Holly and Hopeful Hearts

by Caroline Warfield

  With his emotions frozen in place, he performed his duty toward his daughter with a fair amount of the efficiency that was expected of him. He was not sure how he remained calm while he gave Blanche the comfort she needed. Her cries of anguish crushed what remained of his heart. Nicholas was on his own with only the ghost of his wife firmly etched upon his mind.

  Chapter 1

  London

  August 1812

  Grace, Lady de Courtenay grimaced as her hair was pulled yet again. It was hard not to be impatient while her maid attempted to put the finishing touches to her dark brown hair. She hated the obnoxious curls that continued to plague her and caused Elsie to spend more time than surely was necessary in order to tame the unruly locks into some kind of manageable coiffure.

  She looked up at her reflection and attempted not to sigh. What she really wished to do was stick her tongue out at the mirror, but such a childish antic would gain her nothing this day. At the age of almost thirty, she still appeared young, although too young to be a widow.

  Her marriage to her second cousin had been arranged years ago by their parents, and she had had no reason to decline Adrian, the young Earl de Courtenay, when he had proposed on bended knee. She had looked forward to a lifetime of wedded bliss as they began their lives together, despite her younger sister teasing her about marrying a man who had the same first name and surname as their brother. Indeed, since her husband was one of the few earls who took their title from their surname, Grace walked into the church Miss de Courtenay, and came out Lady de Courtenay.

  Unfortunately, her husband had died of an unknown malady only a fortnight later.

  Because she had married so young, her husband’s death seemed as though it had been another lifetime ago. She still felt like a naïve young woman in so many ways, despite her age. Since she had not produced an heir, her husband’s title passed down to her brother, with whom she lived as her only male relative. Since their parents were also deceased, their younger sister was in need of female companionship and who better than Grace to help keep a watch over her.

  A brief shake of her head brought her out of her melancholy mood, and she once more examined her reflection. A clear complexion was framed in a round face. Her eyes were a deep brown, and yet the green gown she wore brought out flecks of hidden color if one cared to look close enough. Not that anyone ever did. Her mouth looked like a perfect little bow; it was a compliment her mother had used many times in the past. Her chin had her cringing despite the many years her father had claimed it was her best feature. Her finger brushed the slight cleft that had been so much like his own, and she missed the times when he used to remark on the resemblance. Grace was not vain enough to consider herself beautiful, but she supposed she was comely enough. She had resigned herself to never marrying again and remaining forevermore a widow, for who would wish to marry someone her age?

  Another tug from the brush brought her out of her musings. Surely there must be a bald spot on her scalp from this last attack on her hair. Patience. Grace needed a lot of it right now. Her eyes met the maid’s reflection as she stood behind her, a worried look upon the girl’s features.

  “Sorry, milady,” said Elsie in a voice tight with apprehension. Clearly she assumed a reprimand was about to fall upon her head.

  “No need to fret,” Grace reassured the young woman. “I am not my sister, who would take you to task for your attempts to put her hair in order.”

  Elsie let out a startled gasp. “I would never speak ill of your sister.”

  A small smile lit Grace’s face. “I know you would not, which is why I hired another maid for her and sent you to attend me instead. I know how trying Miranda can be.”

  As if she knew she was the topic of conversation, her younger sister flew into the room without so much as a knock. Miranda made her way across the floor to flounce upon the bed in a most unladylike manner. Her sister was a lovely little creature used to getting everything she ever desired. Younger by almost nine years, Miranda was the baby of the family, and had been doted upon by their parents to the point of being spoiled. The two sisters were as different as night was to day, at least in their personalities. As to their looks, there was no doubt they were sisters since they had the same features right down to their unmanageable curling hair.

  “Leave us, Elsie,” Miranda ordered, looking down on the maid as if the poor girl had given her offense.

  Elsie bobbed a curtsey and left quickly.

  Grace turned upon the stool to stare at her sister, who swung her legs back and forth upon the edge of the bed. “You have no cause to be rude to Elsie. It is not her fault that she could not please you and was taken away from you. You were treating her unkindly, and you know how much I hate it when you act toward our servants in such a way. It is uncalled for, Miranda.”

  Miranda shrugged with a wave of her hand. “She is yours now to do with as you wish. You have given me someone who is far better at seeing to my needs than Elsie ever could.”

  “You just did not give her a fair chance. She is young and was new to her position here in the household. You should have more compassion for those less fortunate than you are. Not everyone can be born to wealth and privilege, Miranda,” Grace said with a stern look at her sister.

  “It is not of any import to me where she came from,” Miranda replied offhandedly. She examined her fingernails as though she had not a care in the world before she returned her attention to Grace. “Where are you heading today?”

  “Adrian and I are off to Miss Clemens’s Book Palace.” Grace pulled on a straw bonnet and tied the white ribbon into a neat and proper bow beside her cheek.

  “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 br
ought 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

  26th 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.