Christmas with the Duchess

by Tamara Lejeune

  To her astonishment and dismay, he laughed.

  “Thank you for your assessment, ma’am,” he said, still laughing. “If you think lessons will improve my technique, by all means, give me the benefit of your vast experience! I am willing to learn, nay, eager.”

  “I am going to teach you how to ride a horse, Nicholas,” Emma said sternly. “What goes on between you and your wife is entirely up to you.”

  “Precisely,” he said, quickening his step. “I’m glad we understand each other! Mind you,” he went on as she hurried to keep up with him, “I suppose there’s a lot of overlap between riding a horse and making love to a woman.”

  “Only a brute would think so! They are two very different things, I assure you.”

  “But I am a brute,” he said. “We’ve established that already. I can only hope the techniques I learn from you in the stables may answer very well in the bedchamber with my wife. Mounting is to be the first lesson, is it not?”

  “I liked you better last year! I did not think you were a brute last year.”

  “I’d rather be thought a brute than a fool,” he said curtly.

  As they drew near to the stables, the head groom came hurrying out to meet them. “Your grace!” he cried, ignoring Nicholas. “I was not informed that your grace meant to ride this morning. Will I have Storm saddled for you, your grace?”

  “I don’t mean to ride this morning,” Emma assured him, going past him into the warm building. “I’ve just brought Lord Camford to see Parley. She’s not been taken out, has she?”

  The groom had not forgotten Nicholas. He glared at him with open dislike. “Tom’s just brought her back from her exercise,” he said, glowering.

  “Perfect,” said Emma. “Lord Camford can give her a good rubbing down. It’s quite all right; I’ll be with him the whole time,” she added quickly, as the man opened his mouth to protest.

  “You remember Parley, of course,” Emma went on, leading Nicholas down the length of the stables to the stall of a brown mare.

  “Polly?” he echoed, looking at the animal.

  At the sound of his voice, the mare skittered sideways, backing up until her haunches touched the back of the stall. Her nostrils flared and her eyes rolled back.

  “Par-ley,” she enunciated. “Short for Parliament. In her youth, she had the bad habit of stealing oats from her neighbors, hence the name. You rode her last year. Don’t you remember? She certainly remembers you. I’d say apologies are in order.”

  “Of course! I’m very sorry she was hurt.”

  “There’s no need to apologize to me,” Emma told him. “I wasn’t the one you hurt.”

  He blinked at her. “You expect me to apologize…to a horse?”

  “Of course. If you are ever going to ride her again, you will have to win her forgiveness and earn back her trust. Tell her you’re sorry you hurt her,” she instructed him. “Tell her you were a clumsy fool. Tell her you won’t do it again. And beg her to take you back.”

  “This is ridiculous,” he complained.

  “You’re right,” she said. “You should get down on your knees, too. You’ll seem less threatening to her, smaller, if you are on your knees.”

  “Oh, well! As long as there is a good reason for it,” he muttered, lowering himself to one knee. “Hear me, O horse,” he declaimed. “I, Lord Camford, am sorry I hurt you. I was a clumsy fool. It won’t happen again. Please, oh, please, let me ride thee again.”

  “Hmmm,” said Emma, studying the horse. “You’ve got her attention, but not in a good way. There was a strong note of anger in your voice. I fear she doubts your sincerity. Pretend you are apologizing to your wife.”

  “I was. Hence the strong note of anger in my voice.”

  “Try talking to her in a gentle, soothing voice. It’s no use barking at her—or at Julia, for that matter. If you’re really sorry, that is.”

  “As far as the horse goes, I really am.”

  “That’s a start anyway,” said Emma. “You’ll find some apples in that barrel over there. See if you can’t get her to eat from your hand. But be patient. Let her come to you in her own time. When you’ve managed that, we’ll see about putting you in the stall with her. I’ll be right over here if you need me. The key is patience.”

  Settling down on a bale of hay, she watched as he tried to coax the mare to take the apple from his hand. Within a few moments, lulled by the sound of his voice, she had fallen asleep, her shoulder against the stall opposite Parley’s, her head propped up on one hand.

  Some time later, she jerked awake, striking her head on the side of the stall against which she had been leaning. The stable clock had begun to chime. Nicholas stood looking down at her, his fists on his hips.

  “What time is it?” she murmured, stretching her arms.

  “Ten o’clock, I should think,” he replied, looking at her intently.

  “Oh, dear,” she said, dismayed. “Well, how many apples did you feed her?”

  “Just the one,” he said grimly. “And that she snatched from my hand after two hours of sweet talk. I haven’t heard from her since. I think I should start over with another horse. This one obviously hates me.”

  Emma frowned at him. “I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way, my lord. I’m not about to let you ruin all my horses. You will ride Parley, or you’ll not ride at all!”

  “Another emblem of marriage!” he said bitterly.

  “Yes, if you like. Your wife may hate you at present, but you cannot simply cast her aside and get another one.”

  “I could get a mistress,” he retorted. “If Julia finds me so unappealing, then perhaps it would be better if I never go near her. That should bring her great peace of mind,” he added bitterly. “Poor girl! Her suffering is at an end. I will get a mistress.”

  “You’ll do no such thing!” Emma said angrily.

  He met her eyes defiantly. “I might have one already, for all you know.”

  “No.”

  “No,” he admitted, “but only because it was so difficult to choose! There were so many elegant ladies in London, and they all liked me. Lady Bellingham. Lady Melbourne. Lady Caroline Arbuthnot.”

  “Why not have them all?” Emma said pleasantly. “I know those ladies. They will not mind sharing you.”

  “Of course! I can have them all, can’t I? That’s how it works, is it not? In Society? All the gentlemen keep mistresses, and all the ladies have lovers, and, every so often, they change partners, for the sake of variety?”

  “No, Nicholas, that is not how it works,” she told him sharply.

  He smiled. “I beg your pardon, ma’am, but I have seen enough of Society this past year to know that that is exactly how it works!”

  “Not for you,” she said quietly.

  “Why not me? Am I so special?”

  “I had thought you were,” she said, looking down at her hands. “When I met you last year, I thought you quite…”

  “Stupid? Gauche? Naive? Oh, what’s that word—I hear it all the time! Farouche?”

  “Unspoiled. I did not think Society could corrupt you.”

  “You are rewriting history, ma’am,” he said coldly. “Let me correct you. When you met me last year, you thought me a mere boy, and a fool.”

  “I did at first,” she admitted. “You were so different from the men I know. Now, it seems, you are to be just like them! That, I think, makes you a fool, and you will be an unhappy fool, too. I can promise you that. You once told me that, if you were my husband, you would not betray me.”

  He stared at her for a moment. “If I were your husband, I wouldn’t,” he said. “But I am not your husband. I am Julia’s husband. I never wanted to marry Julia. She tricked me.”

  “That doesn’t mean you can treat her badly for the rest of her life,” Emma argued. “However it came to be, you are married to her. You’re stuck with each other, whether you like it or not, so you might as well make the best of it. It will take time to earn back her trust and a
ffection, but it can be done.”

  “What about my trust and affection?” he demanded. “When is she going to earn that?”

  Emma threw up her hands. “Very well! She tricked you! Can you not understand why she did it? You should be flattered!”

  “Flattered!”

  “She has been taught all her life that marrying well is her only reason for existing. You were the Holy Grail to her, Nicholas. You can hardly blame her for wanting to marry you. Can you not forgive her for being…human? I did not think you were so hard-hearted!”

  “Well, I am. I cannot forgive her.”

  “Poor Julia!” Emma murmured. “Her wedding night must have been a nightmare. She must have felt how much you hated her. If this is how you feel, you should never have touched her! How could you do it? How could you use your wedding night to punish that poor foolish girl? Because that is what you did, is it not? Instead of making love to her, you—you punished her! Small wonder she wants to leave you!”

  He stared at her, white-faced. “That is what you think of me?”

  “What am I supposed to think?” cried Emma. “Julia was so happy to be your wife. If you had showed her the smallest bit of kindness, I know she would have loved you. Instead, you chose to be cruel. I did not want to believe it of you! I had convinced myself that Julia must be exaggerating, or that your mistakes were due to your own inexperience in love, but you are cruel. You are heartless and cruel. You are not the man I thought you were. I do not know you at all.”

  “Why?” he said coldly. “Who did you think I was?”

  She laughed bitterly. “You were Galahad to me. But I was mistaken. I don’t know how a human being with a conscience could do what you have done to Julia. You should beg her forgiveness. You should do whatever it takes to win her back. You should try to make her happy.”

  “Thank you for the lesson, ma’am.”

  Emma jumped to her feet as he turned to go. “If you are angry, Nicholas, your anger should be directed toward me,” she told him sharply. “Promise me you will not seek revenge against Julia. She knows nothing of my interference. Indeed, I am the last person from whom she would accept help.”

  “Julia has nothing to fear from me,” he answered coldly. “I shan’t go near her. If she wants a divorce, she may have it.”

  “You should never have married her!”

  “Madam,” he said, “I couldn’t possibly agree with you more.”

  Giving her a stiff bow, Nicholas turned on his heel and left her.

  Deeply shaken, Emma remained where she was until Parley’s restless movements drew her out of her unhappy thoughts. “My poor darling,” she murmured, stroking the mare’s nose. “He is gone. The bad man is gone. He will never touch you again.”

  Emma stayed twenty minutes, comforting the nervous horse, then went back to the house feeling gloomy and depressed and slightly sick. As she entered her private sitting room, Colin dove behind the sofa. Emma was in no mood for his antics.

  “I know you’re here,” she said wearily. “You might as well come out.”

  Colin peeked at her over the back of the sofa. Mustering his dignity, he came out of hiding. “I thought you were my wife,” he gruffly explained.

  Emma sat down at the pianoforte and mechanically began to play finger exercises. “You were not hiding from Elke,” she said impatiently.

  “Of course not,” he agreed. “I am Lord Colin Grey. I do not hide from amazons. But I do skillfully avoid them.”

  “There is no need to hide from Elke. She has gone out with the others to see the herd. They will not be back for hours. They are to have a picnic.”

  “Good to know,” he said, taking a seat. “Play a song, can’t you?” he said presently, as she continued her exercises. “Nobody wants to hear all that noise.”

  “My fingers are in need of exercise,” Emma replied. “If you don’t like it, you can go somewhere else, you know. You’ve made up with Aunt Harriet, haven’t you? Why don’t you go and hide in her rooms?”

  “Maybe I will,” he said indignantly.

  “Please do!”

  “Well!” he said. “What’s got your drawers in a knot? Where have you been anyway? Riding?” he guessed, after looking over her habit. “It’s not like you to go riding so early.”

  “It’s not all that early,” she pointed out. “If you must know, I was giving Lord Camford a lesson. Trying to, anyway. Oh, the whole thing just makes me want to cry!”

  Instead of crying, however, she brought both hands crashing down on the pianoforte.

  “You’re not giving up on him after just one lesson?” Colin said incredulously. “I’m sure, with a few more of your expert tutorials, he’ll be an excellent lover.”

  Emma groaned. “I was trying to teach him about horses, Colin. Horses. It seems we had a misunderstanding,” she explained. “He thought I was talking about horses all along, and I thought he was talking about sex.”

  “Oh, I hate when that happens,” Colin said sympathetically. “And you got up so early, too! You would not have minded getting up early for sex.”

  Emma shuddered. “After what I’ve learned, I don’t think he’s fit to go near a mare, let alone a woman. If Julia is brave enough to seek a divorce, she has my full support. I did not want to believe it, but the man is a thorough brute. Julia will be better off without him.”

  “Divorce?” Colin murmured. “My dear, this is serious talk.”

  Emma left the pianoforte and walked up and down the room. The carpet had been removed, revealing the parquet floor, and her riding boots echoed loudly. “It is serious, Colin,” she told her brother. “He resents her for tricking him into marriage, and he showed her all his resentment on their wedding night. On that night of all nights, he should have been kind and gentle. At the very least, he ought to have left her alone entirely. Instead, he was a brute.”

  “A brute? To my little Julia?” Colin frowned.

  “Yes, poor girl! As much as I dislike her, my pity for her is sincere. She would have been expecting the ending to a fairy tale. Instead, she got a monster with a heart full of revenge. He says he will give her a divorce if she wants one.”

  “But he cannot be allowed to divorce her,” Colin objected. “That would ruin her life. He must allow her to divorce him. You could be correspondent, Emma.”

  “Thank you, no,” Emma said dryly. “I don’t care to have my name blackened in the House of Lords! Harry would never forgive me. And I certainly don’t want my name linked to Camford’s.”

  “My dear girl, it already is,” he told her. “It was all over London that you had an affair with him last Christmas before he married Julia. Naturally, people will think the affair is ongoing. It will be assumed that you are the cause of their divorce.”

  “Colin, there is a great deal of difference between idle talk and legal testimony in a divorce case,” Emma said firmly. “Julia will have to bring charges of cruelty against him.”

  “He’s not likely to put up with that,” Colin pointed out. “I have it!” he exclaimed suddenly. “We’ll kill two birds with one stone. Elke can be his correspondent. They can have all the criminal conversations they want. We’ll get lots of proof. Then I will divorce her, and Julia can divorce him.”

  “I think we had better stay out of it altogether, Colin.”

  “Stay out of it?” he said incredulously.

  “Yes, Colin; stay out of it,” Emma commanded. “Well out of it.”

  “If that’s how you feel,” he said sulkily. “Of course, I’ll stay out of it.”

  “I’m going to have a bath,” Emma announced crossly. “And then I’m going back to bed!”

  “Pleasant dreams,” he called after her.

  Chapter Twenty

  Octavia Fitzroy had no interest whatsoever in stag hunting. She was not a keen rider like her sister Augusta. Nor was she mad for a picnic, like Flavia. Her sole reason for riding out with the others that morning was to keep an eye on Mr. Palafox.

  In genera
l, Octavia did not care if Charles ran after other women, but his flirtation with Julia cut her to the quick. If not for Julia, she, Octavia, would almost certainly be Countess of Camford! Under no circumstances would Octavia lose a second husband to Julia’s machinations. In her anxiety to keep Charles in line, Octavia had threatened to break their engagement, reminding him that, if she did so, his aunt undoubtedly would cut him off without a penny.

  Her threat had brought her no peace of mind, however. In fact, Charles seemed to resent it. His flirtation with Julia continued unabated. It was as though he were daring Octavia to jilt him. This she could not do, of course, having been jilted twice already. Therefore, it was imperative that she not let Charles and Julia out of her sight.

  Octavia was the last of the party to mount, and the only lady to insist on using the mounting block. The other ladies, even Princess Elke, had been content to be tossed into the saddle by a gentleman or a groom. In Princess Elke’s case, Major von Schroeder was given the honor. Kneeling down, he made a stirrup of his hands. The princess stepped into them, and, though she was a big woman, he tossed her easily up into the saddle.

  “You are very strong, Major,” she complimented him, and when he was mounted they spoke to one another exclusively in German.

  Mr. Palafox was annoyed by Octavia’s insistence on the mounting block. “For heaven’s sake, Miss Fitzroy!” he said sharply. “If the Princess von Hindenburg can do without it; if Lady Camford can do without it, so can you. Let the man give you a leg up, or I will give you a leg up,” he threatened.

  “It is not correct, Mr. Palafox,” Octavia said firmly. “I will not put my foot in a man’s hands, unless they be my husband’s.”

  Julia groaned. “What a nonsensical little prude you are! Get on the horse, spinster!”

  “What is this?” Princess Elke demanded. “Princess Elke is not correct? But Princess Elke, she is always correct!” She continued to argue loudly, unopposed, while the mounting block was brought to Octavia.