Christmas with the Duchess (16 page)

Otto nodded. “It will have to be tonight, I’m afraid. You remember the plan?”

“It’s seared into my memory like the sacred flame,” Colin replied. “The large sack is in my room.”

“Good.”

“But have we decided on that plan absolutely?” Emma protested. “She is an old woman, you know. What if she should die of fright?”

“Nonsense!” said Colin. “She’s made of old boots and rusty saw blades. She’s tough as a rat.”

“I think we should go with
my
idea,” Emma said stubbornly. “Not as brutal, perhaps, but quite seriously nasty.”

“Colin will take Aunt Harriet,” Otto said firmly. “Emma, you will be dealing with Hugh this night. Short of murder, you may use whatever method you think best.”

“And what will
you
be doing in the meantime?” Emma demanded.

Otto smiled. “We mustn’t overlook General Bellamy. The servants tell me he leaves Mrs. Camperdine’s room every morning between two and half-past. I’ve never approved of adultery.”

“I’m so glad you’re not angry with
me,
” Emma said gratefully.

“Oh, I’m angry with you,” Otto replied. “If you weren’t my sister, I’d rip you limb from limb. Then again, if you weren’t my sister, I don’t suppose I’d care what sort of mess you made of your life.”

“Thank you, Otto,” Emma said faintly. “I think.”

Saturday, December 17, 1814

After leaving his uncle in the smoking room, Nicholas went directly to his room and packed his few belongings. He no longer felt like a guest at Warwick. Leaving the bed untouched, he sat in a chair at the fireside, with his coat over him. For a long time he stared into the flames, unable to sleep. From time to time, he heard the faint faraway chimes of a clock striking the hours. He thought he would never find sleep.

He must have drifted off sometime after midnight, however, because the slight creaking of the door handle woke him just as his friend the clock was striking two o’clock. The fire guttered from the sudden draft of cold air as the door swung open. Nicholas jumped to his feet as a shadowy figure entered the room backward, dragging a large burlap sack. Something inside the sack squirmed, mewling pitifully.

“Who’s there?” Nicholas demanded, reaching for the fireplace poker.

Colin nearly jumped out of his skin. He was dressed head to toe in black with a black kerchief covering the lower half of his face. He looked like a highwayman. Whirling around, he saw Nicholas and relaxed somewhat. “Oh, it’s you,” he panted. “You shouldn’t sneak up on a body like that.”

“Lord Colin! What are you doing here?” Nicholas asked. “Why are you dressed like that? What’s in the sack? What is going on?”

Colin looked at him blankly. “What’s going on? Just an old German holiday tradition. Nothing for you to worry about. What are you doing in here, anyway? This isn’t your room.”

“Yes, it is,” said Nicholas.

“Oh? I thought it was empty.”

“No,” Nicholas said, frowning.

“Well, this
is
awkward.”

“Not at all. I assume you want to use the passageway leading from the fireplace to the duke’s chamber?” said Nicholas. “Allow me,” he added, pressing the panel that triggered the mechanism.

“Thank you.” Colin resumed dragging the sack across the carpet. Whatever was inside kicked and howled like a half dozen cats.

“Wait!” said Nicholas, as Colin disappeared into the narrow opening. “What’s in the sack?”

“Rabbits,” Colin replied cheerfully. “Rabbits for the Christmas hassenpfeffer. I’m just going to take them up to the roof and throw them off—you know, to tenderize them.”

Muffled screams came from the sack.

“It doesn’t sound like rabbits,” said Nicholas, frowning. “Anyway, they’re still alive! Isn’t that somewhat cruel?”

Colin laughed. “Of course it’s cruel. We’re German! Look, just forget you ever saw me. I was never here.”

He was gone, closing the door behind him.

Nicholas stared at the door for a long moment. When closed, it looked like part of the elaborately carved marble fireplace. It had taken him quite some time to discover how to open it. It had made him late for his assignation with Emma the night before.

The night before…

He did not want to think about Emma. He would leave in the morning and never see her again. He certainly was not going to open the secret door and make his way to her room via the passageway. If she had anything to say for herself, she could come to him. The passageway ran both ways, after all.

He was now too restless to sleep. He walked up and down in front of the fireplace for a while, then forced himself to sit down. Taking up his coat, he covered himself with it. From this angle, he could see that the secret doorway was standing slightly ajar. Colin had not closed it properly. Muttering under his breath, Nicholas threw off his coat and went to the door, intending to close it. Instead, he found himself opening the door wider. He could hear faint thuds and stifled shrieks ahead of him in the darkness. Someone cursed, probably Colin. Then, clear as a crystal bell, Nicholas heard Emma’s voice:

“All ist klar?”

“All ist klar,”
Colin’s voice answered.

“No, all is not
klar,
” Nicholas said, stepping into the passageway and making his way to them. “I strongly suspect those are not rabbits,” he added, pointing at the burlap sack.

“What is
he
doing here?” Emma demanded. Like her brother, she was dressed in black, with a black scarf covering her nose and moth. Black velvet breeches and tall leather boots encased her legs. She was carrying a large, cloth-covered bucket in her gloved hands. In spite of the cloth covering, a strong odor emanated from the bucket.

“He must have followed me,” Colin complained. “I told him it was just one of our cruel, German holiday traditions, but, I suppose he had to see for himself.”

Emma glared at Nicholas. “Go on, Colin. I’ll take care of Lord Camford.”

Colin trudged on into the darkness, dragging his burden behind him. Nicholas and Emma squared off. She would not permit him to go any deeper into the passageway, and he would not permit her to leave.

“My lord, you are in my way,” Emma said.

“What’s in the bucket?” he asked. “Another German holiday tradition?”

“Yes, that’s right. It’s a bucket full of fruit and nuts and candy.”

“It doesn’t smell like candy.”

“That’s because it’s horse shit,” she snapped.

“Intended for
me,
I suppose!”

“Not you,” she answered. “
Hugh.
I’m going to put it over his door, and tie a bit of string from the handle to the doorknob, so when he leaves his room in the morning, he’ll get a nice, lovely bath. Do you have a problem with that?”

“Not really, no.”

“Then kindly get out of my way.”

He would not move. “Not until I hear your explanation.”

“It’s very simple,” said Emma. “I don’t like him! I thought, before I leave, I might as well give him a little Christmas present, a little token of my esteem.”

Nicholas had wanted to hear her explain her cruelty to him at dinner, but he was too distracted by her answer to correct the misunderstanding. “What do you mean
before you leave?
” he demanded. “Are you leaving? But your children arrive tomorrow.”

“I am not to be allowed to see them,” she explained bitterly. “I have been a naughty girl, and I have to be punished.”

Nicholas’s mouth went dry. “Because of me?” he whispered.

“Yes, of course, because of you!” Setting down her bucket, she struck him in the chest. “What in God’s name did you think you were doing, proclaiming to the world that
I
had consented to be your wife! I, the Duchess of Warwick! You know perfectly well I never promised you any such thing!”

He stared at her. Of her face, he could only see her eyes, glittering coldly in the torchlight. “Emma, how can you say that? After—after what happened between us last night, it was understood that we would marry. Indeed, we
must
marry.”

Emma laughed at him. “Are you simple, boy? Or simply out of your wits?”

“You said you loved me,” he accused.

“That was in bed, you fool! Everyone says I love you in bed. It’s considered polite. It doesn’t
mean
anything, you know.”

He stared at her as if he had never seen her before. “But you gave yourself to me. You said we would be together when you were out of mourning.”

“And we
were
together,” she reminded him. “For heaven’s sake! Did you think I meant
marriage?
I knew you were green; I didn’t think you were
grass!
Nicholas! If I married every man I gave myself to—well, I’d be the female version of Solomon, wouldn’t I?”

“Would you?” he said quietly. “You do not love me, then?”

“No,” said Emma. “Of course not.”

“Then my uncle was telling the truth. You only used me—used me to get your children back. I understand, madam.”

Emma blinked at him in total surprise. “He told you that, did he? I should have thought he’d be too ashamed!”

“My uncle has no shame.”

“Yes, Nicholas, I used you. I am not proud of it. But it has backfired against me royally, so you needn’t think my misdeeds will go unpunished.”

“I would have helped you, if you had only confided in me,” he said sadly. “It was not necessary for you to—to prostitute yourself.”

“Oh, but I like prostituting myself,” she said angrily. “Didn’t your precious uncle tell you?”

“I did not want to believe the things he said about you.”

Emma laughed recklessly. “I can imagine! I was no more faithful to my husband than he was to me. What was I supposed to do? Be a good little wife and turn a blind eye to his affairs? Cry myself to sleep at night in my lonely bed? I am not a martyr, Nicholas. Anyway, who are you to judge me?” she went on angrily. “You know nothing of my life. You know nothing of life, period! You have spent your whole life at sea. You may as well have been living on a ship in a bottle, for all you know of real temptation! But you will learn, Nicholas.”

Her voice was low and ominous.

“When you get to London, women will throw themselves at you. Let us see how well you resist their advances! Men, too, will pretend to befriend you because you have power and money and influence. Let us see how you get on. When you have been tested in fire, Sir Galahad,
then
you may pass judgment on me.”

“I don’t judge you, Emma,” he said quietly. “I pity you. I pity you with all my heart.”

“Oh! Just get out of my way,” she snarled.

“Give me the bucket,” he said. “You should not be walking the corridors with a bucket of horse manure.”

“Why ever not? ’Tis an old German tradition!”

“I’m sorry. I can’t let you do it. I will stand guard at my uncle’s door all night, if I have to,” he snapped.

Emma kicked over the bucket. “Take it! Damn you! I wish I’d never set eyes on you!”

When she had gone, Nicholas carefully cleaned up the mess. It did not disgust him. In his career at sea, he’d cleaned up much worse.

Lord Hugh could not sleep. Even snug in his bed, with the coverlet pulled up to his chin, he did not feel entirely safe from the wrath of the Greys. He sat up in bed, a loaded pistol in his hand, his eyes glued to the door. Beside him, Lady Anne snored gently.

The knock on the door made him jump. Lady Anne continued to snore. Lord Hugh elbowed her until she woke up, sputtering.

“Go and see who it is,” he commanded her.

While she padded to the door in her bare feet, he carefully cocked the pistol.

“Who is it?” Lady Anne called through the door.

“It is I, Nicholas,” said her nephew from the other side of the door.

Lord Hugh flung away his pistol. Running to the door, he pushed his wife aside. “Come in, dear boy,” he cried, throwing the door open. “Come in! Dare I hope you have changed your mind?”

Nicholas would not come into the room.

“I would make a bargain with you, Uncle,” he said grimly. “I will marry one of your daughters. In exchange, you will stop tormenting Emma! You will stop coming between her and her children. And you will return her letter to her.”

“Of course,” said Lord Hugh, smiling. “Your happiness, Nicholas, is all I have ever cared about.”

Nicholas recoiled from him in disgust. “On second thought,” he said. “You will give
me
her letter. I don’t trust you to keep your word.”

“There’s no need to insult me,” said Lord Hugh, but he was too happy to even pretend to be indignant. “The letter is in London with my attorney. I will send for it tomorrow.”

“See that you do. And you will send word to the duchess,” Nicholas went on. “It will not be necessary for her to leave. It ends tonight, Uncle. This vendetta you have against her. No more. If you so much as cast a wry look in her direction, you will answer to me.”

“Now you are safe from her, I have no quarrel with the woman,” said Lord Hugh. “I have no reason to cast a wry look.”

“Which of the girls has caught your fancy, Nicholas?” Lady Anne asked him, smiling as if she had not heard anything unpleasant passing between her husband and her nephew.

Nicholas looked at her incredulously. “None,” he said curtly.

Lady Anne stared back blankly. “But which of them do you mean to marry?”

Nicholas shrugged impatiently. “I don’t really care. The eldest, I suppose. She seems eager enough,” he added contemptuously.

“Octavia will be delighted!” cried Lady Anne, clapping her hands together. “We will make the announcement tomorrow.”

“No!” Nicholas said sharply. “Are you insane? Just this evening I announced that I was going to marry the duchess! In any case, no announcement will be made until I have the letter.”

“Of course,” said Lord Hugh. “When you have her letter, she will be entirely in your power. You may take whatever revenge you like for her having humiliated you.”