The de Lohr Dynasty

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  The Lady Coraline Hampton Russell, Countess of Orford, had been a lovely woman with flaming red hair in her younger years. She had married very well, into a rich family that still held a great many properties in Sussex and Essex, but her husband had died when they were both still young and they had been without children. Coraline had inherited his wealth but had never remarried, instead, becoming the patroness of four poorhouses in southern England, including one near Canterbury Castle, and becoming a doting aunt to her three nieces. She didn’t see them much but she always sent them gifts and messages. Having them in the house with her for the past two months while her brother engaged in London politics had been pure heaven and she most certainly didn’t need the help of Lyle’s servant to help raise them. That woman Lyle seemed to think no one knew he was fucking.

  Aye, fucking. That’s what Coraline called it and she didn’t mince words. Lyle didn’t have much to say about it when she berated him, but that was usual for him. They never had much to say about anything to each other, mostly because Coraline, the older sister, dominated and Lyle didn’t much like to engage her. So he stayed away from her as much as he could, especially since his wife had died, and he’d taken that spitting beast into his bed. At least, that was how Coraline looked at it. In her opinion, her brother could do much better.

  Therefore, Coraline was relieved when her brother’s courtesan left the room as quickly as she had entered it. She didn’t want to see or speak to the women. Coraline was in the process of helping her nieces dress for the prince’s mask on this cold winter’s evening but there was a problem; at the moment, she was having a stand-off with Elise, who wanted to bring the dolls she took everywhere with her. Coraline was trying to be gentle about convincing the girl to leave them behind but, so far, Elise was having none of it.

  “If my people cannot go, I will not attend!”

  Elise was adamant. Coraline, dressed finely in a golden frock that had golden thread woven throughout it, was patient with her youngest, and strangest, niece.

  “My darling girl,” she said sweetly. “They would not be able to enjoy the mask. They would simply be in the way. What if someone stepped on them? What if some were lost? You would be devastated. Therefore, it is best for them if you leave them behind. They will be happier here.”

  Elise wouldn’t do it. Pouting, and gripping her box tightly, she flounced off into an adjoining room with Coraline following her, leaving Emilie and Nathalie behind.

  The older girls could hear their aunt pleading with Elise, but they didn’t pay much attention to it. They even heard when Elise began crying for Lillibet, which made for an awkward situation with Aunt Coraline, but they were more concerned with how they looked and not with two contentious old maids. The mask this evening would be an opportunity to see and be seen by all of London and there was excitement in the air as they put the finishing touches on their wardrobe. This event was to be the thrill of their young lives.

  Aunt Coraline had commissioned new gowns for the girls, just for this occasion, and the results were stunning. Nathalie wore a gown of the palest green with gold embroidery around the neck and detailed down the long sleeves, while Emilie wore a creation that was the most magnificent of all; layers of sea colors, shades of blue, with a snug bodice that laced tightly with silver ribbon over her breasts. Her blond hair had been artfully arranged by Coraline’s French maid, with pinned curls on her head culminating in her hair gathered on the right side of her head, tumbling over her shoulder in a cascade of more curls that went all the way to her waist.

  The results were truly stunning. Emilie inspected herself in the mirror and noted the hint of lip rouge the French maid had put on her. It was enough to bring a smile to her lips, something rarely seen since leaving Windsor two months ago. Since the day of the terrible tournament that people were still talking about, Emilie had been quiet, and miserable, and nothing anyone did could seem to bring her out of her melancholy. She ate little, spoke little, and spent most of her time sewing. She’d made a few lovely things in that time with the help of Coraline’s maids, shawls and even a fine bodice for a surcoat that still needed to be put together. But still, nothing seemed to make her smile and Lyle knew it was because she was yearning for a certain young knight who was evidently yearning for her as well.

  At least, that was what Christopher de Lohr had said one night, about three weeks after the tournament that nearly ended his life as well as his brother’s. He had cornered Lyle at Windsor after a meeting with Richard’s supporters, dancing around the subject of Lady Emilie and her health, the general health of his family, before casually mentioning that his brother, David, had recovered quickly from his injuries thanks to Lady Emilie but seemed to be perpetually foul of mood. Lyle had agreed that Emilie was the same way and with those leading statements out of the way, Christopher and Lyle came to the meat of the subject and realized, between the two of them, that something must have occurred between David and Emilie that had the two of them longing for one another.

  Or hating one another, although neither Lyle or Christopher thought it was truly hatred, but neither man wanted to interfere in the situation. In fact, there wasn’t anything they could do to pull David and Emilie together. Whatever happened would have to come from David, as the man in the equation. Emilie was helpless to make any sort of move, as the lady.

  Christopher was clear in that he couldn’t particularly guide David in this matter; as always, and especially when it came to women, David did what David wanted to do, and he further commented that David had difficulty adjusting since returning from The Levant those months back. He suggested that Emilie may have just been a passing fancy to his confused brother.

  If that was the case, then Lyle was sadden for Emilie’s sake, for she had known her share of suitors and none of them had elicited this manner of reaction from her that David de Lohr had. And then there was the trouble with Brickley, who had seemed to be pushing his suit of Emilie very hard since that terrible tournament. Lyle had managed to hold him off for the past two months but he was fairly certain he wouldn’t be able to hold him off much longer. In fact, Brickley had asked to escort Emilie to the mask this night and, without a good reason to refuse him, Lyle had reluctantly agreed. He had no idea what Emilie was in for that night with Brickley so he braced himself, expecting the worst. Worse still because David de Lohr would presumably be attending the same event.

  It could be bad all around, in many ways.

  Of course, Emilie knew none of it. All she knew was that she had been sad and lonely the past couple of months, mourning the loss of a man she never really had. She’d caught a brief glimpse of a perfect life with him but it wasn’t meant to be. At least that’s what she kept telling herself.

  Even now, she gazed at herself in the polished bronze mirror, inspecting her appearance and wondering, as she had been for some time, if David would be at the mask. She hoped he was so he could see how beautiful she looked and then feel badly that he hadn’t staked his claim when he’d had the chance.

  Tonight, there would be many eligible men and Emilie intended to dance with every one of them who asked, and she would particularly make sure that they danced where David was seated. She wanted to make him very, very sorry he had treated her so callously. Wanting to kiss her, and Lord knew what else, without speaking of his permanent interest in her.

  All he’d wanted was a toy to play with.

  Emilie had been given two months to think over her last conversation with David. Two months of living it over and over in her mind, wondering where she had gone wrong. The truth was that she didn’t believe she had gone wrong, anywhere – David had informed her that he intended to steal kisses whenever he wanted to and she told him that she would have none of it unless he wanted to court her. Marry her. She hadn’t been wrong in the least.

  Perhaps her demand of marital consideration had been a bit premature, as David had indicated, but she certainly wasn’t going to let the man have his way with her without any commitment
on his part. So she’d taken a stance, and so had he, and she hadn’t seen him in two months because of it. Two long months. But the truth was that she missed him very much and she thought of him every hour of every day. She wondered how he had been, if he had recovered well from his injuries, and she knew her father had seen him from time to time when he’d gone to Windsor Castle on business, simply because she knew all of Richard’s supporters were there and the de Lohrs were the greatest supporters of all. But she hadn’t asked about David and her father hadn’t offered anything. She was too proud to ask, too proud to admit that one man, out of all the suitors she’d ever had, finally left an impression on her.

  A knock on the door distracted her from her thoughts. Nathalie, who was closer to the door, opened it to find Lyle standing there. He smiled at his girls, entering the room to admire their lovely new gowns.

  “You look lovely, Nathalie,” he said to his middle daughter, watching her beam. “You look just like your mother in that color.”

  Nathalie twirled around in the dress, displaying it for her father in full. “It is so beautiful, Papa,” she said. “Do you think we can have a party when we return home so that I can wear it again?”

  Lyle laughed softly. “I am sure we can, my lovely little flower,” he said, looking to Emilie, who was exquisite in her shades of blue. “Ah, Emilie… you are positively radiant in that gown. You will outshine every woman at the mask tonight.”

  Emilie glanced at herself in the mirror again, fingering the silver and sapphire necklace her aunt had loaned her. It went perfectly with the dress, a luxurious piece of jewelry that hailed the wealth of the houses that ruled Canterbury and Orford. The dress was beautiful, the necklace was beautiful, but still she felt no real joy in any of it. She smiled weakly to her father’s flattery.

  “Thank you, Papa,” she said without much enthusiasm. “Will we be leaving soon?”

  Lyle nodded. “The escort is ready,” he said. He eyed Emilie a moment before clearing his throat softly. “Since every young lady must have an escort, Brick will be yours, Em, and I will escort Nathalie and Elise. Brick is waiting downstairs if you are ready.”

  Emilie sighed with displeasure. “I would rather not go with him,” she said. “Let him take Nathalie. She wants him to, anyway.”

  Lyle was careful in his reply even as Nathalie, who was crushed when she heard Brickley was escorting her sister, was now looking at her father with great hope as Emilie brushed the man aside.

  “It would not be suitable for him to escort your sister,” Lyle said. “The eldest daughter of the house is entitled to any single male escort. It would not look right for him to escort your younger sister while you are escorted by your father.”

  Emilie rolled her eyes as she turned away from the mirror and went to collect the deep blue cloak that matched the dress. There was also a sheer blue scarf that went with it, meant to cover the head without mussing the elaborate hairstyle. It was truly an exquisite presentation but, at the moment, Emilie didn’t much care. She snatched at the cloak unhappily.

  “Papa, I really would rather not have Brick as my escort,” she said. “I would be much happier if he escorted Nathalie.”

  “Why do you not want him as your escort?” Lyle asked. “Has he upset you somehow?”

  Emilie was reluctant to say much, careful in her words. She didn’t want to upset Nathalie, who was quite sensitive about Brickley and the fact that the man still wouldn’t pay her any attention, at least the attention she wanted from him. But the truth was that the man had been hanging around Emilie for the past two months behaving very strangely. He was always around, wherever she was, hovering and asking her questions and trying to make conversation with her. It was most odd coming from a man she had known most of her life, a man who had never been so solicitous until the day of that terrible tournament. If Emilie hadn’t known better, she would have sworn the man was trying to warm her to him or somehow ingratiate himself to her. Emilie didn’t like it and she was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with it.

  “Nay,” she said after a moment. “He has not upset me, but he will not leave me in peace. He is constantly bothering me.”

  “How is he bothering you?”

  Emilie shrugged. “He is always around.”

  “He has always been around.”

  Listening to the exchange, Nathalie didn’t like the fact that Emilie seemed to be scorning a man she was very fond of. “He is just being kind, Em,” she insisted. “Brick is constantly around me as well and it does not bother me in the least.”

  She said it rather cheerfully and Lyle eyed the girl, thinking that Brickley was only around her because she was, most of the time, around Emilie. Lyle could see that the situation was going to grow very uncomfortable unless he did something about it, so he put a hand on Nathalie’s shoulder and pointed to the connecting door, the one that led to the chamber where Elise and Coraline had gone.

  “See if your sister and aunt are ready to depart,” he instructed her. “And gather your cloak. It is very cold outside. And where are the dogs? Make sure they are adequately tended before we leave.”

  Obediently, Nathalie slipped off and when she was gone, Lyle made his way over to Emilie, who was struggling with her heavy cloak. Lyle went to the rescue. He had a few things he wanted to say to her and hoped that Nathalie would stay away long enough so he could do it. With time against him, he spoke quickly.

  “Em, I must tell you something about Brick,” he said as he helped settle the cloak on her shoulders. “I cannot let you go on thinking he is bothersome and hovering. ’Tis more than that and it is time you know. I have refrained from saying anything because I had hoped Brick would forget about you and move on, but it seems that is not the case. He has not forgotten about you in the least. Surely you must know by now that Brick is very fond of you.”

  Emilie didn’t understand Lyle’s tactful statement, at least in the way he meant it. In hindsight she should have, but she simply wasn’t thinking along those lines. “I am fond of him as well,” she said. “But he is making a nuisance of himself, Papa. He will not leave me alone. It is all I can do to keep from screaming at him sometimes!”

  Lyle could see that she didn’t understand him. “Emilie, listen to me,” he said, forcing her to look at him. “Brick has watched you grow from a young girl into a lovely young woman and with his wife’s passing those years ago, it is only natural that he views you… well, fondly. A lonely man without a wife… do you see what I am saying, lass?”

  Emilie still didn’t understand what her father was telling her until the last few words. It was the way Lyle had said it that made her suddenly realize what, exactly, he was saying. Her eyes widened with shock and her red-tinted mouth popped open.

  “Nay!” he gasped. “Not that. He… he could not!”

  Lyle could see the dismay in her expression, the reaction he had expected. “I am afraid he could,” he said softly. “Do you truly understand what I am saying, Em? Brick came to me months ago and asked permission to court you. I denied him at the time and told him you were too young, but the truth is that you are not too young. You are of marriageable age and he has taken a fancy you. I have asked him not to tell you of his intentions and I see that he has not.”

  Emilie shook her head, her shock turning into revulsion. “He has not said a word,” she said. “Is that why he has been hanging about and trying to speak with me at every turn?”

  Lyle nodded, almost sadly. “It is,” he said. “And you had no idea of his intentions?”

  Emilie was truly at a loss, reeling with the news. “I did not,” she said. But then, she cocked her head as if an idea occurred to her. “Except when I think back to the tournament at Windsor and how rude he was to Sir David, I remember that moment because it was so very odd for him to behave that way. Was it possible he had these… these feelings for me even back then?”

  “He did.”

  “I thought the man had lost his mind!”

  Lyle shook hi
s head. “Not his mind,” he said softly. “His heart. To you. And he was so jealous that de Lohr carried your favor that he could hardly stand it.”

  Emilie was genuinely astonished. Her hands flew to her mouth, covering the gaping lips, as the revelation of Brickley’s secret feelings for her ran deep. Then, she turned away from her father, struggling to comprehend what he had told her. Struggling to understand that a man she’d known most of her life had suddenly grown romantic for her.

  “I cannot believe this,” she said. “Brick has always been with us, a shadow, a protector, but now… Papa, I feel so very uncomfortable knowing he has romantic intentions towards me.”

  Lyle watched her as she fussed with her cloak, absently, lost in thought. “Is it so terrible, then?” he asked softly. “Brick is an excellent knight from a fine house. I have no doubt he would make you an excellent husband. He would be kind and considerate and think only of you.”

  Emilie turned to look at him. “You cannot possibly wish for me to marry him, do you?”

  Lyle shook his head. “Nay,” he replied. “It is not my wish for you to marry him but I would not oppose you if that was your desire. You are young and beautiful and will have many opportunities for suitors who will make fine husbands. But my thoughts are of Brick… he will watch you as you accept suitors or find young men to be fond of. It will eat him alive to see it, but he will keep it to himself as he has for so long. It will be cruel to force him to watch.”

  Emilie thought on the situation from that perspective and she could see her father’s point. “I do not know what to do about it,” she said. “I cannot accept his suit simply to spare his feelings. It would not be fair to me.”

  Lyle went to her, putting his hands on her shoulders. “I know,” he said. “But Brick has meant a great deal to us over the years. He is a good man. If you could mayhap be kind to him, Em… be kind but firm that you are not interested in his suit… mayhap that will be enough to ease him.”