Alone in London, Hugh’s estrangement from his grandfather seems to cut even deeper at Christmas. The earl judged him unfairly when he sent him packing a year ago after an incident at university, and Hugh has no intention of going cap in hand to beg for forgiveness. But when a letter arrives from a nosey old neighbor urging him to come as his grandfather is lonely, Hugh boards the stage to Kent. He is stunned to find the letter writer is no interfering widow. Alice Dountry might look like an angel, but she very much has her feet on the ground. If a man wished to marry her he would have to measure up. She is soon to go to London for the Season. A husband is on the cards, and, most regrettably, it cannot be him.
Featuring Lady Alice Dountry from NEVER DOUBT A DUKE – Book One, The Never Series.
Chapter One
Belfries Estate, Kent
The Christmas Season, 1818.
“I miss everyone. I wish Nellie and Charles were here,” Alice said at luncheon. “I haven’t seen them for ages.”
“I know, my sweet,” her sister Marian said. “I miss them, too. But Charles won’t allow Nellie to travel with her baby due in January.”
They rose from the table, and Alice wandered out into the garden, a hint of snow in the air. In a few months’ time, she was to be presented to the Queen in her Royal Drawing Room. Alice tried to quell her impatience as she walked down garden paths bordered by azaleas. There were very few flowers to admire, but it was still nice to be out.
The Belfries estate bordered that of the Earl of Hawkinge’s. She could see the large stone mansion through the trees. The drawing room curtains were always closed, which piqued Alice’s curiosity. Marian had invited the earl to partake of Christmas dinner with them as he seemed to have no one to spend it with, but the gruff man refused. “He is a bad-tempered recluse,” Marian told Alice. “The earl slammed the door on carolers and was barely polite to the vicar and the parishioners at church on Sunday.”
Alice’s ramble took her closer to the boundary wall. The fragrant smell of smoke drew her over to investigate. With a toe in a crevice, she raised her head to peer over it. A tall, thin gentleman with a high-bridged nose and a shock of white hair strolled around his lawn with his golden-haired dog, a cheroot held in his spindly fingers. Was he the bad-tempered, reclusive earl? He looked harmless enough.
“Good afternoon,” Alice called.
He swiveled to face her, lifting his shaggy brows. “And who might you be?”
“I am Lady Belfries’ sister, Alice, sir. And you must be the Earl of Hawkinge. How do you do?”
“Well, naturally, I’m the earl,” he growled. “Who else might I be?”
“You could be the footman,” Alice suggested with a glimmer of a smile.
“Good heavens!” He stepped closer. “Have you escaped your governess, child?”
“I am not a child, and I no longer require a governess. I’m seventeen years old. I am to go to London in spring for the Season.”
“Are you indeed?”
“What is your dog’s name, my lord?”
“Leo.”
Because he looks like a lion?”
“No. How could he? He’s a spaniel.”
“I am most dreadfully bored, sir. May I come and pat your dog?”
“Good heavens, no.”
“We might enjoy a cozy chat.”
He scowled. “I don’t indulge in idle chatter.”
“Why must it be idle? I’m sure I shall find it most interesting.”
He huffed out a reluctant laugh. “You are a curious young woman.”
“I have been told so on occasion.”
He nodded his shaggy head. “I’m sure.” The earl’s bright blue eyes, which had been sharp earlier, mellowed slightly.
“My sister, Nellie, and her husband, Charles, the Duke of Shewsbury, are spending Christmas at home. Charles won’t let Nellie travel because she is soon to have a baby.’
“Very wise,” he said, the corners of his mouth lifting.
“And Mama has stayed with my father, who is suffering from an attack of gout.”
“Ah, devil of a thing, gout.”
“Will you have visitors at Christmas, my lord?”
“No. I’m perfectly happy alone. Too many fools come out at Christmas to annoy a fellow.”
Alice had climbed onto the wall. She sat and arranged her skirts decorously.
“You might fall off there,” he warned.
“No. I’m an excellent climber. But I don’t expect to do it again, after my Come-out.”
“Pity,” he said, looking amused.
“You haven’t any family?”
“I’ve a grandson, lives in London.”
“Can he not visit you at Christmas?”
He bristled. “Hugh and I don’t get on.”
“But you mustn’t be alone. Would you care to join us for Christmas dinner?”
“I have declined Lady Belfries’s kind invitation.”
“But why?”
“I prefer my own company,” he said. “As I have said.”
Alice observed him. His shoulders hunched, and his eyes looked sad.
Leo left the bush he’d been sniffing and bounded over to the wall. He rested his front paws on it and gazed up at her, tongue lolling. Alice leaned down to pat him, but he was just out of reach.
“Come, Leo,” the earl said. “Nice to meet you, Lady Alice.” He turned away and walked stiffly to the house, the dog at his heels.
“Goodbye,” Alice called.
She went back inside and knocked on the library door. “Come.”
Her brother-in-law, Gerald, sat at his desk, one hand on his curly brown locks, the other scratching figures in a ledger with a quill. He looked up. “I’m busy, Alice. Ask Frederick to play dominoes.”
“Frederick is having a music lesson, and Harriet is napping. I just met our neighbor.”
“The earl?” Gerald turned a page on his ledger. “Bad-tempered fellow, isn’t he?”
“Lord Hawkinge has a grandson. I wonder why he doesn’t come down for Christmas?”
“His heir, Hugh Gifford. They had a falling out over something a year ago. Never discovered what it was about.”
“Do you have Lord Gifford’s address?”
Gerald looked up in surprise. “Why?”
“I wish to write to tell him his grandfather is lonely.”
“How can you be sure he’s lonely? The fellow might just be a cranky old…never mind.”
“I just know that’s all.”
“A letter, eh? Now that would set the cat among the pigeons, wouldn’t it?” Gerald studied her. “I doubt it would change anything.” He rolled the pen between his fingers. “I suppose it can’t do any harm, though. It worries Marian how grumpy the old earl has become this past year.” He pulled open a drawer. “Gifford has rooms at Albany in Piccadilly.” He wrote the address down and handed it to her. “You’re a sympathetic soul, Alice. Don’t be too disappointed if it comes to nothing.” He paused. “Let’s keep this letter a secret, eh? No need to mention it to Marian when she’s so busy with the children, and Christmas, and whatnot.”
Last night had been a bore. The entertainment, one of Hugh’s few remaining friends in the city had arranged was not to his taste. In fact, the way his friends lived had begun to pall. Life seemed hollow and meaningless. He tried to shake off the gloom as he drank his breakfast coffee and opened his mail. Christmas was a bad time to be alone, but things would pick up again when parliament resumed and brought the ton back to Town.
A letter from Kent! Was his grandfather unwell? With a sense of dread, he quickly slit it open with his silver-handled paper-knife.
“What the deuce!” He reread the page. Some busybody neighbor, Lady something, had the gall to write and tell him his grandfather was lonely? He could just imagine her, an aged widow perhaps, with nothing better to do than poke her nose into other people’s affairs.
He dropped the letter onto the table and sat glowering into space. His grandfather
had cut him out of his will, the unentailed part, and refused to speak to him for a year, and as far as Hugh could see, that was not about to change. If the earl was lonely, then all he had to do was write. He had refused to listen to Hugh’s explanation of what happened up at Oxford, and instead took the matter out of Hugh’s hands, as if he were still in short trousers. Well, he wasn’t about to go rushing down there. Not just to appease some woman his grandfather had probably insulted at church after she’d tried to inveigle him into supporting one of her charitable causes.
As a servant poured his coffee, he dug into the eggs and bacon. Chewing, he thought about the day ahead. Then he turned to the rest of the week. Nothing on the social calendar except dinner at his club with Gordon Manion. Couldn’t go to a boxing bout, and riding in the park didn’t appeal. Christmas was a time to be with family, no question. Surely his grandfather wouldn’t toss him out until Boxing Day, at least. He wasn’t that unkind. Hugh called his valet.
“Burns, pack a valise. I’m going to Kent for Christmas.”
“Shall I accompany you, my lord?”
“No. I’ll get the stage. Visit your family,” Hugh said, slightly guilty at not having suggested it before this.
Burns grimaced. “Yes, my lord.”
Chapter Two
Alice was a little uneasy. Gerald sometimes showed a careless disregard for proprietaries, but Marian was very strict. She would not have approved of the letter.
Every afternoon for the next four days, Alice climbed the wall and talked to the earl as he strolled about with Leo.
She suspected Lord Hawkinge enjoyed their chats. Alice certainly did. He came over to the wall, and they discussed all manner of things. His recounting of his time in India enthralled her. Several days later, Alice asked him again if she might call on him.
“Only if you get permission from Belfies,” he said.
“I shall.”
Alice knew better than to ask Marian. She went directly to Gerald and gained his approval. “A social call on the old fellow? Why not indeed,” he said without glancing up from his newspaper.
The following afternoon, carrying a box of Cook’s excellent mince pies and a Christmas cake, Alice knocked on the earl’s front door. She had picked a branch of holly on the way.
An aged butler in somber black admitted her and announced her in the drawing room. The room was so shadowed with the long windows covered with the heavy claret velvet curtains, that she didn’t see his lordship until he rose from his wing chair.
“Good afternoon, Lady Alice. What have you there?”
“Mince pies and Christmas cake.”
“Some time since I’ve had Christmas cake,” he said with one of his sad smiles.
He summoned a footman and sent the food to the kitchen.
Alice arranged the holly on the marble mantel. Above it hung a portrait of a pretty lady. “Is that the countess?”
“Yes. Elizabeth,” he said, his voice somber. “Gone ten years now.”
“How sad.”
“Time passes.” He gestured to the oyster velvet sofa.
Alice sat and arranged her skirts around her. “Is there a reason for the curtains to be closed?”
“I prefer it that way,” he said, looking mulish.
“I suppose one’s eyes…as one gets older…”
“My sight is perfect,” he blustered.
“It’s a lovely day outside,” Alice remarked as a footman brought in the tea tray.
“Open the curtains, William,” the earl said.
Sunlight spilled into the room, alighting on a glass case filled with delicate flies, lures fashioned for trout fishing. Alice rose to study them. “Did you make these?”
“Used to be a hobby in my salad days,” he said. “Come and drink your tea before it cools.”
While they enjoyed the cake, a knock came at the door, and the butler stepped in.
“Lord Gifford, milord.”
The cup rattled in the earl’s hands, and he hastily returned it to the table. “What? Hugh is here?”
“How are you, Grandfather?” A tall, broad-shouldered gentleman followed the butler into the room, carrying a parcel. He cast a careful eye over his grandfather. “You seem fit enough. I brought you some of that marmalade you like from Fortnum and Mason’s.”
Alice caught her breath when his eyes, much like the earl’s, found her and widened. A smile appeared deep in those blue depths, and something unspoken seemed to pass between them. She almost shivered.
“Hugh.” The earl sounded less than welcoming. “You haven’t purchased a carriage to my knowledge. Did you hire one?”
“No. Traveled on the stage.” He crossed to offer the old man his hand.
His grandfather shook it. “Good Lord.”
Hugh’s gaze rested on Alice. “It was most unpleasant. A woman sitting next to me nursed a goose. I thought it was for their Christmas dinner, but it proved to be a pet. Willy. The bird kept trying to latch onto me.”
Alice’s peal of laughter was rewarded with a devastatingly handsome grin.
The earl’s eyes looked flinty. “But why the visit, unannounced, Hugh?”
“A neighbor of yours sent me a letter, Grandfather.”
The earl raised his eyebrows. “A neighbor? Who could that be?”
“The letter was from me, Lord Hawkinge,” Alice said. “I was worried about you.”
“Worried about me, were you.” Lord Hawkinge cast her a wry look. “You’re a minx, Lady Alice. But a kind one.”
His grandson’s smiled faltered, and his dark brows twitched together.
Alice’s stomach sank.
“Forgive my lapse of manners. Allow me to present my grandson, Lord Gifford,” the earl said.
“Lady Alice Dountry is visiting with Viscount and Viscountess Belfries, her sister and brother-in-law.”
“Charmed.” Lord Gifford bowed.
“How do you do?” Alice feared she was blushing. Whatever Lord Gifford thought of her, she was pleased for the earl’s sake, because he would not be alone. She was confident they would mend their rift over the next few days and enjoy Christmas together. She put down her teacup and rose to her feet. “Thank you for the tea, my lord. I must go. I promised to take my nephew Frederick to the stables to visit his pony.”
“Thank you for the delectable Christmas fare,” the earl said. “And your delightful company. More than a crabby old man deserves.”
“Nonsense. Don’t forget your promise to tell me more about your time in India.” She offered her hand to him.
The earl raised her hand to his lips. “Goodbye, Lady Alice.”
“Allow me to escort you home,” said Lord Gifford.
“That isn’t necessary,” Alice said, surprised. “Our gates are only a short distance up the road.”
“Yes, please do, Hugh. Otherwise, Lady Alice might be tempted to climb the wall.”
Alice laughed.
“You like to climb walls?” Lord Gifford asked, offering her his arm as they left the house. They walked down the path to the gate.
Alice smiled, very much aware of him, tall and lithe, walking close beside her. “Not so much anymore. But that’s how your grandfather and I met, over the garden wall.”
“And you decided he was lonely?”
She detected the strain in his voice. “I thought him miserable, yes.”
“And thought I was the reason for it.”
She glanced up at him. “I hoped a visit from you would cheer your grandfather. Christmas can be such a lonely time. I’m sorry if I was mistaken.”
They came to the Belfries gates where a servant raked the drive. “It has been quite an adventure to meet you, Lady Alice.” Lord Gifford bowed and turned away.
“I apologize for the goose, sir,” she called after him.
He turned and raised a hand with a faint smile.
Alice’s pulse still thudded as she entered through the door. She had no preconceived notion of what Lord Gifford would be like. She
’d been prepared to dislike him, considering him heartless, although that didn’t seem to be the case. That he might be in his early twenties and so attractive he would cause any lady’s heart to flutter had not occurred to her. Nor that she would hope to see him again. It was hardly likely she would after such a bad beginning, she thought gloomily. She’d always been confident about the future, but now feared she’d made a dreadful mistake. Upset, she climbed the stairs to her bedchamber.
When Hugh returned to the drawing room, a prolonged silence fell between him and his grandfather while Hugh dealt with what had just occurred. The loveliest young lady he’d ever met believed him to be a selfish, ungrateful sod. His grandfather was lonely? Hugh should be so lucky.
“So, was it just the letter that brought you here, Hugh?” Grandfather asked, breaking the silence.
Hugh sat and crossed his legs on an upholstered chair. “Not entirely. I did worry about you, but I was pretty sure you didn’t want to see me. You’d led me to believe…” He cleared his throat. “I thought it best to come, despite believing the letter writer to be some interfering old biddie from the parish. How wrong I was. As you have a lovely young woman keeping you company, perhaps I am persona non grata.”
His grandfather nodded. “Good of you to come, for whatever reason.” He chuckled. “Alice is a kind young woman, with plenty of pluck.”
Did his grandfather just chuckle? “Where does Lady Alice hail from?”
“Cumbria. She is to be presented next Season.”
“She looks like an angel, with her pale hair and beautiful eyes,” Hugh said pensively. “A Christmas angel perhaps,” he added. “She doesn’t behave like any debutante I’ve met.”
“She might be impulsive, but she isn’t foolish. And she has a big heart.” His canny grandfather eyed him. “I fear rakes will be a little too interested in her.”
Hugh frowned. “You don’t refer to me, I trust, Grandfather.”
The earl sat back and crossed his arms. “What have you been doing in Town since you returned from Oxford?”
Hugh prepared for battle. Stupid of him to hope all would be forgiven. “This and that.”
O Night Divine: A Holiday Collection of Spirited Christmas Tales Page 16