Christmas with the Duchess

by Tamara Lejeune

  “Forgive my tardiness,” he apologized, climbing into the barouche and taking his place opposite the two females.

  Emma could not meet his eyes, but she said pleasantly enough, “I did not think you were coming with us, my lord. We nearly left without you.”

  “Julia will not be happy until she has seen the place,” Nicholas answered. “She fears it may be grander than Camford Park.”

  “Oh, dear,” Flavia said in dismay. “This makes us a party of thirteen! That is an unlucky number,” she explained.

  Nicholas smiled at his sister-in-law. “You forgot to factor in the servants, Cousin Flavia.”

  The plainest of the Fitzroy sisters blinked at him. “My lord?”

  “They are people, after all,” he told her. “Let’s see. The duchess has her driver and her postilions. Three or four grooms are with us on horseback. Lord Colin has his tiger with him, as does Mr. Palafox. I’d say we are at least a party of twenty, and that is a safe, comfortable number, is it not?”

  “I suppose so,” Flavia said uncertainly.

  Wingate was a spacious, though not palatial, mansion of pale gray stone, built in the Palladian style that had been so much in vogue at the turn of the century. The housekeeper greeted them at the door, and they spent the better part of two hours going over the rooms of the house while the servants drove on to a pretty stone pavilion some distance from the house to lay out the picnic the duke’s party would be enjoying later.

  In her determination not to be alone with Nicholas, even for a second, Emma kept her arm firmly linked with Flavia’s, but he outflanked her as they stopped to admire the view of the lake from the tall french windows of the morning room.

  “Cousin Flavia,” he called from the doorway. “I believe your mother is looking for you. You will find her in the drawing room.”

  Emma resigned herself to the confrontation she had been dreading.

  “You have been avoiding me,” he accused her, the moment they were alone.

  “Not at all.”

  “I waited two hours for you yesterday at the stables,” he said.

  “The stables?” she repeated, frowning. “Oh! Your riding lessons.” She laughed nervously. “I assumed it was understood, my lord, I-I cannot be your teacher.”

  Again, he blocked her way. “You laid some heavy charges at my door,” he said. “I was so shocked, I could not defend myself. Let me do so now.”

  “There is no need,” she said quickly. “I have spoken to Julia.”

  “To Julia!” Anger kindled in his eyes.

  “She has told me the truth, Nicholas.”

  His voice rasped as he tried to keep from shouting. “The truth? That I am some rapacious animal? Julia is incapable of speaking the truth. The truth so rarely serves her purpose, you see.”

  “She told me that your marriage has not been consummated.”

  “Ah,” he said, after a brief pause. “She has recanted her lies, then? Well! I am all astonishment.”

  “So am I!” said Emma. “How could you let me think you were capable of—of hurting Julia on purpose?”

  He raked his fingers through his hair. “I could not believe you said it to me! I thought—I thought you knew me better than that, Emma.”

  “I did not want to think ill of you,” cried Emma. “It broke my heart. But you seemed to confirm it. Julia is unhappy, and you are the cause, but it is not what I thought. Oh, Nicholas, what do you think you are playing at with that poor girl? She is near the breaking point. She is the sort of person who withers without affection, or, at least, admiration.”

  “Always, you take her side,” he complained. “She tricked me into marrying her. Can you not understand how that makes me feel? She has no right to expect marital bliss. It was always my intention to annul the marriage.”

  Emma stared at him. “Your intention! What do you mean?”

  “Just because she caught me in a trap doesn’t mean I can’t climb out of it!” he said. “If her victory is hollow, she has no one to blame for it, but herself. As long as this farce of a marriage remains unconsummated, it is no marriage at all. In the eyes of the law, I am still a bachelor, and she is yet a spinster.”

  Emma shook her head in disbelief. “Are you mad?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You mean to marry again?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “But of course you must marry again,” she said impatiently. “It is your duty to provide Camford with an heir.”

  Nicholas shrugged. “My cousin, Lady Catherine, is married. Her son could be my heir.”

  She looked at him in amazement. “You would be content to let someone else’s son inherit your title and your estate?”

  “I don’t really regard it as my title or my estate, you know,” he replied. “I never did. I’m just a sort of placeholder. It seems fitting to me that Catherine’s son should inherit. I don’t suppose I will ever marry again. There won’t be any need to. Once my nephew is born, I think I’ll return to the sea.”

  “Of course,” she said faintly. “Your first love.”

  “If I could build myself a yacht, I’d like to sail around the world. I don’t suppose,” he went on, “that you would be interested in sailing around the world with me? I still love you, Emma. I always will.”

  The simplicity of his words took her breath away.

  “Oh, Nicholas,” she said sadly.

  “I know you don’t want to marry again,” he said quickly. “I’m not asking you to. I just want to be with you. I should prefer to be your husband, of course, but I believe I could be content with something—with something less.”

  Emma shook her head. “I’m afraid I’m not a good sailor,” she said, trying to make a joke. “I get horribly queasy just crossing the Channel. If Paris were not on the other side, I shouldn’t bother at all.”

  “We could live in Paris, then,” he said quickly. “I don’t care. As long as I am with you, I don’t care about anything else. I have tried to forget you, Emma. I thought I was close to success, but the moment I saw you again, I knew it was no use. I have never felt like this about anyone in the whole course of my life.”

  Emma felt tears gathering behind the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry, Nicholas.”

  Without another word, he dragged her over to the window, paying no attention to her protests. Taking her face in his hands, he forced her to look at him. Sunlight fell directly on her face.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she complained.

  “I’m going to ask you a question. I want to see your eyes when you answer. Do you love me, Emma? Do you feel anything for me? Am I a fool?”

  “That is three questions.”

  “Here’s a fourth,” he said roughly, giving her a shake. “Is this a game to you? Because it is life and death to me.”

  “I am sorry, Nicholas,” she said. “I cannot return your feelings. And I have a lover already,” she added. “I don’t need another.”

  “No, you don’t,” he said, frowning. His hands released her face. “You have no lover.”

  “Of course I do,” she insisted. “I always have a lover.”

  “Who? Palafox?”

  “Certainly not,” she said sharply.

  He laughed. “Who else is there?”

  Emma looked him square in the eye. “Can’t you guess? It’s Major von Schroeder, of course.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  To her considerable annoyance, Nicholas snorted.

  “Is it so unbelievable that I should have a lover?” she said, bristling. “I have not been lonely this past year, Nicholas, I can assure you.”

  “Oh, yes! But where were all your lovers when Napoleon returned to France?” he demanded. “They left you to your fate, did they not?”

  “It’s true they deserted me,” she admitted. “But they were all French. Fritz is German.”

  “Fritz!” He shook his head. “Your sons’ tutor? I don’t believe it. You would not give yourself to a servant.�
�

  Emma arched her brows. “Have you become a snob, Nicholas?” she asked him.

  Nicholas flushed.

  “I like Fritz,” said Emma. “He’s a good man. The boys respect him. They will listen to him where they will not listen to anyone else.”

  “Then he is not your lover. He is your bear-leader,” Nicholas said.

  “He’s versatile,” Emma said, tight-lipped with anger. “He is both.”

  Nicholas sniffed. “If you ask me, he’s more interested in your brother’s wife, the Princess Elke. He seems to live in her pocket. The man’s a gigolo, Emma.”

  “Not at all. I asked Fritz to look after her highness,” Emma said primly. “He speaks her native language, you know. Fritz is very obliging.”

  “Oh, very,” Nicholas agreed.

  “Are you insinuating that Fritz has betrayed me with the princess?” she demanded.

  Nicholas shrugged.

  “Well, perhaps I have been neglecting him,” said Emma. “I’ll be sure to pay more attention to him from now on. Thank you for your…observation, Nicholas.”

  Curtseying, she excused herself and went to find the others.

  Colin, who knew Wingate at least as well as the housekeeper did, was leading the rest of the party up the grand staircase, pointing out the elegance of the carved marble bannister. Emma slipped into place next to her son Grey, who was bringing up the rear.

  Octavia, clinging tightly to the arm of Mr. Palafox, paused at the landing to study the handsome stained glass window. “The house seems so singularly perfect for you, Lord Colin,” she said, “that I wonder you never bought it for yourself.”

  A puzzled frown appeared on Colin’s face. “Yes, so do I.”

  “I believe it was the bells that put you off,” Emma called up to her brother.

  Colin widened his eyes at her. “Ah, Emma! There you are! You disappeared. Where did you go? And Camford disappeared at the same time. ’Tis very strange.”

  Emma glared at him.

  “But you’re quite right about the bells,” her brother went on blithely. “All these old houses are built shockingly close to the village churches. One doesn’t like the thought of the bells crashing into one’s head at the crack of dawn, after all. And, then, of course, there’s the location. It’s halfway between Chilton and Warwick.”

  “I should think that would make it perfect for you,” said Octavia.

  “Hardly,” he retorted. “I have no need of an estate halfway between my brother’s and my nephew’s. If I want to stay at Chilton, I stay at Chilton; and if I want to stay at Warwick, I stay at Warwick.”

  “I am much obliged to you, Uncle!” said the Duke of Warwick, laughing.

  Colin gave a weary sigh. “It’s so dreadfully hard having all this money and no home to call one’s own. To be a here-and-there-ian—it’s no kind of life.”

  “You’re too particular,” Emma told him. “If you found fault with people the way you do with houses, you would be a hermit.”

  “Instead, I am a vagabond,” he sniffed. “I believe I shall buy Aylescourt, after all. It is close to Oxford University; Harry and Grey will like that. To have a rich uncle scarcely twenty miles away is always a great boon for a young man.”

  “And, of course, I would be able to visit my sons any time I like,” said Emma.

  “Lord!” said Harry. “A man don’t want his mother around when he’s at University! You’ll make me a laughingstock, Mama!”

  Emma laughed to hide the fact that his rejection stung. “Well, Grey will be glad to have me nearby,” she said, ruffling her younger son’s hair.

  “I daresay!” Harry retorted. “For he is a mother’s boy.”

  Scowling, Grey swatted Emma’s hands away. “I am not a mother’s boy!” he howled.

  Harry laughed at his younger brother. “If you say so,” he said shrugging.

  “I am not! You take that back, Harry!”

  “I won’t,” said Harry, continuing up the stairs with Julia on his arm.

  Grey tore loose from his mother and launched himself at his elder brother, but Harry reacted quickly. By simply placing his hand on Grey’s forehead, he held him at arms’ length while the younger boy pummeled the air.

  “Was ist das?” Major von Schroeder demanded, pulling Grey to one side. “Is this how young gentlemen behave in the presence of ladies? I think not. Both of you will apologize at once.”

  There was a long pause. Then Harry drew himself to his full height.

  “You are quite right, Major,” he said, to Emma’s relief. “Ladies, I do apologize, and the fault was entirely mine. It was very wrong of me to tease my brother. Do let us go on and see the rest of the house.”

  The tour went on, but, after his brother’s insults, Grey would not even look at his mother, let alone walk with her or speak to her. He walked ahead, insinuating himself between the major and Princess Elke. Nicholas rejoined the party, offering his arm to Lady Anne. After a while, Major von Schroeder looked back, and seeing Emma quite alone in front of a painting, took the opportunity to console her.

  “It is a difficult age, your grace,” he said kindly, looking up at the painting with her so that to a casual observer it might appear they were simply discussing the artist’s merits. “When I reached that age, I wanted nothing to do with women. I did not want to be…how do you say…tied with the apron strings? You must give them their heads and let them gallop. They will come back to you in time.”

  Emma was obliged to turn her face away as tears pricked her eyes. “I am fully aware they are growing up, Major. I just didn’t think it would happen so quickly,” she added, crumbling as he silently passed her his handkerchief. Hastily, she dabbed her eyes and returned it to him. “Thank you,” she said, pulling herself together.

  “I am always happy to be of service to your grace,” he answered with a little bow.

  “I wonder if you really mean that, Fritz,” she said, as they began to walk together. The party had split up and smaller groups were exploring the upstairs rooms at whim. Emma and the major walked the long length of the hall.

  The major laughed. “Put me to the test,” he invited her.

  “The fact of the matter is…” Pausing at a curio table, she pretended to study the miniatures displayed under the glass top. “I’ve done something very foolish, and I need your help,” she went on quietly, switching to German.

  The major bent over the curio table as a flurry of people came out of one of the rooms. “Ah! These little miniatures, they are so lifelike!” he said loudly in English.

  “I believe they are painted on ivory,” Emma shouted. When the hall was empty again, she went back to German. “There is a certain married gentleman,” she began delicately. “I’m afraid he fancies himself in love with me.”

  “Ah, the Lord Camford,” the major said immediately.

  “My dear Major!” Emma rebuked him.

  “I’m afraid I saw you at the window,” he apologized.

  “This gentleman, I’m afraid, has lost his wits,” said Emma. “In a moment of weakness, he has declared himself. He seems ready to abandon his wife. In short, he has had the temerity to ask me to run away with him.”

  He nodded wisely. “You want me to get rid of him?”

  “Yes,” Emma said gratefully.

  “I’ll do the job for a hundred British pounds sterling,” he said amiably. “His body will never be found.”

  “What?” cried Emma, horrified as she caught his meaning. “No! Good Lord, Major! I don’t want you to kill him.”

  The major looked surprised. “No? But…the gentleman is a nuisance, nicht wahr?”

  “You are not to kill him,” she said firmly.

  “What then?”

  “I’m afraid I told him that you and I—that we are lovers. I just want you to pretend to be my lover, that’s all. You don’t have to kill anyone. I’ll pay you, of course.”

  “Ah!” he said, enlightenment clearing his countenance. “You want me to be your l
over.”

  “No! No, I want you to pretend to be my lover,” she corrected him firmly.

  He chuckled. “This has been quite a day for me,” he declared. “I put this day in my memoirs, I think.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t,” Emma said sharply. “Thank you all the same.”

  “No names,” he assured her.

  “Oh, well, in that case,” she muttered. “No one will ever scry who the Duchess of W—is, I am sure! No one will ever be able to fill in the blanks.”

  The major chuckled. “Today a certain gentleman asked me to be correspondent in his divorce. Then a certain lady asked me to be the father of her child. And, then, another lady asks me to be her lover! I have never had such a day.”

  Emma gaped at him. “My brother asked you to be correspondent? And Princess Elke asked you to be the father of her child?”

  The major held up a hand. “Please, no names,” he said virtuously.

  “But I shall look ridiculous if my lover is making love to somebody else! You will just have to tell the princess no.”

  He sighed. “Unfortunately, I have a war wound that makes it impossible for me to comply with the princess’s request. I can give a woman pleasure, you understand, but I cannot father a child. Her highness will have to find someone else for that task, I fear. But I shall be more than happy to be your lover, madame.”

  “Pretend lover,” Emma reiterated.

  “Of course.”

  At the conclusion of the tour, Octavia seemed inclined to take the lease at Wingate, but Mr. Palafox, exercising one of the few powers remaining to him, declared he was not persuaded. The bells, he said as they were enjoying their luncheon on the sunny terrace, worried him very much.

  “Nonsense,” Octavia said impatiently. “It is a very big house, Charles, and the bedrooms are situated quite far away and opposite to the church. You will never hear them.”