Satyr’s Son: A Georgian Historical Romance (Roxton Family Saga Book 5)

by Brant, Lucinda

  “The mausoleum is opened up each morning while my mother is in residence at Crecy Hall,” Henri-Antoine told her. “She visits my father once a week. And there are times during the year when it is open to celebrate anniversaries, and of course on those days when it receives a new resident.”

  “It is a beautiful place… And welcoming…”

  “I thought you would think so. I do. I’ve been coming here since my teens. At first it was not a happy place, for obvious reasons. But my mother finds great comfort in spending time with my father, who was taken away from her much too early in her life. She brings flowers, and Kinross often accompanies her. And when I’m in residence I will often stop in on one of my rides, to see my father, and now that Martin—now Martin has joined my father, I-I come to-to see him, too…”

  “Are all the dukes of Roxton in residence?” Lisa asked conversationally, hearing the break in Henri-Antoine’s voice at the mention of Martin, and so she hoped her question would help him make a recover.

  She had wandered over to stand directly under the glass oculus, to bathe in the light, and then moved off to study the walls painted with classical figures in white robes and wreaths, and carrying musical instruments and dancing in a never-ending procession that remained unbroken around the interior. The procession weaved in and out of the alcoves set into the walls, each alcove flanked by a burning taper. A few of the alcoves were vacant, awaiting occupation, while others contained a marble statue of its resident, some of a man and a woman, reclining on polished granite platforms carved with names and dates, and under which was the stone casket that held the coffin containing the mortal remains of the ancestor immortalized in stone.

  “They are all here,” Henri-Antoine said at last, watching Lisa and through her eyes, enjoying this first visit to the last resting place of his ancestors. “Except my grandfather, my father’s father. He died before he could become duke, and as he lived in France for most of his life and married a Frenchwoman, is buried along with her in Paris.”

  “Madeleine Julie Salvan Hesham, the Marchioness of Alston, and whose ring you-you wanted me to have?”

  “Yes. And all the duchesses are here,” he continued. “And when her time comes my mother will be laid to rest here, too, beside my father. And like him, she will have a seat in the mausoleum—”

  “Seat?”

  “Come. I’ll show you.”

  “What about the Duke of Kinross?” Lisa asked, staying put. She did not like the idea of Elsie’s papa being left out of the family group.

  Henri-Antoine came over to her, and smiled down at her frown. He understood at once.

  “My father is the love of my mother’s life, but in this life, the one she has now without him, Kinross is the love of her life. Fate has favored her with two great loves.”

  “She deserves nothing less.”

  “Yes. I think so too.”

  “And will he—will His Grace of Kinross have a place here with her?”

  He heard her hesitancy, and his smile widened into a grin.

  “What a romantic you are, Lisa Crisp!”

  She pouted. “I am not ashamed to agree with you.”

  He flicked her cheek. “And I am not ashamed to say that I am glad you are.”

  She smiled. “So. Tell me. Will he have a place here with your mother?”

  “He will. But not all of him.”

  Lisa gave a start, intrigued, as he knew she would be, by his cryptic reply. She leaned in and whispered. “Not all of him? Oh! Which parts? And what is happening to the rest of him?”

  Henri-Antoine laughed out loud and shook his head. His laugh echoed and he put a hand to his mouth. “Dear me! Now look at what you have made me do!”

  She pouted again, but could not hold back her smile. “You have no one to blame but yourself for that outburst. You baited me with that reply. Do not deny it! You knew I would ask just such a question. Surely you did not expect me to pretend to be revolted, or squeamish?”

  “I am guilty as charged. And my father would be most impressed. Come. I want you to meet him—Ah! But first, Kinross… His heart will be interred here, with my mother. The rest of his earthly remains must be buried on Leven Island, which is in the middle of a loch in Scotland, and is the last resting place of the chiefs of his clan, and the dukes of Kinross.”

  “How romantic,” Lisa said on a sigh, satisfied with this outcome.

  “I knew you would think so. Others recoil as soon as they hear the bit about the heart—”

  “Why should they? It’s not as if he’s having it cut out while he is still alive! It is a wonderfully romantic gesture, and I understand why he would leave that part of himself here with your mother. I’m sure your father does not mind in the least, and approves, because His Grace of Kinross loves her just as deeply as he does.”

  “I’m sure he does, too. Come.”

  He took her hand and they walked across and sat on a marble bench set back from the wall and directly in front of one monument in particular. Vases of white roses had been placed on the floor and on the monument’s lower heavy plinth of red marble, a row of candles burned brightly.

  Staring out at the world in white marble was a life-size statue of a nobleman seated on a high-backed chair. He was dressed in frock coat and breeches, had across his chest a ribbon, the Star and Garter, and across his shoulders was draped a ducal robe on which he sat and which pooled at his buckled shoes.

  Lisa knew immediately this nobleman’s identity, and had no doubts the sculpture was to the life. Henri-Antoine was in this nobleman’s image, from high forehead to cheekbones, to strong nose and square chin. The resemblance was uncanny. If there was a point of difference it was in the nobleman’s mouth. The Duke possessed a thin-lipped sneer, whereas Henri-Antoine had that oh-so-kissable mouth. She kissed him now, and said with a cheeky smile,

  “Your father is an exceedingly handsome man.”

  Henri-Antoine grabbed her hand and kissed her fingers, too overcome with emotion to speak. She wondered if she had offended him, and thought her bad-mannered for kissing him in front of his father’s tomb, which was not giving the fifth duke or the occasion the proper veneration. After all, this was her first visit to a mausoleum, and this was the last resting place of an ancient noble family, and he the son of this duke who stared out at the world as if he owned it.

  “Forgive me. I meant no disrespect. I was just so happy to finally meet him, and to see that you are indeed in his image. I’ve not yet seen the portraits in the Gallery. Teddy says there is one in particular of your parents, not long after they were married. She says the Duke is so like you, or should I say, you are so like him, that the hairs rise on her arms every time she looks at it… I do not doubt he would’ve been pleased at the resemblance, but he would have been prouder of how you conduct your life and what you have set out to achieve.”

  “There is no need to apologise,” he muttered, still holding her hand. “He would have enjoyed meeting you very much…” He rallied and said in a clearer voice. “That his portrait sets the hairs up on the arms of young ladies he would’ve found amusing in the extreme. I do.” He smiled then surprised Lisa by turning to address his father’s effigy, and in French. “Mon père, this is Lisa, the girl you told me about in your letter. Is she not just as you described her to me? And more beautiful and more clever than even you could have foreseen…”

  Lisa stared up at the fifth duke in awe. Finally she found her voice.

  “He told you about-about me—in a letter? But—but he has never met me! You were only a boy when he died. He could not have foreseen my existence. So how is it possible?”

  “He did not need to meet you. In his letter he described the girl I would marry, and that girl is you.”

  “Perhaps—perhaps he told you about the girl who loves you and with whom you would share a house in the country. Is that not the same thing?”

  “No. He left me a letter to be opened in the event I was contemplating marrying for love. Had I m
ade a dynastic match, one not based on my feelings, then the letter would have remained unopened, and thus unread.”

  “And you read his letter yesterday before you had Michel put those little notes in my writing box?”

  “I did.”

  “And inside this letter was your grandmother’s ring.”

  “Her wedding band. Yes.”

  “But if you had never opened the letter, her wedding band would have been lost forever!”

  “Not forever. No doubt a descendant would have eventually opened the letter and found the ring. But lost to me, yes.”

  “He-he must have been confident you would marry for love.”

  Henri-Antoine again kissed the back of her hand, and smiled. “So now you know. I not only resemble him in looks, but in temperament. He married for love, and for no other reason. And that is the only reason for me to marry. What about you?”

  “Me? I-I never thought I would marry… I dreamed about it. What girl doesn’t? And of course I dreamed of marrying for love. But I also dreamed of marrying a man who would—who would love me for me, for myself, and-and that is the stuff of dreams, isn’t it?”

  Henri-Antoine kept his features perfectly composed, though his top lip gave a twitch, when he asked, “Then, surely, last night, all your dreams came true…?”

  Lisa nodded, so forlorn she failed to see that twitch, her eyes downcast and shoulders slumped. She sniffed. “I-I never expected they would. I-I was caught off-guard. I was so dull I did not even suspect that ring was a wedding band.” She looked up at him through her lashes. “I-I still want to live with you in your house in the country, even if it is in sin, and without a wedding band.”

  “But I do not want to live with you in sin. I cannot.”

  “No?” Lisa repeated in a small voice. “Why not? I thought—I thought we had an agreement…” She glanced up at the fifth duke. “Is it because of the letter your father wrote? Would he not approve?”

  “No. It is because I love you. There. I have said it again, and I can keep on saying it until you are convinced. And because I love you, I want to marry you, and I have brought you here, before my father, to convince you of my sincerity.”

  Lisa smiled into his eyes. “I love you, too.”

  “Yes, you do. And so you have told me, and with sincerity from the first. I am the dull one. It took me a little longer to realize I had—as Jack calls it—fallen off the cliff into love with you.”

  Lisa looked at their fingers entwined, and then up at him. “If we love one another then surely we can live together in sin—”

  “—until such time as I decide to marry someone else…?”

  She sat up, hopeful. “Yes. That may never happen, and I hope it won’t, but if I were your mistress, you would still be free to marry, and—”

  “Don’t be an infant, Lisa!” he demanded harshly. “I love you. I want to marry you. I offer you my grandmother’s wedding band, and you throw it all back in my face with the notion that one day I will leave you and marry someone else? What type of man—nay, monster—do you think I am? Do you honestly believe me capable of such a despicable act? If you do, then you do not love me at all!”

  “I-I do believe you! I know you would never leave me! You are not a monster. It is me! I’m the monster because-because I cannot give you what you have a right to expect as a husband, and for that alone you cannot marry me.”

  “If you tell me you cannot marry me because you do not love me, then I accept that. But if you are about to tell me you cannot marry me because you believe yourself to be barren, that is not a reason I accept. That makes no difference to me. I love you. I want to marry you—as you are.”

  Lisa sat up, big blue eyes blinking away tears, and stared at him, shocked. “You-you—know?”

  “I do now. Such an impediment may have swayed another man, but I am not like other men. And while I am sad for you, I am not greatly troubled that our marriage will remain childless. I believe fate has other plans for us.” He smiled. “I have a much grander vision, and with you at my side to help me, I hope to achieve great things, not for a handful of children, but for thousands of children, and their children’s children. That by harnessing the power of science we can advance medicine, and in so doing we will improve the health of this country’s most vulnerable subjects.” He shrugged. “And there is the small detail that if you do not marry me I will not allow you to help me—”

  “You are threatening me?”

  He put up his chin. “I am. It is the only recourse I have left.”

  She glanced at the fifth duke’s monument and smiled crookedly. “It must be. He doesn’t scare me.”

  Henri-Antoine’s mouth dropped open, and then he laughed heartily. “Mon Dieu. You are the girl for me!”

  She giggled, then said seriously, “And your family, what will they think—”

  “My mother and brother are at this minute waiting for us to join them for nuncheon so my brother can make a formal announcement to the family.”

  “Announcement? Your brother and-and your mother?”

  “You’ve met my brother. How eager do you think he is for us to marry, when the alternative is us living in sin? And when I left them, my mother was having him draft a letter to Moore—he’s the Archbishop of Canterbury—requesting a special license. All going well, we’ll be married before the week is out.”

  “Before the end of the week?” Lisa was heady and happy and all at sea at one and the same time. She hardly knew what to say. So when Henri-Antoine dug in a pocket and held up his grandmother’s ring she marveled at him. “You brought it with you.”

  “I did. And now I would like to slip grandmère’s ring on your finger here, before my august parent, to seal our commitment. We can then toast our engagement with the family, and of course Teddy and Jack, who are also awaiting our news.”

  Lisa put out her hand, and he slipped the diamond and sapphire band on her finger, then kissed it. She then held up her hand and turned it this way and that, admiring the ring which fit her finger remarkably well.

  “Does everyone know we are here, and am I the only one who is surprised by this?”

  He leaned in and kissed her. “For someone who is exceedingly clever, and who is perceptive about the needs of others, you have been rather dull-witted about your own, my darling.”

  “What I need, my lord,” she breathed, kissing him again, “is for you to kiss me properly to seal our bargain—and then I will truly believe this is happening to me.”

  A little while later, when they came up for air, he stood, and helped her to do likewise. He went forward and briefly placed his hand across the bridge of his father’s shoe, before stepping back and making him a quaint little bow. He then turned to Lisa with a smile and put out his hand.

  “I have one last detail to show you before we return to the house.”

  They walked not half-a-dozen steps toward the double doors, when he stopped and turned to face an alcove, his back to the light streaming through the oculus. Lisa wondered why this particular alcove because it was empty of monuments and tombs to ancient ancestors.

  “Do you remember, at the folly, telling me about guide books—”

  “—to grand estates? The ones visitors and travelers use to know something about the families and homes of the nobility? Of course.”

  “And how you said that if we decided to remain in bed forever we would eventually become skeletons and be written up in a guide book as some sort of curiosity?”

  Lisa giggled. “Oh dear. Did I?”

  “You did. And you said such a discovery would be worthy of an entry in any guidebook.”

  “It would.”

  He indicated the alcove. “This is much better.”

  Lisa stared at the painted wall and the space, a niche large enough for a sizeable monument, two at a pinch, and she peered at Henri-Antoine with an inkling of an idea, but she could hardly believe it so let him explain further.

  “Had you refused me, this was my fina
l ploy—my wonderfully romantic gesture, one you at least would appreciate—to convince you of my sincerity in wanting to marry you. This will be my final resting place. When that time comes, hopefully far, far into the future, I will join the rest of my family here. And when your time comes,” he added, drawing her closer and putting an arm around her waist and then kissing her temple, “you will join me. And Lord and Lady Henri-Antoine Hesham, those great medical philanthropists, will be written up in guidebooks, and not only will family come to pay their respects, but hopefully we will have done enough good work in our lifetimes that we’ll have the odd visit from a grateful physician or two. In any case, we will be here together, our monument an earthly symbol to our eternal love for one another.”

  Lisa looked up at him through a film of tears and when he turned to her, she put her arms up around his neck. She was so happy. “That is indeed a wonderfully romantic gesture, and I love you even more, if that is possible. I always thought fairy tales were just that, tales, but you have made my fairy tale come true.”

  “But of course,” he drawled, and winked. “My mother is, after all, a renowned fairy godmother. Come. I cannot wait to introduce my future wife to the family…”

  EPILOGUE

  THE SMART TOWN carriage with its four outriders pulled up in front of Warner’s Dispensary and immediately attracted a crowd. Those walking the footpaths stopped to stare. Patients entering the dispensary alerted those inside to the arrival, and soon the ill and the not-so-ill were spilling out onto the street to discover just who was inside such an expensive town chariot. A liveried footman hopped down from his box at the rear of the carriage and after pulling down the steps, opened wide the door. Two of the four outriders dismounted, and such was their height and width that the crowd stepped back without a word and just a look.

  A gentleman dressed all in black stepped down from the carriage. He went not to the entrance used by the sick poor, but to the one for the exclusive use of private patients. He did not need to knock. The door was open, and standing on the threshold was the Warners’ butler, waiting to welcome the distinguished visitors on behalf of his master.