As happy as he was to see them, his thoughts were on Elizabeth. How would he greet her? How much of the truth had she told his family?
A flurry of questions and professions of excitement came so rapidly, it was impossible to respond to any. He was aware that Townshend had come to slap him on the back. "Where are your regimentals, old fellow?"
Finally he'd been able to isolate one question to respond to. "I've sold my colors."
"Oh, my darling," his mother said, "I am so very happy you'll not be going back."
He put his arm around her. "Now that Papa's gone, it's my duty to run Farley and . . . " His gaze shifted to his two youngest sisters. . ."see that Sarah and Diana find husbands."
Diana began to giggle. "Then I am decidedly happy you've come home, Harry."
"Gotta call him Broxbourne now," Townshend said.
His wife—the only person in the chamber still seated—had not removed her gaze from him, and even though he managed to communicate with his family, she commanded his attention in the same way as a dazzling sunset in the eastern sky.
"Now ladies," Townshend said in his booming voice, "allow the poor man to hug his wife. He hasn't seen her in these two years past."
Harry's eyes locked with hers. A tentative smile lifted the corners of her mouth. She had the look of an angel about her with her flaxen locks and ivory skin and the radiance that seemed to surround her. His gaze trailed from her beautiful face to the blue velvet dress she wore. She stood up the child, then stood herself. "How wonderful to see you home safely," she said.
He moved to her, arms outstretched. "My dear wife, how very good it is to see you."
She fell into his embrace and clasped her arms tightly around him. "Oh, my lord, I've prayed so fervently that you would return!"
Damn, but she felt good in his arms! He hadn't realized how tiny she was. He did not want to release her, but he could feel a decided tug upon her as the little girl affixed herself to her. He pulled back and peered at the child. "This cannot be Fanny?"
The lovely little girl looked up at him, nodding. "I am, too, Fanny."
He lowered himself to her level. "Would you allow me to pick you up?"
The quizzing gaze of her dark eyes went from him to Elizabeth.
"Let him pick you up, love," Elizabeth said.
His heart melted when Fanny lifted those little arms to him. He stood as he drew her to him, astonished at the powerful rush of emotions she elicited in him. His and Elizabeth's eyes locked, and she smiled up at them, her hand resting gently on his sleeve. Life was good!
He wished to hell he knew what she had told his family about Fanny. The three of them sat together on the sofa across from where his mother had taken her seat.
"Your wife just arrived minutes before you," his mother told him.
His glance whisked to Elizabeth's.
"I was just getting acquainted with your family, my lord," she said.
How clever of her to anticipate his questions.
"And as delighted as we all are to have you home, Broxbourne, I know you and your wife are weary from your journeys." Leave it to his pragmatic mother to be the first to address him by the name of her beloved husband. It was as if she were encouraging him to fill the very deep void left by the gregarious man who had been his father.
Grief over his father's loss flickered anew now that he was once again in the room he so associated with his parents, but there was too much joy here now to dwell on such low thoughts. He must put the darkness behind him now that he was back at Farley Manor. "I do believe I could sleep for a week. I haven't really slept in four days."
"I will have dinner sent to you and her ladyship," his mother said. "Your possessions were, of course, moved to the viscount's chambers. I've had it redone with the same colors as your former room."
He nodded to her, glad to be able to quiz his wife before being subjected to questions from his family. "Of course, you will have eaten hours ago, if you still keep the same hours as you always did."
Robert answered. "How well you know your mother. She is most inflexible."
"Now, Robert," Susan countered, "that's not so. Mama has been most accommodating. She insisted on vacating the viscountess's chambers the very week of Papa's passing."
So Elizabeth's chambers would adjoin his. How. . . interesting. At least they would be able to make sure they were on the same page in their dealings with his family. He faced his . . . his wife. "Come with me, my dear. I know you must be fatigued."
"Indeed I am."
He peered down at Fanny's dark hair, wondering what in the blazes he was to do about the child. Would she go to the nursery?
"Fanny's to sleep with me this first night," Elizabeth said.
It was as if she could read his thoughts.
He continued to hold Fanny as they said their farewells to those in the drawing room.
"Tomorrow, my dear son," the dowager said, "you must give your wife the tour of Farley." Then she directed her comments to Elizabeth, "I will be most happy to assist you in any way I can during the transitional period."
* * *
Oh dear, Elizabeth thought. The dowager was prepared to turn over the running of Farley Manor to her! How could she extract herself from this whole situation? As she and Harry began to mount that wide staircase in the main corridor, her heartbeat hammered. How grateful she was that he'd been so civil to her when he was bound to think her the most emboldened usurper who ever drew breath. What had ever possessed her to come to Farley Manor? It wasn't as if she belonged in such a grand place. She was embarrassingly ill equipped to oversee such a home.
But then she had never presumed to be a viscountess. She wanted none of the trappings of nobility for herself. But for Fanny she wanted the moon and the stars and all things wonderful. For Fanny was of Harry's blood.
Even if the poor little lamb was born on the wrong side of the blanket.
She could not allow herself to look at him. He was far too handsome. For the past two years she had almost convinced herself it had been his dashing uniform with the scarlet coat that made her recall him as an excessively handsome man. But now she knew the uniform had not embellished his good looks. Tonight in the chocolate colored woolens he wore for traveling he was, if possible, even more handsome than he'd been in his regimentals that first day at St. Clement's. And taller, too.
It was also entirely too painful for her to watch him and Fanny together, knowing that he was probably not prepared to claim her as his own child. Even if she did look exactly like him.
Despite that he had behaved toward her with the utmost propriety, he must be excessively angry with her for brazenly showing up at his ancestral home as if she truly belonged there. She could well understand it were he to demand that she flee in the middle of the night in the snow. But how would he explain her to his family?
"So you, too, had just arrived?" he asked her.
With each step she climbed, the trembling which had begun in her chest and reverberated to encompass all of her threatened even her voice. Perhaps she could manage a one-word answer. "Indeed."
"Your first visit?"
"Yes."
They reached the second floor. "You will, of course, have my mother's old chambers."
She felt wretchedly guilty that the dowager had vacated her rooms for her. It wasn't as if she planned on staying. She fully expected Har-, er, the new Lord Broxbourne to throw her out. Even if he was exceedingly kind and up until now the most noble man she had ever encountered.
A man could only sacrifice so much. Now that he was home to England for good, it was only right that he find a wife of his own class, a woman born to become a viscountess, not a country lass like her. It wasn't as if this were a real marriage at all. It had never been consummated.
She followed him down a wide corridor lit by wall sconces. They were nearly at the end before he paused at a door and opened it. "Your chambers, my lady." He waved her in.
She wished he would not refer to her
as my lady. She felt far too much the usurper already, and now she could add fraud to her description. What a perfectly dreadful Christmas this was going to be.
The hearth in the chamber was much larger than one would expect in a bedchamber, but then this was a much larger bedchamber than any she had ever before seen. At the opposite end of the room an oil lamp burned beside the huge bed that was draped in purple velvet. The half of the room she stood in must serve as a sitting room. A settee faced the blazing fire, and a lovely writing desk faced a tall window that was also draped in purple velvet.
Fanny stole the words from her mouth. "Oh, it's beautiful!"
Elizabeth met his gaze. "I am very sorry, my lord, I'm the cause of your mother being driven from her chambers."
His features seemed even darker in firelight. "We have much to talk about."
"Then I must first put Fanny to bed." She saw that her valise had already been placed in the room. She opened it and procured a warm night gown for the little girl and instructed her to get ready for bed.
"Then will you tell me a story?" Fanny asked.
"We shall see, love. You must be very quiet for I need to speak to Lord Broxbourne first."
Elizabeth felt incredibly awkward being in a bedchamber with the viscount. She must block from her mind that portion of the room where the bed was. "Please be seated, my lord."
As she came to sit next to him on the settee, her trembling increased, but her determination to resolve this embarrassing situation overrode any personal embarrassment. "I shouldn't have come," she began. "I assure you I have no desire to be a viscountess. My only motivation in coming here was Fanny."
He nodded thoughtfully, his pensive face otherwise inscrutable. "What exactly did you tell my family about her?" He had lowered his voice so the child could not hear them discussing her.
"I did not know what you wanted to say about her, so I told them she was my child—which is how I feel about her. Unfortunately, your mother asked her how old she is, and Fanny was quick to tell her she was two and a half." She put index finger to her lips, got up and tiptoed toward the bed. Fanny was already fast asleep.
"Is she asleep?" he asked.
She nodded.
"So my mother knows Fanny was born before our wedding." He spoke in a soft voice, almost as if he were thinking aloud.
"No doubt, she thinks I'm a tart."
He chuckled. "My dear lady, I cannot believe anyone would think you a tart."
"One thing is for sure. They all must know she's yours. Did you notice how remarkably she resembles you?"
He nodded. "But fortunately, she's pretty."
"And she's ever so clever and a perfect angel."
"Spoken like a true mother."
"Which is exactly how I think of myself, and I warn you, my lord, I would put up the most tremendous fight the mighty Tate family has ever seen if one of you tries to take her away from me." That is why Elizabeth spent very little of the allowance Harry had provided for her. She feared she would need the money one day to procure legal services if the Tates ever tried to remove Fanny from her.
"Whoa!" He held up a palm. "I would be a most heartless creature were I to separate the poor child from her mother."
Elizabeth's shoulders sagged with relief. "I tried to explain to your solicitor that I did not want to come to Farley Manor, that I had no intentions of becoming the Viscountess Broxbourne, but he insisted. I have never been more astonished in my life than I was three days ago when I learned that you were the son of a viscount."
"Sorry. I suppose I should have told you a bit more about myself."
"Of course, neither of us believed we would ever meet again, and I never imagined I'd ever meet your family."
"And here you are!"
"What are we going to do? You must, of course, see to annulling the marriage."
His brows lowered. "Annul a holy sacrament?"
"I will own, I don't like the idea, but I'm hardly qualified to be a viscountess. You must be allowed to exercise your own free choice and select a proper lady to become Lady Broxbourne."
Those black eyes of his sparkled. "Do not disparage yourself. You are a proper lady."
"I am in no way qualified to serve as your viscountess. Do you realize this bedchamber is likely larger than the entire house in which I grew up?"
He shrugged. "So?"
"And look at the way I am dressed! I felt incredibly inferior next to your lovely sisters."
"That's ridiculous! As much as I love my sisters, I instantly perceived that you were the prettiest lady in the room."
Oh dear. She could feel the blush climbing into her cheeks. "I assure you, I looked exceedingly dowdy next to the impeccably dressed Tate family."
He touched the blue velvet of her sleeve and spoke in a husky voice. "This dress is lovely, but if you don't think it smart enough you are at liberty to remedy any wardrobe deficiencies. I assure you my unwed sisters have no qualms about spending Tate funds on their attire."
"That is not what I meant. You have been most generous already to me. If I chose to dress as a fine lady, I could. But I am not a fine lady."
Anger flashed across his face. "You malign the mother of my child."
She couldn't help it. She had to smile. "You are behaving most gallantly, my lord, but I cannot allow you to throw away your future happiness by accepting a wife from such humble origins." Oh, dear. Had he been terribly in love with Fanny's mother? Had he decided he would never love again? Is that why he could throw away his future with the likes of her?
He was a young man. He would find love again—with a woman who was of the ton, a woman who belonged at Farley Manor. "If only I hadn't come. You could have told your family I died, and you could have quietly annulled the marriage, then married a woman your family would be happy to accept as Lady Broxbourne."
"Yes, it would have simplified matters if you hadn't come."
"Then I will leave tonight."
Chapter 3
The clergyman's daughter most decidedly had a mind of her own. "You will not leave Farley in the middle of a snow storm!" he said. "At least, not with my daughter."
Those beautiful blue eyes of hers narrowed. "How dare you use that child in such a way!"
"I have as much to say about her welfare as you do. Would you endanger her in that manner?"
The rigidity in her shoulders collapsed. "No, I don't suppose I could. And I wouldn't leave without her, either. But I am most willing to leave at the earliest opportunity."
"I think not."
"Why?"
"It just won't do. Don't you see, you're a proper lady, and it will appear that I've compromised you. I can't live with such a stain."
"It's not as if anyone who knows you knows me."
"Nevertheless, you're not the sort of woman whose reputation one ruins." He got to his feet. "And now, madam, I shall go to my room to sleep." He started toward a door next to the chimney piece.
She leapt to her feet, thrusting hands to waist. "Where do you think you're going?"
"The adjoining chamber happens to be my room!"
She stomped her foot. "You can't go yet. We must decide what we're going to tell your family tomorrow."
He glared at the maddening woman. "Tomorrow, madam, you will pretend to be my devoted wife."
Her mouth formed a perfect O as she angrily watched him storm from her chamber.
He wasn't sure how the capable staff had managed it, but his chamber was already warm from the blazing wood fire in the hearth, and fresh linens had been put on his bed. Damn but he was tired. It seemed almost incomprehensible that four days ago he'd been in Portugal and now here he was back at Farley Manor surrounded by all those he loved. Save his dear Papa, whom he gravely missed.
Having little Fanny here gave him a measure of happiness. It was right that upon his father's passing, the Tate blood would continue to flow into another generation. God, but the child was exquisite! How could he not acknowledge her? Of course, he would have to
wait a bit. There were too many changes too fast at Farley.
Poor Mama was only now adjusting to Christmas without her mate. He liked to think she was happy to have her only son back home. He'd known as soon as he received her letter that he must return to Farley. Though her letter was full of bravado about Papa being in a better place and how she was managing very nicely in the dowager's wing without him, Harry could read between the lines. She needed him. And his unwed sisters needed him.
And, damn, but he was happy to be home.
Whether she knew it or not, Elizabeth needed him. As did the child.
It hurt him that there was nothing he could do to legitimize his natural child. He vowed to acknowledge her at the earliest opportunity, not publicly because illegitimacy could stain the poor creature, but she would be known as his beloved ward, with only those in his family knowing the full truth.
But should he allow his family—and even little Fanny herself—to think Elizabeth had given birth to her out of wedlock? He felt guilty that Elizabeth was being held culpable for sins he had committed. There was the fact, though, that she wished to claim Fanny as her own. What in the devil was best?
He extinguished the light and climbed beneath the covers of his bed that was draped in claret velvet. He could not remember the last time he had actually slept in a real bed. God, it felt good. As fatigued as he was, though, he was too keyed up to sleep. He was astonished that he'd nearly forgotten about Elizabeth's existence until he saw her in the drawing room of Farley Manor tonight. She looked as if she belonged there every bit as much as his sisters.
The very sight of her had awakened desires he had long denied. When he had stood at the doorway and gazed at Elizabeth's fair blond beauty as she hugged his precious child on her lap, powerful emotions had nearly swamped him.
And the child? She had completely captured his heart the moment she lifted those little arms to him.
It would take no effort on Elizabeth's part for him to become besotted over the beauty.
He recalled how profoundly he had been affected by her on the day of their wedding. Try as he might, he'd been unable to purge the vision of her loveliness as she stood at the altar beside him, plighting her life to his before God and man. During his beastly journey back to the Peninsula, her loveliness was emblazoned upon his memory in the same indestructible way a silversmith etches his mark on a fine sterling tray.
Christmas Brides (Three Regency Novellas) Page 16