The Duke's Christmas Promise (Regency Christmas Romance)

by Sandra Masters

  Servants stood in their livery at the top of the portico entrance. A footman was at the ready to put down the step so that the ladies could descend with ease, and another servant arranged for their luggage to be removed and brought to their suite. Pembrooke, the Butler, greeted her with the utmost decorum.

  “Welcome, my Lady.”

  She stopped a moment for an introduction.

  “Daughter, I’d like you to meet an old friend of mine.” Tilting her head to the man, “Pembrooke, this is my second daughter, Miss Allyn Fenwick.” Noelle turned to her. “It is he I’ve missed most of all. You are well?”

  “Yes, Madam. Thank you. It is a pleasure to meet you again. I am at your service.”

  “After we get settled in, I’d like to convene with you so that we can prepare for the guests. Is Mr Sutton available?”

  “He will meet you in his study. I am to conduct you both there. Please follow me.”

  They walked behind him. Noelle noted that her daughter stared at the richness of the home. Allyn’s gaze went to the ceiling and then down to the walls, and to the black and white marble tiled floor.

  “Oh, Mother, this is luxurious.”

  The alabaster statues of men and women in Grecian poses were somewhat clothed. Noelle sighed in relief that she would not have to explain anatomical body parts.

  They were asked to wait in the study. Moments later, Mr Sutton entered.

  “My apologies, ladies. The house is in an uproar, and I’m not sure why. Lady Fenwick, your prompt arrival is appreciated.” He sat behind his desk and, somewhat at a loss for words, it seemed, finally said, “Madame, I wish to dispense with honorifics. From here forward, you are Lady Fenwick, and your daughter is Miss Allyn, to avoid confusion and also to observe propriety. Agreed?”

  Noelle smiled at his discomfort.

  “Your home, your rules. Do I continue to call you Sutton?”

  “If you wish, there’s only one of me.” He grinned. “Welcome to Abingdon Hall.”

  “We are happy to be here. I will be starting on the arrangements and will meet with Pembrooke as soon as I’ve changed into suitable clothes and receive the chatelaine keys. I assume that your usual housekeeper is aware of the arrangements? Perhaps you would arrange for Allyn to have a tour of the wonderful Pleasure Gardens by one of your staff?”

  Noelle was giving him the opportunity to escort her daughter through the estate. Would he accept the challenge?

  “An excellent suggestion. I’d be delighted to show Miss Allyn the pathways. The wildlife is abundant in certain areas.”

  Sutton’s eyes flashed, but his mouth curled into a broad grin.

  “Allyn, Mr Sutton, heir to the estate, has offered his services for a private tour. You are most fortunate.”

  Allyn lowered her eyes and nodded with a smile.

  “Indeed, I am, Mother. You’ve spoken so much about the gardens and how you loved the long walks. I know it wasn’t with Father. Did another man escort you?”

  “Yes.” Noelle inhaled and noted the sly grin on Sutton’s face. “If memory serves me well, I recall it might have been the Duke of Abingdon.”

  The look of surprise on her daughter’s face pleased and irritated her. Noelle had attracted much attention from handsome aristocratic men as a young woman, and so she would tell Allyn when they were alone.

  Sutton rang for his Butler, who soon arrived.

  “Please show the ladies their suite of rooms. Return to me when you have finished.”

  They rose to leave.

  “What time is dinner, Pembrooke?” Noelle wanted assurance that Sutton and Allyn would be back in time.

  “Supper is at eight.”

  “Good, this will give us ample time for you to introduce me to the kitchen staff so that we can plan our menus.” She turned to Sutton, “As I recall the Pleasure Gardens are best accessed by the stairs from the main balcony?” Noelle spoke in a soft voice.

  “The trees have grown taller these past twenty years, so some pathways are out of view from the balcony. I promise to be on my best behaviour, Lady Fenwick.”

  Sutton smiled like the proverbial Cheshire cat.

  “I’d expect nothing less from a gentleman such as you. Otherwise, we will have a double celebration, which will include your marriage.”

  “Perish the thought. Although, such a marriage could have an appeal.”

  Sutton’s voice became mirthful.

  She addressed her daughter, “This man’s cologne has a spice imported from the islands. Don’t let the fragrance dazzle your senses.” Noelle turned back to the butler. “Pembrooke, I’d like to have an hour to myself to wander near the labyrinth. You can find me there. I’ll have my notes in my reticule, and we can discuss all without interruption. Will this suit you?”

  “Yes, my Lady.”

  “I’ll go there straight after you have shown me my rooms.” Noelle fixed Sutton with a stern eye. “Enjoy your sojourn, Sutton. I might get restless.”

  Maybe she should have told him that she carried a small knife in her reticule? The rustle of her taffeta skirt and heeled boots sounded as she entered the foyer and walked toward the inner gardens. The cool breeze refreshed her after the long drive.

  All of the memories now converged on her like a battalion ready for war. The small folly was still in the same spot. For a moment she halted, dazed at the return to the place of her ruination. Noelle placed her hand on a tall post, took a deep breath, and ascended the steps.

  The sun filtered through the slatted roof, which was covered with European honeysuckle vines competing with clematis climbers. She walked with care to the long seat, sat, removed her bonnet, and leaned back.

  Her eyes closed, and deep in memories, Noelle relived her first kiss from Abingdon. She had been kissed before him - some were boring, but his were magical, molten, and demanding. In wonder, every pore in her body had wept at the joy, the need of her desire, so elusive in the past, unstirred by other men, but with him, forefront in her soul.

  No matter the consequences, the gossamer thread of sensuality had teased, provoked, and claimed her —immense need had thrummed between them as he’d leaned his body against hers. No woman should be so tested.

  Yes, it was where he had dropped to one knee and proposed on a moonlit Christmas night after a masquerade ball. She recalled the thrill of it all at a time when her happiness had seemed boundless, so much was she in love with her handsome fiancé.

  <<<>>>

  Abingdon prowled around his spotless ducal quarters and gazed out of the French doors which opened to a balcony. The coach with the two ladies had arrived. He had given Sutton his word that the matter of his past association with Noelle, Lady Fenwick would not present a problem.

  He would spend time with his guests and engage in conversation with the men. Avoiding the Girard, no Fenwick… woman at all costs had become a priority in his daily schedule. If she entered a room, he would leave. If she dared request anything, he would deny it. If she… Damnation, if he got through ten days with her nearby, it would take superior control of his volatile temper.

  He determined to spend these next two days with his mother. The physician had discussed her recovery from a bout of bronchitis, but then pneumonia had set in. The recommendation to keep her occupied with pleasant thoughts had become difficult for him, but he would persist.

  A willowy figure walked to the vined gazebo near the labyrinth. The woman turned to gaze back at the house. Bloody hell. It was Noelle.

  She continued to the place where they had first kissed. She must have held the same thoughts, because she stopped, then reached out for a post to steady herself. After a few moments, she ascended the steps and went to the long seat, where she reclined.

  Damn Jezebel with the heart of a cheat. More fuel to burn in the fires of his memories of the deceitful woman. He turned away. Intent on wiping away her memory on this particular afternoon, he went to the Duchess’s bedroom, where the nurse administered medications to her. Bright sun
beamed through the windows and gave her a healthier countenance.

  “Good afternoon.” He walked toward her bed. “You seem better today. Does it still hurt when you breathe?”

  “My son, it’s good to see you. I do believe you are the best medicine for me. Sit, if you will. Spend a few moments so that we can talk. There’s so much I have to say, and there could be little time.”

  She pointed to a chair near her.

  “Do you attempt to inform me you want my rapt attention, Mother?” He walked to the chair, but first, he kissed her on the forehead. “Now tell me, what is on your mind?”

  “Everything. I’m not sure where to start. First, let me say I’m happy to see you here, safe in England. Sutton has managed the estate well. Your brother would be so proud of him.”

  “I’ve spent time with Sutton, and we’ve gone over some of the ledgers, but it will take weeks and weeks to come to terms with all of this. Military life is a total departure from estate management.”

  He scanned the room, which had not changed since he was a boy.

  “Casey has been an able caretaker. By the way” —she addressed the nurse who fussed with her bed jacket— “please get the small case which is in the wardrobe on the bottom shelf. I wish to discuss things with my son.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.” The nurse scurried to a dressing room to secure the object requested, and soon returned with a large green tapestried box. “Where shall I place it?”

  “Next to my son’s chair. Thank you. While Abingdon is with me, why don’t you slip down to the kitchen and have tea and scones? You’ve been up with me for a long time. Make sure you take honey for your throat. It would not do for you to become ill.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace.” She left the room.

  “Now we have complete privacy, Son.”

  Abingdon opened the lid to view folders, ledgers, correspondence, and unposted letters. A quick perusal indicated that they had belonged to his late father.

  “I’ll take these to my suite so that I can place them in some order. Is this what you’d want me to do?”

  “Help me sit up, Son.”

  He went to her and doubled her pillows.

  “Better?”

  “Yes. Over the years while you were away, I didn’t look at all of them, but I saved them, since you would want to know about your father’s businesses. True, you and Sutton have the Leicester lawyer, but I’ve always felt that your father harboured a good many secrets.” She coughed. “I did note some letters wrapped in dark blue ribbon. Though tempted to read the contents, I didn’t. You see, I learned over the years that we all have circumstances or acquaintances, male and female, best not revealed. Knowledge is not always power.”

  “I admire your philosophy, Mother. I’ll take these to my suite. If there are some secrets better kept, it’s too late to effect changes. However, there may be some land deeds and entailments of interest for our attorneys. Don’t concern yourself. Get well. I’m here now and will take care of it all.”

  He remembered her beautiful features as a young mother. She’d insisted that the tutors ensure that he learned mathematics and science, and also the classics. Her love of books had been passed on to him. He preferred to remember his mother’s beauty from twenty years ago - except for the green eyes, the silver-haired fragile lady in the bed didn’t resemble the vibrant woman she had been when he was a lad. She had suffered at the hands of his malicious father.

  Abingdon had stayed away too long, and for all the wrong reasons — because of the immoral woman who had broken his heart. The Girard imposter had robbed him of everything he held dear. Never in a million years would he forgive her. Always, sooner or later, the bile would rise to castigate him for his long absence, for allowing her actions to drive him away.

  The nurse returned to the room.

  “Your Grace, your mother tires. She is accustomed to naps in the late afternoon. With your permission, I suggest we allow her to rest. I’ll close the drapes.”

  Abingdon arose from the chair, took his mother’s hand, and kissed it.

  “Until later.”

  He picked up the tapestried box and took it to his room where he gave his jacket to his valet, who then handed him a cognac. He peered out the French doors again and decided that he’d walk along the Pleasure Fields and sit with his recollections to decide what his future would become. Sutton did well, managing the estate. In short, Abingdon’s presence was superfluous. He considered himself a nuisance, as a former hero of the wars, with no grandchildren to sit around him and listen to his tales as they played with tin soldiers. Without a desire for pity, he claimed the fault as his alone.

  He finished his drink, and as he set the glass down, the box caught his eye again, and suddenly, going for a walk seemed less important than investigating it.

  He opened the lid, and his curiosity was piqued by the sight of the beribboned, unposted letters. Abingdon removed them from the box, and from the constraints of the ribbon. What ghosts haunted the family?

  In what nefarious affairs did his rascal father have an involvement?

  Time would tell. He set the letters aside – first he would take everything out of the box, before settling to read.

  He cleared the surface of an antique table at the side of the room, which provided ample space. One by one, each item from the box found its way to a section on the huge inlaid table top. Piles and piles of papers climbed higher and higher.

  Chapter Six

  Abingdon dismissed his valet, sat in a chair, and opened the first letter. After he read the salutation, he firmed his shoulders. Noelle, his then fiancée, begged him to meet with her due to an important circumstance. Though dated before he had left for the Grand Tour, he had never seen the note before. A frown crossed his forehead. Why not?

  Next was a marriage certificate registered with the Parish. It declared that Noelle Girard had married Sir Robert Fenwick on May 8, 1802, forty-three days after he, Abingdon, left for India. Abingdon recalled his father had written to him, to tell him that Noelle gave birth to a child six months later, in December. From what he could gather, she’d married with full knowledge of her pregnancy. Did she have an affair with both of us? How could I not know of her infidelity? I felt sure I was her first. Who fathered the child? The questions astounded him. These documents assailed his mind.

  He rang for his valet, and when the man entered, he instructed him to arrange for his dressing gown, since he would be unable to appear for dinner.

  “Extend my apologies to my nephew, and request that a dinner tray be sent to me here. Assure him I’m well, but have legal documents which require my attention. Bid everyone a good evening… even the Fenwick woman. I did give my word I wouldn’t be obstreperous.”

  The valet prepared Abingdon.

  “Request a large coffee urn sent up to me as well. My sleep will not come easy until I have swept through these papers.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.” He left the room.

  Sheets of paper tucked in two separate folders held another revelation. His father, the Duke, had written to Noelle’s father, a wealthy merchant. Even though they detested each other, they both agreed on one thing - the engaged couple were never to marry. Abingdon’s father did not want merchant class blood in the genes of any descendants of his. The older Duke declared that he would make Noelle’s life miserable if she did succeed in marriage and would throw her onto the streets the minute his son went to war. Noelle’s father didn’t want his daughter to marry into a family where she’d be mistreated because she wasn’t of aristocratic blood.

  “Father, how could you be so cruel? Were you never in love? Did you ever care for me?”

  His pained utterances bounced off the walls to nothingness.

  What other lies had his father perpetrated on them? Abingdon shook his head. Letters back and forth decreed that both fathers would pretend to accept the engagement but would plan a separation of the couple. The two fathers, for different reasons, agreed to forge letters to
place total blame, each for jilting the other, on both Noelle and Abingdon. No. No. No. It can’t be true.

  Letters written by Abingdon, the younger, were sent to Noelle to break the engagement with the claim that she’d been unfaithful with another man. A signed statement affirmed the claim. In it, purportedly Abingdon refused to see her ever again. Likewise, letters to him sent by Noelle claimed she’d found another lover and no longer wanted to see him. She affirmed that her new fiancé fulfilled all her desires. Richer than I. Handsomer than I. Manlier than I.

  Bloody hell! He remembered those words from the missive. He’d torn up the letter and flicked it into the fire, but how did it reappear here? he looked closely - the forger had misspelled his name, which accounted for the duplication. He concluded that there were two such letters sent. What fiends were these men?

  “Father, did you hate me so much?” He fisted his hand upward. “How could I believe all your lies without question? I trusted you.”

  The fake letters mimicked the couple’s dotted I’s and did appear in what seemed to be both their hands, but he saw the small differences. The old bastards had hired forgers to do their dirty work. Abingdon stared at the balance of the unread documents. The task would take more time. The treachery and cruelty of their fathers, fuelled by malice, knew no bounds.

  “We never stood a chance, Noelle.” He swore to the empty room.

  He vowed that his mother must never know because it would upset her and cause setbacks in her recovery. His mother had welcomed and adored Noelle as a daughter. The information assaulted his logic and emotions. He sat in his chair and pounded a fist into his other palm more than once. Known for his superior control in any emergency, Abingdon arose, and paced like a wild animal in a cage as rage coursed through him. If his father were alive, he’d thrash him.

  Since evidence of the truth presented itself, how could he turn himself inside out and make up for lost time? Worst of all, how could he now stop his contempt of the Girard, now Fenwick, woman?