by Amanda Davis
“Mother wishes to be close by for the joyous occasion.”
“Of course,” James said quickly, waving his hand in the air as though to dismiss the topic from his ears.
“And you?” Lise asked slyly. “You should be contemplating the start of a family soon, should you not?”
“I have more pressing matters to attend currently,” James snapped with a defensive tone.
“What matters does Lydia have to attend? You have been married over three years. Surely she is eager to start a family—”
“I do not wish to discuss my family affairs with you,” James interjected curtly. “I would like to rest before supper, if you do not mind.”
A fleeting look of hurt crossed over Lise’s face but she nodded in agreement.
“As you wish,” she replied, opening the door and stepping back into the corridor where her abigail waited with the same blank, deaf/mute expression upon her face.
“Eight o’clock,” Lise reminded her brother. “No later.”
“Indeed.”
The door closed, leaving James alone in the sitting room. He knew he should be thinking about what he might say to his mother when he saw her, but his mind was only on Lydia in the rooms to his left.
Lise is correct. Lydia has always wished to start a family. I wonder how she feels to know that my newly married sister is with child?
A pang of regret clutched James’ heart.
She has been a most patient wife. She is not contrary or a spendthrift. Lydia has always run the household efficiently and gives generously to charities. She is a good wife. She deserves a child.
He vowed that they would start their family upon return to Holden.
That will please Lydia enormously.
* * *
He could not rest, despite his best attempts and as the hour of eight neared, he found himself before the glass, fully dressed. Never had he been more dashing in a freshly pressed waistcoat of stunning midnight blue and matching ascot.
James could not say what it was that he found so particularly daunting. Was it seeing his mother for the first time in many months? Perhaps it was the idea of sharing more time with the ever-colicky Elenora Blackwell. Whatever the reason, James could not stop his gut from flipping with some discontent when he took his key and stepped into the corridor. To his surprise, Lydia waited in the hall.
“Lydia!” he called in surprise, taking in her lacy gown with undue interest. The swell of her bosom along the low neckline was breathtaking, her dark hair was piled into a stunning array of ringlets about her head.
“Oh!” she gasped, seeming equally as stunned to see him. “Forgive me, my Duke. I was merely waiting on my mother.”
Inexplicably, he felt a tinge of disappointment, although he could not say why.
Why would she be waiting on me?
“Of course. I will accompany you both to the dining hall.”
“You need not. I realize how eager you must be to see your mother. We will be along when Mother has finished abusing the handmaid.”
“If you are certain…”
“I am.” Lydia offered him a smile but it did not quite meet her eyes. “We will be along forthwith, I assure you.”
James paused, feeling as though he should remain, but for what purpose? Elenora would most certainly put him in a foul mood by the time they reached the Balfours and Comptons for supper. He did not wish to be berated, not when his wits were already at end.
“Very well.”
He turned to leave but not before he caught the look of wistfulness on Lydia’s delicate features.
Did she wish for me to remain? If so, why did she not simply say so? Perhaps I had misinterpreted her look.
The fairer sex was rife with enigmas which James did not claim to understand.
I certainly will not unravel them this evening, he thought bemused. Behind him, he heard a door open and Elenora’s voice call out to snap at her daughter. This only caused James’ feet to move faster, lest his mother-in-law insist he stay.
In moments, he’d arrived in the lobby. He barely noticed the guard until the elderly man called out to him from behind the counter, quite unexpectedly.
“Forgive me, Your Grace!”
James stopped, his eyes darting quickly toward the staircase.
“What is it?” he asked with some impatience. He was unaccustomed to being called upon by the help.
“My apologies, sir but are you the new Duke of Holden?”
“I am…what is the meaning of this?” James demanded.
“I am Byron, the night concierge,” he explained but the introduction did nothing to alleviate James’ mounting impatience with the man.
“What of it, Byron?” James insisted.
“I only wished to extend my condolences about your father,” the man explained. James’ eyes narrowed as he studied the concierge.
Is he ambitious or merely an idiot? Perhaps a touch of both.
It seemed odd that a man of such an age would attempt to curry favor with a duke but his brazenness made little sense otherwise. James concluded he must be dim-witted.
Servants are meant to be seen and not heard. To call out to me…that requires some gall. The staff is surely better trained than this!
“Did you know my father?” James asked curtly, his brows furrowing. Surely this servant knew nothing of his father but there was something desperate in the man which James did not understand.
Byron opened his mouth to respond but before he managed a word, the irritating pitch of Elenora’s voice interrupted their short conversation.
“There you are,” Elenora grumbled insolently. “What are you bothering the desk boy about?”
James looked toward Byron who no longer met his eyes and pretended to busy himself with a flutter of pages. Whatever it was the old man meant to tell him was no longer on his mind.
“Nothing,” James sighed, extending his arms for his wife and mother-in-law to take.
“Good. My stomach is causing a ruckus. When did we last eat?” Elenora complained.
“Mother, you ordered to your chambers not two hours past,” Lydia reminded her as a doorman pulled the doors open to permit them entry into the dining room.
“It seems much longer. When one reaches a certain age, Lydia, one must insist on regular nourishment.”
“Oh Mother,” Lydia sighed but James barely noticed their silly discussion, his attention was drawn to his own mother. With a somewhat skittish look, Patience met her son’s eyes but it took her several seconds before she was able to smile at him.
“Ah!” Xavier Balfour rose as the trio approached, two other men following his example. “The guests of honor have arrived!”
James extended his hand toward his brother-in-law and Xavier bowed as they touched.
“Your Grace, may I present my family. This is my father, Mr. Charlton Balfour and his wife, my mother, Anne. Elias Compton and my sister, Emmeline. Of course you know my wife and your mother.”
James smiled pleasantly about the table before providing introductions of his own.
“Charmed and pleased to meet your acquaintance. May I present my wife, Her Grace, the Duchess of Holden and her gracious mother, Lady Elenora Blackwell of Whittaker.”
Waiters stood by to extend chairs for the guests and soon everyone was seated.
“Your Grace, we did send word when your father passed but do permit me to offer my condolences in person,” Charlton said, nodding to the waiters. Immediately, they stepped forward to pour wine as James maintained his composure. Through his peripheral vision, he noted his mother exchange a look with his sister before returning her eyes to the plate before her.
“Thank you, Mr. Balfour. Your kind words are a great comfort.”
“My kind words and a dukedom, I am sure,” Charlton chortled.
“Have you no shame, Charlton?” Anne spat. “The boy lost his father.”
James could not tell which he found more exceptional—being referred to as a boy or th
e idea that he would prefer the dukedom to his father’s life.
“It was merely a jest, Anne. His Grace can plainly see that.”
“It was not amusing in the least,” Elenora snapped. “Particularly given the circumstances of the late Duke’s demise.”
With wide eyes, James exchanged a look with Lydia, who seemed equally aghast by her mother’s unbridled outburst.
“Mother,” she breathed but Charlton leaned forward, his eyes glittering with some interest.
“The terrible accident, you mean?” he asked and Elenora snorted contemptuously.
“Hardly. I mean the murder which the Her Grace, the dowager duchess likely committed.”
5
The stunned silence which fell over the table was thicker than freshly churned butter but it was quickly broken as Patience rose to her feet on trembling legs. Her hand flew to the coral necklace splayed about her neck and she gaped openly at Elenora who seemed unfazed by her blatant stare.
The men struggled to rise in unison as Patience threatened to storm from the table but before she did, she turned her eyes toward her son and shook her head almost unperceivably.
“Is that why you have come, James?” she whispered, the surprise and disbelief in her voice causing a tremor in Lydia’s heart. “To accuse me of murdering your father?”
“No!” James cried, also casting his mother-in-law a baleful look. “Of course not.”
“He is simply too polite to say so,” Elenora replied smugly.
Lydia hissed at her. “Mother, you must stop!” she pleaded, aghast. “What in God’s name possessed you to say such a thing?”
Patience’s eyes darted about the table but she did not speak another word as she turned to scurry from the hall in a flutter of lace and silk.
“Mother!” Lise called, also rising clumsily but her mother had already vanished, leaving the others to stare helplessly around the table in confusion.
“Lise,” Xavier urged. “Please do sit. You should not be moving about so abruptly in your condition.”
“I must go after her,” Lise insisted as a waiter held her chair. She gave her brother a scathing stare before disappeared after Patience.
More silence ensued and Lydia’s face flushed crimson as she stared at the table in shame. Would God be merciful enough to open the floor and permit her to sink through it?
She could not be so fortunate.
I knew this was a terrible notion, coming here, particularly with Mother.
“That is quite an accusation you make, Lady Blackwell,” Xavier said, the anger in his voice apparent. “I do hope you have proof of such allegations.”
“Do not be a fool, Mr. Xavier,” Elenora retorted haughtily. “Surely even you must have your suspicions about how matters unfolded.”
“You are a spiteful, wicked woman!” It was Anne Balfour who spoke as she also rose, again causing the men to scramble to their feet. It was only then that Lydia realized that she was a trifle disguised. Anne’s red-rimmed eyes narrowed dangerously as she fixed on Elenora.
“I cannot be faulted for speaking the truth,” Elenora replied calmly, reaching indifferently for her cup of wine but Lydia could see her mother’s hand tremble slightly as she sipped, despite her intention to remain stoic.
“That is quite enough,” James snapped. “No one is accusing Her Grace of anything. Lady Blackwell misspoke.”
He glowered at Elenora, daring her to contradict his words but to Lydia’s great relief, her mother seemed to realize she was outnumbered.
“It does not seem that she misspoke,” Charlton commented lightly. Of all at the table, he seemed the least upset by Elenora’s claim. In fact, he almost seemed illuminated by the prospect.
“I should see to Catherine,” Emmeline said suddenly and, in all the excitement, Lydia had almost forgotten that she and her husband Elias were present.
“I will join you,” Elias agreed and the couple also abandoned the table, leaving the remaining members of the unlikely family to stare uncomfortably at one another.
“I think it will suffice to say that our supper is ruined,” Xavier snapped, but before he could rise, James called out to him.
“Please,” he insisted. “Do not leave on our account. We will retire.”
“I have not eaten!” Elenora had the gall to protest and all eyes widened dubiously at her.
“I will have something brought to your room, Mother,” Lydia muttered, urging the woman to her feet. “Come along now.”
Elenora pouted not unlike a petulant child. “I suppose I have no choice in the matter,” she mumbled. “If the Duke has spoken…”
“The Duke has spoken,” James agreed tensely. He looked at Lydia and she again hung her head in shame. She knew she could not control her mother’s unstoppable tongue but she had not expected such insolence in the presence of near-strangers, particularly not when they were guests of the Balfours.
“You need not go,” Xavier said sternly, his eyes flashing. “I will see to my wife and mother-in-law.”
He was gone before James could make another protest and Charlton extended his hand, encouraging them to retake their seats.
“Now there is no reason for anyone else to leave,” he said in a pleasant tone. “I do despise eating alone. Please. Stay.”
Lydia gazed at James who seemed nonplussed. Elenora, however, collapsed back into her chair without any further encouragement and reached for her goblet but not without giving Charlton a magnanimous smile.
“At last, a man with good sense and manners,” she said.
“I do pride myself on both those qualities,” Charlton chuckled. Lydia could barely disguise her disdain. The proprietor was enjoying the discomfort that her mother had caused.
“Do go on,” Charlton insisted, waving for a waiter to pour more wine. “I would like very much to hear your thoughts on what happened to the late Duke.”
“She has nothing else to say on the matter, Mr. Balfour,” James interjected as Elenora opened her mouth to speak. “Have you, Lady Blackwell?”
For the first time, Elenora met James’ incensed eyes and Lydia noted that she visibly swallowed.
“Indeed,” she conceded. “I may have spoken too brashly.”
“May have?” James barked. “You have caused an uproar based on nothing short of gossip!”
“Is there gossip?” Charlton wished to know. Lydia was somewhat appalled by his eagerness to discuss such rumors.
He is a renowned businessman. I would not have thought him one to entertain such nonsense!
Yet he leaned forward, his pupils dilated with interest as he waited for someone to speak. James put Lydia’s innermost thoughts into words.
“I daresay, Mr. Balfour, I am surprised you are humoring such notions. I would think a man of your standing would have greater matters to attend than the inane tittering of the townsfolk.”
Charlton pulled his eyes from Elenora to gaze steadfastly at James.
“Under normal circumstances, you would be correct,” he conceded. “However, in this case, I find my curiosity piqued.”
“As you should,” Elenora agreed. “You may have a murderess living under your very nose!”
“I do wish you would stop saying that,” James snapped.
“This is not merely about you, Your Grace,” Lady Blackwell retorted. “This involves my daughter as well.”
“Mother, I have no concerns,” Lydia insisted, growing slightly dizzy from the conversation.
“I share Lady Blackwell’s concerns,” Charlton offered and Lydia gaped at him.
“How can you say that?” Lydia demanded, forsaking decorum. “She has been a member of your household for months now!”
“I have heard quite enough of this nonsense,” James growled, standing. “Come along, Duchess. I will not entertain another word on this matter until I have spoken with my mother.”
“Run along, dear,” Elenora chirped with too much smugness. “Be with your husband in his time of need. He will need
the support when he is confronted with the truth.”
Lydia did not wish to leave her mother unattended with Charlton Balfour. The way they looked at one another gave her chills, as though they were conspiring already.
“Lydia,” James barked and she reluctantly rose to her feet, her gentle eyes still warily set on her mother.
“Mother, do retire,” she begged softly. “There is no need to further this tonight.”
“Do not fret, Your Grace,” Charlton told her genially. “I will see that your mother is safely returned to her chambers.”
It was not Elenora’s safety which worried Lydia in that moment but she had no other recourse but to follow her husband from the dining hall as he fumed.
“Your mother is incorrigible!” he snapped as soon as they were out of earshot. “I should have known better than to bring her along.”
“I am sorry, darling,” Lydia murmured. “If I had suspected she would say anything so…”
“Vile? Bold? Disgusting?” James supplied and Lydia sighed.
“James, you cannot fault me for this,” she implored him. “I would not have brought her along if not for your suggestion.”
“Now this is my doing?” he demanded indignantly. “You have far more experience with her ways than I.”
Defensiveness rose in Lydia but she managed to keep her upset to herself.
How can he possibly blame me?
She did not remind him that he had lived under the very same roof as Elenora for three trying years.
“Never mind this now,” James grumbled, spinning toward the staircase. “I must find my mother.”
He did not wait to see if she was behind him as he hurried off, leaving her in the lobby, confused and upset by all that had occurred.
Perhaps Mother and I should return to Pinehaven, she thought, standing helplessly in the center of the lobby.
“May I assist you, Your Grace?”
A handsome man appeared before her and Lydia startled at his unexpected arrival. He was an employee of the hotel, liveried and formal, with a sweeping mane of dark hair and a mysteriously dark expression.
“N-no,” she managed. “I am well, thank you.”
