Page 8 of Christmas with the Earl (To All The Earls I’ve Loved Before #1)
A Walk in the Snow
T he storm that had raged through the night finally exhausted itself sometime before dawn, leaving behind a world transformed. When Nell woke to brilliant sunlight streaming through the frost-etched windows of the Blue Room, she could hardly believe the sight that greeted her.
The sky had cleared to a crystalline blue that seemed almost impossibly vivid against the pristine white landscape.
Every surface sparkled with fresh snow that caught the morning light like scattered diamonds.
The oppressive weight of the previous day's blizzard had lifted, replaced by a crisp clarity that made the air itself seem to shimmer with possibility.
She dressed quickly in her warmest wool gown—a deep forest green that Isabella had always said brought out the color of her eyes—and made her way downstairs to find the household already stirring with the energy that comes after surviving nature's fury.
Mrs. Hartwell greeted her in the breakfast room with the satisfied air of a general whose defenses had held against siege. "Good morning, my lady. Cook's managed a proper hot breakfast despite yesterday's excitement, and his lordship's already been out assessing the damage to the grounds."
"Damage?" Nell asked with concern, accepting the steaming cup of chocolate the housekeeper offered.
"Oh, nothing serious, my lady. A few branches down from the weight of the snow, and one of the garden gates will need mending where the wind caught it.
But the house stood firm, as she always has.
" Mrs. Hartwell's pride in Greystowe Hall was evident in every word.
"His lordship seems quite impressed with how well the estate weathered the storm. "
Nell found herself unexpectedly pleased by this news.
She had seen the way Thomas looked at the property with his assessor's eye, calculating costs and liabilities rather than appreciating its enduring strength.
Perhaps witnessing the Hall's resilience in the face of Yorkshire's worst would help him see it as his aunt did—not as a burden, but as a legacy worth preserving.
She was contemplating this possibility over her breakfast when Lady Greystowe appeared, already dressed for the day and wearing an expression of barely contained excitement.
"My dear Eleanor, what a glorious morning!
I do believe the worst of the weather has passed, and Thomas has confirmed that the immediate grounds are quite safe for walking.
" Lady Greystowe settled herself with her tea, but her energy was clearly focused on something beyond mere meteorological observations.
"I thought perhaps you might enjoy exploring the winter gardens properly, now that we can venture out without fear of being swept away by the wind. "
"That sounds delightful," Nell replied, though she couldn't shake the feeling that Lady Greystowe's suggestion came with ulterior motives. "Though I confess I'm not certain I have appropriate footwear for such deep snow."
"Oh, that's easily remedied. Isabella kept several pairs of winter boots, and you're much the same size.
I'm sure we can find something suitable.
" Lady Greystowe's smile held that familiar glint of mischief.
"And of course, Thomas has offered to serve as guide and protection against any treacherous patches. So thoughtful of him, don't you think?"
Before Nell could formulate a response to this transparent bit of matchmaking, the man in question appeared in the doorway, stamping snow from his boots and bringing with him the crisp scent of winter air.
Wind had disheveled his hair; the cold left color high on his cheeks, and there was an energy about him that she hadn't seen before, as though the storm's passage had swept away some invisible weight he'd been carrying.
"Good morning," he said, his gaze moving directly to Nell with a warmth that made her pulse quicken. "I trust you slept well despite the wind? The house can be rather dramatic in such weather."
"Very well, thank you," Nell managed, trying not to notice how the morning light caught the gray of his eyes, making them seem almost silver. "Mrs. Hartwell tells me you've been surveying the estate. No serious damage, I hope?"
"Nothing that cannot be easily repaired," Thomas replied, moving to warm his hands by the fire. "The old oak near the east garden lost a large branch, but it was diseased and needed to come down anyway. If anything, the storm did us a favor by removing it safely."
There was something different in his tone when he spoke of the estate's welfare—a proprietary concern that suggested he was beginning to think of Greystowe Hall as more than just property to be assessed and potentially disposed of.
"Aunt Margaret mentioned you might be interested in seeing the winter gardens," he continued, his attention returning to Nell. "The snow has created some rather spectacular effects, if you don't mind the cold."
"I would love to see them," Nell said, surprised by how readily the words came.
The prospect of walking through the winter landscape with Thomas as her guide held an appeal that had nothing to do with botanical interest and everything to do with the way he was looking at her.
He looked as though her company would be a pleasure rather than an obligation.
"Splendid," Lady Greystowe declared before Nell could second-guess her enthusiasm. "I shall have Isabella's boots brought down, and you can wrap up warmly. The fresh air will do you both good after being confined indoors."
Half an hour later, Nell found herself bundled in a wool cloak with Isabella's boots, which did indeed fit perfectly, laced snugly around her ankles.
Thomas waited by the conservatory door, similarly attired for winter weather, though his military bearing made even the most practical clothing seem somehow elegant.
"Ready for your expedition?" he asked, offering his arm with a formality that was belied by the anticipation in his expression.
"Ready," Nell confirmed, accepting his escort and trying to ignore the way her pulse jumped at the contact.
They stepped out into the transformed world, and Nell's breath caught at the beauty that surrounded them.
The formal gardens had become something from a fairy tale, with every hedge and pathway transformed by the snow into graceful curves and mysterious shadows.
The bare branches of the trees created intricate lacework against the blue sky, and the fountain at the center of the rose garden had become a sculpture of ice and snow that seemed to capture movement in crystalline stillness.
"It's magnificent," she breathed, unconsciously tightening her grip on Thomas's arm as she tried to take in every detail.
"Isabella always said winter was when Greystowe showed its true character," Thomas replied, his voice carrying a warmth that spoke of genuine affection for the memory. "She claimed the snow revealed the garden's bones, the underlying structure that made it beautiful in every season."
They walked slowly along what Nell gradually realized must be the main garden path, though it was invisible beneath the pristine snow. Thomas guided her with sure steps, his knowledge of the grounds evident in the way he anticipated hidden obstacles and chose the safest route.
"You know the estate well," Nell observed, impressed by his confidence in the terrain.
"I spent summers here as a boy," Thomas replied, pausing to help her navigate around a snow-covered bench.
"Before my father decided I needed the discipline of military school.
I used to know every path, every hiding place, every tree suitable for climbing.
" His voice carried a note of nostalgia that softened his usual crisp delivery.
"It's been interesting to discover how much I still remember. "
They had reached the rose garden, where the careful geometry of the beds was outlined in snow and the arbor entrance stood draped in icicles like nature's own crystal chandelier.
Isabella had once written of this very spot in winter, describing how the arbor looked like a palace gate carved from ice.
Seeing it now, Nell understood her sister's enchantment—and felt a bittersweet pang that was somehow more healing than painful.
Thomas paused, his gaze moving across the winter landscape with an expression that mingled memory and something that might have been longing.
"Do you ever regret choosing the military?" Nell asked softly, struck by the wistfulness in his expression.
Thomas was quiet for a long moment, his breath creating small clouds in the crisp air as he considered her question.
"I thought it was what I wanted," he said finally.
"Order, purpose, a clear chain of command.
No messy emotions or complicated family obligations.
" He glanced at her, and she saw something vulnerable in his eyes.
"I told myself that sentiment was a luxury I couldn't afford. "
"And now?"
"Now I find myself questioning whether I was running toward something or away from it." Thomas's confession came quietly, as though the words surprised him as much as they did her.
They continued walking, following what must have been the path toward the wilderness gardens.
Here, the landscape became less formal, more natural, with stands of evergreens that had caught the snow in their branches like nature's own Christmas decorations.
The silence between them was comfortable, filled with the soft crunch of their footsteps and the occasional whisper of wind through the snow-laden boughs.