“What a splendid idea,” Lord Moorland remarked as he gently tickled baby Claire under her chin. The infant responded with a delightful squeal that brought an instant cheer to the room.
“I was thinking that we could fell an evergreen tomorrow. We’ll use the trunk for our Yule Log and the branches to fashion some boughs and wreaths,” William said as a maid entered carrying a tray with cups and a large pot of mulled wine, the cloves and cinnamon filling the air with their rich aromas.
Setting down the tray, the maid proceeded to pour, handing each of them a cup before departing again with a curtsy.
“We usually decorate and light the log on Christmas Eve,” Alexandra said, blowing on her wine before taking a hesitant sip, “and then on Christmas Day, we’ll go to church in the morning and return home for a lovely dinner complete with roast pig and plum pudding.”
“It sounds wonderful,” Lucy said, already eager to set off in search of the evergreen.
“I hope we didn’t miss too much,” came a voice from the doorway. Turning her head, Lucy spotted Ryan and then Mary, who was carrying baby Vanessa in her arms. They both welcomed Lucy back with as much enthusiasm as everyone else had done before taking their seats on one of the sofas next to Constance and Lord Moorland.
“I must admit that I’m mighty relieved that you’ve finally arrived, Ryan,” Lord Moorland said, handing Claire back to her mother. “I wasn’t sure how much longer I would be able to keep this bit of news bottled up inside me.”
“What news?” William asked, setting his cup down on the table and placing his elbows upon his knees as he leaned forward.
Lucy couldn’t help but notice a slight blush rise to her father-in-law’s cheeks and immediately wondered if this had something to do with what Constance had been meaning to tell her earlier.
He hesitated a moment, looked to Constance, returned his gaze to each of his children, and finally said, “You know that I will always love your mother with all my heart. Nobody will ever be able to take her place. But I have also grieved for such a very long time, and, as you know, there were many dark moments when I thought I’d never be capable of going on without her.” Lucy found herself holding her breath as he spoke, his eyes appearing to mist over, though he’d probably deny such a thing. “However, the years have dulled the pain, and after meeting Constance…ahem…Lady Ridgewood, I have discovered that it is possible for me to find not only happiness again but also love. I love her, and I have asked her to be my wife.”
There was only a moment’s silence before Alexandra was out of her seat with Claire once again delivered into Trenton’s arms as she leapt to embrace her father. “I wish you so much happiness, Papa,” she said as she wiped at her own tears.
“I was afraid that you might be upset with me for marrying again,” he muttered somewhat bashfully.
“No, Papa,” she whispered as she gave Constance a big smile. “You deserve every happiness in the world. Mama has been gone from us for so long. It will be easier knowing that you’ve found a new kind of joy with Lady Ridgewood at your side.”
“She looks too young to be my stepmama,” Ryan said as he heartily shook his father’s hand before reaching for Constance’s and lifting it to his lips for a kiss.
Constance immediately laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Ryan.”
William stepped forward next to offer his congratulations while Lucy walked over to Constance and put her arm around her waist in a little sideways hug. “I’m so pleased for you,” she said. “I have every confidence that Lord Moorland will be the perfect husband for you.”
“Thank you, Lucy.” Judging from her smile, there was no doubt that Constance thought so too.
“What a lot of weddings this year has had to offer,” Alexandra exclaimed as she took baby Claire back into her arms.
“We’re not married yet,” Lord Moorland muttered, though the gleam in his eyes told everyone that he intended to marry Constance at the first available opportunity.
“No,” Alexandra agreed, “but I was also thinking of my brothers and Michael’s sisters.”
“Lady Caroline and Lady Cassandra?” William asked.
“Quite so,” Lord Trenton remarked, looking rather pleased with himself, “though I still have to meet the men who captured their hearts. I’m not familiar with either one, and from what Alex tells me, Cassandra’s wedding was particularly rushed.”
“Well, Ryan and I attended both weddings with Alexandra,” Mary piped up, “and I must say that both men looked rather…ahem…handsome. Is that not so, Alex?”
“Most assuredly,” Alexandra quickly agreed, “although Cassandra’s wedding did have a bit of an unfortunate incident, so to speak.”
“What?” Lord Trenton asked, his head snapping around to stare at his wife. “You mentioned no such thing before.”
“Forgive me, my love, but everything has been so rushed since your arrival, and besides, it’s nothing for you to worry about now. Rest assured, I’ll tell you all about it later.”
Lord Trenton frowned. He did not look convinced but was afforded with no opportunity to press the matter any further when Ryan suddenly said, “Oh, I almost forgot!” Reaching inside his jacket pocket, he pulled out something green, holding the object high in the air for all to see.
Lord Moorland frowned. “That looks suspiciously like a sprig of mistletoe.”
Ryan’s smile widened to a grin. “So it is, and I say that you and Lady Ridgewood will be the first couple to kiss beneath it.” And without further ado, he held it over their heads, leaving them with very little choice but to comply while everyone else cheered and clapped in support of the newly engaged couple.
“Give me that,” William muttered, snatching the sprig from his brother’s hand. He then reached for Lucy, whose heart had begun that old familiar fluttering beat that it always made right before William kissed her. And then he did, and it was the most marvelous kiss of them all, for she was home now, spending Christmas with her family and with the man not only whom she loved but also whom she knew loved her in return.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
* * *
Of all the books I’ve written so far, this was the most difficult one for me to finish due to plot-related issues, yet when I called my editor virtually in a state of panic, I remember hanging up the phone and thinking, “OK, I can do this.” Thank you so much, Esi, for your help and support—you’re awesome!
Having a husband who’s ready to help me with all aspects of my work, from tips on advertising to ironing out plot issues and willingly forgoing our TV time together whenever I had a deadline looming has added tremendously to the whole experience. Thank you so much for all your encouragement, your support, and for making me feel like a superstar whenever I doubted myself. I love you!
And as always, a BIG thank you to you, dear reader, for allowing me to follow my dreams.
Keep reading for the can’t-miss first
Summersby Tale,
LADY ALEXANDRA’S EXCELLENT ADVENTURE,
and be sure to read
Ryan Summersby’s story in
THERE’S SOMETHING ABOUT LADY MARY,
available now from
Avon Impulse
An Excerpt from
LADY ALEXANDRA’S EXCELLENT ADVENTURE
London
May 15, 1815
Sir Percy Foxstone took a slow sip of his single malt whiskey, savoring the rich flavor as it warmed his chest before he sank down into one of the deep leather armchairs in his office at Whitehall.
Lazily swirling the caramel-colored liquid, allowing it to lap against the edges of his glass, he regarded his friend with caution. “I’m deeply sorry it had to come to this, old chap,” he told him quietly.
Bryce Summersby, Earl of Moorland, nodded, his forehead furrowed in a thoughtful frown. “Do you see now why I never wanted Alex to get involved?” He shook his head in disbelief.
Bryce’s son William had joined the Foreign Office four years earlie
r when he was twenty-three years old. He’d had a number of successful missions during that time and had been personally thanked by the Prince Regent for uncovering a French spy who’d managed to infiltrate parliament.
Which is why it was so difficult to now believe that William was handing over valuable information to the French.
He’d gone to Paris in March, as soon as news of Napoleon’s escape from Elba had reached the British shores. Accompanying him on his mission was his longtime friend, Andrew Finch, who’d joined the Foreign Office a couple of years earlier, on William’s recommendation.
Percy picked up the most recent letter that Andrew had managed to send out of the country. “Judging from the tone of this, it seems Mr. Finch was completely caught off guard by William’s behavior.”
Bryce grunted before taking a swig of his whiskey. “I’m just not buying it,” he muttered, piercing his friend with a hard stare, his mouth set in a grim line.
“Is that an objective opinion or one based on the fact that William’s your son?”
“Bloody hell, Percy!” Bryce shouted, glaring at his friend. “Do you seriously believe William has betrayed us—that he’s a traitor?”
Percy let out a deep sigh as he leaned forward, his elbows resting in his lap as he studied the glass between his hands. “I have to accept all possibilities.” His eyes settled on Bryce’s in a hard stare. “My position demands it.”
“Who are you sending, Percy?”
Percy paused for a moment. The only reason he’d sent for Bryce in the first place was because he considered him a close friend. He’d already shared the details regarding William’s mission with him and was beginning to wonder how much more he ought to divulge. “I’ve settled on Michael Ashford, Earl of Trenton.”
“Thomas’s boy?”
Percy nodded, knowing Bryce was familiar with the Duke of Willowbrook.
“Thomas is a man of great integrity,” Bryce said rather stiffly. “I hope the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree.”
“Would you like to meet him?”
“What’s your plan, Percy?” Bryce asked, ignoring his question. “Are you sending this Ashford fellow to kill my son?”
Percy sighed. “I’m not sending Ashford to assassinate your son, Bryce. I’m sending him to bring William back home so that he may face the charges against him. My hands are tied, old chap. You know treason’s an unpardonable offense.”
“And if he resists?”
“Let’s hope he’s wise enough not to,” Percy said softly, giving Bryce a meaningful look.
“Michael will assume he’s guilty of all charges and will do what must be done by all means necessary. Is that it?”
Percy nodded reluctantly. “Something like that,” he said, in little more than a whisper.
“Then by all means, show Lord Trenton in so I may meet the man.”
It was a delicate situation—one that Percy wished to have no part in. But now since he’d started down this road, what could he do other than hope it would soon be over?
He was inclined to agree with Bryce when it came to William’s character. William had always been an honorable man. It seemed unthinkable that he might have turned traitor. Then again, Percy had seen it happen before. As he went to the door and called for Michael to enter, he sent up a silent prayer that he would somehow manage to bring William home in one piece.
A moment later, Michael strode into the room with a confidence that made it clear this was no fledgling.
Before them stood a tall figure of a man, well over six feet, with broad shoulders, a powerful chest, and strong arms. In short, he looked like he could slay a dragon with one hand while protecting a damsel in distress with the other. His hair was dark and ruffled, his eyes sparkling with boyish anticipation.
“Gentlemen . . .” Michael followed his greeting with a slight nod.
“Lord Moorland,” Percy said, “may I present Michael Ashford, Earl of Trenton?”
Bryce rose to his feet, all the while assessing the man who’d soon be determining the fate of his son. After a moment’s pause, he grasped Michael’s outstretched hand in a firm shake.
“I’ve heard a great deal about you, Lord Moorland, from my father in particular,” Michael said. “He’s a great admirer of your military endeavors—says you’re quite the strategist.” He released Bryce’s hand with a wry twist of his lips. “He also says he’s never managed to beat you at chess.”
Bryce feigned a polite smile. It had been a while since he’d last seen Thomas, but he had fond memories of the poor man’s numerous attempts at beating him at his favorite game. “How is your father?”
Michael shrugged as he reached for one of the decanters on the side table. “Do you mind?” he asked Percy.
“Not at all. Help yourself.”
Pouring a glass of port, Michael glanced over at Bryce. “Still going strong,” he told him. “He will be sixty-two in a couple of months, but he’s still running around like a young lad. Trouble is, his limbs are stiffer than they used to be. I can’t help but worry he might hurt himself. In his mind, he’s no more than twenty years of age.”
“Just wait until you are as old as we are,” Bryce told him. “You won’t believe your eyes when you happen to catch yourself in a mirror. Indeed, you will most likely draw your sword wondering who the devil that stranger is staring back at you.” He raised his glass to Michael. “Enjoy your youth while you have it, Trenton. Lord knows it will be gone before you know it.”
“I briefed Trenton on his mission this morning,” Percy said, apparently deciding that it was time to get on with the business at hand. Bryce could only hazard a guess at how uncomfortable this whole dratted business must be for him. Nothing could be nastier than having to decide the fate of somebody’s child—especially not when that child was like family. But he also understood that responsibility weighed heavily on his friend’s shoulders. Percy would not be able to leave the matter alone—he had to investigate. As Bryce watched him sit back down in his dark brown leather chair, he desperately hoped that he truly did know his son well enough, and that Andrew was somehow mistaken about William’s actions. “He’ll be ready to leave in the morning.”
Bryce moved to the side table to refill his glass. “How long have you and my son known each other?” he asked Michael.
“Well, er . . . actually, I . . .”
“Trenton has never actually met your son, Bryce. You know we don’t allow our agents to meet unless they are working on the same assignment. It helps protect their identities when they are in the field.”
“Well, I don’t mean to point out the obvious,” Bryce remarked, his voice laced with annoyance. “But how the devil is he supposed to find him when he doesn’t even know what he looks like?”
“There are ways.”
Bryce scoffed. “We both know that William is quite skilled at deception. He works well undercover—hence the reason you gave him such an important assignment in the first place.” Bryce took a large gulp of his whiskey to calm his nerves. “I want Ryan and Alex to accompany him.”
Percy’s mouth dropped open. “But you always said—”
“That was then and this is now. They will be able to identify their brother.”
“And you are certain that you want Alex to go as well?”
Bryce had no desire to let his daughter get muddled up in this mess, but she was a better horseman, a better swordsman, and a better shot than Ryan had ever been. In fact, the only reason he was sending Ryan at all was to act as her chaperone. “Quite certain.”
Both men turned to Michael. His expression was impossible to read as he absorbed the news that Bryce’s children would be tagging along. “It will be a perilous journey,” he stated. “They will have to hold their own. I have no desire to babysit anyone.”
“You won’t have to,” Bryce grumbled. “Alexa—”
“Is the best swordsman you’re ever likely to come across,” Percy said as he cut off his friend.
Bry
ce followed his lead and held silent, realizing that it would probably be a cold day in hell before Michael would ever agree to bring a woman along, no matter how much he and Percy might vouch for her. In truth, he’d likely quit first, and if Bryce knew Percy as well as he thought, then that was not a risk that he was willing to take.
“Henry Angelo is a good friend of mine,” Bryce added. “He’s spent a number of years at Moorland Manor polishing Alex’s skills.”
Mentioning the famous dueling master had its desired effect. Michael nodded his approval. “But what if Summersby is guilty of treason? . . . What if he fights back? I can’t afford to have his siblings standing in my way if I’m forced to take action.” He paused. “Do you think they’ll be willing to stand idly by while I kill their brother, or will they turn on me in a foolhardy attempt to save him?”
Bryce’s blood ran cold at Michael’s detached tone. He didn’t doubt for a second that the man before him was prepared to carry out his orders. Would Alex and Ryan let him kill their brother, even if he were a traitor? Absolutely not, but they gave him hope that he might see William again, and for that reason alone, he was prepared to say anything to ensure that they would be in a position to help their brother. “If they were to discover that he has been consorting with the French, then I cannot imagine that they would try to stop you.”
“Very well then,” Michael acquiesced. “We leave at dawn. Will they be ready by then?”
Bryce nodded. “I have already told them to prepare themselves in the event that they would be joining you.”
“There’s a tavern on the outskirts of town—The Royal Oak. Are you familiar with the place?”
“I am.”
“Good. Tell your sons to meet me there at five. I have no intention of waiting for them, so if they’re late—”
“They will be there,” Bryce told him sharply. “You have my word,” he added, reaching out to shake Michael’s hand.
The Secret Life of Lady Lucinda: A Summersby Tale Page 28