery dripped from balustrades and portrait rails, from moldings and doorframes. Irreverent crowns of prickly holly perched on the heads of marble busts of past monarchs, visual symbol of the Uppingtons" favor at court over the generations. Even the paired blackamoor candelabra positioned on either side of the door bore belts of red ribbon around their waists. Only the painted deities on the ceiling had been spared decoration, and that, Amy, was sure, was only because her mother-in-law couldn"t reach them.
    It was Amy"s first Christmas as Uppington Hall, principal seat of the Marquesses of Uppington, her first Christmas as part of the Uppington clan, her first Christmas as a married woman. In grand seigneurial fashion, the Uppingtons were holding open house for Christmas Eve, with all of the local gentry invited to partake of mince pie, Christmas pudding, and a variety of less seasonal delicacies. The air smelled delightfully of cloves and orange peel and the boys of the local church choir were singing away in the corner of the room, their pure, high treble voices lifted to the heavens in a song of praise.
    A gloved finger tapped her on the shoulder. “The season for what?”
    “Jane!” Amy launched herself at her cousin.
    Fortunately, Jane was accustomed to Amy"s ways. She braced herself in preparation for just such a move and so was spared careening into a bust of the first Marquess of Uppington. The marble marquess had suffered indignities enough for one holiday season. In addition to his habitually disgruntled expression, he wore a chaplet of holly from which the berries were already beginning to fall. Lady Uppington believed in leaving no unmoving surface undecorated.
    Amy had her suspicions about the moving ones as well, but since she seldom stayed still, she assumed she was safe.
    Amy gave an extra little bounce as she gave her favorite cousin an exuberant hug. “When did you get here? I didn"t hear you arrive.”
    Jane smiled the enigmatic smile she appeared to have perfected during her time abroad. “You weren"t meant to.”
    Amy rolled her eyes. “You can"t claim to be here incognito. Not with the whole family in tow.”
    Uncle Bertrand and Aunt Prudence had arrived the night before, in an antiquated carriage laden with assorted offspring, Aunt Prudence"s embroidery bag, and one agitated sheep. The sheep, apparently, was a Christmas present. Amy only hoped it wasn"t intended for her. She had had enough of her sheep in her upbringing in Shropshire, when the French Revolution had exiled her to the care of her aunt and uncle.
    It had been Amy"s mother-in-law"s idea to invite Amy"s family to join them all for Christmas at Uppington Hall, the official seat of the Marquesses of Uppington. It was, Amy had to admit, a very thoughtful notion. She was more pleased than she cared to admit to have familiar faces around her.
    Well, maybe not all the familiar faces.
    A sharp object was doing its best to make a dent in Amy"s left side. It turned out, upon inspection, to be a fan.
    Only one woman carried a fan that pointy and wielded it with such deadly precision.
    “Incognita,” snapped Amy"s former chaperone, Miss Gwendolyn Meadows, driving the point home with another jab of her fan. “Incognita, not incognito. Despite a masculine occupation, one need not abandon the feminine persona.”
    Jane"s lips turned up at a