Jane had spent a pleasant hour visiting Mrs Phillips, hearing all about the usual Christmas activities in Malton—decorating the Church on Christmas Eve and the morning church service after which the poor of the village were invited to an open kitchen at the vicarage. As she and Alex would be away during Christmastide, Jane promised to arrange for food to be sent to the vicarage to help feed the poor, many of whom, Mrs Phillips said, would afterwards go wassailing around the district, hoping to be given gifts of money, food or drink.
When it was time to leave, Mrs Phillips handed Jane a bunch of silvery-pink roses.
‘I hope you will accept these? This rose flowers right up to the first frost and I thought you might enjoy a few fresh flowers.’
‘Thank you.’ Jane smiled with pleasure, raising the blooms to her nose. ‘The fragrance is glorious.’ She frowned. ‘Do you know...although the gardens at Foxbourne are extensive, I cannot recall seeing any roses.’
‘That’s odd. The late Lady Rockbeare definitely grew them. Maybe they had to be dug out?’
‘I shall ask the gardeners. Goodbye, Mrs Phillips, and thank you.’
Jane tapped the pony with the reins to drive home, but she had barely left the village behind when she heard someone call her name. Pikeford shot into her brain. Suppressing her quiver of fear, she glanced over her shoulder to see Tommy, the postmaster’s son, on his pony. She breathed easier and halted the trap.
‘Good afternoon, milady. I have a letter for the Manor.’ Tommy grinned at her disarmingly as he withdrew a letter from his shoulder bag. ‘You’ll save me some time if you don’t mind taking it. My other deliveries are out towards Cucklow.’
Jane opened her reticule. ‘Of course I don’t mind, Tommy. How much is the postage?’
‘Sixpence, milady.’ Jane passed him the coins. ‘It’s from St Albans.’ He wheeled his pony around and trotted away.
That must surely mean it was from Zach—Alex had written to ask for his help with an exceptionally fast and handsome stallion who had been badly treated and harboured a deep mistrust of humans, biting and kicking anyone who entered his stall. Alex had saved him from certain destruction, hoping to use him for breeding if he could satisfy himself Nelson’s viciousness was the result of the ill treatment and not a trait he might pass on to his offspring. The stallion, however, was proving a challenge.
* * *
Back at the stable yard, Lilley informed Jane that Alex was indoors so, one arm full of roses and the letter in her other hand, Jane walked up to the house.
Home. She already felt a deep sense of peace being here and marvelled at her unexpected good fortune. Her heart full of joy, she went straight to Alex’s business room. He was at the window behind his large mahogany desk, his back to the room, arms folded across his chest.
‘I thought to find you hard at work, but here you are daydreaming.’
Jane crossed the room and rounded the desk, laying the roses and the letter on its gleaming surface.
Alex started as she spoke and faced her. She clasped his upper arms and aimed a kiss at his cheek, but he moved his head so their lips met. He cradled her face as he explored her mouth in a kiss that melted her insides.
Would she ever get used to this? The man of her dreams, now her husband. Hers. Heat pooled low in her belly and, with an effort, she pulled away. He quirked a brow, his tiger eyes aglow.
‘Is that it? You’ve been gone hours and all I get is one measly...’
His face blanked. Jane frowned. His eyes looked...empty, somehow. Unseeing. His lips were tight and his chest rose and fell in a rapid rhythm.
‘Alex? What is it?’
He screwed his eyes shut and then opened them again, to look at her. Then his gaze shifted to one side, and beyond Jane—to the roses on the desk.
‘Get them out of here,’ he growled.
‘I... Why? What is—?’
‘Do it!’
‘But...Mrs Phillips gave them to me. They have the most beautiful scent.’
Jane reached for the bunch and held them up to Alex. He dashed them from her hand and spun to face the window again.
‘I said get them out of here. No roses. Ever. Do you understand?’
‘But...’ Her brain scrambled to understand. ‘Why?’
She moved so she could see his profile—jaw muscle bunched tight, lips colourless.
‘Alex? I don’t understand.’
Her voice wobbled and tears stung. She swallowed to keep them at bay.
‘Get rid of them.’
The easy option was to mindlessly obey, but why should he get away with barking orders at her when she’d done nothing wrong? She’d had enough of her stepmother browbeating her...she wouldn’t accept that kind of treatment from Alex.
‘What is wrong with roses?’
His chest continued to heave and his hands clenched into fists at his sides. ‘The smell makes me sick. Take them. Go.’
Jane, still puzzled, sensed she would get no more from him while the roses were in the room. Silently she gathered the scattered blooms and left, vowing this would not be the end of the matter.
‘Mrs Kent?’ The housekeeper was in the kitchen, sharing a cup of tea with the new cook, Mrs Godfrey. ‘Would you care to have these roses for your quarters? It seems His Lordship does not care for their scent.’
‘Oh, my!’ Mrs Kent shot to her feet and almost snatched the flowers from Jane. ‘I am sorry, milady. Mayhap I should have warned you, but I thought you would know, having known His Lordship such a long time. It’s a strict rule. No roses in the house. Nor in the garden. He made poor Scully dig them all out. Near broke his heart, it did, destroying Lady Rockbeare’s pride and joy that way.’
That might underline the fact Alex hated roses, but it explained nothing. Maybe Alex would tell her the real reason once he had calmed down. Jane smiled at Mrs Kent, handing her the flowers.
‘It would be a pity to waste them now they have been cut. And His Lordship will never know you have them unless you tell him.’
Needing comfort, Jane headed to see the kittens, who were now eating and drinking for themselves, although they were still with their mother. In the outhouse, Dora—who could come and go through an open window—was absent. Jane sat on a cushion and distracted herself from what had happened with Alex by rolling a pine cone for the kittens to chase. When they tired of the game they piled on to Jane’s lap and fell asleep. The smallest, prettiest and fluffiest—grey and white, like Dora—was her favourite and she decided she would keep Mist, as she called her, as a pet.
‘I thought I would find you in here.’
Her stomach tensed at Alex’s voice. She did not look up.
He crouched next to her, touching her hand. ‘I’m sorry. I should have warned you.’
Not much of an apology.
‘Why do you dislike roses so much?’
He shrugged. ‘I just do.’
It was the old Alex talking—abrupt and dismissive. The mind your own business Alex she had known since childhood. The I don’t need anyone’s help Alex. Had it been too much to hope he had changed? Perhaps it was inevitable their relationship would be two steps forward, one step back to begin with. She suspected that, in some way, his aversion was bound up with the past and the secrets that simmered deep inside him. And all she could do was to keep proving to him he could trust her and hope, in time, he would confide in her.
‘Anyway, I have good news.’ Alex waved the letter under her nose. ‘It’s from Zach. He’s coming to help me and Aunt Cecily and Florence are coming with him. They arrive tomorrow.’
* * *
The carriage drew up outside the front door the following afternoon. Alex was down at the stables, but had promised to come up to the house as soon as their visitors arrived and, true to his word, Jane could see him striding in their direction as she went outside to greet the G
raystokes. Myrtle had come, too, hopping around on her three legs, her whole body wriggling in delight.
Aunt Cecily enveloped Jane in an apple-blossom-scented embrace. ‘I hope you don’t mind us all coming? When Alex wrote to Zach about Nelson we thought it the perfect opportunity.’
Jane hugged her back. ‘Of course we don’t mind. We’re delighted to see you all.’
As Alex kissed his aunt and shook hands with Zach, Jane scooped up Florence and kissed her cheek. Two pudgy arms wound around her neck and dusky curls tickled Jane’s nose as Alex watched them, his expression wistful. Would he make a good father? She hoped so, but it was obvious he hadn’t had much practice with children, unlike Dominic, who was a natural with their young half-sister and brother, and with their cousins. Never mind. She loved Alex and would help him become the man and father she sensed he wanted to be.
Her arms quickly ached with holding Florence’s solid little body but, before she could put the child down, Zach was there, taking his daughter gently.
‘You gradually get used to the increasing weight as your child grows, I find. But it is surprisingly fatiguing when you are not accustomed to it.’
Jane smiled up at him, feeling a little shy. She had only met Zach for the first time in the summer and she found him a little unnerving, with his dark soulful eyes and the glinting diamond he wore in his ear.
‘It is a pleasure to meet you again, Jane.’
‘And you, Uncle...um... Mr Graystoke.’
‘Zach will do, my dear.’
She smiled again. ‘Come inside. I will show you to your bedchamber—there will be a tea tray in the drawing room in half an hour.’
Chapter Twelve
It was fun having guests to stay and Jane was in her element, playing hostess in her own establishment—a role she had feared she might never fulfil. Her hopes had dwindled as the Seasons passed, but now—when she had finally lost all hope—her dreams had come true and she was married to the love of her life. Who was proving every bit as challenging as she had thought he would.
But while they had guests, Jane pushed any concerns about Alex to the back of her mind—neither of them referred again to his reaction to those roses and their nights together were still full of passion as he coaxed responses from her body as a talented musician might coax exquisite tunes from his instrument.
Alex, for his part, proved he could play the perfect host. He and Zach spent much of their time at the stable yard, working with Nelson—even when it rained—while Jane, Aunt Cecily and, usually, Florence, went for walks whenever the weather allowed, chatting about all manner of subjects, including the planned Christmas family gathering at the Abbey. The only subject they did not touch upon...the subject Jane longed to broach but did not quite dare...was Alex and his past. Until the day before the Graystokes’ departure.
Florence was napping, so Jane and Aunt Cecily walked alone.
No sooner was the Manor out of sight than Aunt Cecily said, ‘Alex seems very settled at the moment but...’ She sighed and slid a sideways glance at Jane. ‘I cannot help but worry about him. He is...complex.’
‘He is.’
As Jane pondered how to elaborate, Aunt Cecily continued, ‘I hope I have not offended you by my frank speaking. You must say if you would feel it would be disloyal to discuss Alex with me.’
Jane almost laughed. ‘No. I do not consider it disloyal to want to help my husband. I know he loves you like a mother.’
It was easier to start with something simple. If anything about her frustrating husband could be deemed simple.
‘Do you know why he dislikes roses?’
‘Roses? I didn’t know he disliked them. Why...’ Aunt Cecily paused. ‘Now I come to think of it...he specified no roses at your wedding. I was so busy I didn’t question it at the time. And...your garden. There are no roses. And yet I particularly remember Leo mentioned a rose garden when he described the place to me at the time he was thinking of buying it.’
‘Apparently Alex ordered the gardener to dig them all up. I only found out by chance—he became quite...well, agitated...when the vicar’s wife gave me a bunch of roses for the house. I wondered if it might be linked to his discovering his mother’s body?’
‘Oh!’ Aunt Cecily halted. ‘That could be it. Margaret...the perfume she always wore was rose-scented and smells do prompt memories, do they not? At least, they do for me. Mayhap roses remind him of that day?’
More than ever Jane believed Pikeford’s attack had revived Alex’s memory of that dreadful day.
‘Poor little boy,’ Aunt Cecily continued. ‘He didn’t speak for nigh on a year afterwards. I was so afraid he would never talk again...and he clung to me so...he wouldn’t even trust his own father. I suppose he was afraid he might lose me, too, like he lost his mother.’
‘Did he ever tell you about discovering his mother’s body? After he regained his speech?’
‘No. I tried to talk to him about it, but he became so agitated Leo decided we should leave it in the past. He thought it would be better for all three children to look forward, not back, so we rarely spoke of Margaret unless one of the children mentioned her. And that was seldom.’
Jane could believe that. As long as she had known Alex, he’d avoided the subject of his mother.
‘How sad he avoids all memories of his mother because of that one day. Surely he must have happy memories of her, too?’
‘I think Margaret’s death supersedes everything in Alex’s mind. Besides, she was not the best of mothers to those children. Although...’ Aunt Cecily linked her arm through Jane’s and they resumed walking ‘...she was attempting to change. Leo stopped her frequent jaunts up to London and, not long before she died, she told me she wanted to become a better mother.’
They let the subject drop, but it left Jane with plenty to mull over. Alex’s dislike of roses was something she could accept, but she would love to help him overcome his aversion to his father and to the Abbey. His wistful expression sometimes when he saw Dominic or Olivia with their father was all the encouragement she needed to believe that there, at least, she could help. Perhaps Christmas at the Abbey could be a turning point.
They emerged on to a lane, turning in the opposite direction to the village.
‘Halsdon Manor is up here,’ Jane said. ‘There’s been great excitement in Malton because it will soon be occupied, for the first time in over five years. Alex tells me it is owned by your cousin, Mr Lascelles.’
‘Oh, heavens. Now there is a name from the past. Has he returned to England?’
‘Nobody knows for sure, but they say it’s been let, so that must mean a tenant.’
‘Just as well,’ Aunt Cecily muttered.
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Has Alex not told you the story?’
‘He told me Mr Lascelles is your illegitimate cousin and he resents your brother being the duke, but nothing more.’
‘Probably because he doesn’t know much more, other than what happened five years ago. I doubt he remembers him from his childhood because Anthony has lived overseas for most of his adult life, apart from a couple of brief returns. But he came back and bought Halsdon Manor five years ago and Leo and Vernon came here to try to mend the breach between Leo and Anthony. But I believe that resentment runs too deep for them to ever get along. That trip proved worthwhile, however, because Leo met Rosalind, and he also discovered Foxbourne Manor was for sale and, now, here you are.’
‘In that case, I am grateful they at least attempted to heal that breach. This Mr Lascelles sounds unpleasant, to transfer his father’s sins on to the Duke.’
‘I always tried to give him the benefit of the doubt because I understand his frustration that his life might have been very different. But he is a troublemaker. When Leo and Rosalind were courting he took a shine to her and when she rejected him, he abducted Susie in an attempt
to force Rosalind to marry him.’
‘Abducted Susie? How evil! She must have been terrified.’
‘She was only eight when Rosalind took her in—although she seemed younger, a poor little scrap of a thing—and I don’t think she understood much of what happened. Luckily, Leo found out and averted disaster, with Alex’s help, and Leo persuaded Anthony he would fare better out of the country for a while.’
As he did with Sir Denzil. It clearly doesn’t pay to make an enemy of such a powerful duke.
They reached the entrance of Halsdon Manor and paused to gaze at the house, at the head of a straight drive.
‘I confess to some relief he won’t be returning himself.’
‘You probably need not worry even if he did, Jane. Anthony never bore any resentment towards the rest of us, only Leo. But you’d still be wise to be cautious, should you ever meet. He has a great deal of charm, but he is clever and manipulative.’
They continued back to Foxbourne, their path taking them past the paddock where Alex and Zach were working with Nelson. Zach strolled over to join them when they paused by the fence to watch.
‘Did you have a pleasant walk, my dove?’ He stroked his wife’s cheek with his forefinger, his dark eyes on her face.
A touch of envy stirred inside Jane. She was content with Alex, but would he ever look at her in that way, with his heart in his eyes? She loved him so much, but would he ever lower his guard enough to love her in return?
‘Very pleasant, my darling. I love to walk with Florence, but it was nice to have the chance to talk in peace, was it not, Jane?’
‘It was.’ Jane’s gaze strayed to where Alex—holding out an apple—approached the stallion, who was watching him, head high, the huge muscles in his haunches bunched. ‘Is Alex safe in there, Zach?’
‘Nelson no longer attacks, now he is not in a confined space. He wants to trust us, but he suspects a trick.’
Nelson wheeled around and trotted away from Alex who, rather than continuing to coax the stallion, turned his own back and walked to the opposite end of the paddock. Nelson stood stock-still, ears pricked, before lowering his neck and shaking his head. He took a tentative step towards Alex, followed by another. When he drew near, Alex walked away again, following the fence around. Nelson shadowed him.
Christmas with His Wallflower Wife Page 11