His Michaelmas Mistress

by Marly Mathews

  “Oh, aye. And she could conjure up a healing tea like no other. I wish she had been alive when my parents fell ill with a fever. She would have saved their lives. Alas, despite all of her magic, she couldn’t live forever. She must have been nearing one hundred years old when I first met her as a lad of ten.”

  Freddie cleared his throat. “Lewis, has the healing touch as well, but I’ve never seen him transform into an animal, and never thought to ask if he could do that kind of magic.”

  “Cyril, I think you should come with me. We really shouldn’t just give them one Deville boy to coo over. And we can see Simon again. It’s been an age since we’ve seen any of the girls, aside from Julia, and, you will be close enough to Oxford College. You can go from there right back to your studies. My brother loves his books, Your Grace. But before you go back to your precious tomes, we can make a few dainty hearts skip a beat in Castleton Village.”

  “If you’re talking about the Lovett Girls, I wouldn’t be so cocky if I were you, Clarence. They might be the ones who wrap you around their pinky fingers. They have a way about them…I found one of them irresistible, and you might, too.”

  “Not possible,” Cyril said succinctly. “His heart already belongs to the fair Lady Ann.”

  “Hmm…I think that you should definitely go with Lord Knightwick, Clarence, and mayhap, a young lady there will strike your fancy, even if it isn’t one of Alice and Edward’s girls. Although, dear Violet and Lily are about the right age for you,” Marietta said, a little too hopefully.

  “I…” Clarence was colouring up. He tugged at his cravat, and nervously cleared his throat. “I don’t think that shall happen, Mama, but I will have fun while I am there.”

  “Indeed. And maybe when Lady Ann hears about it, she will get a little bit of the green eyed monster flaring within her. I mean who could resist us?” Cyril asked.

  Valentine groaned. “My sons have no issues with confidence, as you see, Hamilton,” he chuckled.

  “It probably stems from having a father like you,” The Duke replied.

  Valentine smiled. “I shall grant you that, Hamilton. I am…well, I was…quite the dandy.”

  “Oh, dear, you are still a dandy. You are just not a fop,” Marietta said.

  “I wonder…” Cyril mused. “Mayhap, I should write a missive to the fair Lady Ann, and tell her that you have been bewitched by another—and then, she might leave her aunt and finally allow you to woo her. It just might do the trick, Clarence.”

  “I wouldn’t press the issue, Cyril. You mind your own affairs, dear,” Marietta urged.

  Freddie smiled. The Duchess was hopeful that she could entice Clarence with another younger woman. He didn’t understand why she was dead set against Ann. Ann was around Julia’s age, and that made her still quite young. He sighed, and carefully placed his teacup down.

  “Can you be ready to travel by tomorrow morning, Clarence?” he asked, wiping his hands on his handkerchief. The Duchess had set out tea, scones, shortbread and plum cake, and he’d eaten a little bit of everything. Well, he’d eaten more than a little.

  “Oh, aye. It won’t take me long to pack my trunks.”

  “Trunks?” Freddie asked.

  His father chuckled. “Not everyone travels as lightly as you, Freddie.”

  “Comes from my days in the war, when all I had was my kit on my back, and my wits in my head.”

  “Aye, I know,” the Duke said.

  “I will have my valet start packing straightaway,” Clarence said, standing up. “Pray excuse me everyone. I have work to do.”

  Freddie stood up as well, and followed Clarence. “Clarence…”

  “Aye,” Clarence said, stopping right before he was going to walk up the steps to his bedchamber on the second floor.

  “If you love Lady Ann, why not just ask for her hand?” Freddie asked softly.

  Clarence chuckled ruefully. “She thinks I’m still a boy. I don’t know if I will ever be a man in her eyes, Freddie. Perhaps, I have to do what others have urged me to do…maybe I have to move on.”

  “Do you think about her several times a day?” Freddie asked.

  “Aye,” Clarence said.

  “Don’t move on,” Freddie advised. “You’ll find a way to make her see the light. You look a sorry sight right now, and I don’t like seeing you so down.”

  “In my heart of hearts, I know she is the only woman for me. No matter how much I want her, I can’t force her to love me. I’ve tried it all. I’ve sent her love letters, poetry, everything I can possibly think of. I have attempted to gain her attention at the balls, and routs, and I’ve tried to meet her in Hyde Park, when she is out riding. Nothing works. She avoids me at every opportunity. She looks at me as an annoyance, she can’t be rid of.”

  Freddie sighed. “Persevere. If you love her, don’t give up on her. Unless, of course, she tells you straight out that she doesn’t want anything to do with you. She hasn’t done that yet, has she?”

  “No,” Clarence chuckled. “I am not a cad, only lovelorn.”

  “I didn’t say you were one at all. You’re a good man, Clarence, and it is high time Lady Ann realizes that.”

  “Falling in love has done wonders for you, Freddie. You are still the same good old Mouse, but you’re not quite as rough around the edges. You have more sympathy for people now.”

  “Just don’t go telling that to anyone…I have a reputation to uphold,” Freddie winked at Clarence, and slapped him on his shoulder. Clarence winced, rubbed where Freddie had hit him, and smiled.

  “I won’t. My lips are sealed. And I’m so pleased that you came calling on us. Your father doesn’t look that bad…I think you’re quite lucky to have him, and becoming an heir to a dukedom, couldn’t have happened to a nicer fellow.”

  “You are a duke’s heir as well,” Freddie pointed out.

  “Oh, aye. One day we’ll both be dukes in our own right, but I’m not in any hurry. Being an earl suits me just fine. I want my old man to be around for a long time. He can be a pain in the backside sometimes, but I’ve gotten used to him, you know?”

  “I understand. I haven’t quite gotten used to mine. He can go on living forever, as far as I’m concerned. I have no desire to be a duke. None at all.”

  “I want to see Gideon’s face when he learns the news,” Clarence said, with bright eyes.

  “I don’t think it will be any more amusing than the look that passed over Tiny’s face. He almost fainted. I have never seen him look so Friday faced, though he tried to recover quickly. He looked as if he had some sort of malaise. I saw it. He looked at me like I was a stranger. He looked at me as if I had betrayed him. I’m trying to live between two worlds, Clarence, and it’s making me bone weary.”

  “Then, stop living between the two. Embrace the one that you were born into…and leave the one that gave you a life of such hell.”

  “And yet…that is easier said, than done, mate. And though you probably can’t fathom it, there are good things about where I was raised. It gave me a view on the world that I never would have held, if I’d been raised as a toff. I see injustice now, whereas, had I been a part of your world from the get go, I probably wouldn’t have seen a problem with the way the poor are treated, compared to how the Beau Monde live. And I think, I’m a better man for it.”

  “You know something, Freddie? I think you’re right,” Clarence mused. “Come on, you can help me decide on what outfits I should pack.”

  Sighing, Freddie followed Clarence up the stairs. Clarence was going to shake up Castleton and Maidstone, and he’d have all of the young lasses flocking to him. He only hoped that someday Lady Ann would see the error of her ways, and realize that Clarence was the only man for her—because if she didn’t—she’d lose the young man to another young lady who could see what a great catch he was!

  After Freddie and his father took their leave of the Devilles, they returned to his father’s large townhouse, and feeling restless, he decided to have his horse sa
ddled, and go riding in Hyde Park.

  “Where are you off to?” his father asked.

  “I thought I’d go for a ride.”

  “Oh, riding on Rotten Row, eh?” he asked, with a smile.

  “I…I suppose so, I thought I’d go riding in Hyde Park,” Freddie said.

  His father smiled broadly. “I don’t usually like to ride for long distances on horseback, but I think I shall join you today, Freddie. It sounds like a splendid idea.” He gave instructions to have three horses saddled, as Hamish seemed to constantly shadow them, and they waited for their horses to be brought round. “I don’t suppose that your friends will be back from their entertainment any time soon, eh?”

  “I don’t think so,” Freddie mused. “They might even remain the night.”

  “They shall have to cure themselves of those vices at some point, Freddie. They need to settle down and find wives.”

  “Tell that to Tiny. He is terribly opposed to the idea of marriage. Lucky, on the other hand, well, I saw him eyeing Miss Massey, so there might be hope for him. They won’t give up their whoring ways till then, I’m afraid.”

  “Well,” the Duke said gruffly, “I daresay that I’m happy to see that you are a reformed rake.”

  “Never said I was a rake, sir.”

  “With your handsome face and build, I wouldn’t expect otherwise,” the Duke smiled. “The ladies used to fawn over me in my day, and I suppose they still do,” he admitted ruefully.

  Once the horses were readied, they mounted, and headed for Hyde Park. Fortunately, Hamish had kept quiet, and that relieved Freddie, because he bloody well couldn’t understand him half the time he opened his mouth.

  They’d been riding for a while, enjoying Hyde Park, and stopping to chat occasionally to people who the Duke recognized, or in some instances, to some who Freddie was acquainted with. He saw a few mates from the Wars, and they laughed, and joked, and gave each other their cards so they could meet up again at a future time. Most of them were surprised to see that Freddie had a duke for a father, but most accepted it readily.

  His father admired some of the ladies riding on Rotten Row, as did Hamish. He supposed that some of them were easy on the eyes, but none compared to Julia. Some of the ladies were parading along the avenue seeking to catch themselves a man, and some were doing it to forge new alliances, or to show rivals how far they’d come in the world. All in all, London wasn’t quite as busy as it was during the Season, as most of the ton had repaired to the Country.

  His blood boiled when he caught sight of a man he hoped to never see again in this lifetime. His father, damn him, seemed to know the blasted man that he sat with him in the prissy looking landau.

  “I think…I think I’ve had enough of Rotten Row to last me a lifetime,” Freddie mumbled. He was about to ride off, when the landau pulled up to them, and his father started talking. He didn’t hear anything his father said, he only focused on keeping himself on the horse, because at the moment, he wanted to swing down off his horse, and pull the man out of the conveyance, and beat him black and blue. He wanted to kill him with his bare hands.

  Hamish must have seen the change within him, for he had caught his father’s eye, and his father returned his attention to him.

  “Freddie, what is the matter? You look quite out of sorts.”

  “I don’t know why you’d care, Your Grace. Merriweather, here, has come up in the ranks, if he’s serving in your household. He used to be the scum of the earth, and probably still is. I’d dismiss him, posthaste, sir. He is a nasty piece of business,” Mortimer Osborne said.

  “Are you mad, sir?” the Duke said incredulously. “Or are you just blind? The man you refer to as scum of the earth is my son. As you see, he looks quite a lot like me.”

  “You are recognizing a bastard, Your Grace? Oh, I say, sir, you are quite liberal,” Osborne continued.

  “Shut your bone box, Osborne,” Freddie growled, “Or I will shut it for you, so help me God, I will.”

  “You need to learn that you’re talking to your betters, boy. You are nothing but a little gutter rat, and the Army didn’t improve you at all. You will address me as Captain, or sir, or I shall see that you rue it bitterly.”

  The man sitting with Osborne had slowly put the pieces together. His eyes had widened, the colour had drained from his face, and he looked quite frightened.

  “Mortimer, do be quiet,” he hissed.

  Freddie supposed that the man was either Osborne’s father or his uncle…or a much older brother.

  “Father, this is the little bloody bastard I told you about. He is the one that never got what was due to him.”

  “Got what was due to him?” the Duke looked particularly confused now. “What is going on here?”

  “Father,” Freddie said, attempting to keep the anger out of his voice, “Captain Osborne was a Lieutenant at the time that he sentenced me to be flogged. He would have seen me dead that day, had Colonel Elliot not come along and freed me from being lashed to death.”

  His father’s face transformed during Freddie’s explanation. His eyes crackled with fury, cold hard fury. “I suppose I owe Colonel Elliot, a debt that can never be repaid,” his father said, emotion filling his voice.

  Hamish made a noise that slightly resembled a growl, and looked as pissed off, as Freddie was.

  “Colonel Elliot was a goddamn fool,” Osborne said, snorting loudly.

  “No, you are a goddamn fool, Captain Osborne. This is my son…and my heir. He is not a bastard, not by birth, or by attitude. He is the Marquess of Knightwick, and he legally has the Hamilton name, he has done, since he came into this world. A series of unfortunate events separated us, and it is to my profound relief that we are now reunited. From where I am sitting, you, sir, are the bastard. And, as for any social or political aspirations, you might have, consider them dashed, because I shall use all of my considerable power to make quite certain you never amount to anything. Come along, Freddie. I tire of this scene,” he said regally, sounding more like a toff than Colonel Elliot or Lewis had ever sounded like. “Now, I realize why I stayed up in Scotland for all of those years. Some of the society here leave a lot to be desired, don’t they?”

  “Oh, aye, Your Grace,” Hamish said.

  “Your Grace, I do apologize for the poor behaviour of my son,” the man next to Mortimer rushed out.

  “There is no possible apology that could excuse his behaviour, Septimus. Good day, to you, and I do hope that your son rots in hell, for my Freddie is a far better man than that little shite can ever hope to be. Come along, Son.”

  The three of them rode away from Septimus Osborne, and as they left, Freddie’s keen hearing picked up on the outraged Septimus’s words. “I am disowning, you, Mortimer. I had set aside a tidy little sum for you, but you can kiss that goodbye. You won’t get a penny from me. Do you understand? I thank God now that you have an older brother to inherit my barony. He has none of your cruelty—none of your coldness, and thank God for that. I knew you have always been a toad-eaten little bastard, and now you have just about ruined us. You bloody goddamn fool.”

  Freddie smiled.

  The day was turning out splendidly, and his admiration for his father grew. Finally, he had a father he could be proud of.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Freddie had spent far too much time with his father, not that he hadn’t enjoyed it, mostly, anyway, but he missed Julia terribly. He wanted his nice warm bed, and if he was lucky, the vicar would be available, and he could have Julia with him in his nice warm bed.

  He, Clarence, Cyril and the Duke sat in silence in the carriage, as it rumbled over the ruts in the road that led back to Wiltshire. Clarence and Cyril had fallen asleep, and the Duke looked as if he was going to nod off shortly as well.

  Freddie had the special licence, and all was finally well in his world. Hamish was riding with the rest of the outriders, and Freddie was relieved for it. As long as Hamish wasn’t nervous, he could understand the man,
but if his nerves were rattled, no one except for the Duke could understand a thing he said, if that was how everyone spoke where the Duke came from, he might as well go and live in France.

  From what the Duke told him, and from what he could actually understand, Hamish was a loyal retainer to the Hamilton family for the rest of his life. Basically, Freddie couldn’t get rid of the man even if he’d wanted to.

  The Duke started snoring, and he sighed. Now, he was the only one left awake. The carriage hit a particular large bump, and rattled. Clarence’s eyes whipped wide open, and he let out a disgruntled sigh.

  “Ugh, I hate long carriage rides,” he said mournfully, and looking out the window. “’Course with the way the rain is pissing down outside, I don’t think I would want to be out there on horseback,” he shuddered. “I hope we shall have some hot chocolate and some goodies waiting for us when we arrive.”

  Freddie laughed. Clarence rarely thought about anything else but food, and upon reflection, Freddie supposed that Lady Ann was probably the only other thing that occupied Clarence’s thoughts. “I could have my Cook make you some hot chocolate, but don’t hold your breath about the scones…I’m not sure if she would know how to make them. And I’m certain she won’t know how to make shortbread, now plum cake, she will probably have already made.”

  Clarence sighed. “I suppose…I suppose not everyone has a Mrs. Macintosh.”

  “Indeed, not,” he answered.

  “Scones? Did someone say, scones?” the Duke asked sleepily, waking up from his short nap.

  “Aye, Freddie and I were talking about them, Your Grace,” Clarence said.

  “I didn’t think I’d find any in England, but your Mrs. Macintosh made some splendid ones. I shan’t hold my breath about getting any in Wiltshire,” he said.

  “Fortunately, we should be home soon,” Freddie said. “I can’t wait to be able to stretch my legs. I hate feeling so cooped up. I usually prefer riding horseback.”

  Lucky and Tiny were riding horseback, along with Hamish and the Duke’s other outriders. They were certainly not lacking for guards…not that the Duke needed anyone else, but Freddie, Tiny and Lucky.