Christmas with the Duchess

by Tamara Lejeune

  “Er, what?” he said to his companion.

  “I was wondering if you could think of some excuse I could make in order to escape from the house in the days ahead,” Octavia said. “I cannot bear the pity of my relations.”

  “Oh, yes, of course,” he murmured.

  Emma was surprised to see him with Octavia, but she quickly concealed it. Miss Fitzroy was efficient, if not profuse, in her congratulations to the bride and groom, which she delivered in the stilted, anglicized French of the schoolroom.

  “Thank you, Cousin Octavia,” Lord Michael said, surprised and grateful for her performance, which he had been dreading for months.

  Octavia shook hands with him very cordially. “I am truly happy for you, Cousin Michael,” she said, looking him in the eye. Her face might have been carved from bone.

  When his turn came, Nicholas bowed to the bride. “Muito prazer,” he said in rudimentary Portuguese. “Parabens,” he added.

  Lady Michael’s eyes lit up. “Voce fala portugues?” she asked shyly.

  Nicholas answered slowly. “Falo um pouquinho.”

  “You did not tell me Lord Camford spoke Portuguese,” Lord Michael murmured to Emma.

  “I wonder where he caught it,” said Emma. “That is, I wonder where he learned it.”

  “We had some Portuguese men in our crew,” Nicholas explained. “England and Portugal are allies, after all. Their ship got broken up near Madagascar, poor chaps, and we were in need of crew. We were always in need of crew. I am by no means fluent,” he added modestly.

  Octavia shook her head in wonder. “You’re so clever, Cousin Nicholas.”

  Emma had already turned away to speak to Captain Palafox.

  “I’m glad somebody speaks Portuguese,” said Lord Michael. “I’d be grateful, my lord, if you would escort my wife to dinner. She has no friends here, and it would do her good to be able to converse with someone in her native tongue.”

  “Of course,” said Nicholas. “If the duchess will give me leave.”

  “I do, my lord,” Emma answered, “with all my heart.”

  Throughout the first course, Nicholas entertained Lady Michael, quickly exhausting his scant Portuguese, but, when the course changed, he was obliged to devote himself to Octavia, who had managed somehow to be seated to his immediate right.

  “You must tell me all about the navy, Cousin Nicholas,” she encouraged him. “I think there can be no braver men in all the world than our sailors.”

  Nicholas had never had a more attentive listener. Octavia smiled and nodded continually as he spoke, occasionally shaking her head in wide-eyed wonder.

  At the next course, he was obliged again to attempt conversation with the Portuguese lady. By the end of the course, they were reduced to pointing at things. Lady Michael would pick up her fork and give him the Portuguese word for that utensil. He would respond in kind, pointing at his crystal goblet and giving her the English word for glass.

  Lord Scarlingford, who was seated to Lady Michael’s left, sensed the crisis and intervened, keeping the guest of honor supplied with a steady stream of French.

  With Nicholas all to herself, Octavia said, “I have thought of a way to escape from the pity of my family.”

  “Oh?”

  Glancing down the table, Nicholas saw Emma deep in conversation with Captain Palafox. The sight made him frown.

  “I shall go riding every day,” Octavia went on bravely. “Only…I shall need someone to go with me. Mama would never permit me to go out with just the groom.”

  Nicholas realized that his attention to Emma was making him behave rudely to Octavia. Turning, he gave Octavia his full attention. “One of your sisters, perhaps, might go with you.”

  “My sisters do not ride,” Octavia said quickly. “None of them. Do you ride, Cousin Nicholas? It would only be two or three hours a day. I would not ask more of you.”

  “Sadly, I do not ride,” he answered. “I mean to learn, of course.”

  “Oh, you must learn, Cousin Nicholas,” Octavia said immediately. “I could teach you. Now that would be a good excuse, would it not?” She gave a little, tinkling laugh.

  “Thank you,” Nicholas replied uneasily, “but the duchess has offered to teach me.”

  Octavia’s eyes went to Emma’s end of the table. “The duchess is an excellent horsewoman, to be sure, but I’m afraid her grace will be far too busy in the coming days to give you riding lessons. Now, of course, her first priority must be to make Lady Michael feel welcome. And, then, of course, there are all the entertainments, the balls, the dinners. These things do not plan themselves. Would you really want to add to her burdens, Cousin Nicholas?”

  Nicholas risked another look at the duchess. Emma was listening to Captain Palafox with a faint smile on her lips. He longed to rescue her from the man’s fatuous attentions.

  Octavia leaned closer to Nicholas. “She is very beautiful, Cousin Nicholas,” she whispered. “I don’t wonder at your being infatuated with her.”

  He flushed. “I am not infatuated with the duchess,” he stammered.

  Octavia smiled understandingly.

  “She is still in mourning for her husband,” he protested weakly.

  “And while she is so, it would be very strange for her to ride about the country with a young man,” said Octavia. “You must think of her reputation. And why not let me teach you? At least, let me show you the basics. Then, when her grace has time for you, you will be able to impress her with your skills as an equestrian. You would not be her pupil. You could ride together as equals. It would be more pleasant for her, I should think, to have an equal partner.”

  Nicholas hesitated.

  “Captain Palafox no doubt, is an excellent rider,” Octavia went on. “He is in a cavalry regiment, you know.”

  “What has that to say to anything?” Nicholas said crossly.

  “Oh, nothing,” Octavia said innocently.

  “Forgive me,” Nicholas said. “I did not mean to be uncivil. If…if the duchess has no commission for me tomorrow, I should be glad to accept your offer.”

  “Commission, Cousin Nicholas?” Octavia echoed curiously.

  “I am helping her with her Christmas arrangements. She wants to put a very large tree up in the Great Hall, and I am going to raise it for her.”

  “A tree in the Great Hall? How…how quaint.”

  The meal dragged on. Finally, Emma rose and the ladies withdrew. The port was passed. Across the table from Nicholas, Lord Michael argued with his uncle.

  “Be reasonable, sir! We were not engaged, and nothing would come of a lawsuit but a great deal of unpleasantness for my wife and your daughter. Whatever my father may have said to you on his deathbed, I never promised Octavia anything!”

  “You lie, sir!”

  “No, Uncle!” The words fell from Nicholas’s lips before he had time to consider that the two parties might not welcome his interference. Having taken the plunge, he muddled on. “Forgive me, Lord Michael. I could not help overhearing. Uncle, I have it from Octavia’s own lips that she was never engaged to Lord Michael. She told me there was never any understanding between them! There has been no breach of promise. Your daughter has not been injured.”

  Lord Michael looked at him gratefully, but Lord Hugh frowned. “Octavia told you this?”

  “Yes. I have been with her all evening. I assure you, sir, her heart is not broken. Lord Michael has neither imposed on her nor injured her. Surely, there is no need to talk of lawsuits, gentlemen, with Christmas practically upon us!”

  “No, I suppose not,” Lord Hugh said grudgingly. “If you are quite certain, my lord, that Octavia is not injured. She is, of course, my only concern in the matter.”

  “I was at her side when she wished them happy,” Nicholas replied. “There was no bitterness, no jealousy, no hurt feelings. She would have married Lord Michael to please her parents, of course, but her feelings, sir, are the feelings of a sister for a brother, not those of a wife or sweetheart.
I hope I have put your fears to rest, Uncle.”

  “You have, dear boy,” Lord Hugh said, brightening up. “You have indeed. I am glad you were at her side in this trying time. I am glad that someone cares for her.”

  He seemed restored to the best of spirits as he took the port.

  “I understand my brother’s children are not expected at home until Saturday,” Lord Michael said presently. “Why is that, Uncle?”

  Lord Hugh looked uncomfortable. “There were…difficulties with the travel arrangements. But the boys will be here very soon.”

  “What sort of difficulties?” Lord Michael wanted to know. “I wish I’d known. I’ve just come from London. I could have collected my nephews on the way. They’re still at Harrow, of course?” he added sharply. “I can’t imagine them anywhere else. The Fitzroys have always sent their sons to Harrow.”

  General Bellamy overheard this and snorted. “If you can’t get a pair of boys from Harrow to Warwick in good order, Brother, I’d say it’s a good thing you never went into the Army!”

  “I had to remove them from Harrow,” Lord Hugh admitted sullenly.

  “It’s true then,” Lord Michael said grimly. “Why?”

  “To keep them from my sister, of course,” said Otto. “It’s sheer mindless cruelty.”

  The accusation shocked Nicholas. “Is this true, Uncle?”

  “Of course not,” Lord Hugh said coldly. “It’s nothing to do with the duchess. The Latin master was caught in a compromising position in a back room of a London tavern. He’s to be charged with sodomitical acts and thrown in prison, I shouldn’t wonder. I judged it best to remove the boys until the scandal-broth cooled.”

  “That’s the state of civilian justice,” General Bellamy said contemptuously. “In the Army, we hang a man for buggery.”

  “Aye! That’s the way to go about it, General,” said Lord Ian Monteith. “After all, it’s not fair to thieves and murderers to have to share quarters with these—these shirtlifters.”

  “You mean share hindquarters,” said the general, roaring with laughter. “The navy, of course, is full of buggers,” he went on amid the hilarity of his officers. “Rear admirals and vice admirals. Ain’t that so, Camford?”

  The room fell silent.

  “I believe you’re drunk, General,” Nicholas said coldly. “You should ask one of your men to carry you up to bed.”

  The general glared at him, his face reddening with rage. “Ask one of my—! What are you implying?” He started up from his chair, but quickly, his aides closed around him, exerting a calming influence on his temper. They began to speak of other things.

  “Bloody old fool,” Otto muttered under his breath, and Lord Michael resumed his conversation with Lord Hugh.

  “If they are not at Harrow, sir, then where are they? You haven’t put them at Eton?”

  General Bellamy’s leonine head swivelled around. “Eton! Don’t get me started on Eton! There’s more buggery at Eton than there is in the Royal Navy!”

  Nicholas jumped to his feet. “That’s it!”

  “We’re taking him to bed now, my lord,” one of the general’s men said hastily. “He is in his cups, as you can see. He will remember none of this in the morning. Do please give our apologies to the ladies.”

  A brief struggle ensued, but the general, overwhelmed by the combined strength of his officers, was soon forced out of the room.

  “Ye gods!” Nicholas said, when they had gone. “Can you imagine being on his staff?”

  Colin tried but did not quite succeed in keeping his countenance.

  “If we could get back to the matter in hand,” Lord Michael said sternly. “Uncle, I believe I have a right to know where my nephews are!”

  “They’re at Westminster,” said Lord Hugh. “It’s a perfectly good school,” he said defensively, as Lord Michael recoiled in horror.

  “Lord, yes,” Otto drawled. “’Tis an excellent school for the sons of bankers and barristers! However, I can’t possibly think it a proper setting for my nephews.”

  “No! Nor can I,” said Lord Michael, roused to anger. “Westminster! What can you be thinking, sir?”

  “They will be here in a few days, and you will see that no harm has come to them,” Lord Hugh said belligerently.

  “I just hope the roads will still be passable,” said Otto.

  “What are you talking about?” Lord Michael said curiously. “There’s nothing wrong with our roads. I was just on them.”

  “Uncle Hugh seems to be expecting some heavy weather,” said Otto. “Blizzards, in fact.”

  “Nonsense! It never snows at Warwick until after the first of the year,” Lord Michael said flatly. “We’re known for our fine weather.”

  Nicholas frowned. “Uncle? You said we could not risk going to London because, if we delayed even a few days, the road to Warwick would be impassable.”

  “I was speaking of Camford, Nephew,” Lord Hugh quickly explained. “I was not speaking of Warwick. The road to Camford is dreadful, I’m sorry to say. I said we could not risk going to Camford this time of year. You must have misunderstood me.”

  “No, I don’t think I did,” Nicholas argued.

  “Remember, your head would have been in the clouds,” Hugh insisted, smiling. “You’d just been told you were the Earl of Camford. Anyone in your place would have been confused.”

  “I was not confused!” Nicholas said angrily.

  Otto stood up. “Shall we rejoin the ladies?” he said pleasantly. “Emma has arranged for some music, and, I daresay, Lord Michael is eager to see his bride again.”

  Lord Michael flushed with embarrassment, but did not protest. “I just hope the ladies have left my poor girl in one piece,” he said wearily, climbing to his feet.

  “No fear of that,” Otto replied. “My wife and my sister will be taking excellent care of her, I assure you. They’d wrap her up in swaddling clothes, if they could. Besides, your charming wife has the advantage of not being able to understand the other ladies.”

  “She understands a little English,” Lord Michael said.

  Otto smiled. “Ah! But they will be attempting to speak to her in French!”

  Chapter Ten

  Tuesday, December 13, 1814

  The following morning, Nicholas met Octavia downstairs. The stately, auburn haired young woman wore a brilliant emerald-green habit trimmed with heavy black ball fringe. “You certainly look the part of an equestrian,” she told him, smiling. She was always careful to smile with her mouth closed because her teeth were not her best feature.

  Lord Hugh’s manservant had supplied Nicholas with a riding coat, buckskins, and a pair of very good boots. “Your father’s valet is taking care of me,” he said modestly.

  “I do hope you tipped him well,” she said, meaning it as a compliment.

  “Oh, no,” Nicholas sighed. “I didn’t tip him at all. I didn’t think of it. I’ll do it now.”

  But Octavia was not about to let him go. “Never mind! You can do it later.”

  They walked out to the stables together, arriving just as Lord Colin Grey came strolling out of the building. He was looking at his watch, but as he caught sight of them, he hastily put it away.

  “Oh, hullo!” he said, flexing a riding crop between his gloved hands. “Going for a gallop, are we? You don’t mind if I go with, do you?”

  Colin was the last person Octavia would ever have expected to meet at the stables before noon. “Lord Colin,” she exclaimed. “I’m afraid you would be bored! My cousin is a beginner.”

  “Oh, but I love beginners,” said Colin. “And so does Julia.”

  Octavia stiffened. “Julia?”

  “Yes,” Colin told her, smiling. “She should be here any minute. Camford will have three very accomplished teachers this morning.”

  Nicholas frowned. “Didn’t you tell me that none of your sisters ride?” he asked Octavia.

  “Nonsense; Julia rides like a centaur,” Colin answered before Octavia coul
d. “Or is it a centauress? Is there such a thing as a female centaur?” he wondered.

  “Possibly not,” Octavia said coldly. “After all, there’s no such thing as a centaur, period, is there?”

  “You’ve obviously never been to Venice at Carnevale,” Colin retorted.

  “I meant none of my sisters who are Out,” Octavia told Nicholas. “Julia is not Out. In any case, she is not here. There’s no reason to wait for her, just because she has an appointment with Lord Colin.”

  “She’s a tiny bit late, that’s all,” said Colin. “Be a dear little girl and go ask the stableboy to saddle Charmer for her. Go on, fair little maid! Obey your elders.”

  “Yes, Lord Colin,” Octavia said angrily.

  When she had gone, Colin put an arm across Nicholas’s shoulders. “Nicholas, Nicholas,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m surprised at you! Why, you’re playing right into the she-wolf’s hands. Or paws, as it were.”

  “What do you mean?” said Nicholas. “Who is a she-wolf?”

  “Octavia! Honestly, sometimes I think you were born without a suspicious bone in your body. You’ll end up married to that harpy, if you’re not careful. You must know the moment Lord Michael jilted her, she set her cap for you.”

  “You are mistaken,” Nicholas told him. “Lord Michael did not jilt her. There was never an engagement. And she hasn’t set her cap for me,” he added. “She’s aware of my feelings for—for your sister.”

  Colin frowned. “Emma? But you must have noticed that she has gone cold on you. You didn’t meet with her alone last night, did you? Did you?”

  “Of course not,” said Nicholas.

  “I am sorry for you, Nicholas. But Emma’s obviously tired of you. Not to worry, though. There are plenty more fish in the sea. Take Julia, for instance—”

  Nicholas was laughing. “You’ve got it all wrong! Emma is not tired of me. Why, we’re like two halves of one being.”