A Duke for Christmas (A Cotswolds Christmas Book 2)

by Emma Sloane

  Behind them, a coach horse stamped, the metal harness hooks and chains jingling as he shifted, sending the other three matched bays moving restlessly. The sound was loud in the quiet forecourt’s chilly air.

  Gray blinked, his fierce stare shuttering as his expression smoothed into a polite, unreadable mask.

  “I suggest we all go inside and out of the cold,” he said, his deep voice further interrupting the silence. “Shall we, ladies?” He stepped back and gestured toward the open doors.

  Faintly disoriented, Penelope realized the rest of the group were staring at her with varying expressions. Matthew was ignoring all the adults, distracted by the unloading of the last of the luggage from the second coach. Hugh looked positively intrigued and gleeful while Amelia’s lovely features held a slight frown of concern. The Duchess’ face held open surprise that quickly changed to speculation and sharp interest as her gaze met Penelope’s. The older woman studied her for a long moment, dawning satisfaction and delight blooming in her expression.

  “Mother?” The word held a hint of impatience.

  “Oh, yes. Yes, of course.” The Duchess released Penelope’s hands with a final pat and turned to beam at Amelia and William. “I’m so sorry to keep you all standing out in the chilly air when inside is perfectly warm and so much more comfortable. How was your journey, Lady Hamilton, and yours, Master William?”

  “Very well, thank you, ma’am,” brother and sister chorused as their hostess waved them inside.

  “I’m certain Maxson, our butler, has directed your maids and luggage to be taken upstairs to your rooms,” Lady Anne told them. She paused, turning to William. “I believe you will be joining the other boys. We’ve assigned two of the younger but very responsible footmen to supervise the boys,” she added reassuringly to Amelia and Penelope. “Hugh felt William would enjoy being included in the group.”

  “I would,” William said staunchly when Amelia eyed him uncertainly. His firm agreement and grin of anticipation reassured her and she nodded.

  “Excellent.” Lady Anne smiled approvingly. “If you’d be so kind, Hugh, will you take William off to introduce him and get him settled?”

  “Certainly.” Hugh and William shared a quick grin before Hugh’s faded and he turned to Amelia. “If that meets with your approval, Amelia? Perhaps I should have asked if you’re comfortable with my taking William to meet the other lads. Did you wish to see him settled yourself?”

  “No, I’m perfectly happy for you to do the honors,” Amelia assured him with obvious approval. “I thank you for your consideration and I’m certain William would prefer to have you accompany him. He’s spoken of little else but your promise to show him about Sheffield, especially sledding, for the last week.”

  “Ah, is that right?” He laughed when William nodded vigorously. “Well, then, onward!” The two set off across the expansive entry, their boots ringing against the polished marble floor. Hugh paused, glancing back over his shoulder. “Don’t think we’ll forget you promised to go sledding with us as well, Lady Amelia.” And with a hoot of laughter from William, the two disappeared through the archway and down the carpeted hallway beyond.

  Penelope glanced sideways at Amelia and noted the soft smile curving her lips. With a slight lift of one eyebrow, she switched her gaze to the Duke, only to find him watching her. The hard line of his mouth quirked and his gaze held quiet satisfaction at her slight nod.

  “Now, then,” Lady Anne interrupted their silent exchange. “As I have busied Gray’s housekeeper with another task, I’m going to have Maxson show you to your rooms. I would love to have you join the other ladies and myself in the blue salon after you’ve refreshed yourselves. However, I understand if you would prefer to rest. Traveling can be so fatiguing.”

  “Thank you, perhaps we can settle in and meet everyone later at dinner?” Penelope asked, certain that both she and Amelia would need more than a swift brushing of clothes and hair to feel ready for introductions to the other guests.

  “Of course,” Grayson’s mother replied instantly. “We have a lovely group with us for the holidays this year and I look forward to making them known to you.” She caught both Penelope’s hands in a reassuring, warm grip before releasing her and turning to the butler. “Maxson, please show our guests to their rooms and assure they have everything they need.”

  “Yes, your Grace.” He bowed respectfully, waited for the ladies to murmur quick good-days, and then led them to the sweeping staircase on one side of the entry hall.

  Penelope glanced back over her shoulder as she climbed the elegant, wide stairs. Lady Anne was just disappearing through the wide doorway at the end of the entry. The Duke, however, stood exactly as she’d left him, his inscrutable gaze fixed on her. She lifted her chin in brief acknowledgment but didn’t wait for a response. Instead, she turned and fixed her attention firmly on the stairs before her, only glancing once at the gilt-framed portraits and pastoral oil paintings that hung on the wall to her right.

  Nevertheless, she felt the weight of his gaze between her shoulder blades as she ascended, Amelia beside her, until they reached the landing and moved out of sight of the entry below. She drew a deeper breath, muscles subtly relaxing, and only then realized her senses had been on heightened alert from the moment the Duke had held her gaze with hers. The unusual reaction to a man’s attention was unsettling. Determinedly, she purposely concentrated on her surroundings and was abruptly enchanted. Sheffield Park’s interior was beautifully, elegantly appointed and indeed, the fitting match to the striking exterior.

  Although she tried to be discreet, Penelope was certain she must appear awe-struck as Maxson led them down a wide upper hallway. Deep blue carpeting was plush and thick beneath her half-boots and the ceiling above was edged in intricate scrolls in pastel blues and pinks while gilt trimmed the panels. Her own London town home seemed modest in comparison, the draperies and silk wallpaper coverings she’d so lovingly chosen paled before the exquisite displays in the gloriously fitted out bedrooms and sitting rooms she glimpsed through open doors as they passed.

  Maxson halted halfway down the long hall and opened a door, standing back to allow Penelope to enter. “Your room, Lady Wentworth.”

  She stepped inside, pausing to sweep the room with an assessing glance.

  “And you are right next door, Lady Hamilton,” Maxson went on, moving to the next room and opening its door wide.

  “How lovely, thank you.” Amelia smiled warmly at him and he bowed in silent acknowledgement. Penelope was certain, however, that she saw a hint of pleased warmth cross his face before he was once again solemn and impassive.

  “I believe your maids were conducted here earlier, together with your luggage,” the butler said. “If there’s anything you wish, please have them let me know. We want to assure your stay at Sheffield Park is most comfortable.”

  Penelope and Amelia thanked him once again and with another dignified bow, he departed. Amelia immediately left her room and joined Penelope in hers.

  “My room is absolutely beautiful, all pinks and gold,” Amelia told her, tugging off her gloves to untie her bonnet ribbons while she studied the room. “And so is yours,” she added, smiling with delight. “Where mine is pink and rose, yours is lovely blues and golds.”

  “It truly is quite exquisite,” Penelope agreed, removing gloves and bonnet before unbuttoning her pelisse. “Lucy?” she lifted her voice in an effort to reach her maid. By the sounds of someone moving about in the adjoining room, she assumed Lucy was unpacking her trunks.

  “Yes, ma’am?” The stout, redhaired young woman poked her head around the doorway, her eyes widening. “Goodness, milady, let me get that.” She hurried across the room to help Penelope out of her pelisse, gathering up gloves and bonnet before turning to Amelia. “Miss Amelia? Can I take your pelisse and bonnet? Clara is in your room unpacking your trunks.”

  “Thank you, Lucy, that would be lovely.”

  “The footman brought up a tray, milady,”
Lucy told Penelope as she helped Amelia slip off her outer garment. “I told him earlier I was certain you would need a hot cup of tea after the chilly air outside.”

  “Thank you,” Penelope said with appreciation. “Come, Amelia, join me.” She led the way to the low table set before the fireplace and sank into the soft cushions of one of a pair of blue silk-covered armchairs. Lifting the Wedgewood teapot, she poured two cups of tea and spooned a lump of sugar into hers.

  Lucy bustled out of the room with Amelia’s outer garments and returned a moment later, empty-handed. She gathered up Penelope’s pelisse, bonnet, and gloves and disappeared through the connecting door into the adjoining dressing room.

  “The Duke’s mother was absolutely lovely,” Amelia commented, sipping tea before choosing a biscuit from the tray.

  “Yes, I thought so, too,” Penelope replied, feeling once again the warm welcome in the older woman’s hug. “She seems quite determined to consider us part of the family. I must say, I’m relieved. Despite the Duke’s assurances, I wondered if his mother truly had a long-held affection for my mother, but apparently, she does.”

  “Did your mother never specifically tell you about her friend, Lady Anne?”

  Penelope’s brow furrowed as she tried to remember. “I clearly remember her telling me about being a young woman, attending balls, musicales and soirees, and about how much she enjoyed her debut season. And she often mentioned her friend Anne. I don’t remember mother telling me Anne’s surname, however.”

  “Do you still miss your mother very much?” Amelia asked softly.

  “Not nearly as much as I did when I was ten and originally lost her,” Penelope reassured her. She sighed, staring into the flames on the hearth. “But yes, I do miss her. I suppose I always will.” She leaned forward and selected a tart from the tea tray. A quick sideways glance told her Amelia’s pretty features held a sadness that was heartbreaking. “What I feel now is gladness for the happy memories of her--and that’s what I remember most of all. The way she would laugh when she told me stories or listened to me tell her about my adventures outside. She rarely left her room, so I spent time with her there.”

  She took a sip of her tea. “It takes time, Amelia,” she said gently, “but eventually, the sharp stab of grief at your father’s loss will give way to fond memories.”

  Amelia drew a shaky breath and brushed dampness from her eyelashes. “It does get easier to bear as the months pass. Sometimes, like now, it appears fresh and new, and I feel a wave of sadness all over again. But I know this will pass.” She took a fortifying sip of tea. “I’m very glad we’ve come to Sheffield for the holidays, Penelope. I can already see William is excited to be here and I think having new friends and plenty of festivities will be good for both of us.”

  “I agree.” Penelope nodded decisively. A smile grew as she contemplated Amelia. “Not to mention the opportunity to spend time with Hugh?”

  Rosy color tinted Amelia’s cheeks. “Perhaps.” Mischief chased away any lingering sadness from her eyes. “Perhaps Hugh may be an added inducement to enjoy this Christmas.”

  Penelope laughed, a bright, delighted spill of sound that had Amelia responding with a happy smile.

  She returned her cup and saucer to the tea tray, brushed a stray biscuit crumb from her skirt, and rose.

  “And you, my dear cousin, may also enjoy the opportunity of spending time with the Duke.” She waggled a finger at Penelope, halting her quick protest. “Don’t bother denying it, for I’ve seen the glances you both cast at the other when you think no one is looking.”

  “That is not… I do not!”

  “We shall see.” Amelia declared with a laugh. “Now, I’m going to rest for a bit before it’s time to dress for dinner. I want to look my best when meeting the other guests.”

  “As do I,” Penelope waved her out before abandoning her teacup and saucer to the tray and standing.

  Moments later, Lucy had helped her out of her gown and into a night shift and she was tucked into the high four poster bed, the blue and gold silk drapes drawn closed to create a cozy nest. Despite the multitude of impressions of the last busy hour and the urge to mull the intent behind Gray’s heated stare, she was soon asleep.

  Chapter 8

  Sheffield Park’s high-ceilinged dining room held a table that would easily accommodate eighty guests. At dinner that evening, Penelope found herself seated halfway down the long expanse. White linens created a snowy backdrop for sparkling crystal glassware, red and gold edged plates and bowls, and gleaming silver flatware. Three tall epergne vases were set at measured intervals and held sprays of red roses and glossy greenery tucked amid frosted jewel toned fruits. The artful arrangements filled the silver bowls and cascaded over the curved sides.

  Directly across from Penelope, Amelia was engaged in conversation with an older gentleman on her right. The dove grey of her high-waisted gown was accessorized only by a simple gold chain and locket, while her hair was dressed with a single gold floral clip. Despite the statement made with her attire as to her mourning status, however, nothing could dim the sheen of her dark hair, the color in her cheeks, nor the delighted interest on her expressive features as she listened to her dinner companion. Clearly, the older gentleman told an entertaining story for at that moment, Amelia laughed, eyes shining with amusement.

  We made the right decision, coming to Sheffield Park for the holidays. The proof of that was written across Amelia’s features and in her relaxed figure. Gone were earlier concerns. Her expression was all happy engagement.

  Penelope returned her attention to her own dinner companions. On her right was Lord Valentine St. Cyr, the gentleman she’d met with the Duke in the London ballroom only weeks earlier. On her left was Lady Theodosia Grantley, an attractive blond woman of about her own age, and interestingly enough, also a young widow. It was unusual to have two ladies seated together and was further confirmation that the Duke intended the holiday to be a family celebration with relaxed social rules. Penelope couldn’t have been happier to have her hopes confirmed.

  “How was your journey to Sheffield, Lady Wentworth? Did you find it terribly taxing?” Lady Grantley’s tone held genuine interest as well as polite inquiry.

  “Not at all,” Penelope replied, eyeing the delicious looking cream soup the white-gloved footman set in front of her. “We spent last night in Bath so today’s travel was much shorter and the roads were well cleared of snow.”

  “I believe my cousin assists in keeping the roads safely maintained during winter months,” Lady Theodosia replied.

  Penelope swallowed a spoonful of the white soup, nearly closing her eyes with pleasure at the burst of flavor that hinted at celery and Jordan almonds. She took a moment to wonder if the Duchess would consider allowing her cook to share recipes before replying. “Your cousin?”

  “The Duke.” Her smile turned mischievous. “Ah, I can see you’re trying to make the connection.” She gestured at the table stretching to their left and right. “Nearly everyone here is related, in one way or another. I find it’s easiest to keep an account of us all if you connect us through our relationship to Gray and his mother.”

  “I see.” Penelope glanced up and down the table. The well-dressed guests were a mix of old and young, middle-aged and very elderly. All were either enthusiastically tucking into their soup course or conversing with their neighbor. “There must be thirty or more people here.”

  “Probably closer to forty,” Lady Theodosia said airily. “And of course, this group doesn’t include the local family members. They often only appear for the Saint Nicholas and Twelfth Night celebrations.”

  “How many family members are there?” Penelope asked faintly.

  “I’ve never counted,” Theodosia replied. “However, I’m certain Lady Minerva knows, down to the latest new birth. Probably Gray and the Duchess know the exact number and names, as well. They’re very involved with everyone, of course.”

  “Of course,” Penelope echoed. />
  “Normally it’s only family and a few longtime friends who spend Christmas holidays at Sheffield,” Theodosia continued. “Which is why it’s so very interesting that you and your cousins were invited.”

  Caught off guard by the unexpected comment, Penelope inhaled sharply and barely escaped choking on her soup. She coughed and lifted her napkin, patting her lips to buy time, before replying. “I believe Lady Minerva asked us to join her due to a longstanding friendship between the Duchess and my late mother. We only recently connected through a happy accidental meeting at our lending library in London.”

  She smiled, hoping her expression conveyed innocence. “We were delighted to accept, of course. Amelia and William’s social interactions have been quite restricted due to their father’s death. However, she and I were both quite eager for William to enjoy Christmas as it’s been a very difficult year for him. And then of course,” she continued, seeing Theodosia’s expression soften and warm with understanding and empathy, “our family is quite small. I fear it would have only been the three of us to celebrate the holidays in London.”

  “Oh, my.” Theodosia’s sympathetic gaze met hers with direct concern. “How old is he?”

  “Only ten, although he’s quite mature for his age.”

  “Well, he’s been through a lot for such a tender age, has he not?” Theodosia's solemn expression lightened. “But he’s nearly my youngest brother’s age--Matthew has just turned eleven.”

  “Is your brother here, as well?”

  “Yes, and he’s very happy as he loves all the winter fun to be had here in the country.”

  “William was absolutely ecstatic to know he would be sledding,” Penelope said with a laugh. “Hugh promised he would take him to the best hill.”

  “Wonderful,” Theodosia said immediately. “We should bundle up and go with them.”