Christmas Brides (Three Regency Novellas) (20 page)

"Would you like to have the nurse collect Fanny?" Lady Broxbourne asked.

Elizabeth hugged the child tighter. "Not this first night. She's a bit frightened by the unfamiliar setting and people she doesn't know. I'll keep her with me."

There was a flicker of kindness in the older woman's gaze.

"Harry—I need to remember that he will now be called Broxbourne—wrote that you're the daughter of clergyman," the dowager said.

She could not help but wonder what else Harry had told his family about her. "Yes. I lost my papa three years ago."

"And your mother?" the dowager asked.

"She died when I was eight."

The dowager's brows lowered. "Have you no family?"

"It has been just Fanny and me."

"I, for one, will be happy we won't have to share you with any other family," Sarah said.

"That is very kind of you." Elizabeth's gaze went from Sarah to Susan. "Do you live at Farley Manor?"

"No. We're in Lincolnshire, but we come back to Farley for Christmas every year. It's such a wonderful place for the children."

"She dare not stay away from Farley too long because it's a severe deprivation for this grandmother not to be able to see my precious little lads," the dowager said.

So the woman was not as icy as her stiff blond demeanor at first suggested. Elizabeth wondered if she would ever feel such deep affection for her precious Fanny.

"Tell me," Elizabeth said, addressing Harry's mother, "has my husband learned of his father's passing?"

The older woman shrugged."I wrote the letter myself, but sometimes it's months before letters reach him."

"I asked Palmerston to see what he could do to ensure the letter was delivered to Harry, er, Broxbourne, as speedily as possible," Robert said.

"The Secretary of War?" Elizabeth asked.

He nodded.

"Robert's a member of the House of Commons," Susan explained.

Elizabeth had never met an M.P. before. Whatever had possessed her to come here? She wasn't of their world and did not belong here. It wasn't as if she really was Harry's wife. "Then I am most honored to meet you."

"As we're all happy to meet you," Susan said.

They would not think so if they knew the truth.

"We should have made the effort to make your acquaintance sooner, but my husband's grave state of health for so very long prevented me from doing so."

"I understand," Elizabeth said. "Was your husband a great deal older than you? I must own, you are much younger than I expected."

The dowager offered her another tight smile."My dear husband and I were separated by the same number of years as you and Harry."

Which was? Elizabeth had no idea how old Harry was, but she could not reveal how little she knew about him. She started to ask Susan her age, but she was so close in age and appearance to her brother, Elizabeth feared they might be twins, and if they were, his real wife would know such a thing. Of course, Susan had introduced herself as Harry's
eldest
sister. Did that mean eldest of all three sisters? Or did it mean she was older than Harry?

Perhaps there was a less obvious way to introduce the topic. Elizabeth turned to Susan. "Forgive me my ignorance, but which of you is eldest, you or Harry?" Even if they were twins, a twin always claimed to know which one drew breath first.

"Me," Susan answered. "I'm eight and twenty—a year almost to the day older than Harry."

The two younger sisters had come to sit upon the sofa near their mother. "My lady," Diana said to Elizabeth, making Elizabeth feel excessively awkward, "how did you meet Harry? Was it at Almack's?"

Even though Elizabeth was not of the
ton
, she knew about London's Almack's assembly rooms where only the cream of Society gained entrance. She shook her head. "I did not mingle in such high levels of Society. My father was a poor country parson."

"Then however did you meet my son?"

What was she to say? She could hardly tell them the truth. But, she suddenly realized, she could give them
some
of the truth. "We met at church."

Robert's mouth gaped open in astonishment. "Harry at church?"

Sarah eyed her with disbelief. "I cannot imagine my brother attending church in London when there are so many other claims on one's interest."

"That certainly doesn't sound like the Harry I know from Oxford," Robert said.

"I believe you all malign him," Elizabeth said good naturedly. "He seemed very close to God the day I met him, and I don't mean to alarm any of you, but he was most melancholy over returning to the Peninsula." Because it would be too distressful to his family, she could not reveal more, could not tell them he expected to die. She ought to change the subject. She turned back to face Susan. "Pray, how did you and Mr. Townshend meet?"

"I'm surprised Harry didn't tell you. You see, Robert and Harry have been best friends ever since Eton. I fell madly in love with Robert when I was thirteen, but it took him much longer." She gazed lovingly into her husband's good-natured face.

Robert kissed her cheek, then met Elizabeth's gaze. "I thought it odd to learn of Harry's marriage. We were not accustomed to keeping things from one another."

Elizabeth could tell he was suspicious, but before she could comment, a great commotion arose. Dogs began to bark, and the butler was making exclamations.

The door to the drawing room burst open, and there stood the new Viscount Broxbourne.

Chapter 2

It was not his much-loved mother or his dear sisters or even good old Townshend who captured his attention as he stood in the drawing room's doorway, shaking the snow from his cap and handing it to Collins. He had almost forgotten about the beautiful young woman he had so hastily married. Until he saw her sitting in his family circle, even more lovely than he remembered. His gaze shifted to the little girl on her lap. Could that child who so strongly resembled Susan be Fanny? His child? A lump the size of an egg seemed lodged in his chest.

All of those he loved most in the world were in this very room where he had spent so much of his life. He had never thought to see any of them again, never thought he would ever again set foot inside this chamber's comforting walls. He was almost overcome with emotions.

His sisters flew toward him, exclamations bellowing, arms encircling. Even his demure mother had tossed down her embroidery and presented her sweet face for his obligatory peck on her cheek.

As happy as he was to see them, his thoughts were on Elizabeth. How would he greet her? How much of the truth had she told his family?

A flurry of questions and professions of excitement came so rapidly, it was impossible to respond to any. He was aware that Townshend had come to slap him on the back. "Where are your regimentals, old fellow?"

Finally he'd been able to isolate one question to respond to. "I've sold my colors."

"Oh, my darling," his mother said, "I am so very happy you'll not be going back."

He put his arm around her. "Now that Papa's gone, it's my duty to run Farley and . . . " His gaze shifted to his two youngest sisters. . ."see that Sarah and Diana find husbands."

Diana began to giggle. "Then I am decidedly happy you've come home, Harry."

"Gotta call him Broxbourne now," Townshend said.

His wife—the only person in the chamber still seated—had not removed her gaze from him, and even though he managed to communicate with his family, she commanded his attention in the same way as a dazzling sunset in the eastern sky.

"Now ladies," Townshend said in his booming voice, "allow the poor man to hug his wife. He hasn't seen her in these two years past."

Harry's eyes locked with hers. A tentative smile lifted the corners of her mouth. She had the look of an angel about her with her flaxen locks and ivory skin and the radiance that seemed to surround her. His gaze trailed from her beautiful face to the blue velvet dress she wore. She stood up the child, then stood herself. "How wonderful to see you home safely," she said.

He moved to her, arms outstretched. "My dear wife, how very good it is to see you."

She fell into his embrace and clasped her arms tightly around him. "Oh, my lord, I've prayed so fervently that you would return!"

Damn, but she felt good in his arms! He hadn't realized how tiny she was. He did not want to release her, but he could feel a decided tug upon her as the little girl affixed herself to her. He pulled back and peered at the child. "This cannot be Fanny?"

The lovely little girl looked up at him, nodding. "I am, too, Fanny."

He lowered himself to her level. "Would you allow me to pick you up?"

The quizzing gaze of her dark eyes went from him to Elizabeth.

"Let him pick you up, love," Elizabeth said.

His heart melted when Fanny lifted those little arms to him. He stood as he drew her to him, astonished at the powerful rush of emotions she elicited in him. His and Elizabeth's eyes locked, and she smiled up at them, her hand resting gently on his sleeve. Life was good!

He wished to hell he knew what she had told his family about Fanny. The three of them sat together on the sofa across from where his mother had taken her seat.

"Your wife just arrived minutes before you," his mother told him.

His glance whisked to Elizabeth's.

"I was just getting acquainted with your family, my lord," she said.

How clever of her to anticipate his questions.

"And as delighted as we all are to have you home, Broxbourne, I know you and your wife are weary from your journeys." Leave it to his pragmatic mother to be the first to address him by the name of her beloved husband. It was as if she were encouraging him to fill the very deep void left by the gregarious man who had been his father.

Grief over his father's loss flickered anew now that he was once again in the room he so associated with his parents, but there was too much joy here now to dwell on such low thoughts. He must put the darkness behind him now that he was back at Farley Manor. "I do believe I could sleep for a week. I haven't really slept in four days."

"I will have dinner sent to you and her ladyship," his mother said. "Your possessions were, of course, moved to the viscount's chambers. I've had it redone with the same colors as your former room."

He nodded to her, glad to be able to quiz his wife before being subjected to questions from his family. "Of course, you will have eaten hours ago, if you still keep the same hours as you always did."

Robert answered. "How well you know your mother. She is most inflexible."

"Now, Robert," Susan countered, "that's not so. Mama has been most accommodating. She insisted on vacating the viscountess's chambers the very week of Papa's passing."

So Elizabeth's chambers would adjoin his. How. . . interesting. At least they would be able to make sure they were on the same page in their dealings with his family. He faced his . . . his wife. "Come with me, my dear. I know you must be fatigued."

"Indeed I am."

He peered down at Fanny's dark hair, wondering what in the blazes he was to do about the child. Would she go to the nursery?

"Fanny's to sleep with me this first night," Elizabeth said.

It was as if she could read his thoughts.

He continued to hold Fanny as they said their farewells to those in the drawing room.

"Tomorrow, my dear son," the dowager said, "you must give your wife the tour of Farley." Then she directed her comments to Elizabeth, "I will be most happy to assist you in any way I can during the transitional period."

* * *

Oh dear, Elizabeth thought. The dowager was prepared to turn over the running of Farley Manor to her! How could she extract herself from this whole situation? As she and Harry began to mount that wide staircase in the main corridor, her heartbeat hammered. How grateful she was that he'd been so civil to her when he was bound to think her the most emboldened usurper who ever drew breath. What had ever possessed her to come to Farley Manor? It wasn't as if she belonged in such a grand place. She was embarrassingly ill equipped to oversee such a home.

But then she had never presumed to be a viscountess. She wanted none of the trappings of nobility for herself. But for Fanny she wanted the moon and the stars and all things wonderful. For Fanny
was
of Harry's blood.

Even if the poor little lamb was born on the wrong side of the blanket.

She could not allow herself to look at him. He was far too handsome. For the past two years she had almost convinced herself it had been his dashing uniform with the scarlet coat that made her recall him as an excessively handsome man. But now she knew the uniform had not embellished his good looks. Tonight in the chocolate colored woolens he wore for traveling he was, if possible, even more handsome than he'd been in his regimentals that first day at St. Clement's. And taller, too.

It was also entirely too painful for her to watch him and Fanny together, knowing that he was probably not prepared to claim her as his own child. Even if she did look exactly like him.

Despite that he had behaved toward her with the utmost propriety, he must be excessively angry with her for brazenly showing up at his ancestral home as if she truly belonged there. She could well understand it were he to demand that she flee in the middle of the night in the snow. But how would he explain her to his family?

"So you, too, had just arrived?" he asked her.

With each step she climbed, the trembling which had begun in her chest and reverberated to encompass all of her threatened even her voice. Perhaps she could manage a one-word answer. "Indeed."

"Your first visit?"

"Yes."

They reached the second floor. "You will, of course, have my mother's old chambers."

She felt wretchedly guilty that the dowager had vacated her rooms for her. It wasn't as if she planned on staying. She fully expected Har-, er, the new Lord Broxbourne to throw her out. Even if he was exceedingly kind and up until now the most noble man she had ever encountered.