"My cousin has always been kind to me," Neville said. "We're friends. She wished to help me, I'm sure. I hope you welcome me here.”
Simms coughed and drew attention to himself. "If you will all follow me—" he said in a tone that brooked no argument.
Del picked up her skirts and followed the butler out of the salon into the foyer. Angry, sad, delighted that Neville would act on such information from his cousin, she whirled to face him. But what could she say? In such company, she should remain composed.
But as she turned, Bee clasped Alastair's hand and ran with him to a nook in the stairs where they'd all hidden as children in games of hide and seek. Both disappeared from sight.
"I say," said Griff with a wicked twinkle in his eyes, "he's had a terrible time. We must not interfere."
Aunt Gertrude threw her head back to laugh in sheer joy. "Not I. Not any of you either. This is marvelous news. A great Christmas surprise. I knew this party was a fine idea. I say I'm thrilled you've brought Lord Bromley. You are most welcome, sir. And to bring our Alastair, too. Where did you find him, eh? Oh, no matter. Tell me later. Long story, I imagine? Yes, well then. But you, you rascal," she said and laid her hand upon Griff's forearm, "you could have written to tell me when you'd arrive."
"I wanted the surprise, Mama. We all did. But we three had matters to take care of before we left London and so our departure date was uncertain. Bromley here had to see his solicitor and the French ambassador. And Alastair had to meet with his bankers as well as a little matter with the Lords."
Everyone looked from one to the other. Impolite to ask too much information, they each raised curious faces to Griff.
Del wondered why Neville would have to meet with the French ambassador in London. Some assignment from his commander?
"You must have heard, Mama," said Griff, "that the duke of Kingston died weeks ago."
Aunt Gertrude frowned at her step-son. "I'm not certain I understand."
"Oh, my." Marjorie said, a grin dawning on her face. "Don't you see? William is gone and that means our Alastair is now the Duke of Kingston."
Griff nodded at her. "Right you are."
"Oh! Oh!" Their aunt fanned herself. "I must sit. How wonderful for him. Oh, dear. Our Belinda? Could he? Might he?" She mouthed the word 'propose'.
Griff helped his mother to take the tall wooden chair reserved for the night watchman. "He could and might, Mama. We must leave them to it, shall we? What do you say we have a glass of champagne to celebrate and a hearty meal?"
Simms who had hung round the edge of the circle, cleared his throat. "Would you prefer that here, my lord?"
"I think we might take it in the salon with the others, don't you, Mama?"
"We can," said Aunt Gertrude. "Yes, we should."
"'Good company, good wine, good welcome can make good people'," murmured Simms in his usual habit of quoting the Bard when they all least expected it.
Pinned in place by the surprises of seeing Griff, the news about Alastair plus the arrival of Neville, Del watched the butler spin away to fetch the bubbly wine.
She had to leave, too. Collect her thoughts.
"Don't go, please." Neville caught her by the wrist. "I wish to talk with you. Explain why I'm here."
"You have no reason to be," she said and hated herself for her discourtesy.
"I do."
"Oh? How can that be?" Vengeance filled her. It was a bitter meal but she was unable to stop herself from feasting. "You are alone?"
He nodded, once, his grey eyes growing dark in defense.
How could he be here? At Christmas should he not be at home? "Where is your wife?"
"Dead. Last Christmas in London."
Del opened her mouth. Shock had her snapping it shut. "I apologize. My sincere condolences."
"Thank you," he murmured but he seemed to draw into himself, uneasy.
She hated her impetuous words. Hated that she hurt him. "I did not know. I am sorry. My rudeness is unforgivable. I—I would not permit anyone to tell me about you or her. Not newspapers. Not gossip. I didn't know."
He nodded, frowning, glancing at the rest of the group standing in the foyer.
"I am sorry, Neville."
Aunt Gertrude rose and smiled at them all in turn. "Shall we go in to join the rest of the party? It's time for us to celebrate our good fortunes."
"May I escort you in, Del?" Neville held out his arm, and in his tone, she detected he offered his own apologies for the chasm between them.
"You may. Of course." She had little else to do. To be rude to him again was not her wont. Or her intention. "We did have assigned places at table. I'm not certain what your arrival does to those plans."
He cupped her hand and squeezed it. "Allow me to talk to you after we dine."
She shook her head. "That's not wise."
"I am here, Del, to see only you."
"But I'm not ready to see you, sir." She stopped in the foyer.
Bee emerged from the nook beneath the stairs and hurried past them.
The two of them watched her march into the Red Salon, her back straight, her fists tight at her sides.
Neville tisked. "It seems conversation is not popular this evening."
Tears rose to clog Del's throat. He was here, he was as physically appealing as he'd ever been, despite his infirmity, but he was also older and much more grave. She would talk with him at some point this week. It was inevitable, if only for her to be polite. The sooner she confronted him, their shared past and the reason he was here, the better. "Tonight, after we finish supper, meet me in the orangerie. I shall bring my maid."
"Don't."
"Propriety demands it," she shot back, though propriety's dictums had never bothered her overly before.
"I demand otherwise."
Toughened by war and wounds, he was a resolute opponent. She hated that he was her foe. When she remembered why, irritation enflamed her. "Who are you to demand anything of me, sir?"
His soft eyes turned hard as stones. He gripped her tightly to his side. "You know who I am. What I once was to you. What you still are to me. I deserve a hearing."
Warm memories swam through her blood.
He narrowed his gaze on her eyes, her lips. "Come to the orangerie, Del, and hear the reasons."
Tempted, seduced, she sniffed and feigned indifference. "I have little to say to you, sir."
"I'm certain in the interim since last we met, you've crafted more than one sermon meant only for me."
"I won't belittle myself." She stood even taller. "You know your failures."
"Indeed I do," he said with a humility that melted her ire. "I've come this far. Meet me because I have braved the odds. Because I have much to say to you."
"Why dither? Tell me now."
With half a smile, he took in the circumference of the empty foyer and shook his head. "No."
"You are stubborn."
"I am practical. I did not take great pains to acquire leave, to ask Griff to invite me to this party to recount the details of my life since last I saw you and do it in a thrice or with a servant cocking her ear."
Danger lured her. Curiosity won her. "The orangerie. After supper."
He bowed to her and with a flourish, released her to the salon, her friends and family. "I look forward to it."
Don't be so certain.
Chapter 4
Neville winced at the assembly of such high society. His past four years in service to King and Crown in the Coldstream Guards meant he had more in common with his foot soldiers who tramped through mud and fought hand to hand than with these elaborately dressed people who blithely regarded the array of finery before them. He'd not sat down to a table dressed so lavishly in more than a year. But his mother and his tutors had been strict teachers. Memories rushed back to calm his nerves.
Watching Del claim her seat at the table, he found his own placard. As others found their own names, he stood patiently before his chair. His legs aching, he wished to sit
not chat about weather or gossip. To one side was a card bearing the name of a lady he knew, but had never met. To the other, was the name of his cousin, Lady Penelope Goddard. He'd welcomed the sight of her familiar face and a dear one at that.
Penn sailed toward him with a grin cheery as the season.
He kissed her hand in warm welcome.
"Oh, you greet me like a Frenchman, you rascal! So soon to become one, too!"
"We shall see about that!" He rolled his eyes in jest.
She gave herself over to patting his cheek like a doting mama, though she was but two years older than he. "How are your wounds?"
Occasionally painful. "They mark me as unique."
"But in that dashing uniform, you are irresistible!"
From the corner of his eye, he saw Del take up a conversation with a tall blond giant attired in exquisitely good tailoring. "I hope dashing might win the day."
Penn followed his gaze, squeezed his arm and laughed. "I'm delighted you took the hint to seek an invitation."
"Ah, yes, your letter." He grinned at her. They'd met often as children because their mothers were first cousins and fast friends. As such, Penn and he had gone to family gatherings and even attended the same dance tutor's classes. "Obvious, wasn't your so-called hint?"
She tugged at her long kid gloves, a superfluous glance about the room. "Hmm. I'd hoped for a level of subterfuge."
"You are a mischief-maker."
"To your benefit, dear sir. I saw how the entrance of all of you was such a canon shot. How was the first shock of seeing Del again?"
"Astonishing." Her hair is as blindingly platinum, her eyes as crystal blue. But her face is thinner. In her countenance, she shows wisdom. In her manner, skepticism.
"And was she kind to you?"
"Prickly."
"Well then. You can't blame her."
"I expected worse, frankly. Thought she might completely ignore me."
Neville had no secrets from Penn. The honesty between them came from years of open discussion as children and young adults. Indeed, the day after the announcement of his engagement appeared in the papers, she had called upon him and his father at Bromley House.
"I know why he's demanding this of you, Neville." She'd crushed his hands and urged rebellion upon him. "It's revenge for what Carolyn's father did to him. Don't let him have the satisfaction."
"I'm afraid I must, Penn." There'd been no other way out for him.
None for my little wife, either.
Penn patted his hand now and gathered her glittering gold skirts so that he might help her take her chair. "But Del is a sturdy girl. As robust in her choices as in her laughter. She teaches in the church orphanage. Did you know?"
"No. That's like her," he said with a glance at Del as she took her chair far down the table. Next to a very good looking man. Curse him.
"The vicar likes her." Penn's statement held implications.
"I understand many do."
"So true. Will you sally forth like a good knight?"
"I have a plan," he said as others claimed their places, seated as was the new style with men and women mixed on both sides of the long banquet table.
"Can I help?"
"Thank you, but only I may remedy this."
"Noble of you. But if you require anything, you must tell me. It is, you see, why I came to this party."
He barked in laughter. "You're looking for fun?"
"Exactly what a woman who is thrice widowed is expected to do. I am out to pasture, long in the tooth, you see?" She showed him her winning smile, but bitterness stood naked in her dark chocolate brown eyes. "Worse, after having had three mates, I am clearly unproductive."
"Penn, please stop. You are young. Beautiful and—"
"A plague to any man whom I admire."
"Penn." He wanted to scold her more, but the lady who was to sit at his left approached, a footman helping her to her chair.
"I've killed three men who wed me, darling. How could I consider another, hmmm? I say," she said and leaned over to greet the woman to his left. "May I introduce to you, Lady Elizabeth, this charming man who is my cousin?"
The lively creature with wild red ringlets, emerald eyes and a ringing laugh was Lady Elizabeth Kent. Her name meant much to him, although he'd never met her. She was the daughter of the notorious Earl of Leith but she'd estranged herself from the old roué more than four years ago. Neville had learned of it soon after from a friend of hers, his wife.
"I was sorry to hear of Carolyn's passing," she said when they were well into their second course and at ease with each other. "She was a dear. We were at school together in Coventry and I thought her sweet."
"Thank you, my lady. Carolyn was a darling." Polite, shy, never a harsh word for anyone or anything. "She spoke well of you and your friendship."
"She was kind to everyone."
"As were you to her," he added with a knowing look into her large green eyes. "She told me what you had done for her over and over again."
"I assure you, sir, what I did was exactly what any right-minded person would."
"Or more, my lady. Carolyn said you thwarted an attack on her by two of the older girls when she was new to the school and quite defenseless."
"She was so tiny. Everyone thought her so much younger than she was. People tend to take advantage where they think they have one. Such bullying I would not abide."
"A credit to you, my lady. She thanked you for it. And I do, too."
Eliza picked up her wine glass and drank at length. "I'm gratified Carolyn remembered me."
"Indeed, my lady. She spoke of you often. How you showed her how to stand up for herself." It was a lesson she employed in rare instances. Would that she had used it more often.
"I gather you are friends of the earl and his step-mother, the countess?"
He offered a cursory explanation of his acquaintance with the Marsdens and ended with, "I'm happy to have been invited."
"Marjorie tells me her aunt, the countess, wants to secure husbands for the three sisters this week. Are you here to be counted as one of the swains?"
Why demur? "You can say I am."
She gave a laugh. "You are that rare man, sir, who admits to going courting."
"That I am." He picked up his white wine and took a comforting swallow.
"I say. That's marvelous." She picked up her own wine glass and lifted it toward him. "To you, sir. Best of luck. From what I saw when you arrived, may I speculate that you are focused on catching the elusive Delphine?"
He inhaled. "You may."
"You have strong competition, sir."
"How many?" He might as well be informed of the odds.
"The house bursts with eligible men."
"Don't discourage him, Lady Eliza." Penn leaned closer to tease them both.
"She's right," he said with a laugh. "Just show me those I should mark with interest."
Lady Eliza's green gaze slid to a dark-haired, black eyed enigmatic creature who sat next to Marjorie. "There is Lord Riverdale, James Stanley, a baron of considerable means and an estate in Yorkshire."
"Unmarried?" he asked.
"Never married," she told him and noted how her gaze lingered on the man. But she shivered and turned in the opposite direction. "Down the table, we have another next to the lady in lavender."
"And he is?" Neville asked, noting how handsome this one was too.
"Mr. Mark Trevelyan, a bachelor whose estate is near Lewes."
"No title?" he asked.
Penn shook her head. "He has wealth. No need to embellish the rose. But then, there is one more man next to Delphine. The beautiful Viking with heavenly blue eyes and golden blond hair. I met him for the first time only briefly before you three arrived."
"The Marquess of Tain," Lady Eliza told them, “does not go down to London often.”
Neville examined the man who was entertaining Del much too well. Titled men who had not joined the military to fight the wars were ridicule
d by those who had volunteered. “I thought all who stayed home from the fray frequented London often.”
Lady Eliza said, "Not Tain. He keeps to his estates in Yorkshire. No need for London. It's said he has lost two wives and doesn't wish for another."
"Is that so?" Penn examined him with narrowed eyes. "An unusual man. Perhaps he’d changed his mind.”
He appears to be enjoying himself here. Neville frowned.
"Why would he come to a Christmas house party if he were truly a recluse?" Eliza raised her glass and drank. "Does he in fact seek a new wife?"
Not Del, if he knows what's good for him. Neville drained his wine.
When the Countess of Marsden rose from her chair, Neville schooled himself to not run out the door. He'd have his say with Del tonight and get it over and done. He'd needed only to find some cure for his jealousy before he searched for the orangerie.
Lady Eliza and Penn rose.
But Penn put a hand to his. "Remember my offer."
"I may indeed need a favor," he said with discretion as he turned to follow the guests to the Red Salon. "Did you bring your maid?"
"I did."
"Please tell her to make my valet's acquaintance."
"Oh," she trilled, quivering in anticipation. "I do love a conspiracy."
"Your specialty," he joked and strode to a place near the mantel.
Griff stood there, his brows furrowed in irritation when Tain approached him and both turned to him. Griff offered introductions.
"I understand you were at Waterloo," Tain said with a polite nod. "Thank you, sir. We are in your debt."
That diluted Neville's antipathy. "You are kind to say so, my lord."
"I admire you for it. I would have enlisted but an old riding accident prohibited me. I envy you, sir, the honor of having served."
"The honor is more enjoyable now, I dare say, than months ago. Thank you for your notice of it."
"My dears," the Countess of Marsden hailed her guests, "all of you may wish to retire early. It's been a long day. Many of you have traveled far and I know you'd welcome your beds."
Many gave their regards and drifted off. Alastair, Penn and Eliza excused themselves, followed by Del. Marjorie did the same and Griff was quick to excuse himself.
The Viscount's Only Love: Christmas Belles, Book 2 Page 4