The Duke's Winter Promise: A Christmas Regency Romance

by Isabella Thorne

  The servant’s quarters were barely livable; a matter which he intended to address as soon as possible. The guest rooms were horribly out of date. So much so that he rarely invited anyone to stay. Except Edmund, of course, who did not care where he slept so long as he was free of London and his own father for reasons much different than those Alexander once harbored.

  The duke thought if he could manage to make one or two presentable rooms, then he might feel more comfortable having a group of guests descend upon him without cause for worry. Still, he must remedy the problems which were draining money from the coffers and work to make the land profitable before he did anything else. That was more important than cosmetic fixes and his own comfort or that of his servants.

  He had once thought of inviting all of the Ingrams to Bramblewood after the passing of his father, but was glad that he had not done so as he thought of Miss Emily Ingram. She was far too refined now to be put up in outdated rooms with broken cabinets and musty curtains.

  As a young girl, she would have thought it an adventure. Now, he was not so sure. Her mother and father, the Lord and Lady Kentleworth, who had never approved of Alexander’s father, would have taken one look at their accommodations and hopped straight back into their carriage for London proper.

  His mind turned to Emily and his surprise at seeing her once more. In their childhood, he had been enthralled by her. Not necessarily in a romantic sense, but rather, he had been drawn to her vigor and surety. She always knew just what to do and how to get on, while he and Edmund seemed most often to flounder and only hit upon a correct notion by chance.

  He remembered when he and Edmund had crashed the wagon and he had injured his arm. Unconsciously, he let his fingers trace the scar. He and Edmund had both sat there dumbfounded, a little silly and punch drunk from the ride and the collision.

  “You’re bleeding,” Edmund had said, and it was only then Alexander noticed. There was a piece of wood stuck in his arm. Stupidly, he pulled it out. He was so amazed to be in one piece that a little blood did not seem a concern, but the blood did not stop.

  Truthfully, he had fully expected to bleed to death on the spot, but Emily had taken charge, yelling at Edmund to give her his shirt. When Edmund didn’t move fast enough, she pulled it from him, buttons flying. She had shoved Edmund towards the house with the sharp command: “Get Uncle Cecil.”

  Then she turned on him, wrapping the limb with Edmund’s white shirt. It was blood soaked in moments, but the bleeding did eventually stop, probably from her ministrations. The whole memory was a bit hazy, but he remembered her voice chiding him: “Stupid, idiot boys!” and then repeating in a frantic demand: “Don’t die, Alexander. Don’t you dare die.” Of course, when Emily commanded it, he could not.

  She was always like that. She kept him out of trouble, or if she could not, she bailed him out of the consequences of his own stupidity. He understood now she had quite literally saved his life.

  Emily always knew what was right, what to do and when to stop. He had no one who could tell him those things now. He had missed Emily and now she had returned, and yet she had not. He hoped Edmund was right and the Emily he had known still existed within the poised young woman he had met last evening.

  Other than Edmund, and on certain sensitive topics certainly more so, Emily had been his sole confidant. She had listened and consoled without judgement. She had soothed him when his embarrassment over his father’s philandering had been made known. She had not allowed the gossip to mar their friendship.

  She had given comfort and kindness when his mother first fell ill with the disease that would take years to sap her strength and her life. He had missed Emily dreadfully when his mother passed, and she was not nearby to offer the comfort of her presence. The Ingram siblings and their Aunt Agnes and Uncle Cecil had been more like family to him than his own father. For that, he had always been grateful.

  Alexander recalled once, saying to his mother that if he married Emily then Aunt Agnes and Uncle Cecil would really be his aunt and uncle. His mother had agreed with that half smile she had and then said that a gentleman should not marry for the lady’s family, but for the lady herself.

  “Oh, Emily is first rate,” he had told his mother. She still was, he thought with a smile.

  “Yes, she is,” his mother replied. “One day she will be a fine lady, and she would make a marvelous duchess.”

  He did not take it to heart at the time. At his young age he had scoffed and said. “No Mother. You are the duchess.” He snorted with laughter. “And why would I want a fine lady, anyway. I want to marry Emily.”

  The duchess had chuckled and told him that one day Emily would grow into a lady with more life in her than the ninnies that his father would push upon him.

  “But I don’t want a lady,” he had insisted.

  “You will. Mark my words,” she had said, and he did mark her; only Emily had moved to the city.

  His mother had not been wrong. Emily had grown into a fine lady. Perhaps too fine for simple country life, he thought. She was born and bred for the finery of Town. Lady Kentleworth had made sure of it.

  The duke wondered if that meant that all of the things that he had enjoyed about Emily had been wrung from her in finishing school. Edmund said it was not so. Of course, the school had made her appear proper. He had seen as much the other night. Alexander worried that it had taken away the spark that had always made her stand out above the other ladies of his acquaintance.

  In recent years, he had thought of Emily often, especially when Edmund came to visit. Of course, that was because she was Edmund’s sister. Still, they had not spoken or written. Both had been far too busy with their own lives to keep in touch. Edmund could visit, but it would have been inappropriate to bring his unmarried sister to a house filled only with gentlemen. It seemed a shame that their friendship should be curtailed for the simple reason of the expectations of their sexes.

  His father had had no qualm exposing the boys to his wild evenings of drinking, smoking, and gambling. Perhaps he should not have done so, Alexander thought. His friend Edmund knew of the rabble rousing, but not all. Alexander wondered if he would ever dare to tell him, or if that would mar their friendship. Even if it did not, Edmund would be wary of Emily, and Alexander did not want either of them to be wary. He decided there was no need to tell tales of events past.

  Alexander knew that even if he had a sister in residence his father would not have done things differently. Certainly, Henrietta’s father had not. No, if he had a sister, Alexander was sure she would have been ruined, in reputation if not in fact. Emily had been protected from his father, and therefore from him.

  The duke knew now how very inappropriate such actions were. He supposed he had known that even when he was younger. Where his own father had not cared a whit about society or what rumors flew, Edmund and Emily’s father ruled them both with attention to sensibility.

  Alexander only hoped that Lord Kentleworth’s uprightness had not squashed all the bite out of Emily. There had been a few moments of witty retort that had made him think that the old Emily was still there somewhere; buried beneath the fine silks and rigid backbone. He hoped he could find her again.

  At that very moment, one of the objects of his musings happened to waltz through the door of the meeting house. Edmund sauntered over with a devilish grin. Ed was always up to some sort of trouble although never anything too terrible.

  “Your Grace,” he said with a flamboyant bow.

  Alexander sighed and pretended to ignore his friend. Edmund flopped down at a seat at the table, his one leg, draped over the other. “Are you finished holding court?”

  “I have work to do,” Alexander replied as he set about placing his seal upon several documents that had been drawn up that afternoon. “You will see it too soon when your own father passes.”

  “No,” Edmund said flippantly. “My father shall never die. Heaven doesn’t want him, and the devil is afraid he will take over his positio
n.”

  Alexander gave a hearty laugh. It felt good to let go. “Just let me finish this. I am not too busy for my friend,” he said.

  “Good,” Edmund said. “I hoped we could stop by the Arms. You must be hungry.”

  Alexander finished his work and spread the pages out so that the wax might dry and turned to face his companion. “I am a bit.”

  “Good,” Edmund leaned forward with a conspiratorial grin. “You’ll never guess who just took a room at the inn.” Edmund went on to explain that several of their old friends from school were passing through on the North Road and had decided to stay for a night.

  Alexander raised an eyebrow. “On the way to Gretna Green?” he questioned.

  “No,” Edmund said with a laugh.

  Alexander could not help but grimace. “I dare not put them up at Bramblewood,” he said to his friend.

  “I do not think they expected it.”

  Still, Alexander felt shame that he could not. Those guest chambers needed to be finished, he thought with a muttered curse.

  “Do not let it bother you,” Edmund said.

  “Well, ho!” Alexander grinned. “Then we shall have an evening on the town, I assume?”

  “Of course,” Edmund replied. “Just like old times. You’ve become far too stiff in my opinion.”

  The duke sighed. He certainly had not. Although there were many responsibilities that now fell on his shoulders, he would always make time for old friends. Edmund just did not wish for either of them to become so caught up in the work of running of an estate that they did not remember what was most important: things like family and friends.

  Alexander could not blame Edmund. His friend often complained that responsibility had ruined many of their old companions who now had little to talk about, but wealth and the securing of more of it for their heirs.

  “Allow me to finish up here.” Alexander nodded. “Tell the others that I will join you shortly. We shall make a night of it.”

  Edmund clapped his hands together and sprang from his chair. In an instant, he was off. The duke glanced about the room to see if there were any other business matters that must be addressed. Barnes returned with the news that his carriage was ready for the ride home.

  Alexander grimaced. “Change of plans,” he said. “I am staying at the inn tonight.” He felt a twinge of guilt that his man, who had waited patiently for the duke’s business to be finished, would now have the ride back with only the carriage boy.

  “Very good, Your Grace. As you wish. I shall take the carriage back to Bramblewood and send it for your pleasure on the morrow.”

  Alexander shook his head. “I will acquire a horse from the livery and ride home,” he said. He stopped the man as he was about to leave. “A moment,” he said.

  There was no time to change his attire or refresh his person as Bramblewood sat no less than one half an hour outside the village by horse, a bit more by carriage.

  He would be as he was. Tonight, he would not be the duke. He would only be a gent out with his friends, he thought as he ran a hand through his thick dark hair. He shrugged off his jacket, loosened the knot at his neck, removed his cuff links and rolled the crisp white sleeves back.

  As he replaced his jacket, Alexander dropped the expensive cuff links into Barnes’ palm. They had belonged to his maternal grandfather and although appropriate for the duke, he did not want to wear them carousing with friends. As he put them into Barnes’ care he thought of the many times he had caused his mother grief for losing cufflinks.

  “Give those to Jervis, and return these papers to my desk. Then take the night off.” Even if he decided not to remain at the inn, the duke would end up at Sandstowe rather than to his own home. “Do not expect me before mid-afternoon,” he said. “Take the morning off, too,” he added with a grin. The year had been difficult. Everyone needed a bit of time to recoup.

  “Thank you, Your Grace.”

  Then, without another word, Alexander went to join his friends for some much needed ale and laughter.

  9

  The following afternoon, after some shopping in Northwick’s town proper, Emily was seated at a table in the tea room of the Northwick Arms. The room was decorated with bright ribbons and pine boughs. The delicious smell of tea mixed with the scent of pine.

  The owners of the Arms brought the tea from Twinings on The Strand and served it at the inn. Consequently, anyone who had to stay in town past teatime stopped in for a cup, and the tea room itself did a thriving business aside from the inn. The main pub served guests more hardy food and stronger drink.

  In conversation, Anne told Emily that the occasional tea shop had sprung up in France, separate from inns. She took a sip of the excellent brew and closed her eyes in bliss.

  Emily said, “No doubt giving the widows of the war some occupation to keep body and soul together.”

  The other girl nodded. “Other than the pubs,” Anne added. Both knew what sort of girls would work in a pub.

  “Some tea shops sold loose tea as well as by the cup. It is done in the East too,” Emily said. “Why, Mr. Carrington spoke of drinking some wonderful tea in the East.”

  “Mr. Carrington?” Anne asked. “I do not believe I know him.”

  Emily shook her head. “He has done a great deal of traveling. I do not believe he was in London during your last visit. He is an odd fellow.”

  Anne’s sisters Eliza and Susanna, along with Henrietta, joined them. Emily had extended the invitation to meet her and Anne at the tea shop.

  “Your Aunt Agnes will be so envious when she hears we stopped at the tea shop,” Susanna said. “She loves the Earl Grey tea, but generally she just buys tea in a block to last the year.”

  “Truly?” Emily said thinking this was a good Christmas gift idea. “Then, the Earl Grey would be a treat for Aunt Agnes?”

  “Oh, yes,” Anne said.

  Emily moved aside to allow the girls to join them at the table.

  She smiled politely at Henrietta who hugged her and gushed. “What a pleasure I had upon receiving the invitation to meet you,” Henrietta said with a nervous smile. “I cannot tell you how dull this town is without female conversation.”

  “I thought that you might like to join us,” Emily said as the other ladies settled themselves. Although Henrietta may have been uncouth in her childhood, here she was, smiling and overflowing with Christmas spirit.

  “I was indeed glad of the invitation, and I thank you,” Henrietta said with a sincere smile.

  “We are glad to share tidings of the season with you,” Emily said.

  “Yes,” Anne added without further comment.

  The conversation stalled a bit with the newcomers. Emily sought to rescue it.

  “So, I heard you visited your aunt in Scotland,” Emily said. “That must have been an adventure.” Emily wondered at the thought of the cold wild land.

  “It wasn’t exactly a pleasure visit,” Henrietta said while the tea was poured. “Father wanted me…out from under foot.” She was picking at her handkerchief.

  Anne and Emily exchanged glances. So there was some scandal there. Emily did not want to pry. She wanted to put Henrietta at ease, but the conversation seemed to be dredging up unhappy thoughts.

  “Will your aunt’s visit here be an extended one?” Emily asked but Henrietta shook her head.

  “No, not for long,” she said, “only until we get some things settled for my young cousin.” Henrietta seemed a little hesitant at first to talk about Scotland, but soon warmed to the topic when she saw that Emily had a genuine curiosity rather than just an interest in gossip.

  “It’s very cold,” she said. “One is nearly guaranteed snow for Christmas.”

  “Oh, how wonderful,” Susanna said. “I hope we have snow for Christmas.”

  “At least it was cold before we took to Peckridge Isle,” Henrietta continued. “It is nearer the sea, and so gets the sea breezes, but it is still colder than here.”

  “Is that yo
ur aunt’s property too, or rather your uncle’s?” Anne asked.

  Henrietta shook her head as she stirred sugar into her tea. “It belongs to a friend. I was visiting.”

  “Is it really an island?” Susanna mooned. “I would love to live on an island. It would be so romantic.”

  “Not at all, although it does border Lake Mchearen,” Henrietta laughed. “Why it is called an isle I have no idea. Perhaps long ago it might have been, I suppose, but a land bridge has been made, so that you can walk to it from the North Road, straight east towards the sea, although it is quite the trek. It is rather a pleasant day’s ride in the summer.”

  “I would like to hear more of it,” Emily said with sincerity. Perhaps if she got to know Henrietta better she would have a stronger sense of the lady’s character.

  “What I would like to hear more of,” Susanna said with a conspiratorial lean into the table and a wink toward Emily, “is Robert Hawthorne!”

  “Do tell!” Henrietta perked up with interest.

  “He is Emily’s intended,” Susanna said.

  “Not exactly,” Emily said with a blush. “Mother is certain he will offer, but he has not.” She gave Susanna a look. “Even if he had done, I have not decided that I will accept. I suppose that is why I have run off to the country.”

  That was exactly why she had run off to the country. Northwickshire gave Emily a chance to clear her head. Perhaps it was not entirely the district, but more specifically the people here. Thoughts of Alexander bombarded her.

  Emily gave a strained laugh.

  “Hawthorne, you say? As in, that feud that started some dozen generations ago?” Henrietta asked glancing from Emily to Anne.

  “I do not think it was that long ago,” Anne added.

  “But you are related to the Firthleys are you not?” Henrietta asked.

  Anne nodded.

  “On our mother’s side,” Eliza supplied. “They are our cousins.”

  “Second cousins,” Anne added between bites of teacakes.