She returned to her room after an exhausting session of trying to drum manners and mathematics into her charges, and found a letter waiting for her. The heavy, expensive paper and Vaughn seal were instantly recognizable, as was the exquisite script that said, "Miss Emma Vaughn Stone." She picked the letter up with a sigh, not yet ready to open it. There was no need to, really. Inside, in the handwriting of the Duchess of Warrington's secretary, would be an invitation to the annual Vaughn Christmas gathering at Harley, the family seat. Two weeks of talk and laughter and celebration among dozens of Vaughns of varying degree, with the duke and duchess presiding over the festivities. Nostalgically she thought back to happier days when she'd attended every year. Troops of young cousins galloping through the house and grounds. Older Vaughns fondly remembering their shared past. Feasts that made the tables groan. The candlelit Christmas Eve service in the castle chapel. She could almost smell the roasting chestnuts… Face set, she broke the seal and looked inside.
