“No, dear.”
Ugh. Her parents were now smirking at her.
So was Innes.
“Oh. Well, it looks lovely on you.” She dug into her venison pie. It was delicious. She remarked upon it several times, hoping to spark a conversation. No one took her up on it. She spared a peek at Innes and saw he was enjoying the meal, just as she’d hoped he would. “The crust is delicious, isn’t it, Innes?”
He arched an eyebrow and kept eating.
“Um… I’ll have to compliment our Mrs. Mayhew. She cooked a splendid meal, don’t you think so, Innes?”
He set down his fork and eased back in his chair. “I think my plate speaks for itself. There isn’t so much as a crumb left on it. It was good of you to remember, Hyacinth.”
She smiled in relief.
The rest of the meal passed easily because she kept her mouth shut and allowed her parents to conduct the conversation.
But keeping her mouth shut was exhausting work, and she was quite spent by the time their evening came to an end. She walked Innes to the door, more like shadowing him and hanging back a little, because she wasn’t certain he had forgiven her yet, and she did not wish to rile him again.
He stopped abruptly and whirled to face her. “Are you going to hide like a timid squirrel or walk beside me and properly show me out?”
She let out her breath. “Then, you don’t wish to wring my neck?”
His smile was broad and generous. “I’m still contemplating it.”
“Well, put it out of your mind. It isn’t healthy to retain one’s anger, something about bile building up in one’s liver, or so I’ve read.” She wished to put her arms around him and hug him as she used to do when she was little, but that would have to wait for another time. He wasn’t ready for displays of affection, no matter how innocently intended. “I’m so glad you joined us. We had a lovely evening with you.”
He nodded. “I enjoyed it as well. Your parents have always been excellent company.”
“And me?” She winced, knowing he was not about to compliment her.
“You, Hyacinth? Well, you have always been…you.” He walked out the door, leaving her with her mouth agape. She let him go because she wasn’t certain what he meant by it and did not know how to respond.
Once he walked out of the front gate and was out of sight, she returned to her parents, who were seated in the parlor. Her gaze drifted to the demi lune table beside the settee and the box sitting atop it. “Oh, Papa! He’s forgotten my gift! He needs it desperately. You heard him going on about never marrying, always being alone, and being fine with it. Fine with it. He used to have the biggest, sweetest heart I’ve ever seen in a boy.”
She felt herself working into a snit, but not over him precisely. She was angry over the ill-treatment he had received throughout his life. He was now beaten down so badly it had numbed his heart to any joy. “I must bring it over to him tomorrow. Will you take me there, please?”
Her mother spoke up. “Hyacinth, you know I adore Innes and think the world of him. But you are my daughter, and I could not bear to see him hurt you. What are you doing?”
“I am only going to give him this gift.” She squirmed under their intense, scrutinizing gazes. “I would also like to add a little cheer to his house. I thought we might help him decorate it with boughs and ribbons and mistletoe.”
She sighed and sank onto the settee beside her mother. “And to answer the question neither of you is asking but are thinking, the answer is yes. I do love him. And kindly do not lecture me on the impossibility of love at first glance, since that is exactly what happened to both of you.”
Her father groaned.
“Unlike you, I did not need a hive of angry bees to lead me to Innes. I’ve known him all of my life. So, I suppose I cannot truly claim to have fallen in love at first glance. Perhaps fallen in love at first glance now that I am no longer in leading strings and out in society.”
“Stop mentioning that word,” her father grumbled.
“Love? Why not? It isn’t as though I intend to misbehave or allow Innes to lead me astray as you attempted to do when you first met Mama. Lady Withnall told me everything. You needn’t bother to deny it, because your own brother confirmed it was all true.” She was referring to her Uncle James, the Earl of Exmoor.
Her mother chuckled. “Your father was awfully naughty but irresistible.”
“I was honorable. I always intended to marry you.” He returned his gaze to Hyacinth. “I know what you are doing. It won’t work. You are my daughter. No man is getting his itchy paws on you before the two of you are legally wed.”
“Then we are in agreement. Perhaps by tomorrow, he will have made up his mind about me. Mother, do you wish to join us? Innes has a lovely townhouse in Belgravia. We can put together a box of decorations to bring over along with my gift. Papa, what time shall we stop over? Late morning? Early afternoon? Should we send him a note to let him know we will be paying him a call? Or should we surprise him? I would rather surprise him, because he might flee like a frightened doe, otherwise.”
Her father merely stared at her.
“Papa,” she said gently. “I am going to see him one way or another and do not wish to do it behind your back. So, will you escort me? Otherwise, I will go unchaperoned.”
She had promised Innes she would never again traipse through London on her own, and she meant to keep to her oath, but her father did not have to know it.
He threw his hands up in the air. “I’ll take you to him tomorrow at four o’clock.”
“Thank you, Papa. Why four o’clock?”
Her mother gave her a nudge. “Be quiet, Hyacinth. You’ve just won this round. Let it go. Give me a kiss and scurry upstairs to your bedchamber before your father has the chance to reconsider.”
She kissed them both but had a special hug for her father. “I love you.”
As she walked out, she heard her father mutter to her mother, “Violet, I’ll kill that boy if he breaks her heart.”
Hyacinth realized she would have to tread very carefully. Innes had grown an extremely hard shell around himself and was not going to allow her in anytime soon. But in all her haste and excitement, she had never considered one very important thing.
What if she was too late? What if he had already lost all feeling in his heart and would never allow her in?
Chapter Five
Innes opened one eye and groaned as his valet plunked down a glass of the same vile concoction he’d brought him yesterday.
“I thought you might be in need of this, my lord.”
“It so happens, I am.” He sat up with a groan, drank the odious liquid in several large gulps, and then handed the glass back to his valet, who had, by this time, drawn aside the elegant drapes to allow sunshine to stream in.
Innes scowled at him. “I ought to shoot you, Wilcox. Are you trying to blind me?”
“I would feel the same if my head were splitting apart,” he said, returning to his bedside. “Perhaps you ought to seek other ways to pass these late-night hours than drinking yourself into oblivion. Two days in a row now, my lord. I only ask out of concern for you. What has happened to suddenly turn you into a sot?”
His head was pounding too hard for him to bother chastising the man. “Hyacinth Brayden.”
Wilcox had the audacity to grin. “That didn’t take long. Good for her.”
He scowled. “Need I remind you that you are my valet. In my employ.”
“I hope I have done my job to your satisfaction, my lord.” He glanced toward the hearth where a tub filled with steaming water stood. “Your bath is ready.”
He must have been drunker than he realized, for he had not heard the tub being rolled in or the footmen tramping in with water-laden buckets. “Set out my clothes for me, Wilcox.”
By the time he stepped out of his bath, his head was no longer pounding, and his eyes were no longer red and burning. The ingredients in his drink had done the trick, but he knew Wil
cox was right to be concerned about him. Seeking solace in a bottle was not the answer. Besides, he would slowly poison himself if he made a daily habit of drinking that hideous witch’s brew to rid himself of his hangover. He was certain Wilcox had taken the ingredients straight out of Shakespeare’s Macbeth, tossing in eye of newt, toe of frog, and even tongue of dog.
Once shaved and dressed, he marched downstairs to his study. He’d ordered his breakfast sent in there, and once again spent most of his day with his solicitor, determined to ignore these feelings he held for Hyacinth because they scared him. “Haversham, how was your tiny Tim’s recital?”
The man could have popped the buttons on his vest; his chest was so puffed up with pride. “It was marvelous, my lord. Thank you for asking. Mrs. Haversham and I could not help but spill tears over his brilliant performance.”
Innes grinned.
Tim could have sounded like a bleating goat, and his parents would have been up on their feet and cheering as though he were England’s greatest singer. He recalled his father doing the same, though rarely, but it had been enough for him. He’d been so starved for his father’s love…no, his father had always loved him. Sometimes, a little boy needed to actually see it shown.
With his father’s blessing, Romulus Brayden had filled that role. The years he’d served as a cabin boy to Romulus had been the happiest years for him.
Days of heaven.
That’s how he’d thought of his time under sail on the Plover, learning the ways of the sea from this good and patient man. He’d always looked forward to returning to London with him and being mothered by Violet. Then Hyacinth had been born. He’d been there when she’d taken her first steps. Spoken her first words. It was as though the girl had waited for him to return to London before accomplishing each feat.
Well, more than likely, she was waiting for her father’s return, not his. But he was heartened by it anyway. Even at that young age, she would look at him as though he was someone important to her. Yes, baby Hyacinth had a special look for her mother. A special look for her father. And a special look for him.
He ran a hand through his hair, surprisingly shaken by the memory.
She had been too young to speak, but he knew what she was trying to tell them all. I love you, my Mama. I love you, my Papa. I love you, my Innes.
Haversham set down his papers and regarded him with concern. “My lord, is something wrong?”
“No, Mr. Haversham. I have just realized something very right. Do forgive me, but I have something important to do. We shall resume tomorrow at this same time.”
He rose to signal an end to their meeting. Mr. Haversham hastily gathered his documents and rose along with him. “Until tomorrow, my lord. Are you certain you are all right? You have the oddest look on your face.”
“I am perfectly well. Better than I have been in ages.” He needed to see Hyacinth. He needed to kiss Hyacinth.
Would she be angry he’d forgotten the gift box she’d saved for him all these years? He would use it as an excuse to head over there immediately and see her.
But no sooner had his solicitor departed than Holmes was at his study door, wringing his hands. “My lord, your brothers are here to see you.”
His gut twisted, knowing these vipers had not come to bring good cheer. “All four?”
He nodded. “I’ve put them in the guest parlor, but perhaps I should not have allowed them in at all.”
“No, you could not have kept them out. I’ll see what they want of me. Show them in here, but stay close. I want you within shouting distance if I should find myself in need of you.”
“Yes, my lord. You can count on me. Um, shall I have a tea cart prepared for you?”
Innes laughed. “No. I intend to toss them out as soon as possible. Just show them in.”
He stood as his four half-brothers entered but did not come around to the front of his desk to greet them. “Sit down, gentlemen. Since we detest each other, I assume this is not a social call. What brings you here?”
Herbert, the eldest, spoke up. He was now the Duke of Buchan and clearly full of himself, but he’d always been this way. “We will not allow you to win, you disgusting by-blow.”
He arched an eyebrow. “My mother was legally married to our father, as you well know. Therefore, I am as legitimate as you. Our court battle is over. Father’s testament was upheld. You have no claim on the unentailed assets.”
“Perhaps not, but you are going to turn them over to me anyway.”
“Turn them over to you?” Innes was glad he’d kept a loaded pistol in the top drawer of his desk. He quietly opened the drawer and wrapped his fingers firmly around the weapon. “Why would I do that?”
“Because you want to live,” Herbert said, withdrawing his own pistol and pointing it at his chest. His other three brothers did the same, each of them now holding a pistol aimed at some part of his body.
“Is this show of force supposed to frighten me? Surely, you must know the first thing I did was draw up my own testament. If you kill me now, you’ll get nothing. But my beneficiaries will thank you heartily for providing them with their inheritance years before they expected to receive so much as a shilling.”
He’d made provisions for various pensioner homes for sailors, as well as for the Church. Not that he was in any way pious or concerned about saving his soul. But the Church was no meek widow easily browbeaten into giving up her rights in court. His brothers, should they wish to contest the validity of his testament, would have the battle of their lives.
“Since you cannot kill me before I sign my assets over to you in whatever document you’ve brought for me to sign, why don’t you have a seat, and we’ll discuss this like gentlemen?”
“We’re not discussing anything with you,” Herbert snarled.
“Warms my cockles, it does. Father would be so proud of you, coming to visit me as Christmas approaches and showing me all your brotherly love.” He kept his fingers on his own pistol but did not raise it just yet. “I’m afraid I will have to decline your request to sign over my assets to you.”
He turned to his other brothers. “Why are you here? Has Herbert assured you he will give you a percentage of whatever he steals from me? I hope you got that in writing from him. You’ll never see so much as a ha’penny if you haven’t.”
Herbert growled. “Shut up, Innes.”
“Ah, so you were all foolish enough to trust him. Why don’t we all sit down and draw up that document first? How much of a split did you offer them, Herbert? Shall I take out my quill pen and ink pot? I have plenty of good quality parchment at hand.”
Herbert menacingly waved his pistol in Innes’s face. “I told you to shut up!”
Innes was done indulging these fools. “And I told you—”
But they all turned to the doorway at the sound of a rifle being cocked.
Sweet, merciful heavens.
Hyacinth had somehow got a hold of one of the big guns he kept locked in a cabinet in his library. Holmes. He must have led her to them. The idiot. He should have turned her away at the front door.
He didn’t want her anywhere near them if shooting erupted, as it likely would.
“Your Grace,” she said with remarkable calm and poise, “kindly put down your weapon. All of you, please do the same.”
“Who are you?” Herbert stared at Hyacinth, who looked like a glorious angel of vengeance. “What makes you think I’m going to listen to one of my brother’s tarts?”
“You’re going to listen because I am holding the bigger gun and will not hesitate to blow your head off. Is this in any way unclear? Rest assured, it is your head I will blow off first, and I will not miss. I suppose that would leave your wife quite happy. I cannot imagine her weeping over you. I expect it will leave the next brother in line quite happy, too. Which one of you is Alfred?”
None of them answered.
Innes was trying his hardest not to laugh. First, because they were still in danger while everyone had pi
stols pointed every which way. But it was hard to overlook Hyacinth and the big gun twice her size that she was toting.
And in typical Hyacinth fashion, she did not simply level the threat and then shut up, but chattered on, threatening to shoot off Alfred’s big toe right after she shot Herbert in his big, fat arse, for which she then apologized for using the unladylike word.
By heaven, it was all Innes could do not to burst into gales of laughter.
Then Romulus appeared in the doorway, looming over his daughter. “Hyacinth, what are you doing?”
“Oh, Papa. Thank goodness you’re here. What took you so long?”
“I was…never mind. What is going on here?” He must have recognized Herbert. “Your Grace, is there a reason you are holding a pistol to your brother’s head?”
“Captain Brayden, don’t tell me this is your daughter? Have her set down the weapon and we shall talk.”
He turned to Holmes, who must have been standing in the hallway. “Ah, you’ve brought it. Thank you.” Romulus now had an even bigger gun than Hyacinth’s and was pointing it at Alfred, who now looked as though he was going to soil his trousers. “Good afternoon, Alfred. Please don’t move. I would hate to have to shoot you, too.”
“Well done, Papa,” Hyacinth said, never taking her gaze off Herbert, who remained her target.
“Be quiet, Hyacinth.” Romulus’s expression could have turned a volcanic mountain to ice. “Your Grace, do not take us for fools. All of you set your pistols on the floor and get out of here before I really get annoyed and decide to shoot you all.”
He nudged Hyacinth aside as Innes’s four brothers scampered out.
Herbert, always a blowhard fool, paused to threaten Romulus. “This isn’t over, Brayden.”
“Yes, it is. If you so much as think of threatening my family, I shall blow so many holes through you, you’ll be nothing but scraps for the mice to eat.”
They all stood in silence as his brothers left, and Holmes securely barred the door.
O Night Divine: A Holiday Collection of Spirited Christmas Tales Page 25