Christmas with the Duchess Page 7

  Lady Anne crumpled before his contempt.

  “In any case, the boy is still a minor. He cannot marry without my permission, not until he comes of age. I’m not likely to let him marry her, am I? But she may very well distract him.”

  “You mean seduce him!” Julia whispered eagerly.

  “Oh, dear! We should not have let him out of our sight, Husband,” Lady Anne wailed.

  “We, madam?” he said coldly. “Are you suggesting that I follow your nephew about like a Bow Street Runner? That is your duty, madam, and you have failed.”

  Octavia’s voice cut through the air. “Is Cousin Nicholas badly hurt, Aunt Bellamy? Has the surgeon seen him?”

  Lady Susan took her time answering. “He will live,” she said finally. “But I understand it was very near thing, very near. He was unconscious for several hours.”

  “But why did no one tell us?” cried Lady Anne.

  “I’ve only just heard of it myself from Mrs. Camperdine,” said Lady Susan.

  “Well, don’t just sit there like a bunch of wallflowers,” Lord Hugh shouted, turning on his wife and daughters. “Go to him quickly before he recovers. He will be in a vulnerable state. Nurse him back to health, and he may reward one of you with his hand in marriage. Hurry! Must I think of everything?”

  Chapter Five

  By established custom, the Greys always met in Emma’s sitting room before going down to dinner together. Dressed in gold satin, Lady Scarlingford looked slightly less rumpled than usual as she joined her sister-in-law there that evening. “Oh, Emma!” she cried. “How perfectly splendid you look.”

  Seated at the pianoforte, Emma was idly playing Mozart. Her gown was of blue-violet watered silk. Wrapped around her slim neck was a strand of pearls the size of hazelnuts. Huge pearl drops hung from her ears. Her ash-brown hair was pulled back from her face, emphasizing her delicate features. She smiled at her sister-in-law. “You sound surprised, my dear Cecily.”

  “No!” Cecily protested. “You always look lovely, of course. But I wonder you would go to so much trouble if you are just going to eat your dinner on a tray in your room.”

  “But I am not going to eat my dinner on a tray in my room,” Emma replied. “I’ve decided to break mourning a few days early.”

  Cecily looked troubled, but she did not dare criticize Emma. She sat down to wait for the gentlemen to arrive. “Men are always complaining about how long we women take to get ready,” she said presently. “But, it seems to me, that we are always waiting for them.”

  Emma laughed. “That is because men live under the delusion that they can get dressed in under a minute. We women are wise enough to begin the undertaking in good time. It takes me precisely seventy-five minutes to get ready for dinner. I have it down to a science.”

  Of the gentlemen, Colin and Monty arrived first, Colin in correct black and white evening dress and Monty in his uniform. Apart from a slight swelling at the bridge of his nose, Monty looked none the worse for wear, thanks to the ministrations of his valet.

  “You owe Monty a new pair of trousers,” Colin told his twin sister. “How dare you have one of your boys rough him up! His nose is not broken, thank God. But there was so much blood, I nearly fainted.”

  “How dare you tell him he could kiss me?” Emma returned angrily. “In front of half the army, too!”

  “You’ve done it for me before,” said Colin, “on countless occasions.”

  “Countless!” Monty echoed indignantly.

  “Well,” said Colin, “I never counted, anyway.”

  “This time, it was not convenient,” said Emma. “I was just setting up a new flirt. Your Scottish friend is fortunate that Lord Camford didn’t break more than just his nose.”

  Colin frowned. “Who is this Camford brute, anyway? I thought I knew all your lovers.”

  “He is not my lover. He is Hugh’s nephew. I’m just using him,” Emma explained.

  “Oh, Emma!” Cecily said in dismay.

  Colin was more pragmatic. “Using him for what, may one ask?”

  Quickly, Emma explained the situation to him.

  “Emma! That is beastly cruel! Devious! Machiavellian! However did you think of it?”

  “I asked myself, ‘What would Colin do?’” she retorted.

  Colin grimaced. “And this is what you came up with?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I have nothing more to teach you,” he said loftily. “Now, apologize to Monty, and we’ll say no more about it.”

  “Apologize? I explained to Monty that I was busy, but he persisted. He deserved a punch in the nose. I do not apologize.”

  Colin sighed. “When a gentleman has a grievance with another gentleman, he shoots him at ten paces with one of Mr. Manton’s lovely little pistols. Now that is what I call gentlemanlike behavior! He does not plant him a facer, not outside of Mr. Jackson’s saloon, anyway.”

  “I am not sorry he did so,” said Emma. “The way he came roaring to my defense was most encouraging. It shows that I am on the right track.”

  Lord Scarlingford came into the room. “Emma,” he said unpleasantly, “if you are going to lend my valet to your badly dressed friends, I would appreciate it very much if you would inform me first. I was obliged to dress myself this evening!”

  “I’m sorry, Otto,” said Emma. “I can’t imagine what is taking so long.”

  “I can,” he retorted. “You lent him to Camford, didn’t you? Making that boy presentable could take days, if not weeks.”

  “He is not that bad,” said Emma. “He just wants a little polishing, that’s all.”

  “His hair is scruffy, his skin is chapped, his hands are callused, and his clothes are execrable,” said Otto.

  “He was a sailor,” Emma protested. “They’re meant to be a bit rough around the edges.”

  “Well, this one is rough all over,” Otto grumbled.

  Colin was appalled. “This is the creature who struck my Monty? A badly dressed sailor with calluses?”

  The door opened and Otto’s manservant padded silently into the room. “I give you Lord Camford,” he said simply. Taking out a snowy white handkerchief, he mopped the sweat from his brow.

  Nicholas stood uncertainly in the doorway, a little intimidated by the aristocrats looking back at him. His hair had been barbered and his skin looked almost like polished bronze. The dark blue uniform of the Royal Navy fit him to perfection, emphasizing his broad shoulders and long legs. His eyes looked very blue. Emma frankly was astonished by the change in him. All the potential that Lady Harriet had seen in the young man had been brought out into the open.

  Cecily leaned over to whisper in her husband’s ear. “I thought you said he was rough looking!”

  Nicholas’s eyes narrowed as he caught sight of Monty, ostentatious in his scarlet coat heavily ornamented with gold braid. “What is he doing here?”

  Emma rose from the pianoforte and hurried over to him. “Nicholas! How handsome you do look in your uniform. You quite took my breath away.”

  Nicholas’s eyes were fixed on the Scotsman. “That man. Why is he here?”

  “Please,” Emma said quickly, “let us have no more discord. Lord Ian is a close friend of my brother’s. He has apologized for his mistake.”

  “Mistake?” cried Nicholas. “He insulted you!”

  “Yes, but he didn’t have his spectacles,” said Emma. “He thought I was someone else.”

  Nicholas frowned at her. “Who?”

  “I cannot say,” said Monty, sounding quite affronted. “A gentleman does not bandy names, after all.”

  “I would like very much to avoid any hint of scandal,” Emma added. “Can we please just pretend it never happened?”

  Nicholas hesitated only a moment. “Of course,” he said. “I would not distress you for the world, ma’am.” He looked at her warmly.

  Emma smiled up at him in relief. “Thank you! Before we go down to dinner, I would like to make you known to my sister-in-law, Lady Scar
lingford.”

  Nicholas bowed over Cecily’s hand. “Ma’am.”

  “I’ve heard so much about you from my husband,” she said. “None of it true, I’m happy to say. He made you sound like a cross between Dick Whittington and Robinson Crusoe!”

  “You did not see him before,” Otto said indignantly.

  “I am much obliged to Lord Scarlingford,” Nicholas said, laughing.

  “More than you know, boy,” Otto retorted, “for it was my manservant who turned you into a diamond. It was sheer genius, Croft,” he called to his valet. “Bravo!”

  “Thank you, my lord,” the servant answered. “One does what one can.”

  “Shall we go?” Emma said quickly, taking Nicholas’s arm and leading him from the room. “You will escort me into the dining room. You will be seated on my right. Lord Ian will sit at my left. And we will all have a lovely dinner.”

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?” Colin said, pushing past Emma.

  “No, I don’t think so,” said Emma.

  Ignoring her, Colin addressed Nicholas, his tone belligerent. “We have not been introduced, sir. I am Lord Colin Grey. The decorative object fastened to your arm is my sister.”

  Emma sighed. “Colin is my twin brother, Nicholas.”

  “I am her younger twin brother,” he corrected her. “I let her go first. But then I’ve always been selfless,” he added sanctimoniously. “Unlike some. I have a bone to pick with you, Lord Camford,” he said, almost in the same breath.

  “Colin, please,” Emma moaned.

  “With me, Lord Colin?” Nicholas said, surprised.

  “Well, with the Royal Navy anyway.”

  “I will answer for the navy,” Nicholas said sharply.

  “This embargo,” Colin said slyly, “this blockade, or whatever you call it, was it really necessary, sir?”

  “Yes, of course it was,” said Nicholas, shocked. “We could not allow France and her subjugated territories to freely trade their goods. All their gains would be plowed back into their war machine, used to purchase weapons to be used against ourselves and our Allies.”

  “But the Champagne, sir! The cognac! The Beaujolais!” Colin complained. “It is very hard for a man to live without the necessities.”

  Belatedly realizing the joke, Nicholas laughed. “I do apologize, Lord Colin, for the inconvenience. We were obliged to enforce the embargo against the French. The Admiralty did not give us a choice in the matter.”

  “I shall write the Admiralty a very strongly worded letter,” said Colin.

  “But now the war is over, I trust we are on the same side,” Nicholas said. “Shall we let bygones be bygones, in the spirit of the season?”

  “Yes!” said Emma. “This beastly war is over. Let us have no more fighting.”

  Like a herd of cattle in a holding pen, a restless crowd had gathered in the lounge, waiting for dinner to be served. Lord Hugh pushed his way through a gaggle of officers’ wives to where his wife stood with their four eldest daughters. “What are you doing here, madam wife?” he demanded. “You and the girls should be nursing Nicholas!”

  Certain that he would not beat her in front of the company, Lady Anne was braver than usual. “We went to his room, Husband,” she answered. “We knocked on his door, but there was no answer. He must have been resting. What could we do but go away again?”

  “You imbecile,” he muttered under his breath. “I will deal with you later.”

  Silently, Lady Anne prayed that he would be too drunk to deal with her later.

  “Yes, Husband,” she said meekly.

  On the other side of the room, Lady Susan was pouncing on Carstairs, the butler. “We are hungry, Carstairs! What is the delay?”

  “The duchess has not yet arrived, Lady Susan,” he informed her.

  “Why, you senile old fool,” she scoffed. “The duchess does not dine in company. She is still in mourning for my poor nephew—not that she ever cared three straws for him,” she added to her particular companion, Mrs. Camperdine. “But even she must be bound by the rules of propriety on this occasion. You may serve, Carstairs.”

  Carstairs merely bowed and withdrew.

  “This is intolerable,” Lady Susan complained, snapping open her fan. “If she dares to come down, she will not be granted a warm reception, I can promise you that.”

  “But after dinner, when we leave the gentlemen to their port, we can pick her bones clean,” said Mrs. Camperdine.

  Lady Susan laughed in delight.

  Twenty minutes later, the duchess was announced. All conversation stopped as all eyes turned to the doorway, where the Duchess of Warwick stood flanked by Lord Camford, in the blue of the navy, and Lord Ian, in the scarlet of the army.

  Burning with rage, Lord Hugh pushed his way toward her.

  “Would you excuse me, Nicholas?” Emma said. “Uncle Hugh seems to be trying to get my attention. Is this about that horribly complicated piece of estate business?” she inquired of Lord Hugh with a sigh. “Very well! Let us speak about it in private.”

  Lord Hugh drove her before him into the alcove at one side of the room. “You seem to forget, madam, that I hold you in the palm of my hand,” he said under his breath, lest anyone in the lounge overhear.

  “That is a physical impossibility,” she told him. “I am not that small. But, if we are speaking metaphorically, I hold Nicholas in the palm of my hand, and he holds you in the palm of his hand, though he does not yet realize it, poor lamb.”

  “Jade! Do you forget I have your letter?”

  “I am willing to pay for my letter,” Emma replied. “You will have your money when you return it to me. And you will get your precious nephew back when I have my boys. Is that simple enough for you to understand?”

  Without another word, she swept out of the alcove.

  Lady Susan had swooped down to claim Nicholas in Emma’s absence, before Lady Anne could get to him. “My dear Camford!” the aging beauty shrieked. “We were beginning to think you would never grace us with your presence! You were missed at tea. Poor Anne was beside herself.”

  “And…you are?” said Nicholas with an austerity worthy of Otto.

  Her greedy black eyes blinked up at him from beneath the heavy fringe of her dyed red hair. “I am Lady Susan Bellamy, of course! Hugh’s sister. My husband is General Bellamy. You see him there with my friend, Mrs. Camperdine.”

  “How do you do, ma’am?”

  “I see you have made up your quarrel with Lord Ian,” she said archly. “But, perhaps you have agreed to share the lady between you? If the on-dit is to be trusted—if her appetite is all they say—you might even require a third gentleman to keep her satisfied.”

  “I beg your pardon!” Nicholas said coldly.

  “Oh, dear!” she exclaimed. “Did no one warn you about our naughty little Emma? My dear Camford, as lovely as she undoubtedly is, I fear the duchess is not above reproach. She is, in fact, a scandalous wanton. ’Tis well-known that her husband, my poor nephew, died of a broken heart. The poor boy was destroyed by her many, many torrid affairs. Is that not so, General?” she added, as her husband drew near with Mrs. Camperdine on his arm.

  “’Tis well-known your nephew died of a broken neck,” the general snorted. “The damn randy fool fell out of a window. Lady Bellingham’s window, to be exact. Though I’m sure ’tis only wicked slander to say he was shown the way out by the lady’s husband! Haw! Haw!”

  “Nonsense, George!” Lady Susan said furiously.

  The general pawed at Nicholas’s dark blue coat. The aging dandy seemed to be drunk. “Lawd, is this what the Royal Navy are wearing these days?” he scoffed. “No lace! Scarcely any braid! I’d be ashamed, sir, ashamed!”

  “I was only a lieutenant,” Nicholas said stiffly, thinking to himself that Lady Susan and her husband were well matched in that they were equally revolting. “Please excuse me,” he added, with a curt bow, as he saw Emma threading her way back through the crowd. Not for an instant did he
give credit to any of Lady Susan’s acrid assertions. Emma’s delicate beauty gave him leave to think only the best of her.

  “A poor excuse!” the general called after him.

  Lady Anne seized Nicholas’s arm as he began to move, almost involuntarily, toward the duchess. “Nicholas!” his aunt cried breathlessly. “We have been so worried about you! Where have you been all day?”

  Nicholas was embarrassed by his aunt’s hysteria. “I am not a child, Aunt Anne,” he said sharply. “I have been most agreeably occupied.”

  “Agreeably occupied!” she echoed in horror. “Fighting over that—that horrid woman?”

  Nicholas frowned at her. “I do not know who you mean,” he said coldly. “If you—if you are speaking of—you should take care what you say, Aunt,” he finished, pushing past her.

  Almost in tears, Lady Anne made her way toward her husband. “She has seduced him,” she said, clutching at his arm. “He will not hear a word against her. You should have heard him biting my head off just now! O Husband! I fear he may like her.”

  “Of course he likes her,” Lord Hugh growled. “She is a whore, and he is a sailor.”

  At the other end of the room, Emma had climbed the steps to stand in the doorway.

  “Good evening, everyone,” she said warmly, when the room had again grown quiet. “On behalf of my son, the Duke of Warwick, let me first welcome all of you to his home. I know that his grace would very much like to be here to welcome you himself, but, sadly, that is not possible tonight. Uncle Hugh? Are you still here?”

  Her eyes searched the crowd, coming to rest on Lord Hugh’s purple face.

  “There you are! Will you be good enough to tell the company when the Duke of Warwick and Lord Grey Fitzroy will be coming home?”

  Lord Hugh felt everyone’s eyes on him, polite and waiting. “Soon,” he said gruffly, unable to see any way out of the trap Emma had set for him. “Very soon.”

  “How soon?” Emma asked, smiling. “The exact date seems to have slipped my mind.”