by Jenna Jaxon
“Very well then.” Kersey motioned him out of the room, slopping brandy over his hand. “Get on with it.”
“No, my lord.”
“What?” The earl tried to focus on Hugh once more.
“I said no, my lord, I will not turn a good tenant out of their place when they still have three years to run on that tenancy and able bodies to work the fields.” God, but it felt good to say that to Kersey’s face.
“You are insolent, Granger. And on account of tenants who wouldn’t give a tinker’s damn if you starved or not.”
“I think they would care, my lord. But you obviously don’t care about them.” The rush of power at being able to speak his mind to a man who had been, in a few short weeks, a tyrant and a tormenter, was exhilarating. He imagined Maria had felt something like that when she confronted him last week. “And as I refuse to be your henchman for this particular execution, I hereby tender my resignation, effective immediately.”
“You cannot do that, Granger!” The earl’s face turned a bright red, his eyes almost starting from their sockets. “I have not dismissed you from my employ.”
“Lord Kersey, you no longer have the right to do so. I am not your employee as of one minute ago.” Hugh grinned at the man, who looked from one side of the room to the other, as if searching for someone to tell him how to make Hugh behave. “I take my leave of you, my lord.” Hugh bowed, turned, and hurried from the room, all the while anticipating the tumbler of brandy being hurled at the back of his head.
In the corridor, Hugh hurried back to his office. There were several of his belongings he wanted to retrieve, and he’d need to inform Saunders of his departure. The footman had been a good ally. He would miss him. Opening the door, Hugh made a quick inventory of everything that belonged to him. He could not tarry here. Bella must be informed and the house emptied as speedily as possible, lest they find their things put out on the lawn next to the Tates’ possessions. His sister would likely be too concerned with Kit’s death to care much about his losing the position at Kersey. Until they were out on the side of the road along with the tenants.
Still, one idea kept a smile on Hugh’s face all the way back to Wingate: Maria would have been pleased and proud of him.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Late December
London
“What did I tell you?” Jane stood beside Maria in the townhouse’s entry hall, surveying with apparent satisfaction the pandemonium that had ensued upon the arrival of Fanny and Matthew, Lord and Lady Lathbury, and their entourage of servants and children. “I knew they would come. Merry Christmas, Cousin.”
“I don’t think I shall ever doubt you again, my dear,” Maria whispered, then swept Fanny up in a strong embrace. “Merry Christmas, Fanny. It is so good to see you. Thank you so much for coming.”
“Oh, we wouldn’t have missed it.” Fanny bussed her cheeks, then turned to Jane, not only her friend but her sister-in-law. Both their husbands, brothers, had perished at Waterloo. “Jane, dear.” They embraced. “I see you still have Kinellan on the string. Best get him to come up to scratch while we are here. Christmas is a lovely time of year for a wedding.”
“And so convenient, don’t you know, since all The Widows’ Club will be here.” Tall and darkly handsome, Matthew, Fanny’s husband, followed behind her in the impromptu receiving line. “Maria, so good to see you again.” He engulfed her in his embrace, almost making her lose her breath. Lord, how did he not crush Fanny in their more intimate moments?
“And Jane”—he moved on to her cousin—“we have missed seeing you at Kinellan’s for most of the year.”
“I am well aware, Matthew, of where I have and have not been.” She hugged him fiercely. “Don’t think for a moment Kinellan has let me forget.”
He laughed and put his arm around his wife. “I don’t think he’s let anyone do that. You really must marry the man, Jane, so we can stop his fussing about your absence.”
Jane cut her eyes toward Maria. Time to move the guests along. “If you would follow Mrs. Cheever to your room, Fanny, Matthew, you can freshen up and join us in the large drawing room.”
“Are we sharing a room?” Matthew cocked his eyebrow at his wife.
“I am afraid so, my lord.” Maria led them to the front staircase where the housekeeper waited. “The townhouse has only six bedrooms.”
“Good.” He winked at Maria and bent to whisper, “Much better to have less running back and forth between rooms in the dark of night.”
Maria giggled and followed them up the staircase to the first floor, Jane just behind her. They turned at the first landing, heading for their other guests already in the drawing room. She could hear animated chatter as they approached the door.
“Wrotham was blanketed in snow last week, such a picturesque village in winter.”
They entered to find their friends Charlotte, Lady Wrotham, and Elizabeth, Lady Brack, on the end of the long green-and-white-striped sofa nearest the fireplace. Nash and Jemmy, their husbands, were at the far end of the room, deep in conversation.
“But the roads are so rutted this time of year,” Charlotte continued. “We were fortunate that the travel here took only the best part of yesterday. Kitty traveled much better than I had anticipated a baby would.”
“We would have arrived before you, but Jemmy’s father would keep on and on about the castle Christmas traditions we would be missing, and making us promise to have little Nes back at Blackham for the ushering in of the New Year. A very big occasion for a firstborn son of the Cross family, apparently.” Elizabeth sipped her tea, then glanced toward her husband, a fond smile on her lips.
“Are Fanny and Matthew here?” Charlotte set her tea down quickly, looking eagerly at the door. “I have not seen them in an age, it seems.”
“They have gone to their room and should be along quite soon.” Maria rang the bell for more tea, then settled herself in the Queen Anne chair that matched the sofa.
Charlotte and Jane exchanged glances.
“I would say later, rather than soon, my dear.” Jane laughed and snared a fairy cake. “Fanny and Matthew have never waited overlong to christen a new bed.”
“Jane!” For some reason her cheeks heated at the thought of her friend availing herself of marital pleasures while the rest of them sat talking downstairs.
“It is nothing but the truth, isn’t that right, Charlotte?”
“I would have to say so, Jane.” Grinning and trying to hide it, Charlotte picked up her cup, took a sip only to find it empty, and replaced it on the tray.
“Elizabeth”—Maria hastened to change the topic before her Christmas party became a scandal—“I heard you call your son Nes, is that correct? What an unusual name.”
“His true name is what is unusual. Onesiphorus.”
“Oh, my.” Never had she heard such an outlandish name. “Where did you come up with that name?”
“It is my father-in-law’s given name, and as he had objections to our marrying, we bargained with him—approve our marriage and we would name the child after him if it was a son. And as there is no other title available to him, we had to come up with a least objectionable nickname. So Nes it is.” She shrugged. “I’ve become accustomed to it.”
Tea arrived and talk turned perfunctory in front of the servant.
“You have truly captured the Christmas spirit in this room, Maria.” Elizabeth gazed about the room with admiring eyes.
From the moment she’d written invitations to her friends, Maria had planned to have this one room be cozy and festive. Even though traditionally greenery was only brought into the house on Christmas Eve, Maria had followed the example of Lord Kersey—much as she hated to admit it—and arranged the decorations in this room well before the usual day. She’d ordered fir, holly, ivy, rosemary, and mistletoe brought in, then she and Jane had tied festive bundles to place on windowsills or mantels and draped garland wherever she could attach it. The mistletoe ball, decorated with tiny red a
nd white ribbons, hung prominently over the entrance to the room, although no one had noticed it yet.
“Thank you, Elizabeth. I wanted us to be joyful this Christmas.” Never mind that her own joy had been cut short, her friends would make the difference in her life now.
“Good afternoon, all.” Fanny and Matthew crossed the threshold, stopped and looked above them.
“Ha, caught you.” Matthew grabbed Fanny to him, bent her over his arm, and kissed her long and thoroughly. When he finally righted her, Fanny’s smile reached from ear to ear.
“Do you have any more mistletoe around the house we can sample?” she said to Maria, with a laugh.
“Here.” Matthew reached up and plucked a white berry from the ball. “I will see to it you have a collection of these before the night is over.”
“If you would kindly move out of the way, Lathbury, there are others of us who would join the party.” Kinellan’s voice rang out jovially.
Matthew obliged by taking Fanny’s hand and leading her into the room.
No sooner did he move than Kinellan said, “This way.”
The door was filled by another couple, the lady in a dark green gown with gold medallions scattered over it and a tall, handsome gentleman in buff and blue. “Come along, Lulu.” Georgie tugged on the lead and a bouncy King Charles Spaniel trotted into the room.
“Georgie!”
The women rose at once and converged on Georgie, now the Marchioness of St. Just.
The hugging and kissing that ensued between the members of the former Widows’ Club threatened to get out of hand, until Rob, Marquess of St. Just, waded in to rescue his wife.
“Ladies, I beg of you to allow Georgie to be seated, please.” He escorted the blushing Georgie to the sofa, Lulu leading the way, plumed tail waving proudly.
“You do not have to make a spectacle of me, Rob.” Georgie sat glaring at him, though she smiled all the same. “He wants people to notice how delicate I am because he is inordinately proud that I am finally increasing.”
Another great cry, this time of congratulations, went up. The ladies clustered around Georgie, chatting excitedly, asking questions, giving advice, while the men gathered together at the sideboard, Kinellan handing out congratulatory drinks and raucous jokes being made sotto voce at Rob’s expense.
Maria, however, hung back, suddenly an outsider in her own home. These ladies were her friends, yet they all possessed something that she did not—a husband, or in Jane’s case, a gentleman of significance in her life. Only Maria was alone, in sharp contrast to everyone else at the party. If only Hugh could have been here, her happiness could be complete. No, that would only be true if they were actually husband and wife. A wave of loneliness engulfed her. Never would she find the contentment all her other friends shared, because the one man she loved was not here to complete her happiness. Would never be here to do so.
Tears started from her eyes and she fled to the fireplace before anyone could see. She wiped the tears on the back of her hand, half expecting to be handed the folded handkerchief, smelling of citrus and Hugh. He’d always done so before, but not now. And probably never again.
“Maria?” Jane, of course, had seen her leave the group. “What is wrong, my dear?”
Throat swollen with unshed tears, she could only shake her head, and wish for that handkerchief.
Miraculously, a square of linen appeared before her. She gasped and looked up into Kinellan’s face, filled with compassion. “Fashionable ladies’ gowns have but one design flaw. They do not have pockets in which to carry one’s handkerchief. So I thought you could use mine for the time being.”
“Thank you.” Her nasally voice sounded terrible, but there was little she could do about that until the tears stopped. She wiped her eyes, suddenly aware of the silence in the room. Looking over her shoulder brought the realization that everyone in the room was watching her.
Fanny was the first of those on the sofa to come to her. “What is wrong, Maria?”
She tried to simply shake her head, but Fanny would stand for no nonsense.
“If there was no reason to cry, your cheeks would be dry and your nose wouldn’t be red.” She led Maria back to the sofa and sat her down next to Georgie. “Why are you so unhappy, my dear?”
With a shuddering sigh, she tried to pull her wits together. “Until very recently, I believed that I would be getting married soon.”
“You were?” Fanny’s eyebrows rose extremely high and she turned to Jane. “And you didn’t write to us?”
Jane shrugged. “I was not privy to it until quite recently, and then . . . other events took precedence, so I could not correspond as I would have wished.”
“But, Maria.” Georgie laid a hand on Maria’s. “Aren’t you still in mourning, or rather half mourning, for the late Lord Kersey?” She looked pointedly at Maria’s purple gown.
“I am, although we were planning to wait until my mourning had passed and his . . . circumstances had settled down.” A tear spilled down her cheek and she caught it with Kinellan’s handkerchief, still hoping to smell the scent of citrus.
“What happened to change your plans, my dear?” Elizabeth looked encouragingly at her.
“This.” Maria waved her hand at the room. “It finally came to light, eight months after he died, that Alan had made a will benefitting me and little Jane.” She glanced from face to face. “Greatly benefitted me and Jane. To the point I thought I would never want for anything ever again.” She sobbed. “I was wrong.”
“My dear.” Charlotte put her arms around her. “You cannot mean that when your betrothed found out about your fortune he refused to marry you?”
Too distraught to speak, Maria nodded.
“I know it sounds odd,” Kinellan broke in, “but there are extenuating circumstances having to do with his family and an incipient scandal. The gentleman wished to shield Maria from possible censure, and thus withdrew his suit.”
“Have you written to him since you parted?” Fanny began to pace in front of the fire.
“No. I didn’t write because I was afraid he either would not answer at all, or rebuff me once more.” Maria sniffed. “I didn’t think I could endure that again.”
“Perhaps it is time that you did so.” Fanny paused in her pacing. “You were certain of his affections?”
“Oh, yes.” Nodding vehemently, Maria cut her gaze over to Jane. “Quite certain.”
Fanny must have caught that glance because she moved closer to Maria and bent down to whisper, “Is there the possibility of a child?”
Biting her lip, Maria gave a brief nod. She’d not gotten her courses last week as she should have. It could be nothing, but the last time she’d missed them, she’d been increasing.
At that confession, Elizabeth spoke up. “Then you must write to him, my dear. If there is the possibility he is to be a father, you must let him know. No matter what scandal hangs over him, it will be nothing compared to the ruin you will endure should you have a child out of wedlock.”
The circle of friends had sobered. All were nodding in agreement, some with a look of sympathy in their eyes.
“Who is this gentleman you would marry, Maria?” Georgie cocked her head like a bird contemplating a treat.
“His name is Mr. Hugh Granger, the steward at Kersey Hall.” Maria pulled and twisted Kinellan’s already abused handkerchief. “He is one of the most kind, thoughtful, and handsome gentlemen of my acquaintance. In fact, he rescued me when I fell through the ice while we were skating.”
Gasps from all her friends brought forth that tale, with some obvious omissions.
“Well, Mr. Granger sounds terribly interesting and romantic, my dear.” Georgie had followed the tale avidly.
“Says the woman who married a pirate.” Elizabeth laughed at her sister-in-law.
“A want-to-be pirate, although he did steal my heart.” Georgie grinned fondly at her husband, standing with the little knot of men who had gone back to their brandy.
“But he has a ship.” Georgie patted her lap. “Isn’t that right, Lulu?”
“Yip.” The little dog sailed into Georgie’s lap and Georgie stroked her silky coat.
“Careful, my girl. You won’t be able to do that much longer.” Georgie turned back to Maria. “Maria, I think you should go immediately and write to Mr. Granger. Invite him to the party, but only hint that you have something important to say to him, something you must say to him in person.”
“If he’s got a brain in his head, he’ll know what you wish to speak to him about.” Fanny rose, her gaze going straight to Matthew, a subtle smile on her lips.
The others stood as well, bringing Maria reluctantly to her feet. Her reasons for not writing to Hugh still held. Another rejection and she would likely never recover. But her friends were correct. She needed to let him know, even if vaguely, that there was a new consideration when talk of their possible marriage was concerned.
Inviting her friends had been the perfect idea. She must remember to thank Jane for it. At least now, if she was able to stand face-to-face with Hugh once more, she would not be alone. Perhaps in more ways than one.
Chapter Twenty-Five
For the third time, Anthony, Lord Wetherby, tried to tie his cravat in an American knot, but the damned cloth kept creasing, making it look like a mathematical knot, which was too common. Every other gentleman in London seemed to use that particular knot. He would rather be unique. People took notice of the one-of-a-kind. Especially the ladies. Of course, he wasn’t in London at present, but it would still behoove him to attract what attention he could here in the country.
But he had to tie the damned knot first. In frustration, he jerked the length of cloth from around his neck and it slithered to the floor. “Phipps!”
His valet came at a run from the dressing room, another white cravat in his hands. “May I assist you, my lord?”
