by Regina Darcy
“We were opponents,” his wife corrected him.
“Yes, of a sort, but . . . it all ended well, did it not? Of course it did. Here we are, blissfully happy and to the devil with what anyone says about it.”
“Passion.”
“What?”
“There’s passion in your marriage.”
Georgette’s eyes were round. “My lord, I hardly think it a proper subject . . . “
“Why not?” her husband countered. “Yes, Henton, there is passion in our marriage. I wouldn’t have wed without it.”
“Exactly. That is my point.”
“You’re deuced convoluted in making your point, because I certainly can’t see one. Are you asking if my wife and I love each other? We do. Are you asking if we enjoy one another? We do. In fact, we haven’t announced it yet, but we’re already expecting—“
His remark was interrupted by a jab to his ribs from his wife. “James!” she scolded. “That is hardly the sort of news one hands over so casually.”
“But it answers his question, does it not? Offspring do not arrive by the mailcoach.”
“I must beg your pardon. I have intruded upon private matters,” Christopher said, “and such was not my intention. The truth is that I’ve been having this argument with my ward—”
“With your ward?” Summersby echoed. “You are discussing marital relations with your nineteen-year-old ward?”
“Peripherally, yes, but not in the way in which you think.”
“My lord,” the Duchess of Summersby said sternly, “perhaps you ought to bring the girls to supper some night so that we can meet them. That might reassure them that marriage need not be intimidating.”
Summersby turned his head to study his wife.
“Brilliant!” he said. “She’s clever, is she not?”
“Very,” Christopher said in relief. “I shall be delighted to do so and I believe that the Connolly sisters will appreciate the invitation. They are schoolgirls and I’m fearful that suddenly setting them into the middle of the social swirl may put their marriageability at risk.”
“Why?”
“Miss Prudence Connolly is very outspoken,” Christopher said. “She is forthright, does not temper her words or even consider their effect before she utters them, has no sense of what is proper for a young woman to say and regards herself as an expert in any subject upon which she speaks.”
“And her sister?”
“Miss Phoebe Connolly is timid, shy, retiring, hasn’t two words to say for herself, is vague on any matters that require an opinion and is an enigma only because she is so lacking in animation.”
“Then which is it, Henton?” Summersby demanded. “You decry each sister for having the qualities which the other lacks. Do you want a demure little miss who does not venture a thought of her own, or do you want a bold-tongued woman who speaks as she thinks? You seem to be stranded between the two.”
“I don’t want anything,” Christopher objected. “I only want to get the two nuisances off my hands and into marriage so that my life is my own again.”
“Then bring them to supper this week,” the Duchess encouraged. “We shall meet them and help; you with the launching of your wards into society.”
“I shall be everlastingly grateful,” Christopher said fervently.
That night, after their valet and lady’s maid had left and the married duo was comfortably ensconced in their bed, Georgette said to the Duke, “James . . . do you think that Christopher is perhaps smitten with one of his wards?”
“I should think it very unlikely. He’s not at all fond of inexperienced young misses,” Summersby said frankly. “He’s rather more inclined to ladies of experience.”
“Perhaps... but there’s something that he’s not saying.”
“I thought him quite vocal on the matter. I don’t know what you feel was omitted. He’s tied down as a guardian and he doesn’t like it above half. He wants rid of the girls but he wants to do right by them in finding a decent sort of husband for each one, as the two sisters are such opposites in character.” Her husband turned over on his side and placed his hand over her belly where the next heir to the dukedom, as yet undetectable, was sprouting. “He sounded as if he’s in a muddle. All that talk of passion . . . I’ve no idea what he was asking.”
“I wish you had not disclosed our news, James,” his wife said. “People will know soon enough and in the meantime, it’s quite nice to have our own secret joy.”
“Henton isn’t going to tell anyone. It’s not the sort of news that men share, you know. Women are much more alert to that sort of thing. A man is quite content to ignore the business until he’s presented with the evidence.
“Is that how you feel?”
“Not when we’re together, no, of course not. I’m giddy at the thought of our baby. But I’d never admit to it at White’s.”
“Men are so peculiar,” Georgette sighed. “How are women ever to understand you?”
“It’s not men who are impossible to comprehend, my love. It’s the fair sex. We are so bewitched by your many charms that we can barely keep our wits about us. In most cases—ours being the exception—courtship is an excruciating ordeal of absurd expectations and painful restraint. I call it nonsense that in most courtships, the affianced couple haven’t even kissed until they are married. What nonsense! What if you kiss your wife and find that you don’t like it at all?”
“Or she finds that she doesn’t like it?”
“You liked it rather well, as I recall,” he said smugly.
“As did you,” his wife replied, giving him a tap on the cheek that reminded him of the fiery start to their courtship.
“Yes, yes I did. Once I kissed you, I couldn’t imagine ever kissing another woman. I don’t know what I’d have done if you refused me. Gone to my grave a lonely old bachelor, I suppose. There’s no denying it, Georgette; after meeting you, no other woman would do for me and that’s a fact.”
Georgette curled up closer to him, resting her head upon his chest. “Do you suppose that is what the Earl was trying to say with all his talk about passion?”
Summersby wrapped his arm around his wife. “I shouldn’t think so. Henton’s no romantic schoolboy, you know. I hear that there are women coming and going in and out of his house as if he’s hiring for the position of maitresse en titre.”
“James! That’s an appalling thing to say! Where do you hear such things?”
“Here and there. White’s is full of talk, you know. But you heard him yourself, when he spoke of ladies—well, women, to be more accurate—coming by to rekindle old flames.”
“I thought he meant that ladies of his acquaintance were calling on him.”
“Ladies don’t call on bachelors, my dearest.”
“Oh, yes, that’s true. But surely, with his wards there, he would not entertain those women at home? Would he?”
“No,” Summersby said, “he would not. He has a sense of what’s proper when it comes down to it, and if he wants to marry the wards off, he knows he’s obliged to be as upstanding as the Dean of Westminster. At least for as long as his guardianship lasts. Which is why he’s in such a hurry to marry the girls off.”
“He won’t force the girls to marry, will he? So that he can have his freedom returned to him?’
“I shouldn’t think so,” Summersby said. “How the devil should I know? Anyone less inclined to be a guardian of two marriageable girls than Christopher Ambrose is a mystery to me. But he’s not a beast. I doubt if he’s particularly interested in the girls making a love match, but he won’t marry them off against their will. At least,” Summersby said, “I don’t believe he would.”
“He mustn’t,” Georgette said. “It would be too horrible to marry without love. That is what we must impress upon him. And upon the girls. They have no one to turn to in London, James. We must befriend them and help introduce them to society.”
“I suppose we must,” Summersby said without enthusiasm. �
�It’s certain that if Henton tries to do this on his own, he’ll jinx the girls’ chances for sure. The ton will assume that he’s ridding himself of two mistresses. Twins, no less. The wrong sort would be attracted to that venture.”
“Really, James, I am glad that we spend a great deal of our time apart from the ton. The people you speak of sound quite—predatory.”
“They are predatory, dearest. Henton knows it. I doubt that he wants his wards to end up as prey.”
SIX
It had not taken very long before Mrs Harriet Truman, his housekeeper, and the Connolly twins had joined forces.
Mrs Truman made no secret of the fact that she disapproved of the women who showed up on the doorstep, “bold as brass, coming to see your lordship with no proper escort and no chaperone.”
“Yes, Mrs Truman, I am aware of the impropriety of their calls,” Christopher told her after he had ushered Gemma Trilby out the door.
“Showing more of their bosom than they ought,” Mrs Truman continued. “And their ankles,” she added. “Those women don’t know how to be ladies. Showing their ankles! What kind of lesson is that for the young gels?”
Christopher sighed. He was well aware, Miss Prudence Connolly having lost no time in telling him, that his female callers were as depraved as Jezebel. She too had noted the ankles.
“Yes, Mrs Truman,” he said. “I am aware of the matter and I have told Benton that I am not to be at home should any of the er—women call again. I don’t believe they will, however.”
“That sort,” Mrs Truman warned darkly, “They know when they’ve got a likely bit on the line, begging your lordship’s pardon for speaking so frank, like. They’ll not let go unless the line is cut.”
“I have cut the line, Mrs Truman. I assure you. I intend to live a life of unimpeachable probity for as long as the twins are in my care.”
“It wouldn’t do you harm to live that way after they’re gone, you know. Poor, motherless, fatherless orphans, they need guidance.”
“I’m sure that you are serving them very well in that position,” Christopher said.
“Miss Prudence, she’s that displeased at the women coming by here,” Mrs Truman said.
“Miss Prudence is bound to be displeased by anything I do,” Christopher said. “She’s a vinegary sort of girl.”
“Spirited, I should say, my lord. Spirited. But I didn’t come up here to talk of the goings-on. I came up to your study to see if you would like me to teach the girls a bit about managing a household. Preparing the menus, checking over the accounts, that sort of thing. I don’t think they’ve learned much that’s practical, and with no mother to teach them, they’ll be heading into marriage sadly unprepared for the duties that will be theirs.”
“That would be greatly appreciated, Mrs Truman, thank you for thinking of it. Yes, yes, please follow through on that. We are due to dine at the Summersbys tonight and it would be as well if we could return the invitation to welcome them, say, before month’s end. Perhaps you could instruct the girls in all that needs to be seen to?”
“I’d be happy to, my lord. And, my lord?” Mrs Truman paused.
“Yes, Mrs Truman?” Christopher responded politely, wondering what additional transgression he was to be chided for.
“It’s not my place, but perhaps the Duchess could take the young women shopping? For frocks? I know they’re in mourning, but a crow won’t catch a husband.”
“Frocks! Yes, certainly, I’m very glad you thought of that. I shall ask the Duchess if she would be willing to take on that task. The less said about their deceased father, the better, and if they can be persuaded to wear a colour other than black, it would be to their advantage.”
Mrs Truman nodded sagely.
“Even a dove is better than a crow,” she said.
“And a peacock better yet, eh?”
“They’re far too young to be peacocks,” she said.
“Yes, well, peacocks are males anyway. Mrs Truman, you unfailingly put me right.”
“Will you be dining in for lunch, my lord?”
“No, no, I’m afraid I have business commitments.”
“Very well, sir.” The expression on Mrs Truman’s stern visage left no doubt as to what she thought of his business commitments.
The truth was that Christopher found it easier to avoid the twins at lunchtime, since sharing the evening meal in the dining room was sufficiently taxing.
Miss Prudence Connolly did not lack for criticisms of his conduct and she seemed to find the dining room particularly well suited for the delivery of lectures.
He could not help but respond in defence of himself, until, at some point between the soup and the joint, he would find himself in a sharp-tongued row with the outspoken Miss Connolly while her sister kept her head down as she ate and the attending servants, following the lead of the unreadable Benton, managed to maintain a complete absence of expression on their faces. The exchanges were pointed and lively and Christopher enjoyed the opportunity to land a riposte upon Miss Connolly as much as she enjoyed doing the same to him.
However, they were the only ones to find the exchanges enlivening and he hoped that, for the sake of the Summersbys and Miss Phoebe Connolly, Miss Prudence Connolly would find it within herself to be polite as a guest.
He had heard no more about the intentions to go to a nunnery and he had not asked, satisfying himself with instructing his groom and stable lads not to take Miss Connolly anywhere out of town without his express permission. He learned from the groom that Miss Prudence Connolly was very fond of riding and that she did so astride. It was scandalous, of course, but as she did so early in the morning when fashionable folk were still abed, he supposed there was no great harm in it.
Miss Phoebe Connolly was rather frightened of horses and did not ride, except in a carriage or vehicle of some sort. Upon learning that she was fond of reading, he had encouraged her to make free of his library and could not comprehend why she had given him such a fearful look in response.
Mrs Truman was no ladies’ maid, and neither of the twins had much notion of fashion, so he was feeling trepidation at the thought of how they would appear for the dining engagement at the Summersbys. He was relieved to see that they did own dresses which, although dyed black for mourning, were less dowdy than the ones he had seen thus far. They needed new hats, however, that was apparent and he resolved to entreat the Duchess of Summersby to take the girls shopping before any entertainments were planned.
“The Duchess of Summersby . . . was she not kidnapped by her husband?” Prudence inquired when they were in the Henton carriage and on their way.
“Miss Connolly,” Christopher said firmly, “I hope that you will not insult our hosts by asking impertinent questions about their courtship.”
“Was she not a runaway bride?” Prudence asked him. “I am sure that I heard she was.”
“And how, might I ask, did you hear anything while you were at school?”
“We were at school, we were not locked in the Bastille. We heard news of England.”
“My lord,” Phoebe said, “please be assured that my sister will not ask embarrassing questions of our hosts. We were taught better manners than you may have guessed.”
“Having seen little of them,” Christopher said, “I could not have guessed.”
“We are as well-mannered as we can be, given the circumstances in which we are living. Ladies of pleasure calling upon you with no thought to what such a visit might intimate to others—”
“As the callers do not ask to see you, nor do they in any way burden you with their presence, I fail to see how their calling matters in the least, and I would advise you to remember that you are a chit of a schoolgirl, not a matron and you do not have the liberty or the license to utter opinions for which you have no expertise.”
“Please!” Phoebe intervened, holding out her arms in entreaty as if by her posture she could separate the combatants.
“Will you each not cease this c
onstant bickering? If we are to be cordial guests in another’s home, we must not arrive in a state of rancour. It would be most disrespectful. Can we not behave, this night, as if amity and not discord ruled us?”
“Phe,” her sister said, “I am sure that I would never be rude as a guest. I cannot answer for our guardian, of course.”
“I assure you,” he said immediately, “that I have never been accused of lacking proper deportment as a guest.”
“It is only in your own home that you choose to be boorish, then.”
“It is my home and I can be whatever I please.”
“Stop!” Phoebe raised her voice. “I will not go inside tonight if you will not both agree to cease this row for the night. I will sit inside the carriage and enjoy the serenity of solitude instead. I mean what I say,” she warned.
Both her sister and her guardian stared at her in amazement.
“Phe, of course I will not argue,” Prudence said first “I would not for anything cause you disappointment. Of course you must be one of our party tonight, is that not so, my lord?”
“Certainly,” Christopher said. “I meant nothing else. Tonight, Miss Connolly, you shall be the arbitrator of my conduct and if I, in any way, displease you, I give you my permission to empty a glass of wine over my head. I do not, however, give your sister the same permission.”
Prudence looked as if she were about to respond accordingly, but a glance at her sister’s countenance silenced her words. Chastened by the gentle Phoebe’s chiding, both the Earl and Prudence maintained a polite silence for the remainder of the journey and by the time they arrived at the Summersbys, the trio had achieved a truce.
The Duchess of Summersby was gracious in her greeting as she welcomed the twins.
“We are so pleased to meet you,” she said. “I hope that you will accompany me on calls soon.”
“We would be delighted,” Phoebe answered for both of the sisters. “We know no one in London.”