Heath supposed that was true. He also supposed he should feel sorry for any other unsuspecting fellow who happened to arrive at Danby Castle for Christmas.
The duke slid a drawer open and retrieved another stack of papers that he placed on his desk with a thump. “Emma’s marriage contract. Do have a seat, Heathfield. Your signature is required in several places.”
Danby was certainly prepared. Heath would have been afraid of throwing his lot in with the Whittons if he hadn’t known them the better part of his life and if he wasn’t so anxious to make Emma his.
~*~
Emma tried to focus on what Cousin Louisa and Clara Mason were discussing. Something about the necessity of mistletoe at the castle, but giving them her complete attention was more than difficult when all she could think about was how very long Heath had been gone. What was Grandpapa saying to him? Had her father called him out? No. That couldn’t be. After Papa had stumbled upon Heath and Emma, he’d been adamant that they would marry as soon as possible. So where was Heath?
“Is Isabel feeling well?” Louisa asked, temporarily drawing Emma back into the conversation.
Emma shrugged. Even though she was concerned about Izzy herself, she didn’t feel right discussing her twin with the others. “You know she enjoys her solitude.”
“She just seemed—” Louisa stopped midsentence and her eyes took on an almost dreamy expression. “Lord Heathfield is terribly handsome, isn’t he?”
And then some. Emma’s eyes flashed back to the doorway to find Heath surrounded by her father, uncle, and grandfather. Thank heavens he was unscathed! She abandoned her cousin and guest, quickly closing the distance between herself and her intended.
Heath smiled down at her, his light eyes promising he was unharmed. Then he reached a hand out to her and pulled her to his side, where she’d stand evermore.
A few feet away Papa clinked a small spoon to the side of a wine glass, capturing the room’s attention. “Everyone, please raise your glasses,” he said. “To celebrate my daughter’s betrothal to Lord Heathfield!”
Mama clasped her hands in glee and Cousin Louisa flushed crimson while Clara Mason looked as though she might be ill. Uncle Henry, Grandpapa, and the others all chanted, “Here, here!”
Emma had never been so happy, or she would have been if Isabel’s question about love wasn’t still niggling about in her mind. Did Heath love her? His kisses were truly amazing, but that didn’t necessarily mean he loved her. She had loved him as long as she could remember, but what if he didn’t really return the sentiment?
“Where is your sister?” Mama asked, breaking Emma from her reverie.
“She’s gone to bed, Mother,” Emma replied, realizing that she and Heath were surrounded by her family and their guests.
“Many felicitations, my friend.” Mr. Lockwell shook Heath’s hand. Then he glanced at Emma. “I shall pray for you.”
What a perfectly ridiculous thing to say. Emma giggled, and Heath just smiled and shook his head at his friend.
“I think,” Mr. Lockwell continued, “I shall take your sister’s lead and turn in myself.”
“You won’t stay for a drink, Lockwell?” Heath asked.
But his friend glanced towards the doorway behind them. “I’ve had enough,” he said, and then took his leave before anyone could stop him.
“Is he all right?” Emma asked, looking up again at her soon-to-be husband.
A crooked smile settled on Heath’s lips. “Don’t concern yourself with him, sunshine. Lockwell always takes care of himself. Besides—” he squeezed her hand— “I want all of your attention for myself.”
That was a good sign wasn’t it? Emma bit her lip. She should just come right out and ask Heath if he loved her. At least she’d know the answer that way, and she wouldn’t torture herself wondering. But what if he said ‘no’? How could she walk down the aisle of the small chapel on Danby grounds tomorrow if he said ‘no’? She’d be a puddle of tears, unable to move as far as an inch.
“Sunshine.” He frowned at her. “You look so sad. Did something happen while I was gone?”
Emma forced a smile to her face and shook her head.
Heath’s frown deepened. “Come now. I can’t be put off that easily, Emma.” He slowly directed her through the throng of their well-wishers to a secluded corner. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
He looked truly concerned and Emma stared up at him. She still couldn’t make the words leave her tongue, so she said, “It’s Izzy,” instead.
“You said she’d gone to bed. Is she feeling all right?”
If Emma had to guess, she didn’t think her sister was feeling all right. Was it just sisterly concern over the situation Emma had gotten herself into that had Isabel out of sorts? Emma gulped. “She isn’t certain you love me,” she blurted out before she lost her courage. There was no taking it back now, was there?
Heath’s mouth dropped open. “She said that?”
Emma nodded.
“And what do you think?”
Oh, heavens! What was she to say to that? “I’m not sure what to think. Everything has happened much quicker than I’d thought.”
Heath sighed. “Then let me reassure you, and in the morning I’ll be happy to tell Isabel and anyone else who doubts my sincerity. I just spent the last little while assuring your father and grandfather of how very much I love you.”
“You did?” Emma blinked up at him.
His features softened a bit and he gently touched her cheek. “I’m a fool, Emma. Danby has told me as much many times today. How lowering to realize he’s right.”
“You’re not a fool,” she defended. And he wasn’t. He was the most wonderful man she’d even known.
“I am. I should have told you instead of them.” Heath tipped her chin up, in front of the entire room of onlookers and softly brushed his lips against hers. Then he raised his head and smiled at her. “Emma Whitton, I am desperately in love with you.”
Tears trickled down Emma’s face and she wrapped her arms around his waist, holding him tightly to her. “I love you too, Heath. I always have.”
She only pulled away when the room broke out in applause and she remembered they had an audience.
“All right,” her father’s voice boomed. “You’re not married to her yet, Heathfield. So take a step away from my daughter.”
Heath acknowledged as much with a nod of his head. “Of course, Lord Norland. I got carried away again.”
And so had Emma. But starting tomorrow, she could get carried away the rest of her life with the man she had always loved.
~ Epilogue ~
December 1813 - Barrett Park, Sussex
Heath,
I do hope you and my sister will make the journey to Yorkshire for Christmas this year. Charlotte and I are anxious to see you both again as well as my little namesake. Danby Castle is sure to be overflowing in a few weeks as Grandfather is vowing, yet again, that he is dying. The old man will outlive each of us; just watch and see if I am wrong.
I do have a bit of news of my own to share with everyone this holiday, but you’ll have to be in attendance at the castle to hear it firsthand. Give Emma a kiss for me. Hope to see you soon.
Your devoted friend and brother,
Hardwick
Heath looked down at Drew’s note in his hand. This letter was most certainly sent from his old friend, but it made him smile at the memory of a very different letter he received the previous year. That fateful letter that had changed Heath’s life in all the best ways.
He strode from his study to Emma’s sitting room and found her exactly as he expected—lounged across a divan, cooing to their son in her arms. Heath stood on the threshold a moment, perfectly content to gaze at his family without alerting them to his presence, marveling at how much his life had changed from the previous Christmas to this one. No longer a man without a family, for better or worse he’d been welcomed into the Whitton bosom as one of their own. Usually it was for the better. S
till, he had hoped to spend a quiet holiday with Emma and little Andrew. New family traditions and all that.
He must have made a sound, as his wife’s hazel gaze lifted to meet his. The radiant smile she bestowed upon him made Heath’s heart expand with joy. He waved her brother’s note in the air. “Drew is begging us to travel to Yorkshire. He says Danby claims to be dying once more.”
Emma sighed. “He just wants to bounce little Andrew on his knee, is all.” She patted the space beside her for Heath, and he happily joined her on the divan. “It would be nice to see Izzy again. It’s been forever.”
Forever? Heath kept from snorting. “She was just here last week.”
“Well, that is forever when one has spent most of one’s life with a twin.”
He’d have to take her word for it. Heath chuckled. “It wouldn’t be so bad if she and that infuriating husband of hers waited for an invitation. But no, they bound through the doors as though they own the place.”
Emma rolled her eyes. “Lockwell goes everywhere uninvited. Besides he’s your friend.”
Heath conceded her point with a nod of his head. “Still, he is infuriating.” And how the reprobate actually managed to get Isabel Whitton to fall for him was a mystery Heath would never understand.
“As is the rest of my family, but we should still go to Danby Castle for the holidays.”
And he knew she was right. Quiet holidays be damned. The three of them would make their way to Yorkshire to spend Christmas with the unpredictable, slightly harried, often outrageous Whittons. And despite Heath’s protestations otherwise, he would love every minute of it.
Dedication
For my mother, who taught me to love words as much as she did. It's never too late to be the next Erma Bombeck, Ma!
~ Aileen
~ 1 ~
December 1812
Lady Harriet Thornhill stood at the window of her parents' sitting room in the inn, gazing at the gathering black clouds. The threatening storm echoed the swirling emotions in her mind. She must escape!
Her mother, Lady Alderford, sat quietly behind her sipping tea and nibbling the biscuits the proprietor's wife had provided upon their arrival. Her father dozed in the chair opposite her mother. How could they be so complacent when Harriet's very life was at stake?
Harriet wished she had read her grandfather's summons before her mother had. Mayhap she could have burned the missive and pretended it had never arrived. How dare he insist they alter any holiday plans they might have to travel to Yorkshire in such incumbent weather? How dare he insist he had important business with his entire family? Who did he think he was to command them all?
Well, of course, he thought he was the Duke of Danby, and he was the Duke of Danby, so he most likely did have the right to make these demands. But her mother was the duke's youngest daughter. They did not pretend to think Harriet's brother Leander, Baron Penlow, stood to inherit much of anything from the duke. By the time her hordes of cousins had been given their share of his wealth, there would be little left for the Thornhills.
That left only one reason for the duke's summons. He must have found someone for Harriet and her sister, Lady Miriam, possibly even Lee, to marry. Oh, this would never do! To be forced to marry a man not of her own choosing, mayhap not of her acquaintance, and after she had only enjoyed two London Seasons!
It was not to be borne.
A slow drizzle kept the roads filled with muck, just enough for her father to insist they stop early for the night. Papa was not a favorite son-in-law and felt no urgency to arrive early at Danby Castle. As much as she might consider pleading her case to either of her parents, she knew it would be wasted breath.
No one crossed a direct command from the duke. No one.
Harriet sighed, her breath fogging the cold glass. Where once she might have scribbled a quick love missive in the mist to her dream beau in hopes he might appear and read it before the glass cleared, she suddenly felt too old for dreams.
Her mother spoke softly from the sitting area in front of the fire. "Come away from the window, dear. You mustn't catch a chill so soon before Christmas."
"In a moment, Mama." To turn away now would be to give in to defeat, and she was certain she could find a way to avoid seeing her grandpapa. She had no experience in these matters, always having been the agreeable daughter and granddaughter, but certainly she had inherited some of the scheming wit her siblings shared.
How unfair it was that Miriam had already left to visit their father's sister in Bath. She'd probably escape whatever fate awaited Harriet, at least temporarily, as their aunt was too ill to be left alone. And Lee was in London. While the duke had said he’d written him there, Lee always found a way to avoid doing what was expected of him.
Unwilling to let her thoughts continue into a diatribe on the unfairness of the inequality in the expectations placed upon young men and young women of Quality, Harriet reviewed the options before her. She could pretend to have caught a chill, thus being unable to present herself before the duke, but her mother was likely to see through her ruse. She could slip outside into the rain in hopes of actually becoming ill, but she really didn't want to spend her Christmas in a sickbed.
If she were a young man, she could hire a horse and ride off to somewhere no one would look for her. London, perhaps. There were so many places in London for a young man to hide away, at least according to Lee's tales.
Oh, dear, the diatribe was stronger than her efforts to keep it quiet. But it wasn't fair she could have the same number of coins in her reticule as Lee might have in his pocket, and she couldn't use a one to save herself.
The steady thunder of horse hooves drew her eye towards the road. A stately carriage came into view, pulled by four of the finest cattle she'd seen. Beautiful matching black steeds trotted to a halt in front of the inn. The coach wasn't familiar, but the Wrenthorpe crest upon it was. Could her dear friend Lady Eleanor be stopping here?
In her excitement, Harriet missed what her mother said but went to sit with her. She sipped the now cool cup of tea her mother had prepared and quickly ate a few biscuits as her plan solidified in her head. All she needed was an excuse to slip downstairs so she might find Ellie and beg to be taken wherever Ellie’s family was headed.
She had no idea what excuse to give Ellie's mother as to why she couldn't continue to ride with her parents. Any legitimate request would come from Lady Alderford, not from Harriet. Should she forge a note? Or claim her mother was so ill she was unable to write? That was the option most likely to work, she assumed.
The other worrisome problem was how to escape her parents. What if the Wrenthorpe coach had only stopped long enough to change horses and allow the family to take a meal? Harriet couldn't wait until her parents went to sleep; that could be hours too late. She needed to do something quickly.
She stretched and made a loud noise as she pretended to hide a yawn. "I am so tired, Mama. I think I shall retire early. The dreary weather and long ride have truly left me limp as an old rag. I shall see you at breakfast."
"I'll have Burney awaken you early. Your father wishes to leave at daylight." Her mother lifted her arms in request for a hug before turning back to her writing. "Sleep well, my dear."
"Good night, Papa," Harriet called as she fought the urge to run to the adjoining door to her room. She must hurry and gather her pelisse and hat before going below and searching for Ellie. But first, she would use the old trick Lee had taught her years ago. She piled pillows under the bedding to make it appear as though she was asleep, should Burney peek in on her before morning.
By morning, hopefully she would be safely away in the Wrenthorpe coach, on her way to anywhere but Danby Castle.
~ 2 ~
Archibald Napier, Viscount Morley, climbed into his coach feeling warmer, his stomach full of pasties and ale. Now perhaps he could sleep through the jolting and rocking of his conveyance on the muddy highway. The latest letter from Gantry, his secretary, hinted at the urgency of Mor
ley's return to London without giving details. The man did have a tendency towards the dramatic, but as Gantry was in the midst of investigating some ugly gossip involving Morley and the daughter of the Marquess of Englesby, there was nothing to do but get to London as quickly as possible.
The clouds opened up as soon as the carriage began to roll. Rain pounded on the roof and windows, and the large coach rocked unsettlingly in a gust of wind. For a moment, Morley questioned the wisdom of pushing on in the inclement weather, but Gantry wouldn’t have suggested urgency without cause. Smithers knew how to handle the cattle and would get them safely to their next stop.
Leaning back against the padded seat, Morley closed his eyes, blocked out the crack of thunder in the distance, and let the patter of rain lull him to sleep.
He could not say how long he’d slept when he suddenly sat upright. The carriage was still rocking, the night was still miserable, but he couldn’t find any cause for his disturbed sleep.
Then he heard it. A tiny mewling from the pile of blankets on the opposite bench. The squeak that followed had him fearing a rat had snuck into the carriage while he was inside the inn. He suppressed a shudder and wiped a hand down his face to clear away the dregs of slumber. How had the creature stolen aboard? He made a note to have Smithers examine the undercarriage for holes as soon as they arrived in Bath.
With one hand, he reached for his cane on the floor while leaning across the space between the benches towards the blankets. His free hand grasped a corner of the top blanket and yanked. As the wool puddled on the floor, all he saw was another blanket. When he pulled that one free, he discovered something much larger than a rat.
Much prettier, too.
A petite young lady lay curled in the corner of the seat, pale golden curls framing her exquisite face. She looked as peaceful as a cherub in a painting, but thankfully wore more clothing. The last thing he needed at the moment was more scandal. While it was too dark to see clearly, the fine cut of her fur-trimmed pelisse said plenty about her family..
A Summons From Yorkshire (Regency Christmas Summons Collection 1) Page 6