Christmas with the Duchess

by Tamara Lejeune

  “But why, Monty? I don’t understand.”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Lady Harriet sneered. “He wanted to poison the well. He was afraid you’d find someone else to take his place, Lord Colin. Those letters were meant to scare everybody else away. If he couldn’t have you, no one else would.”

  “Oh, Monty!” Colin said sadly. “Is it true what the ugly old hag is saying?”

  “Can you ever forgive me?” Monty asked contritely.

  “Of course he’ll never forgive you,” Lady Harriet snapped. “You’ve cost him the only true friend he’s ever had—me! He wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire!”

  “Don’t be an ass, Monty,” Colin said impatiently. “Of course I forgive you. There’s nothing to forgive. I just wish you’d told me, that’s all.”

  “What!” howled Lady Harriet. “What do you mean you forgive him? How can you even possibly think of forgiving him? What he did was unforgivable!”

  “So is what I did to you,” Colin pointed out. “But you’ve already forgiven me for that, haven’t you?”

  “No,” she said darkly. “No, I haven’t!”

  “But it’s Christmas,” he protested.

  “Not yet, it isn’t.”

  “Well!” he said indignantly. “May I at least escort you to dinner?”

  “No, you may not,” she sniffed. “And I don’t want your Scotsman either. Lord Camford, would you be good enough to lend me your arm?”

  “Of course, ma’am,” said Nicholas.

  They went in to dinner. The food was plain English cookery, nothing like the sumptuous feasts they had enjoyed the year before. At the close of the meal, Lady Harriet rose to lead the ladies out, but Julia jumped up, insisting that she, the Countess of Camford, take precedence over her aunt, her mother, and her three elder sisters.

  “I have a terrible feeling,” said Palafox, when the gentlemen were alone, “that we shall all be very dull until the duchess arrives. She brings her French chef with her, I hope, when she comes tomorrow?”

  It vexed Nicholas that Palafox seemed to know when Emma planned to arrive. “If the food is not to your liking, Palafox,” he said irritably, “then perhaps you should go elsewhere.”

  “I didn’t say I didn’t like the food,” Palafox answered coolly. “I expect it will be better when the duchess arrives, that is all. Your lordship needn’t bite my head off. Will you be good enough to pass the port, my lord?”

  “You wouldn’t like it,” Nicholas assured him, helping himself to more port. “It’s not very good. How is your brother?” he asked, turning to Colin. “I’ve not seen Lord Scarlingford since the parliamentary recess. Will he be here for Christmas?”

  “Heavens, no. My brother is now the Duke of Chilton,” Colin said. “Far too busy and important to visit his relations at Christmastime.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Nicholas. “I had not heard that your father was dead. My condolences. Perhaps your sister is at Chilton now?”

  “Emma at Chilton? Our father died months ago. I believe Emma was in Germany when he died. She took the boys there for the summer, to visit our mother’s people, the Brandenburgs. At present, my sister is purchasing an estate for Grey; she stayed at Wingate an extra day to close with the attorneys. She will be here tomorrow, unless something delays her.”

  “What a charming Christmas present!” Mr. Palafox remarked. “I wish someone would buy me an estate. Is it a very large estate?”

  “Not at all,” said Colin. “Only about twenty thousand acres or so. Nothing to Warwick, of course, but what is? I would not have bought it myself. The attics are drafty, and the breakfast parlor has the most hideous green wallpaper you ever saw.”

  “Paper can be changed,” said Palafox, “and I never look into attics.”

  “I believe my sister means to refurbish the place, but nothing can change the fact that it is too close to the village church.”

  “What is so terrible about that?” asked Nicholas.

  “The bells, man, the bells!” said Colin. “One needs one’s beauty sleep.”

  “Is Wingate convenient to Warwick?” Palafox asked. “I shall need a place in the country when Octavia and I wed. I’ve no intention of taking her with me everywhere I go, after all! Perhaps Wingate will suit, if the duchess is looking for a tenant.”

  “Wingate is not thirty miles away,” Colin answered. “We could drive there in less than three hours in my curricle. I daresay Emma would be glad of a tenant at Wingate,” he added. “Grey isn’t likely to live there for quite some time. You will have to speak to her about it, however.”

  “I shall,” said Palafox. “Now, may I please have the port?”

  The rain cleared away in the night, and the next day dawned brightly. The weather remained fine all day, but there was no sign of the duke, his mother, or Lord Grey. By evening, Nicholas was worried that they might have met with some accident. He urged Colin to send riders, but Emma’s brother was not in the least concerned. He continued to play cards with Mr. Palafox, Octavia, and Julia. Julia was Colin’s partner.

  “My sister often changes her plans without notice,” Colin explained. “If they had met with an accident, I’m sure we would have been informed.” Seeing that Nicholas was far from satisfied, he added, “If they are not here by noon tomorrow, Monty and I will drive over to Wingate in my curricle. If we meet them on the way, so much the better. The fresh air will do him good, I think.”

  Charles Palafox looked up from his cards. “Oh? Perhaps the Miss Fitzroys and I could follow in the barouche,” he suggested. “I should like to show the place to my betrothed.”

  “I have seen Wingate,” Octavia said, rather severely. “It will not suit.”

  “I think Wingate is charming,” said Julia.

  Lady Anne set aside her embroidery. “Are you thinking of taking Wingate, Mr. Palafox?” she asked her future son-in-law. “As you know, we have been living in Bath since Lord Hugh’s unfortunate reversal. If you take Wingate, sir, we will never see Octavia. Cornelia, at least, is settled very close to us.”

  “Nothing has been decided, Mama,” said Octavia.

  “But you would all be most welcome at Wingate, Lady Anne,” said Mr. Palafox. “I daresay the place will have rooms enough for all my relations.”

  Lady Anne stared at him. “Do you mean…? Mr. Palafox, do not tease me! Are you offering us a home with you?”

  “Of course, Lady Anne,” he replied. “I shall be obliged to travel a great deal—for business, you understand.”

  “What sort of business?” Colin asked suspiciously. “Surely not the kind that puts dirt under a man’s nails?”

  “Charles is going to stand for Parliament,” Octavia said proudly.

  Colin nodded.

  “While I am away…er…campaigning, Octavia will be glad to have her family around her,” said Palafox. “What sort of a son-in-law would I be if I did not embrace my wife’s relations as my own? Eh, Lord Camford?”

  Nicholas gazed past the other man stonily, while Octavia sought in vain to catch her betrothed’s eye.

  Lady Anne was already going into raptures. “Oh, my dear Mr. Palafox! That is generosity! I never knew such generosity, I’m sure. Mr. Farnsworth has a generous heart, but I fear he lacks resources. And, of course, Nicholas—” She broke off in embarrassment. “Of course I do not mean to criticize my nephew,” she added, “for making us leave Camford.”

  “May I go to Wingate tomorrow?” Flavia asked. “If we are to live there, Mama, I should like to see it.”

  “Oh, yes!” said Lady Anne. “We shall all go.”

  Octavia cleared her throat. “I think, perhaps, what Mr. Palafox means, Mama, is that you and Papa and my unmarried sisters will be very welcome to visit us.”

  “No, no,” Palafox contradicted her immediately. “I invite them to live with us, Miss Fitzroy. What sort of husband would I be if I left you with only my quarrelsome aunt for a companion?”

  For a moment, Octavia’s mask slipped, revealing
an expression of profound dismay. “Your aunt?” she echoed rather shrilly. “You do not mean Mrs. Allen? Mrs. Allen is to live with us? Mr. Palafox, I protest! Mrs. Allen is common and vulgar. Her husband was in Trade! I will not have it.”

  “When Mrs. Allen makes her fortune over to me, she will have nowhere else to go,” Palafox said curtly. “It is the only condition she places on me—apart from her demand that I marry you, of course, my dear.”

  Octavia closed her lips tightly.

  “Poor Charles!” Julia cried softly. “That is two conditions! How I detest conditions! I would never allow anyone to put conditions on me.”

  “No, nor I,” Colin agreed. “But, then again, I am rich.”

  The next morning at breakfast, Julia announced her intention of going to Wingate with the rest of the party. When Octavia told her sourly that there was no room in the barouche, Mr. Palafox retaliated by offering Julia his seat. He would rather ride, anyway.

  “So would I,” Miss Augusta said immediately.

  “It was never my intention to sit in the barouche,” Julia told them, tossing her head.

  It was decided that Octavia would share the barouche with her mother and Flavia. Monty and Colin would ride out in the latter’s curricle. Mr. Palafox, Lady Camford, and Miss Augusta would go on horseback. Lord Camford did not intend to go at all, even though his anxiety had been the impetus for the scheme.

  They had no sooner settled on this plan, when a servant brought them the news that baggage carts had begun to arrive. Within the hour, the Duke of Warwick was seen riding up the avenue on a fine black charger. With him were his younger brother, Lord Grey, and a stout, silver-haired man of soldierly bearing with a black patch over one eye. The family assembled in the yellow drawing room to greet them.

  “Harry!” Julia cried exuberantly, running down the length of the room to embrace her second cousin. “How grown-up and handsome you look!”

  The duke flushed. “I hope I look grown up,” he said, a bit sullenly. “I’m fourteen, after all. Who are you?”

  Julia threw back her head and laughed. “Have I changed so much? Oh, Harry, you’re joking me! ’Tis I, Cousin Julia!”

  “Of course I’m joking you! You do look a bit different with your hair up like that,” he added, his eyes involuntarily resting on the high round breasts that threatened to spill from her pink muslin gown. “I have not seen you since your wedding,” he added.

  “Well, I hope you’re happy to see me now,” she said, with the pretty little pout she tried so often, and without success, on her husband. “Even though I’m married, I am still your favorite cousin, I hope.”

  Harry was more susceptible than Nicholas. “Y-yes, of course!” he exclaimed as she latched on to his arm. “You remember Grey, of course. Say hello to your cousin Julia, Grey. And, may I present my tutor, Major von Schroeder, late of the King’s German Legion. Fritz, this is my cousin Julia—er, Lady Camford.”

  The soldierly man with the eyepatch bowed correctly to Julia. He spoke with a heavy German accent. Julia immediately dismissed him as an old man, a servant. “Your tutor?” she teased Harry, taking his arm. “I hope you don’t mean to spend all your time in the schoolroom, Harry.”

  “No, indeed,” the duke hastened to assure her. “I’ve promised Fritz a proper holiday, with lots of hunting and shooting. Anyway, he’s much more than a tutor, you know. He’s a great friend. I don’t really need a tutor anymore, you know. Mainly, he’s Grey’s tutor. Mama found him when we were in Germany. It was splendid having him for a guide when we visited the battlefield at Waterloo.”

  “Sacred ground!” exclaimed Lady Susan, clasping her hands together and raising her eyes to heaven.

  “It’s quite an interesting place,” said Harry. “The curious terrain, I believe, had a great deal to do with how the battle was fought and won.”

  “It must have been terrible for you,” Julia murmured. “Was there very much blood?”

  “All that sort of thing had been cleared away by the time we saw it,” Harry said, evidently disappointed. “But we dined at the inn at La Belle Alliance, where Napoleon had his headquarters. And Grey found an eagle from a French cap. Even Mama said the experience had improved her understanding of the battle. And, of course, we paid our respects at my uncle’s grave, which was our principle object in going there.”

  “I wanted to go to Brussels,” said Julia, “but Nicky wouldn’t hear of it.”

  Harry frowned. “Nicky?”

  “Of course you remember my husband,” Julia interrupted, still holding her cousin’s arm. “The Earl of Camford.”

  “Yes, of course,” the duke murmured. “The fellow who raised the tannenbaum for us. How do you do, sir?”

  “Harry!” twelve-year-old Grey interrupted. “Are we going to see the harbourer now, or what? I want a look at the herd before dark. You promised!”

  Lady Harriet reminded her grandnephew that he had yet to pay his respects to the rest of his family, and Grey reluctantly gave her two fingers to shake.

  “Your grace may remember Mr. Palafox from last year,” Lady Anne said quickly as Harry looked curiously at the fellow. “Mr. Palafox is now engaged to my eldest daughter.”

  “Your grace.”

  “I am glad to see you, Harry,” said Colin, shaking the duke’s hand after having greeted Grey more informally, by mussing his red hair. “When you didn’t come yesterday some of us were worried. Not I, of course, but some others. Where is my sister, by the way?”

  Harry sighed impatiently. “Oh, that woman! She travels at her own pace in that enormous carriage of hers,” he said. “With any luck, she’ll be here before nightfall! Perhaps! But you are all dressed to go out!” he said suddenly. “Have I interrupted your plans?”

  “Yes, but it don’t signify,” said Colin. “We were just going over to Wingate to see what had happened to you.”

  “Mr. Palafox is thinking of taking it,” said Julia, “if your mama is looking for a tenant.”

  “I’m afraid my mother has plans to improve the place,” Harry replied. “That’s why we stayed an extra day—so that Mama could meet with the architect. It will be six months or more before the place is done.”

  “Six months would do very well, your grace,” said Mr. Palafox. “Miss Fitzroy and I mean to wed in June. I should like to see the place, of course.”

  “I don’t see why we couldn’t all go the day after St. Stephen’s Day,” said the duke. “If the weather holds, we could ride. Mama bought me some rather good bloodstock for Christmas, and I’m eager to see them in action in my home county.”

  “After Christmas?” Julia pouted.

  Harry laughed. “Before Christmas, I shall be very busy with the hunt, Julia.”

  “Yes! The hunt!” Grey said impatiently. “May we go to the harbourer now? I want to show the major the herd.”

  “First, I must just check to see that my charger is settling in all right,” his elder brother told him. “He’s quite temperamental, you know.”

  “Oh, yes, the charger,” Augusta Fitzroy exclaimed. “He looks a real goer, Cousin Warwick. May I go and have a look at him with you?”

  Harry grinned at her. “I knew you’d like him, Gussie! He cost me nearly a thousand guineas. That is to say, he cost Mama nearly a thousand guineas.”

  Julia clung to Harry’s arm. “I would like to go, too,” she declared jealously. “I love horses as much as Augusta does, though I confess I’ve not had a proper mount since I married. Lord Camford does not care for horses. He does not ride, and he does not keep a stable.”

  Harry stared at Nicholas, as though almost unable to comprehend such a sad state of affairs. “Indeed!”

  “I would like to see the charger that cost nearly a thousand guineas,” said Mr. Palafox.

  One by one, the young people succumbed to the lure of the stables. Lady Harriet offered to show Major von Schroeder to his room. Rather than remain with his aunt, Nicholas wandered off to the billiard room to amuse himself. In the
past year, he had taken up the game with a vengeance, spending hours at it.

  As he was playing, a pair of footmen came into the room to remove one of the paintings from the wall, a portrait of an old man in a long white wig. Nicholas watched them curiously, but did not inquire. Nor did they offer any explanation, but, in a few moments, an explanation offered itself as two more footmen carried in another painting, obviously meant to replace the one that had been taken away. The new picture was a portrait of Henry Fitzroy, 11th Duke of Warwick. Life-sized, it showed the adolescent in an outdoor scene with a gun broken over one arm, a beautiful setter at his side. Dead at his feet lay a huge stag with magnificent antlers. While not completely realistic, it commemorated the occasion of the duke’s first hunt admirably.

  As the servants hung the new portrait, the Duchess of Warwick came into the room to supervise their work. She must have slipped quietly into the house after everyone else had gone to the stables. Concentrating on the painting, she did not see Nicholas, for which he was grateful. The delay of just a few moments was enough for him to compose himself.

  He had thought that he was prepared to see her again, but now he realized that he was not. He had told himself that all feeling for her had died with the old year, but he now knew he had been lying to himself. He could feel the forces of attraction at work, as powerful as they had been the first time he had set eyes on her.

  “It’s crooked,” Emma complained, with her back to Nicholas. “A little to the left, if you please, John. Your other left,” she added tartly. “Hurry! It’s meant to be a surprise.”

  “Hello, Emma,” Nicholas said quietly.

  As she spun around to look at him, he was startled all over again by her delicate beauty. She did not seem to have changed at all physically.

  “Nicholas!” she exclaimed, almost stunned. “Good heavens! What are you doing here?”

  “I have been practicing my bank shot.”

  “I meant at Warwick. I was not expecting to see you this year.”

  “My—my wife dragged me here,” he answered, drawing his brows together in a frown. “She has not seen her family in some time. But, of course, if you wish me to leave—”