Christmas with the Duchess (12 page)

“No, I suppose not,” Lord Hugh said grudgingly. “If you are quite certain, my lord, that Octavia is not injured. She is, of course, my only concern in the matter.”

“I was at her side when she wished them happy,” Nicholas replied. “There was no bitterness, no jealousy, no hurt feelings. She would have married Lord Michael to please her parents, of course, but her feelings, sir, are the feelings of a sister for a brother, not those of a wife or sweetheart. I hope I have put your fears to rest, Uncle.”

“You have, dear boy,” Lord Hugh said, brightening up. “You have indeed. I am glad you were at her side in this trying time. I am glad that someone cares for her.”

He seemed restored to the best of spirits as he took the port.

“I understand my brother’s children are not expected at home until Saturday,” Lord Michael said presently. “Why is that, Uncle?”

Lord Hugh looked uncomfortable. “There were…difficulties with the travel arrangements. But the boys will be here very soon.”

“What sort of difficulties?” Lord Michael wanted to know. “I wish I’d known. I’ve just come from London. I could have collected my nephews on the way. They’re still at Harrow, of course?” he added sharply. “I can’t imagine them anywhere else. The Fitzroys have always sent their sons to Harrow.”

General Bellamy overheard this and snorted. “If you can’t get a pair of boys from Harrow to Warwick in good order, Brother, I’d say it’s a good thing you never went into the Army!”

“I had to remove them from Harrow,” Lord Hugh admitted sullenly.

“It’s true then,” Lord Michael said grimly. “Why?”

“To keep them from my sister, of course,” said Otto. “It’s sheer mindless cruelty.”

The accusation shocked Nicholas. “Is this true, Uncle?”

“Of course not,” Lord Hugh said coldly. “It’s nothing to do with the duchess. The Latin master was caught in a compromising position in a back room of a London tavern. He’s to be charged with sodomitical acts and thrown in prison, I shouldn’t wonder. I judged it best to remove the boys until the scandal-broth cooled.”

“That’s the state of civilian justice,” General Bellamy said contemptuously. “In the Army, we
hang
a man for buggery.”

“Aye! That’s the way to go about it, General,” said Lord Ian Monteith. “After all, it’s not fair to thieves and murderers to have to share quarters with these—these shirtlifters.”

“You mean share
hind
quarters,” said the general, roaring with laughter. “The navy, of course, is full of buggers,” he went on amid the hilarity of his officers. “Rear admirals and vice admirals. Ain’t that so, Camford?”

The room fell silent.

“I believe you’re drunk, General,” Nicholas said coldly. “You should ask one of your men to carry you up to bed.”

The general glared at him, his face reddening with rage. “Ask one of my—! What are you implying?” He started up from his chair, but quickly, his aides closed around him, exerting a calming influence on his temper. They began to speak of other things.

“Bloody old fool,” Otto muttered under his breath, and Lord Michael resumed his conversation with Lord Hugh.

“If they are not at Harrow, sir, then where are they? You haven’t put them at Eton?”

General Bellamy’s leonine head swivelled around. “Eton! Don’t get me started on Eton! There’s more buggery at Eton than there is in the Royal Navy!”

Nicholas jumped to his feet. “That’s it!”

“We’re taking him to bed now, my lord,” one of the general’s men said hastily. “He is in his cups, as you can see. He will remember none of this in the morning. Do please give our apologies to the ladies.”

A brief struggle ensued, but the general, overwhelmed by the combined strength of his officers, was soon forced out of the room.

“Ye gods!” Nicholas said, when they had gone. “Can you imagine being on his staff?”

Colin tried but did not quite succeed in keeping his countenance.

“If we could get back to the matter in hand,” Lord Michael said sternly. “Uncle, I believe I have a right to know where my nephews are!”

“They’re at Westminster,” said Lord Hugh. “It’s a perfectly good school,” he said defensively, as Lord Michael recoiled in horror.

“Lord, yes,” Otto drawled. “’Tis an excellent school for the sons of bankers and barristers! However, I can’t possibly think it a proper setting for my nephews.”

“No! Nor can I,” said Lord Michael, roused to anger. “Westminster! What
can
you be thinking, sir?”

“They will be here in a few days, and you will see that no harm has come to them,” Lord Hugh said belligerently.

“I just hope the roads will still be passable,” said Otto.

“What are you talking about?” Lord Michael said curiously. “There’s nothing wrong with our roads. I was just on them.”

“Uncle Hugh seems to be expecting some heavy weather,” said Otto. “Blizzards, in fact.”

“Nonsense! It never snows at Warwick until after the first of the year,” Lord Michael said flatly. “We’re known for our fine weather.”

Nicholas frowned. “Uncle? You said we could not risk going to London because, if we delayed even a few days, the road to Warwick would be impassable.”

“I was speaking of Camford, Nephew,” Lord Hugh quickly explained. “I was not speaking of Warwick. The road to Camford is dreadful, I’m sorry to say. I said we could not risk going to
Camford
this time of year. You must have misunderstood me.”

“No, I don’t think I did,” Nicholas argued.

“Remember, your head would have been in the clouds,” Hugh insisted, smiling. “You’d just been told you were the Earl of Camford. Anyone in your place would have been confused.”

“I was not confused!” Nicholas said angrily.

Otto stood up. “Shall we rejoin the ladies?” he said pleasantly. “Emma has arranged for some music, and, I daresay, Lord Michael is eager to see his bride again.”

Lord Michael flushed with embarrassment, but did not protest. “I just hope the ladies have left my poor girl in one piece,” he said wearily, climbing to his feet.

“No fear of that,” Otto replied. “My wife and my sister will be taking excellent care of her, I assure you. They’d wrap her up in swaddling clothes, if they could. Besides, your charming wife has the advantage of not being able to understand the other ladies.”

“She understands a little English,” Lord Michael said.

Otto smiled. “Ah! But
they
will be attempting to speak to her in
French!
”

Tuesday, December 13, 1814

The following morning, Nicholas met Octavia downstairs. The stately, auburn haired young woman wore a brilliant emerald-green habit trimmed with heavy black ball fringe. “You certainly look the part of an equestrian,” she told him, smiling. She was always careful to smile with her mouth closed because her teeth were not her best feature.

Lord Hugh’s manservant had supplied Nicholas with a riding coat, buckskins, and a pair of very good boots. “Your father’s valet is taking care of me,” he said modestly.

“I do hope you tipped him well,” she said, meaning it as a compliment.

“Oh, no,” Nicholas sighed. “I didn’t tip him at all. I didn’t think of it. I’ll do it now.”

But Octavia was not about to let him go. “Never mind! You can do it later.”

They walked out to the stables together, arriving just as Lord Colin Grey came strolling out of the building. He was looking at his watch, but as he caught sight of them, he hastily put it away.

“Oh, hullo!” he said, flexing a riding crop between his gloved hands. “Going for a gallop, are we? You don’t mind if I go with, do you?”

Colin was the last person Octavia would ever have expected to meet at the stables before noon. “Lord Colin,” she exclaimed. “I’m afraid you would be bored! My cousin is a beginner.”

“Oh, but I love beginners,” said Colin. “And so does Julia.”

Octavia stiffened. “Julia?”

“Yes,” Colin told her, smiling. “She should be here any minute. Camford will have
three
very accomplished teachers this morning.”

Nicholas frowned. “Didn’t you tell me that none of your sisters ride?” he asked Octavia.

“Nonsense; Julia rides like a centaur,” Colin answered before Octavia could. “Or is it a centauress? Is there such a thing as a female centaur?” he wondered.

“Possibly not,” Octavia said coldly. “After all, there’s no such thing as a centaur, period, is there?”

“You’ve obviously never been to Venice at Carnevale,” Colin retorted.

“I meant none of my sisters who are Out,” Octavia told Nicholas. “Julia is not Out. In any case, she is not here. There’s no reason to wait for her, just because she has an appointment with Lord Colin.”

“She’s a tiny bit late, that’s all,” said Colin. “Be a dear little girl and go ask the stableboy to saddle Charmer for her. Go on, fair little maid! Obey your elders.”

“Yes, Lord Colin,” Octavia said angrily.

When she had gone, Colin put an arm across Nicholas’s shoulders. “Nicholas, Nicholas,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m surprised at you! Why, you’re playing right into the she-wolf’s hands. Or paws, as it were.”

“What do you mean?” said Nicholas. “Who is a she-wolf?”

“Octavia! Honestly, sometimes I think you were born without a suspicious bone in your body. You’ll end up married to that harpy, if you’re not careful. You
must
know the moment Lord Michael jilted her, she set her cap for you.”

“You are mistaken,” Nicholas told him. “Lord Michael did not jilt her. There was never an engagement. And she hasn’t set her cap for me,” he added. “She’s aware of my feelings for—for your sister.”

Colin frowned. “Emma? But you must have noticed that
she
has gone cold on you. You didn’t meet with her alone last night, did you? Did you?”

“Of course not,” said Nicholas.

“I am sorry for you, Nicholas. But Emma’s obviously tired of you. Not to worry, though. There are plenty more fish in the sea. Take Julia, for instance—”

Nicholas was laughing. “You’ve got it all wrong! Emma is not tired of me. Why, we’re like two halves of one being.”

“Indeed?” said Colin, a little startled. “Which half are you?”

“You jest, sir. Emma is still in mourning. We are determined to be discreet. I do my best not to even look at her, lest anyone suspect our true feelings.”

“And what might those be?” Colin asked politely.

Nicholas blinked at him. “Why, that we are in love, of course. As soon as her period of mourning is up, we intend to be married.”

“Married?” Colin echoed in blank astonishment. “To whom?”

“To each other, of course,” said Nicholas.

“You and Emma?”

“Yes.”

“But you can’t marry Emma,” Colin scoffed. “You have the pox.”

Nicholas gaped at him. “What? No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do,” Colin insisted. “You’re a sailor. All sailors have the pox.”

“That is not true,” Nicholas protested. “I believe in clean living.”

Colin snorted. “A girl in every port, and any port in a storm. That’s your motto. That’s a sailor’s idea of clean living.”

“I resent that,” said Nicholas.

“Well, I resent you aspiring to marry my sister when you have the pox!” said Colin.

“I do
not
have the pox,” Nicholas said angrily.

“How do you know?”

Nicholas blinked at him. “What do you mean, how do I know? I
know.
”

“You could have an exotic strain, a strain that is nothing like the pox you people usually get,” said Colin. “Perhaps you got it from that girl in that tavern in Singapore.”

“I’ve never been to Singapore.”

“You’re completely missing the point! The point is, you have the pox. Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” Colin added quickly. “Lots of people do. When one has congress with strange women, these things are bound to happen.”

“But I don’t have congress with strange women,” Nicholas said flatly. “As an officer of the Royal Navy, it is my duty to set a good example for the crew. I am…untouched by a woman. It simply isn’t possible that I could be infected.”

“Good Lord,” breathed Colin. “You mean you’re a virgin?”

“Yes,” Nicholas said simply.

“And you don’t have the pox?”

“I do not. Now, I don’t need your approval to marry Emma,” Nicholas went on, “but you are her brother. I should like to have your approval.”

“Well,” said Colin. “If you don’t have the pox, what objection could there be?”

“Thank you, sir,” Nicholas said, as Octavia returned with a groom leading two mounts.

“Julia not yet arrived?” she said coolly. “Pity. Charmer wasn’t available anyway. It looks as though we’ll have to go without you, Lord Colin.”

“Not at all,” said Colin. “Julia’s obviously forgotten the appointment. I’ll ride with you. Fetch Bumblebee,” he commanded the groom.

“Sorry, Lord Colin,” the man replied. “Miss Augusta’s taken Bumblebee.”

“Miss Augusta?” Nicholas repeated in astonishment.

At that very moment, Augusta Fitzroy, mounted on a beautiful bay mare, came cantering at them from across the meadow. Woman and horse seemed melded into a single creature as they sailed easily over a boxwood hedge. Colin gave her a friendly wave with his hat, and Augusta obligingly guided her mount over to them.

Nicholas stared at Octavia in disbelief. “You lied!”

Although she would never be as pretty as her youngest sister, Augusta looked as well as she could on the back of her horse. Her dark eyes had been brightened by the exercise, and her color was high.

“Are you going riding, Cousin Nicholas?” she cried gaily. “I’ve just come from the meadow! You’ll want to watch out for the rabbits!” Her mount turned in circles, eager to be off again, but Augusta seemed quite used to her antics. “Quiet, you brute!” she told the mare curtly, bringing her firmly under control. “A beautiful day, is it not? The air is so crisp!”

White with rage, Octavia clenched her fists. “Augusta, how dare you! I
told
you I was taking Cousin Nicholas for a ride. How dare you intrude on our appointment!”

Augusta stared at her blankly. “Intrude on your appointment? Don’t be daft!
I
don’t want to marry him. No offense, Cousin Nicholas,” she quickly added, “but I don’t want to marry anyone. I realized it quite forcibly when I met you.”

“I’m glad I helped you realize it, Cousin Augusta,” said Nicholas.

“Well, you did!” said Augusta. “You’re so good-looking, you see. All my sisters were in such a state about you, but I felt nothing. Absolutely nothing, and
I
was the one who was supposed to marry you! I was ever so glad when Cousin Michael jilted Octavia, because it meant that I was reprieved. You see,” she said earnestly, “
I
want to be like my Aunt Harriet.”

Colin was fascinated. “Do you really, Miss Augusta? Why?”

Augusta leaned forward to pat the mare’s neck. “Oh, I know she is poor, but she has her freedom. She is no one’s property. And she gets to live here, at Warwick, all year round!”

“Only because no one wants her!” Colin protested.

“Lord Michael did not jilt me,” Octavia spat.

“If you say so, Octopus!” Augusta said cheerfully. “Well, I’d better get Bumblebee back to the stables for her rubdown! She won’t admit it, of course, but she’s completely exhausted! Remember what I said about the meadow, Cousin Nicholas! Rabbit warrens everywhere! Best avoid it altogether, I say! Your horse could break a leg.”

With that, she was off.

Octavia composed herself. “I will not be treated in this manner by anyone!” she said. “I must beg to return to the house.”

Without a backward glance, she swept off toward the house.

“We are well rid of her, I think,” said Colin.

“I cannot bear to think of a young woman telling lies!” said Nicholas. “I beg your pardon, Lord Colin, but I do not think I care to ride today. I must speak to my poor aunt about my cousin’s behavior. I must speak to her at once.”

With murmured apologies, he strode off.

“Take that, Aunt Harriet,” Colin murmured to himself with a smile.

Earlier that morning, Lady Harriet had spied Julia leaving the house. Thinking quickly, she had grabbed a basket and run after the girl.

“Julia?” she had called after her. “Julia! Where do you think you’re going?”

Julia stopped short of the shrubbery at the edge of the lawn. She was wearing a riding ensemble of royal blue. “Where does it look like I’m going, Aunt Harriet?” she said saucily, holding out both arms. “I’m going for a ride with Lord Colin.”

“Nonsense,” said Lady Harriet, hurrying across the lawn to claim her niece. “I need you to come with me to the kitchen garden. We’re snipping herbs this morning. There was a shocking lack of fennel in the pantry this morning.”

“You’re hurting me, Aunt Harriet,” Julia complained as her aunt twisted her arm.

Before Julia knew what was happening, she was in the little walled garden behind the kitchen with her aunt’s basket over one arm and a set of shears in the other. “I’ll be right back,” said Lady Harriet, closing the iron gate behind her. “I’m just going to fetch my shawl. Get to work. You young girls today are so idle.”

Julia waited but three or four minutes after her aunt’s departure, listlessly decapitating a few stalks of mint and sage, before deciding to make a run for it.

To her annoyance, the gate proved to be locked. Vexed, Julia fetched the kitchen shears and attacked the lock. Attracted by the noise, a handsome young cavalry officer came around the corner and found her there, on her knees. Julia looked up as his shadow fell across the lock.

“Captain Palafox,” she exclaimed happily. “My aunt has accidentally locked me in. I cannot get out.”

Palafox chuckled. “Miss Julia! Perhaps I can help,” he said, kneeling down. “I’m quite good with small openings, as it happens.”

Julia had every hope of his success, and, in just a few moments, she was free.

“I was going for a ride,” she told him, “before my aunt accidentally locked me in.”

“I will walk with you, if I may,” he said gallantly.

“I suppose that would be all right,” she said, giving him a sly, sidelong look. “As long as Cousin Nicholas doesn’t find out. He’s fearfully jealous, you know.”

“I am not surprised,” said Palafox. “You must make conquests wherever you go.”

Julia stared up at him, thrilled. “Why? Have I made a conquest of you?”

“Oh, yes, Miss Julia,” he said huskily.

“My goodness!” said Julia. “I wasn’t even
trying
to make a conquest of you! It’s as if I have some strange, hypnotic power over the opposite sex, but I have not yet learned how to wield it properly.”

Palafox looked around sharply for witnesses. Finding none, he led the young girl behind a hedge. Julia sat down on a small garden bench, trembling with anticipation.

“Are you very eager to learn, Miss Julia?” he asked her.

She looked up at him provocatively. “It would not be proper for me to learn,” she answered, “until I am safely married.”

“Oh? You mean to have lovers, then?”

“Sir!” she protested, fluttering her lashes at him. “My husband will be my teacher, of course.”

“Oh, but husbands never teach their wives anything worthwhile. If you want to learn, Miss Julia—if you
really
want to learn—you’re going to need a lover.”

“Then I shall have one,” she said, bright-eyed. “Why shouldn’t I? Many married ladies do have lovers, after all. Look at the duchess! She is notorious for her affairs. They say she bore Lord Byron an illegitimate child, and they keep it hidden away somewhere in Italy.”

“I had not heard that,” he laughed. “I have only heard that she is more skilled than any courtesan in the art of giving a man pleasure.”

Julia squirmed in delight. “Who told you that?” she demanded breathlessly.

Smiling, he laid a finger across her lips. “That would be telling.”

“Tell me!” she demanded, taking his hand. “Tell me, or I shall break your little finger!”

He laughed. “Shall I whisper in your ear?”

When she nodded eagerly, he put one boot on the bench next to her. Her pretty lips parted in anticipation, as his sleek head bent low.

Julia sighed happily. “I should like to be as skilled as a courtesan in the art of giving a man pleasure,” she murmured.

“Julia!” cried a shocked voice.

Nicholas was the shocked man who went with the voice.

Julia jumped. “Cousin Nicholas!” she cried, guilty color spreading across her face. “Captain Palafox was just telling me the most delicious piece of gossip about the duchess!”