Mrs. Ambrose couldn't have planned it better. Victor Embry stayed the night in one of the manor's many available spare rooms, and dined with them for breakfast while his horse was tacked and shoed. When word came that his horse was ready, they all headed for the door to see him off. As Victored inspected his horse, Mrs. Ambrose held them all back in the foyer.

"Wait!" she hissed at Colonel Ambrose.

"You don't want me to see off our guest?" he asked dryly.

"No," she whispered as she pinched Holly's cheeks and pushed her towards the door. "Let Holly go by herself. Give them a moment alone. We shall wave from the doorway."

"Mama!" Holly objected. "I don't have my overcoat—" she started to say, but was shoved roughly into the cold morning air. She shot her mother a glare over her shoulder but proceeded to the drive, knowing she couldn't ignore Mr. Embry. She gathered her skirts in hand to keep the hems of her dress from getting soaked with snow and carefully traversed the icy path to meet Victor at his horse.

"I must thank you and your family for the hospitality," Victor said with one hand on the reigns of his mount.

"It's our pleasure," Holly said easily. There wasn't much about Mr. Embry's company she didn't enjoy. There was much to look at as well. He too had changed much since the days of their youth. His square jaw was covered in a tawny stubble and his light eyes had creases at the corners. He no longer had a boyish charm as she remembered, but an elegant set of features that set her heart fluttering.

But Holly prided herself on being the most sensible of her family. She wasn't the type to fall to pieces in the presence of such beauty.

"I think, if my memory serves me right," Victor began, "The last time I saw you, I kissed you," he said, his lips pulling into a smile.

"And then you left for London," Holly replied coolly though her heart sputtered to know he remembered such a fleeting moment from so many years past. He looked like a man who would have kissed many women.

"I'm starting to regret that," he said with a lopsided grin. "I do hope I will see more of you this Christmas season."

He took Holly's hand and placed a chaste kiss on her pale skin — all without taking his blue eyes from hers. She watched him cautiously. No one had heard from him in years and now he had returned to the country without notice. As Victor Embry slung a leg over his horse and galloped down the drive, Holly got a distinct feeling that there was more to his story.

Once he turned onto the road, she hurried back inside, but not before shaking snow from the bustles of her gown.

Mrs. Ambrose began her inquest with a barrage of questions before the door was even closed."How did it go? What did he say?"

Colonel Ambrose gave his daughter an apologetic smile and flew from the foyer before he could get caught up in the talk of suitors and matchmaking.

"He looked so handsome. He was a handsome youth too," Mrs. Ambrose continued on.

"You certainly didn't encourage me to acknowledge him when he was young," Holly groaned, marching towards the direction of the library.

"Yes, but now he has made something of himself!" Mrs. Ambrose objected.

Holly spun round, her skirts rustling on the wood floor. "Either way, I don't see how it matters. I won't need a husband when I become a great naturalist and world explorer," she announced, giving her mother an impish smile and dashing off towards the library.

Mrs. Ambrose made a noise of disgust. "Don't you even start!" she squeaked, chasing her daughter down the hall. "I'll hear none of this blasphemy. You'll fall in love and then you'll see," she said before she gave up and toddled back to the parlor, muttering something about "—too many brains for her own good."

Holly found her father in the library reading the morning paper. Determined to ignore her stitching for the majority of the morning, she took out a book on the entomology of birds of northern England and settled onto the red, velvet sofa across from him.

Holly heard the rustle of paper from behind her massive tome. "You know," her father began, "it might do well to listen to your mother."

Holly lowered her book. She had never heard her father willingly talk of marriages unless he was at the wedding of one of his children — and so far all of his children had married well without his interference.

Her father wore a peculiar look on his face that looked something like pity. He ran an unsteady hand over his white, thinning hair. "I must confess, I am a selfish man. Far too long I have not encouraged you in respect to marriage because your companionship is one of my greatest joys," he said.

Holly felt her chest swell and an unwilling smile spread over her face.

Colonel Ambrose continued, "—And as much as I enjoy having your company, I must agree with my wife. It is time we all pay greater attention to your marriage prospects."

Holly closed her book and felt her stomach sink. "I don't know... I want to... to... but" she sputtered. She met her father's kind eyes as a lump grew in her throat. Holly wasn't the type to be timid, but there was much to love and marriage of which she hardly had begun to understand. She could laugh at her mother's matchmaking attempts, but with her father invested in the matter as well...

"I'm afraid," she finally confessed without taking her eyes off the page of her book.

"Of what?" her father asked with almost a laugh. "What might the girl who jumped her pony over the garden wall after her first lesson be afraid of?"

Holly tried her best to keep her voice from shaking. "I'm afraid I won't be happy. How am I to get an education as well as perform the duties of a housewife?"

Colonel Ambrose smiled. "Marriage is a funny thing. It will be the hardest thing you ever do — besides raising children, but when you find the right person, it's a beautiful thing. The right person will make your goals theirs."

Holly laughed. "You make it sound wonderful."

"I want that very much for you," he sighed.

Holly nodded as they fell into a silence that was filled only by the crackle of the fire and the winter wind that howled at the window. They both knew that quiet moments like this would be few and far between in the coming days. So there they stayed while Mrs. Ambrose rushed about, making final adjustments to meals for the season and flitting into the library to send replies to invitations to holiday balls and dinners.

At one o'clock in the afternoon the doorbell rang through the quiet house and Holly looked at her father. "So it begins," she sighed, putting aside the book.

They headed into the foyer where Mrs. Ambrose chirped, "They're here! They're here!"

The butler opened the door to reveal four pink nosed and smiling faces waiting on the steps. Holly's older sister was the first to enter and gave Mrs. Ambrose a kiss on her cheek. She was three years older than Holly, and was a spitting image of their mother — all softness, without the steel grey hair — while Holly took after her father and all his sharp angles.

"Hortensia!" Holly greeted her sister with a hug.

Hortensia's warm, heart–shaped face scanned the foyer. "Everything looks wonderful!" she exclaimed. "Mother has outdone herself."

"Be sure to tell her or she will have the servants redo everything in the dead of night," Holly said with a laugh.

Hortensia's husband, Timothy Hampton, followed after with a child in each arm, which Mrs. Ambrose immediately began to fawn over.

"What a handsome gentleman you have become, Miles," Mrs. Ambrose cooed as the squirming child was set at her feet. When the five-year-old's feet hit the ground, he yelled, "I'm not a gentleman, I'm a pirate!" and took off sprinting through the house, slashing the air with an invisible cutlass.

Colonel Ambrose sidestepped the child in shock and chuckled.

"I'm terribly sorry," Hortensia said, her cheeks flushing in anger. "His father read him Robert Louis Stevenson's latest novel 'Treasure Island' and Miles has taken quite a liking to it. For two months straight he insisted on going by the name Long John Silver."

"We call him the Dreaded Pirate No-beard Miles when he isn't in the room," Timothy said to his father in law who seemed more amused than Hortensia.

"You call him that," Hortensia said with a tight smile, though Holly sensed a bit of displeasure in her voice.

"And Anne," Mrs. Ambrose cooed, turning her attention to her other grandchild. Timothy set her down and the child immediately ran over to Holly, reached up for her hand, and latched onto Holly's little finger with a grip of iron.

Hortensia looked surprised. "She's at a terribly shy age."

"How old is she now?" Holly asked of her niece who now peered up at her with wide, chocolate eyes that looked almost too big for her little face.

"Three," Hortensia replied. "But it seems she really loves her aunt. I'm afraid she won't let go for a while now."

Mrs. Ambrose ushered them into the front drawing room. "Do you still keep a nanny?"

"Of course," Hortensia assured. "But she took ill yesterday, so we will just have to do without for the next few days." She didn't look as confident as she sounded.

Holly took a seat on the sofa and Anne clambered into the seat beside her as they caught up with everything the Hamptons had done since their last visit. They only lived in the next town over, but with two children, they always found it hard to travel. News and good tidings were exchanged until there was a loud crash from somewhere in the house.

"Miles!" Hortensia called out.

"No!" they heard a small voice call from the direction of the dining room.

"All hands on deck!" Timothy barked, and Miles came trotting into the sitting room and stood at attention before his father. "What is the clamour? The captain demands quiet, aye Long John Silver?" Timothy growled, putting on his best sailor's drawl.

"I was looking for treasure and I — I knocked over a chair," Miles said, keeping his eyes on his shoes.

The doorbell rang through the house and Mrs. Ambrose jumped from her seat next to the fire and rushed out to the foyer. The others followed with Holly in the rear who still had Anne attached to her hand. Holly stood back a few paces as the foyer filled with even more family members and the clamour of voices.

Holly felt Anne shift to hide behind her skirts and then watch her dash over to hide behind Hortensia's. Holly's older brother, the eldest of the three Ambrose children, swept each of his family members into giant hugs, his wife hanging behind with her three boys.

"Horatio," Holly laughed as her brother squeezed her so tight he nearly picked her off her feet.

"Oh my darling, baby sister! You grow prettier every time I see you!" He placed a rough kiss on the top of her elegantly curled, brown hair.

He then gave Timothy a jovial handshake and inquired after his nephew.

"Miles is looking for buried treasure in the dining room. He goes by Long John Silver now," Timothy smiled at his brother-in-law.

"Boys," Horatio called to his sons. "Go play with you cousin."

Holly guessed the oldest was eight now, but she had lost track of the ages of the other two. The three boys relaxed as they were dismissed from the company of the adults and darted around the ladies' full skirts in search of their cousin.

"No fighting!" Horatio called after them.

"There is no greater delight to a mother than to have a full house," Mrs. Ambrose said with a smile as she ushered all of her family back into the drawing room.

The large room with a great fireplace and towering, foil papered walls suddenly felt much smaller once it was filled with seven adults and a three-year-old. Holly found a place on one of the old tufted sofas with Horatio's wife, Maria, on one side and Anne on the other. Anne grasped her hand again as she silently took in all the commotion.

"Tea will be out shortly," Mrs. Ambrose announced.

While Horatio gave his father and brother-in-law news about life in London, Hortensia inquired after Maria and the health of her parents. Maria had always been reserved but today she seemed to relax in the spirit of such a reunion.

Trays of tea were soon carried in and steaming cups were poured for all. Holly was handed a cup as well as a letter from the afternoon post. She had to coax her finger from Anne's grasp in order to set her tea aside and open the letter. Holly pried the seal open curiously. It was very rare that a letter came to the house that was addressed specifically to her outside of her birthday.

It read, in a narrow and elegant script: Dearest Miss Ambrose,

I feel I must make my sentiments known if I'm to have any sort of release. I cannot mark which of your features I first admired. Perhaps it was your dark eyes or the soulful smirk of intelligence in them which is most unnatural of a woman so beautiful. Eyes that make a man fear she laughs behind a kind smile. Then I think of your hands, small and soft and I forget your eyes as I dream of pressing a kiss to your hand—

Holly felt her face warm with a flush as she read such shockingly forward words, but she didn't dare stop reading.

—But a kiss I would rather press to your rose petal lips without apprehension or pretense. But more than a kiss I desire, I desire to have your pure and kind heart all for my own. I would love you all my life if you could find your way to me.

Alas, I lose the ability to say such things around you. The sound of your sighs sends my heart clamoring against my chest and it feels as if all the air has been sucked for my lungs. I fear I may never be able to say all of this in person, so thus I will remain anonymous. But I wanted you to know this season that there's a man out there whose very soul stirs like the wind before a storm when you walk into a room.

Yours affectionately,

Your Most Ardent Admirer

Just as Holly finished reading, the letter was ripped from her hands.

"What—" she exclaimed as she looked over her shoulder to see Horatio with a mischievous look on his face.

"What on earth are you reading, sis? You're positively crimson," he smiled, looking down at the letter.

Mrs. Ambrose came to her daughter's defense by crossing behind the sofa and attempting to grab the letter from her son. "Horatio, don't pester Holly!" she scolded as the much taller Horatio successfully kept the letter out of his mother's reach.

"Holly has a secret admirer!" he announced and suddenly no one was on Holly's side. Hortensia and her mother both insisted that Horatio share the letter with them all.

"Please! No!" Holly begged, but she spoke to deaf ears as Horatio began to read the letter aloud. She tried to sink deeper into the couch, wishing she could continue to shrink into complete oblivion rather live through such a mortifying moment.

"Who could it be?" Hortensia asked when Horatio had finished.

"Whoever it is, our sweet little Holly seems to have her claws in the poor man," Horatio laughed.

"Holly, have you been showing a man favor without our knowledge," Mrs. Ambrose asked, her voice scandalized.

Holly couldn't take any more. She rose from her seat and stalked over to her brother and snatched the letter from his hands. "No!" she snapped. "And it's none of anyone's business."

She turned on her heel, the bustle of her skirt nearly overturning the tea tray, and stormed out of the room. As she turned up the staircase, she could hear her siblings calls.

"Don't be so sensitive, Holl—"

"We were just having a little fun."

Holly squeezed the impertinent letter tighter in her fist. She turned down the long second floor hall and headed into her room at the end of it, making a point to slam the door behind her. An inkling crossed her mind to throw the offending letter into the hot coals that were cooling in her fireplace but before she could, something stirred in her stomach.

She sat down on her bed and reread the letter's contents. No one had ever talked about her in such a way, or shown such passion towards her in person.

"Who on earth?" she mused, her voice barely above a whisper. Suddenly reading such uninhibited words alone in her warm room felt borderline profane. Holly clutched the letter to her chest, vowing to find whoever wrote it.

A part of her wanted to scold the writer for the embarrassment he caused, but the more she wondered about him, the more she imagined what a man of such passion's kiss would be like.

After all, it had been a very long time since she had been kissed.

THANK YOU FOR READING! So do any of you have a guess who wrote the letter? You won't get any hints if you do! If you're loving this story, remember to vote and comment and if you want to give it an extra little support, add it to your reading lists so others can discover it!