Home For The Holidays

by Sherry Ewing

  “Yuck! Why ever do you constantly have your nose pressed into a book?”

  “There is nothing wrong with reading, Miranda. You might try it sometime. You may just learn something.”

  Miranda laughed. “I know all there is to know, or shall ever need to know, on how to be a proper wife once I marry.”

  “There is more to life than just marrying a nobleman.”

  Her sister scrunched up her face in disgust. “You must be joking, Grace. Why Adrian has not found another suitable match for you and married you off at your age is beyond me. You are on the shelf, dear sister, and, if you do not marry soon, then no man of any worth will have you.”

  “Adrian knows the reasons why I will not have any of the few bucks that come pounding upon our door. They are only looking to my fortune and not what I, myself, will bring to our marriage. There is more to me than just my wealth.”

  Miranda stood. “Why that is just ridiculous, Grace. No wonder you are as yet a widow. I would think having been once wed you would want the security another marriage would bring you instead of being under Adrian’s roof.”

  Grace headed toward the door. “I hate when you get into one of your condescending moods. One day, you will meet a man who you cannot wrap around your little finger, will not care about your dowry, nor your pretty face. Then how will you impress him?”

  They began walking down the stairs to the foyer. “That will never happen to me. I can have any man of my choosing,” Miranda said with a smug look of satisfaction upon her pretty face.

  Grace laughed. “We shall see, shall we not?”

  “Is this a wager then?” Miranda asked, her eyes lit up with excitement.

  Their brother Adrian came up to meet them at the bottom of the stairs. “What is this little minx trying to swindle you out of this time, Grace?”

  She looked up toward her brother, handsome devil that he was. Adrian was three years younger than she, and Grace adored him. He had thus far avoided wedded bliss, and, if the gossip was true, he had just taken a new mistress.

  Grace laughed again. “We had not gone as far as to determine the price. Well,” she asked with amused eyes toward her younger sibling, “what do you wish to wager this time?”

  Miranda’s hand went to her chin as she contemplated her options until her eyes lit up. “We shall wager the perfume Adrian brought you from Paris against the bonnet he bought me.”

  “Are you sure? You love that bonnet.”

  “It seems a fair trade, but you shall never win because I never lose a wager. You have said so yourself a hundred times before.” Not waiting for an answer, Miranda left the room and was heard moments later at the pianoforte.

  “What a little scamp. Dare I ask what she is so smug about this time?” Adrian asked while he assisted Grace with her wrap.

  “The wager is mostly about how she will bring a man down to his knee with nothing more than her charm and beauty, although we have as yet to stipulate a date as to when she thinks such a wager will be won. One day, she will meet her match who is just as stubborn as she is.”

  Adrian laughed as they walked to their waiting carriage, and he held his hand out to help her with the step. “That will be a day I have long waited to see.”

  “That will be two of us. I can hardly wait for a young man to come into her little world and bring that young woman down a peg or two. I love her to pieces, but she has much to still learn.” Grace sat back to enjoy the outing with her brother. With thoughts of a new book to read, she wondered when, if ever, a man would walk into her own life who would share her love of the written word and accept her just the way she was.

  Chapter 2

  Vauxhall Gardens

  26 August, 1812

  Lord Nicholas Lacey looked at the gay crowd around him. How had he let his brother-in-law talk him into this? He had been nursing a drink. All right, perhaps more than nursing. While Nicholas was minding his own business at White’s, George Durand arrived and had taken a seat in the front parlor. Instead of remaining quietly in his chair enjoying no one’s company than his own, Nicholas made the decision to join him for dinner, a mistake on his part that he was now regretting.

  Their daughters were cousins, as their wives had been sisters. They had both been bereaved in the same tragedy, but George seemed to be moving out of the torpor of grief that kept Nicholas in its talons. He preferred his solitude, and yet every once in a while he made a rare appearance at his club. But this! This outing was a far cry from his normal peaceful routine.

  Realizing his mood was taking a downward spiral, he politely excused himself from the company of those in their supper box. He gave a brief nod to Lord Hooper and his wife, shaking his head in a silent demand at George not to follow him.

  He made his way outside, determined to hire a hack and go home. The sound of his name being called distracted him from his purpose. He turned to see George had followed him after all, making his way toward him with a determined stride.

  “There you are, Nicholas. Where do you think you are going?” George asked in a rush as he made a grab for Nicholas’s arm.

  Nicholas adjusted his hat. There was nothing left to do but give his brother-in-law his attention. “Where do you think I am headed? Home, of course.”

  “But the evening has only just begun. What awaits you at home except a silent house? You need to get on with your life. You cannot remain holed up alone in your quarters for the remainder of your days, now can you?”

  Nicholas’s brow rose. “As you can plainly see, I am out amongst the living,” he replied with a sarcastic grin. “Now that you have done your duty, you can be on your way.”

  George laughed. “You are hardly out being seen by society if you are alone walking a darkened path. Such an escape is not exactly what I had in mind when we accepted Lord Hooper’s tickets to this masquerade, and you very well know it.”

  “I have grown accustomed to my solitude.”

  George grew serious. “You have had far too much of it, if you ask me.”

  “I did not ask you.” Each word was enunciated to drive home his point, but George was relentless and apparently without mercy.

  “What about Blanche? When was the last time you saw your own daughter?”

  “We have already had this discussion. Blanche is none of your business.”

  “She is my niece. Of course she is my business.”

  “Very well, then. If we must repeat ourselves, then let us be done with it. The last time I saw Blanche was when we were all together with our daughters, and mine accused me of killing her mama, aunt, and grand-mère all because a last minute estate issue arose preventing me to be with them.”

  “Blanche was no more than a child and knew not of what she spoke,” George snapped harshly. “You know as well as I that you are not to blame for the accident. You could have very well died right alongside them if you had been there.”

  “Nevertheless, Blanche would not speak with me afterward. Since I could not reach her, I sent her to live with my brother and his wife. Last I heard, she was living happily with her cousins, who are more like siblings, and thriving in a ducal household.” A sour taste filled Nicholas’s mouth as the words leaked past his lips. He spoke a lie. His brother, Jonathan, had told him it was time to collect his daughter and bring her home on more than one occasion in the past two years. Jonathan’s duchess, Caroline, had been just as adamant.

  “Nothing can replace the love of a parent, Nicholas. Even you must know that,” George remarked quietly, a fair amount of concern was etched upon George’s features.

  “I will consider seeing her soon,” he answered through pursed lips tight with anger. He heard the laughter of the crowd and wondered if anything would ever bring him to feel carefree again.

  George studied him for a moment longer before slapping Nicholas on the back. “Come back to the party and enjoy the evening. You never know what entertainment may unfold that you might enjoy.” A satisfied grin grew upon his brother-in-law’s face
as if he were a cat licking the last of the cream from a bowl.

  Nicholas might as well finish the evening and be done with it. Until he did, he would never get another moment’s peace, especially with George’s determination that his solitary days were a thing of the past.

  Nicholas gave a heavy sigh. “Give me a moment, George, to shake my melancholy mood. I promise I shall return shortly.”

  “I have your word?” George asked.

  “I have never gone back on it before, have I? Let me walk this off so I can return with a brighter disposition to entertain those around me with my sparkling wit.”

  As George left while chuckling to himself, Nicholas assumed George thought he had won their debate.

  Nicholas began to walk toward the entrance to Vauxhall with no particular destination in mind, needing to clear his head of the memories that suddenly assaulted him. As he viewed the new throng of arrivals who disembarked from their carriages and boats, he pondered his brother-in-law’s words. Perhaps George was right, not that he would ever give the man the satisfaction of telling him so. Maybe somewhere in this crowd, Nicholas could find a willing woman with whom to forget, at least for a while.

  Chapter 3

  At a quiet knock on her door, Grace closed the book she was reading. By the clock on the mantel, she was not, as yet, late for dinner. When she opened the door, her friend Mrs. Moriah Hernshaw stood in the hall, a playful look set upon her face.

  They had met several years ago and had formed an instant bond, having both lost their husbands after a brief marriage and at a young age. Whereas Grace had the benefit of wealth and a brother to look after her needs, Moriah had had to fend for herself, often putting herself into alarming situations just to feed herself.

  “Oh, good, you are dressed for dinner,” she stated, pushing the door wide to look inside Grace’s room, “and you are alone. Fetch a wrap and let us be on our way.”

  Grace rushed to a cabinet to grab a redingote. “Is something wrong?”

  “Shush, Grace,” Moriah whispered with a wink of conspiracy. “I do not wish for your sister Miranda to overhear we plan an outing without her.”

  “Is there a reason not to include her?” Grace hurried to meet her friend’s need for a hasty departure.

  Moriah linked arms with Grace, ushering her down the stairs. Upon seeing their fast descent, the butler quickened his stride to open the door. They practically ran toward Moriah’s carriage as the footman offered his hand to assist them.

  “What I have planned for us tonight is not something that your all-too-mischievous sister should be anywhere near. Good heavens, it would ruin any chance of her being received in the best of homes, let alone a decent offer of marriage.” Moriah’s answer was alarming, but her impish look challenged Grace to argue.

  “Dare I ask what you have in store for us this evening, Mrs. Hernshaw?” A feeling of both dread and anticipation rolled in the pit of Grace’s stomach.

  Moriah adjusted her gown and settled herself in the carriage before raising a brow from Grace’s cheeky tone. “We are about to have an adventure,” she replied with a short chortle.

  Moriah’s green eyes danced with excitement, but it was her quirky grin that worried Grace. She laughed along with her but knew the woman could be quite brazen when in pursuit of entertainment.

  Grace tapped her friend on the chest with one finger. “Just where you are taking me and why all the subterfuge?”

  “Here.” Moriah handed Grace a box tied with a pretty violet ribbon.

  “For me? But my birthday is still several months away.”

  “Can I not give my friend a present? Besides, you shall need it where we are going.”

  Grace opened the box to see a mask hidden between the protective sheets of linen. Purple. Moriah just knew she would love anything if it included her favorite color.

  “Are we going to a masquerade?” she inquired suspiciously.

  Her friend pulled forth one of her own. She began twirling it around by the ribbon. “A spur of the moment decision, I assure you, Grace. I was lucky to get my hands on these last two tickets from a friend, including a supper box. He plans to meet me there.”

  “Should I bother to ask whom are you meeting?”

  “The Marquis of Aldridge. A simply divine man if I ever met one. Do you know him?” Moriah inquired.

  Grace drew her brows together, puzzled. “I am not acquainted with him.”

  “You would remember him if you had been introduced. Quite the reputation with the ladies, which makes him all the more attractive.”

  “Honestly, Moriah, I find it hard to understand how you can go from protector to protector as you do and enjoy it so much.”

  Moriah gave a heavy sigh. “Do not be fooled by outside appearances, dear, and be thankful you have your own money and a brother to protect your interests. Not every widow is as fortunate.”

  Grace clasped her friend’s hand. “I am sorry if I said something offensive. I did not mean for my words to hurt you, Moriah.”

  Her friend smiled brightly. “I am made of sterner stuff. A few words will not do any damage to my feelings.”

  Grace leaned back into the seat, thankful that she had not ruined one of the few friendships she had. “I do not remember any announcement of a masquerade.”

  “You need to get out more, my dearest friend. I cannot believe you have not heard that there is a Grand Masquerade at Vauxhall Gardens this evening to celebrate the victories on the Peninsula.”

  “I have been busy of late,” Grace responded rather aloofly.

  “Spending all your life with your nose pressed between the pages of a book is not living, Grace.”

  She shrugged. “I suppose you have that right, but I enjoy learning something new every day.”

  Moriah put her mask in place. “Yes, well, I refuse to allow my very eligible friend to sit home alone again, entertaining no one but her brother and sister.”

  Grace sighed. “Adrian has gone out for the evening—heaven knows where—and it would have tried my patience to amuse Miranda with nothing more than my boring company.”

  “I was right to think you might enjoy the entertainment. Was I mistaken?” she inquired sweetly.

  “You know very well that you are not mistaken, although I should think you would much prefer to be alone with your marquis instead of having another woman along. With identities hidden tonight, you could very well mingle among the ton with no repercussion. For all intended purposes, you could very well be one of them.”

  Moriah leaned forward. “You should heed your own words, Gracie. Who knows what the evening may bring?”

  Grace’s brow rose. “I am hardly one to have a midnight rendezvous with some unknown gentleman, Moriah.” She began tying her mask into place in imitation of her friend.

  “Why ever not? Tonight you can be anyone you wish and, come the morrow, no one will be the wiser.”

  “You make it sound so very simple, dear friend,” Grace murmured while she watched the evening scenery through the window. “I have never been, nor shall I ever be, one of those simpering misses batting her eyelashes or flirting shamelessly to get a man’s attention. I am not my younger sister.”

  Moriah took her hand and placed a sisterly kiss upon her cheek. “You know I love you just the way you are, but tonight, I wish for you to enjoy the evening to its fullest potential. Could you do that for me, Gracie? I want you to be happy.”

  Grace envied the determined and confident look on Moriah’s face. Small wonder she was managing the world all alone and with at least a fair amount of success. Such a look surely got her whatever she wanted. Miranda knew the same trick.

  A merry laugh escaped Grace. “You know I could never deny you anything, but you should save such a look for this marquis you wish to dazzle this evening. You may just be eating your own words, Moriah. You never know what the evening may bring you.”

  When they reached their destination, Grace was amazed at the throng of people. Was all of Lon
don here this evening? A footman came to assist them, and Moriah was the first to leave the carriage. Grace extended her hand to him and stepped down. A sudden rush of people on the walkway caused the footman to lose his grip on her hand, and Grace quickly lost sight of Moriah as she became jostled amongst the enthusiastic group of individuals excited to be a part of such an event. She began to lose her footing on the walkway, but before she slammed into the ground, Grace found herself captured in a strong embrace.

  Arms of steel wrapped around her waist to prevent her downward pitch. Her rescuer’s cape whirled around their bodies as though the cloak itself would conceal them from the night and those around them. Fathomless dark eyes were all but hidden in the black mask that concealed his features, yet a flicker from the walkway lanterns hinted at their color. His eyes were brown, much like his hair, she surmised, if the curls that formed around the edges of his hat and mask were any indication.

  Grace gasped as he quickly maneuvered her off the pathway to save them from being run over by the eagerness of the crowd. She shivered, but not from the cold, for she was far from chilled. Quite the opposite. She quivered from the warmth that raced up and down her spine at being this close to a man, let alone held intimately for the first time in many years.

  “Are you hurt, my lady?”

  His deep voice went straight to her heart. His low tone plummeted down to reach into the very depths of her soul to awaken a part of her that had been left dormant as though she had been waiting for him her entire life. Waiting… yes she had been waiting for someone to come along who would give her this sudden feeling of completeness, even though he was a total stranger.

  The realization of what she was doing hit her as if a bucket of icy water had been thrown over the top of her head. He was asking her something, but her brain could not wrap itself around what he had inquired.

  “Pardon me?” she asked in a breathy whisper of astonishment, especially when she realized she had been caressing the lapel of his jacket beneath his cloak.