Aunt Gertrude's Red Hot Christmas Beau: Christmas Belles, Book 6

by DeLand, Cerise

  “And what has happened between them?”

  Gertrude had seen Tain and Lady Goddard talking at the greenery gathering the other day, at her dinner table and in the hall on various occasions, but both were her guests. Upon them, she did not eavesdrop and she did not snoop. “I do not know, Your Grace. For that information, you must ask your son.”

  * * *

  He was speechless. How many people would dare plot against his specific wishes? Few. So few. That this woman whom he enjoyed, valued and had such amorous feelings toward, would plan to manipulate him in this most significant dynastic issue appalled him. How could she?

  He wanted to bellow. He wanted to lament. He wanted to—

  She picked up her skirts and walked round him.

  She’d dismiss him?

  “Those guns,” she announced. “I need them. Come if you wish.”

  “I do wish!” Bother the woman! What the hell? Of course, he’d come. A missing young lady was a more urgent issue than barking at his son and his hostess.

  He strode after her. “You could have told me he was here, Madam.”

  She whipped off her purple turban and threw it toward a chair. Her hair free, she looked wild and imperial. “I should have.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “I was surprised by your arrival.”

  “Not an excuse,” he grumbled.

  “No?” She halted to glare at him. “Then there is this. You would have left, Your Grace.”

  “You might have given me fair warning so I didn’t appear a fool.”

  “You didn’t,” she said over her shoulder as she marched on. “I’m the foolish one.”

  “Didn’t you stop to think what would happen if we all appeared? All three of us?”

  “No. I anticipated you meeting Penn, but not that Tain would come. For whatever blame there is in that, I apologize. But for weeks now, I’ve gone headlong into planning this gathering. I wanted to create a spectacular Christmas house party. Why? At first, to marry off my nieces. My charming, accomplished, beautiful girls. And to create a wonderful party for my friends.” She stopped and gazed into his eyes. “And loved ones.”

  What could he say to that? “I understand, but this—this combination of Tain and this woman whom he should not have?”

  “So you declare.”

  “The rules of the entail declare it!”

  “Oh? Now the entail says that, does it? The title? In the beginning, you told Tain he could not marry her because she was poor. Back then your reason was money.” She flung wide the door to the gun room. “Now? A decade later?”

  He harrumphed. “She still has no money.”

  “Nor does he need it.”

  “No, but—”

  She stopped, sorrow lining her features. “He’s been married twice. Widowed twice. She’s been married three times. Widowed each demmed time, Harlow. The toll? Five spouses, dead in their churchyards! Don’t you think, for the sake of Tain’s and his lady’s happiness, they deserve to find out for themselves if their fondness is really love…or infatuation?”

  “With three husbands, she has borne no children,” he pointed out.

  “And with two wives, he has only daughters,” she said with arched brows.

  “If he does not produce a male heir—”

  “Did you ever think he might not have tried terribly hard to get one?”

  “Oh, now, Trudy—”

  She shoved her hands to her hips, like an angry fishwife. “When we argue, you may not call me Trudy! Besides, you married for love. I did too. You liked the passion. You told me so. Does that kind of bliss occur with anyone? Can you just take down your breeches and expect to get a rise—?”

  “Enough!”

  She drove a fingertip to his chest. “Hear me, sir. I am a pillar of Brighton society. Known for my flamboyance, my dinner parties and musicales? Yes. A bit outré? I am. But this holiday season, since we’ve come out of mourning after the death and horrid scandal created by my nieces’ father, I’ve worked for a return to our family’s rightful place in society. I love a party, Harlow. And this one will go down in many diaries as the triumph of this Christmas season. Yes! Why? Because here we’ve witnessed three war heroes return to claim the loves of their lives. We’ve seen a few couples kiss each other in public. A few men have had their pockets emptied by the after-dinner card sharps. A man, a guest, has been arrested for smuggling. Not what I anticipated. But it adds to my fame—and my success. And now one of my nieces is missing.”

  “Tru—”

  She threw him a warning look. “And if you wish to make a scene with your son that is your choice.”

  A shot rang out.

  They stared into each other’s eyes.

  A commotion rose up from the stable block.

  “Dear god.” He took her arm. “Where are those guns of yours, my dear?”

  Chapter 5

  She and Harlow ran out the kitchen door, he with a hunting rifle, she with her husband’s old pistol. In front of them ran men from the house, guests and servants alike. Alastair and Gertrude’s step-son Griff took the lead, while Neville Vaughn and two other gentlemen guests were on their heels. Her nieces, Delphine and Marjorie, rushed right behind them. Both young ladies sprinted in their night attire, hair wild, as they rushed toward their sister.

  No sooner had Gertrude and Harlow spied Bee than they gasped. She walked out from the stables, her father’s old pistol pointed at Lord Hallerton, another guest.

  Alastair ran toward her, his own pistol aimed at the man.

  Gertrude could hear her niece as she told him, "I caught this thief in my room. Imagine. Stealing me away on Christmas morning."

  Alastair glared at Hallerton. "Stealing as a regular practice? Astonishing.”

  "He knows about Blue Hawker,” Bee said. “We must learn why."

  "He's in league with Carlson," he told her as he took the old heavy pistol from her shaking hand and caught her against him. "A Customs official came to the Hall this morning and has taken away Carlson. He’ll return for this one."

  Bee sank against her beau. "Thank heavens."

  "I know he'll be most grateful for your services, my darling." He handed his weapon over to Bromley.

  Griff ran toward them.

  "We'll dispense with this man," Bromley told him.

  “Indeed we will,” said Gertrude as Marjorie and Delphine embraced their oldest sister and assured themselves that she was unhurt. “We must get the Customs man to take him in. He’ll not hurt you again.”

  Griff shrugged out of his coat and draped it over Marjorie’s shoulders, then drew her close to his side. He glanced at Gertrude, smiled and she understood his priority was to soothe the woman he loved. “Let’s go into the house, shall we?” he said.

  Bromley put his own frock coat over Delphine, then dabbed at her tears. “You three can talk in minutes. Come.”

  "Join us up at the house as you're able," Griff said with a wink to Alastair.

  Another male guest hurried Hallerton toward the manor with a pistol to the man’s back.

  “I’m appalled this happened to my niece.” Gertrude shook with anger. “The nerve of him to come here and assault her! How could I have prevented this?”

  “You would not have known his intentions, my dear.” Harlow put an arm around her shoulders. “She’s well, unharmed. That’s the important thing. Come inside. You are undone.”

  * * *

  Harlow paced before the windows in Gertrude’s small back parlor. He gazed upon the falling snowflakes and pondered that his relationship with his only son was suddenly as cold.

  Snow had begun to fall as all of them at the Hall had attended church this morning. Now it lay thick upon the ground. The sky was a heavy white and did not bode well. Attendance at Trudy’s ball tonight would be affected. She had fretted about it in the carriage on the return home, even though news of the captured arrest of two smugglers at her house had turned her into a celebrity among the parishioners
.

  A few minutes ago, Harlow had sent Simms the butler off to Theo asking him to attend him here in this room.

  Odd, that we are at opposites and I should think of him not as Tain, but as Theo.

  He feared the results of such an encounter. An argument, certainly. His son’s breach of their accord was such a new phenomenon—and Harlow had little practice dealing with rebellious people.

  He checked his timepiece. Would Theo refuse him a few minutes to talk? Such seemed unlike him. But then…

  The snick of the door latch had him turning to face the man who was his first born, his pride and one of his greatest joys.

  “Sir,” Theo nodded and closed the door behind him. He strode forward. His son Theodore Alphonse Henley was a handsome fellow. He resembled his mother in his pale blond hair, but his eyes were Harlow’s, as were his height and breadth and his stentorian tone of voice. If Harlow had been vain about how closely Theo resembled him, he had also been honored by his accomplishments.

  Theo had been an ebullient child, an expert equestrian and a fine scholar at university. He’d become a renowned steward of his extensive estate, prudent, investing in new plows and grain silos, as well as other modern machinery to improve the lot of farmers. Theo had taken to wife a young woman, who was not as much to his preference as the one he was here to court. Although Harlow doubted Theo had nurtured passion for the girl, he had liked her. He’d been faithful to her, as he’d been to his next wife, as well. More’s the pity both young women had died in childbirth. And to Harlow’s knowledge, Theo was a devoted father to his motherless daughters. He possessed other traits to commend him. If Theo drank, it was not to excess. If he gambled, he lost nothing of great significance. Harlow knew all this. Newspapers reported far too much of people’s private lives…and so did Harlow’s friends.

  So he did not expect any disrespect from Theo. And yet as he halted before him, Harlow saw impatience and frustration written plainly upon his son’s features.

  “I have little time, Father.” His jewel-like gaze burned hot into Harlow’s. “Upbraid me if you wish, but make it short. I wish to simply say the obvious.”

  Fear cut through Harlow like a knife. He’d never heard that tone of intolerance from his son. Might Theo sever him from his life? That would kill him forevermore. “Will you sit, Theo?”

  “No. I will tell you what you need to know. I came here of my own accord. In fact, I was so bold as to invite myself to the Countess of Marsden’s Christmas party. She did not invite me. You must not upbraid her for something she did not do.”

  “So I have learned. I’ve held my tongue on that rebuke.”

  His admission only briefly registered on his son’s face as relief. “I invited myself and hoped the Countess would accept me. I learned from friends that Penelope would be here. This year, alone as I was at home and free of my mourning obligations, I decided to come if the Countess would have me.”

  “She would not refuse you.”

  “So I hoped.” Theo glanced toward the windows, the snow falling fast in large lacy flakes. “I had the governess pack Violet and Suzanna’s belongings and I sent all three to Annabelle’s for Christmas.”

  After he’d received Theo’s brief letter telling him he sought diversion at a house party for the holiday, Harlow had worried that his granddaughters would be alone without their father for the season. But good man that Theo was, he’d sent his girls to the love and comfort of his sister’s home. There they might enjoy their cousins’ company for a few weeks.

  “And now?” Harlow asked as if he did not already know in his heart what Theo wished to accomplish here. “What are you about?”

  “I have renewed my acquaintance with Lady Goddard. I’ve conversed, dined and laughed with her. She has endured many of the same challenges I have. She had to marry one she was told to wed. He was kind, though she did not love him. I have not asked about her next two husbands, though I sense those matches were practical. Not passionate.”

  Harlow inhaled. “You had good wives.”

  “I did. I will say nothing against their good names. If I married each for less than love, I would not admit it to other than you and Penn. Nor would I sully my children’s births with any word less than praise for their mothers. But now, I am in a different position than ever I was before. I am a widower, twice over, with an understanding of women and marriage and death. I will be thirty-two on my next birthday and with two daughters to raise, I will not continue to do it with only a governess to teach them the joys of life.”

  Harlow opened his mouth to praise his son for this.

  But Theo put up a hand. “Let me finish, please. I love Lady Goddard. She is now again a widow. For the third time. As I am now a widower. I vow I will not miss this once-in-a lifetime opportunity to make her my wife. Mine. As I wished so long ago. She has little money. Whatever she has, she can keep. I have no need of more. She has a title, but I care not for her status. I can raise her from a baronet’s wife to my marchioness. She is thirty-one and I want her in my homes, in my arms and in my bed.”

  “Does she agree?”

  “I’ve not yet asked her. But I will. And I hope she graces me with her consent.”

  “Why would she not, Theo?” His heart ached for his son who’d suffered so much grief with the loss of two wives…and separation from this woman whom he’d always loved. And he…he was responsible for Theo’s loss of her hand so long ago. “If she loves you as you do her, then she’ll agree.”

  A dark despair shrouded Theo’s handsome features. “Oh, Father, you know why she may refuse me.”

  Harlow caught his breath. “Because of my objection?”

  “Never. Not after all she and I have suffered living apart.”

  Theo’s words stabbed him in the heart. But it was true. He had been so wrong. “What then? Would she refuse you because she has little as a dowry?”

  Theo gave a bitter laugh. “Nor would it be her insignificance, as you called it years ago, as a viscount’s youngest daughter. Now she is steps lower as a baronet’s widow.”

  Harlow sank to a chair. He felt suddenly so much older than his years.

  His son stared at him with bleak eyes. “Now she’ll refuse me because she believes that she is barren.”

  The words hit Harlow like a mallet. What he’d done so long ago had returned to pummel him.

  “My darling Penn has been so well trained by society that because she has never been with child from three husbands, she thinks she brings me nothing worth having.”

  Harlow heard the pain in his son’s voice and tears burned his lashes.

  Theo stilled, swallowing his own sorrows, then he pulled himself up to higher stature. “I must…I will convince her otherwise. I do not ask for your consent. Frankly, I care not if you never give it. I will not be bought or bribed or shamed or ridiculed. Nor will I reconsider. If after I am gone, my lands and yours and all our titles go to my cousin or his son, so be it. Our duchy will not be the first to fall to a cadet branch. My concern, instead, is with here and now. With the happiness and well-being of my tenants, with the two children I do have and with my own happiness. Today, Father, is a precious commodity. I will waste no more of mine wanting what others have told me I should not want or may not have. I can and will live as I wish. With a woman I love. May God grant that she’ll take me. Even after all these years.”

  Harlow stood up.

  “Excuse me, Father. I must leave you and find Penn. When I left her minutes ago, we argued and I must tell her how I adore her. I will propose marriage. I would not have her spend another hour without my declaration.”

  Pride in his son warred with his own self-interest. “Which is more important?” Harlow asked the empty room.

  Chapter 6

  “I want a light supper served here immediately, Simms.” She’d pulled the bell for her butler to appear in her rooms after she’d become alarmed to see Harlow downstairs in the small parlor. He’d been there for hours. She’d not disturbed
him but she worried about him. He stared into the fire, unmoving, attired in the same clothes he’d worn to church. Gertrude had to lure him from his brooding.

  “Madam.” Her butler nodded. “Any special menu?”

  She kneaded her hands together. She wracked her brain. What did Harlow love? “Soup. A light bouillon would be good. Potatoes, roasted, a few slices of beef. Or a pasty. And a fine red from the Rhone.”

  He stepped backward.

  “And tell my step-son’s valet to wait upon the duke here in two hours.”

  Simms cleared his throat, looking unsettled. Unusual for him to do that.

  “Blurt it out, Simms. What troubles you?”

  “Will the duke continue to sleep here, my lady?”

  “Yes.” I doubt he’s intent on leaving the Hall tonight. The snow would make travel difficult. “Unless he tells me otherwise.”

  “We could transfer him to the marquess’s room.”

  Tain had left hours ago, immediately after Penn had fled the house. On Christmas, too.

  What did young people think of when they argued? Not of the snow. Or the poor laboring horses. Or even if they donned the right hat. Gertrude had argued with Penn about her tiny toque teetering on her head. But Penn, tears on her cheeks, had climbed into the village coach she’d had Simms hire for her to run away from Tain on Christmas day—then sailed her silly hat to the ground.

  Gertrude frowned. All so much amiss here. “We might change his room. I’ll ask the duke if he’d prefer to switch. I go to him now.” If I only had my armor from that play I did in Drury Lane about Viking invaders. Hildegard of the Valkyrie! Ah, well, Harlow might once have laughed. Not now. Time to brave the storm.

  “And will you dress for the ball before we serve the duke his supper here? I’ll tell your maid.”

  She ran both hands over her temples. Surprised she wasn’t bald from pulling her hair out today, she offered a pained smile to her servant. “No. Afterward. Does all seem in good order for the ball?”