For all her position, Henrietta had been raised mostly wild. It might not have been an excuse for her uncouth behavior, Emily thought, but it was certainly contributing factor. For that at least, Emily decided, Henrietta could not be held to blame and as the lady said that was past now.
“You certainly have done. So it seems,” Emily offered in compliment. Henrietta beamed at the praise and opened her mouth to speak when she was abruptly called away by her aunt who wished her to make an introduction of some sort.
“Excuse me,” Henrietta said with a glance towards her waiting relative. “I do hope to renew our acquaintance.” She gave a small nod and turned away.
“She seems quite changed since her return,” Anne commented.
“Return?” Emily asked. “I had not heard that she had left.”
“Neither had I,” Anne admitted. “If I am to be honest I had only thought that on my trips home I had just missed seeing her. It was only recently that I learned she had gone away shortly after your last visit.”
“Away?” Emily wondered aloud. “Was she sent to school?” Henrietta had made it seem as if all of the other young ladies had gone away to be finished except herself.
Anne’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Had you asked me prior to speaking with the lady I would have assumed some scandal, but she seems quite refined. Still, you know her father held hunts?”
Emily frowned. She did not know what her friend meant.
Anne leaned in and whispered. “Hunts! Revels, such as the Duke of Bramblewood once hosted.”
Emily’s eyes opened wide at the scandal.
“There is little enough in terms of specifics, but obviously Henrietta was in the manor house.” Anne continued.
“When her father held such a party?” Emily asked askance.
Anne nodded. It was well known what sort of event the duke held. If the Baron Shudley hosted the same no wonder there was talk. Such parties were sordid things that no lady of quality would attend. Such a flagrant disregard of decorum was unusual and the height of impropriety, and although the duke was above social censure, the baron was not.
Anne leaned in conspiratorially. “It seems the baron tried to out-do the duke in terms of debauchery, and did quite well in the attempt. At least that is the word. The baron hosted grand hunting parties that last a month at a time and Shudley Hall has been the recipient of frequent visits from many notables.”
“My goodness!” Emily exclaimed. “That must be terribly expensive. Should he have not been thinking of his daughter’s future instead?”
“Perhaps he was.” Anne said with a pointed raise of her brow. It was true that many gentlemen hoped to pawn their daughters onto the upper echelon, and a drunken encounter with a peer would necessitate a marriage.
Emily blanched with the thought. “So there was a scandal?” She urged.
“Apparently, it was averted somehow,” Anne confided. “Then the baron sent Henrietta off to some aunt in Scotland. Scotland! Can you imagine, heaven forbid.” Anne shivered at the thought.
“Oh, but Henrietta must have been devastated to be sent away.” Emily said thinking of her own longing for Northwickshire.
Anne shook her head sadly. “Henrietta returned a month past, just after the harvest, of course, her father was ill by then. He passed the following week.”
“That is awful.” Emily commented. She said a silent prayer for the baron, that on his deathbed he may have repented. He was not well-liked, but he was still Henrietta’s father and Emily thought perhaps the man was more in need of prayer than most.
Anne admitted that she had not crossed paths with Henrietta until this day, but that she had only heard of improvements to the lady’s position. “Although, it couldn’t have gotten much worse,” She added regretfully.
“What of the entail?” Emily asked.
Anne lifted a delicate shoulder in a shrug. “Perhaps, you should ask Henrietta. We are sure to see her again. In only a few days’ time, Bramblewood is hosting a gathering for St. Nicholas Day. I am certain that your brother has already received an invitation.”
Emily turned up her nose. She was not a fan of the Duke of Bramblewood. His parties were just the sort they had been discussing; renowned for copious drink and raucous behavior. In the past, Emily had been too young to attend. Now it would be a slight to decline such an offer. One did not offend a duke.
Emily hoped that she might be able to avoid the invitation entirely although if Edmund wished to go, that would be difficult. Still, Emily certainly did not think Bramblewood was any place for a lady of quality. Or a gentleman for that matter
For years, when Alexander appeared repeatedly on Uncle Cecil’s doorstep, she had wondered if the duke realized that he even had a son. Like Henrietta’s father, the duke had often left Alexander to neglect and disarray. If the duke had noticed his heir, he certainly had no qualms about leaving him to poor influence, or rather, any influence at all.
Once Emily had asked Aunt Agnes if William and Alexander were brothers because they were both at Sandstowe so often they seemed not to have another home. A vision flashed through Emily’s mind of a tall, skinny boy who had once been inseparable from her brother. The duke’s son had been a constant presence in her uncle’s home and was still the fellow that Edmund descended upon during his visits.
Alexander’s mother, the duchess, was well-known to Aunt Agnes. Emily recalled what she could of the Duchess of Bramblewood, a sweet unassuming woman who was in direct contrast to her philandering husband. In spite of the onslaught of rumors, the duchess had always carried herself with poise and an inclination toward kindness for all.
Emily remembered sitting in the drawing room late in the evening hours as the elder ladies had laughed and shared tales of their season together. The mishaps and near-romances were recanted until the ladies had clutched their sides aching from the laughter.
Emily would often tell Anne that they would be the same when they were old. Their friendship would remain just as easy and important. Emily hoped she could rekindle all her past relationships, even with Henrietta. She hoped that they could see past the serious nature of their futures and just be friends.
Aunt Agnes held the duchess in the highest esteem, and Alexander had been devoted to her. Emily was sorry to hear that the lady had passed on several years ago. Emily was probably eleven or twelve when it happened. She remembered she had been away at school.
Aunt Agnes had been distraught over the death of her friend, as had everyone who knew her. The wasting illness had taken the duchess in a slow and painful way. If anything, from what Emily had heard from Edmund back then, it had hardened her husband even more fully. Emily wondered if the tragedy had hardened Alexander as well.
Emily had been away, and Edmund had been tight-lipped about his friend’s hurt. She had heard, however, that the duke reveled in his debauchery. If possible, he drank even more heavily after the passing of his wife.
Perhaps it was grief, but Emily secretly thought that with his duchess gone, he had no further inhibition. Emily’s own father, who was rigid in his duty and never missed a parliamentary session, had complained that the duke was a drunken lay-about and had not been to Lords in an age.
Emily did not know much of the duke, but she did recall when they were younger; the boys had raised the tempestuous wrath of the man at every turn. It was not that Alexander and Edmund were overly rowdy, but the duke was constantly annoyed when anything took him from his own pursuits. He had had no time for children. Not even his own son.
Perhaps that was part of the reason that Alexander and his mother had spent so much time at Aunt Agnes’ home. Their own manor lacked the love and happiness that was found at Sandstowe.
Many times Emily had walked with her friends along the river path, skipping stones or sharing stories. Once the group of them, Anne, Edmund, Alexander and herself had been determined to catch a frog, but she had slipped on a moss covered rock. Only Alexander’s quick reflexes had saved her from a dunk
in the water. She sat down hard on the rock with her wet boots while Anne ran on to catch the frog with Edmund.
Alexander had sat with her then. They chatted about meaningless things that surely had meaning in their child’s minds: why the baker in town never made custard poufs in the winter and how much cocoa was too much in a cup of chocolate. They both agreed that as long as one could still stir the cup, there was room for more chocolate. Laughing, they fell back in the grass
They did not always speak of trivial things. Sometimes, they spoke of things close to their hearts, things Alexander might not have even spoken to Edmund about, things of which children were not supposed to be aware, but always were, such as his mother’s sadness at his father’s philandering and the rumor of another bastard that his father may or may not have sired.
“I might have a brother or possibly sister that I have never met,” Alexander said. “Can never meet. Do you think he wonders about me?”
He turned questioning eyes on Emily and she did not answer. How could she? But she listened.
Emily wondered how the young Alexander had fared after the loss of his beloved mother. Had he, too long exposed to his father’s debauchery, forgotten the lessons of his kind mother? Alexander would have been only just barely a man when she had passed on from this world.
Emily recalled Edmund coming home disgruntled, saying that the duke wished Alexander to join him in the hunts. What about afterwards? She wondered. Would his father allow him to stay and drink with the men? Would he in fact, encourage it? What had happened after she left for finishing school?
Perhaps the duke did not care one way or the other. Emily guessed that for much of the time, the duke would forget entirely that he had a son. How much had Alexander changed from the boy she had known?
It was not something that she had been brave enough to ask of her brother. Even family had to maintain propriety.
In spite of her distaste for the thought of one of the duke’s notorious parties, she found herself looking forward to attending if only to speak to Alexander once again. She even wondered if he was at this moment off with her brother at some sport.
“Emily?” Anne’s voice broke through her musings and drew her back to the present.
“I am sorry,” she said. “I was spinning webs in my mind.”
“Pray, tell,” Anne grinned.
“Just silly things from when we were young,” she replied. “Do you recall the winter holidays when we all used to go skating on the pond?”
“Of course!” Anne grinned. “The whole village still turns out every year when the ice is thick enough. Last year, I was sure that the surface would crack under so many skaters.” She grinned at Emily. “Edmund still can’t keep up.”
“Surely not,” Emily said laughing. “He always was a clumsy child,” she added.
“He was not,” Anne argued a spark of fun in her eye.
“Oh, I remember Mother trying to teach us to dance. It is a wonder Edmund did not cripple me.”
“I thought you had a dancing master,” Anne added.
“Oh yes, the dancing master! Please, do not remind me.” Emily allowed herself to smile and lean into the earlier memories of childhood. Together the young ladies reminisced well into the evening.
5
Darkness began to fall on Sandstowe when at last, no less than a dozen gentlemen and their sons poured into the drawing room in search of a warm hearth and warm company. Emily wondered when the others had joined Uncle Cecil and Edmund. Still, a day’s sport had left them exhausted and cheerful.
Warm liquors were brought to hasten their comfort while the ladies abandoned their window seats to gather round for hearty conversation. Sandstowe was large, but the room not so much so that the assemblage could not be called cozy.
Several of the gentlemen were unknown to Emily, who watched the group with contented pleasure. She never felt so relaxed in London.
Edmund, in particular, was made for country life, she thought. He looked happier than she had seen him since they were children. Well, no wonder, she thought. He did not have Father breathing down his neck.
Emily’s parents flourished on the bustle and chaos of Town. Both Lord and Lady Kentleworth loved the elite society, theater, and powerful companions. How they had ended up with two children who did not thrive in the environment was beyond comprehension. Emily, unlike her brother, did enjoy the parties that boasted hundreds of guests in the London ballrooms, but she quickly grew tired of the bustle and needed time to recuperate.
She liked the country. She liked the quiet company of close friends. She had dearly missed Northwickshire, but a love for life in Town was something that she was attempting to cultivate. She expected to live in London. The man she was likely to marry would certainly be of her father’s choosing and of her parents’ temperament.
Edmund, a deep lover of nature, had little outlet for his energies in the narrow streets of London, but here, he looked positively joyous. Emily observed his wide grin and the frequency with which he threw his head back in laughter. She wondered if he had imbibed a bit too freely, but she did not chide. They were on holiday.
Instead, she smiled. He deserved a little fun; at least for a short while longer. He was younger than she, and gentlemen did not marry so young as ladies. He still had time to enjoy his youth. She raised her cup to her lips and allowed the hot cider to soothe her tongue.
A sip was more than enough for a lady, particularly when she knew not who might be watching. A lady must be above rumor. The tenets of her finishing school ran through her mind, and she smoothed her dress, thinking that she should not drink another cup and keep her wits about her.
Soon enough, Anne was pulled away by her sisters, Eliza and Susanna. Emily would have been dragged away too, but her aunt had called to her, and she must answer.
“Emily,” Aunt Agnes placed a petulant hand on her hip but still giggled when her husband tucked her neatly beneath his arm. Emily smiled at their antics. It was the season for merriment.
“How shall I ever hear the end of it when he is always such a success?” Aunt Agnes said.
“Success at what? Were you shooting, Uncle?” Emily asked. “Surely you were not on foot all this time. I thought you were riding. Your feet shall freeze.”
“Riding. Hunting,” Uncle Cecil said with a shrug. “No fox can out fox us.”
“So it was an impromptu fox hunt? Was it a success then?”
Uncle Cecil nodded. “With my horses and the duke’s hounds how can it be anything but a success?” He went on to boast about how within only a few miles they possessed the finest animals in all of England.
“You see!” Aunt Agnes laughed. “He shall never grow up, and besides, he is returned empty handed.”
“Better that then empty headed,” Emily replied.
“There’s my girl,” Uncle Cecil said patting Emily’s hand and then pulling Aunt Agnes into an embrace. He held her close. “Now, I am not empty handed,” he teased.
Aunt Agnes sighed and gave in allowing herself to be maneuvered under the mistletoe where Uncle Cecil kissed her. Emily allowed herself to laugh at the strange couple. Sometimes she thought her Aunt would wring her husband’s neck. Other times, it was clear that they mooned over one another. Emily could make no sense of it. They were so very different from her own parents, who hardly spoke to one another unless it was of the utmost necessity.
Even then, Mother became annoyed when Father showed up unannounced in her dressing room. They seemed to make appointments to discuss her season. Emily knew they sometimes went months at different estates with nothing more than the occasional letter between them.
The Ingrams were not harsh and unloving, only perhaps more tepid in their willingness to show affection, she guessed. Unlike Uncle Cecil and Aunt Agnes, Emily thought they would wither and die if they could not lay eyes and perhaps hands upon one another each day. It was quite unseemly and would not be tolerated in London. Perhaps that was why they spent so much time in the co
untry.
Emily was lost in her thoughts again when Edmund called out to her.
“Dear sister,” Edmund’s impressive voice sounded from the far side of the hearth which was not in the best of manners.
Emily cringed, but Edmund was sure to be heard over the frivolity in the room. He could probably be heard in London. “Do not be cold. Come and greet our old friend!”
Which old friend? She wondered. She furrowed her eyebrows and scanned the trio of men beside Edmund. Not a one of them looked familiar. Still, she made her way over to her brother’s side.
Edmund’s introductions were sloppy and haphazard. Emily could gather no distinct name from any of the three who stood before her. The gentlemen bowed over her hand one after the other, while Edmund mixed up their titles and called them all by nicknames that meant nothing to her ears. It was not until the third guest took her hand and she met his deep blue gaze that she realized that she did in fact know him. It was none other than Alexander himself.
A spark of warmth rose from their joined fingertips and straight to her midsection. For a moment Emily forgot to breathe. She felt giddy and strange at his touch so she pulled her hand away. It was only that the shock of the recognition had caught her off guard, she thought, but she still could not quite draw a full breath.
The gentleman looked nothing like she would have expected although Anne said he had grown handsome. The last time they had met they were of a height. Now, he stood a head taller than most of the men in the room. Emily’s own head landed well below his shoulder, in spite of her own improved stature, and she found herself taking a step backward to have a more comfortable view of his smiling face.
His teeth were incredibly even and white. She could not help but be surprised at the power and confidence that he exuded. Although still lean, he had filled out from the scrawny child she remembered into a more muscular and balanced physique. Was this the skinny boy that her brother used to entertain? He had grown handsome, devastatingly so. Dark lashes covered expressive eyes, and a hint of a curl at the end of his hair was the single flaw to be found. Even that was endearing for it seemed all that remained of his childhood visage.
The Duke's Winter Promise: A Christmas Regency Romance Page 4
