by Alexa Aston
“Mr. St. Clair, it’s a pleasure to see you. The family is gathered in the drawing room.”
“Thank you, Barton. My usual room?”
“Yes, sir. Shall I unpack for you?”
Hudson was capable of taking clothes out of a valise and placing them in a wardrobe but he had always been aware of the role of servants ever since he’d learned he was a St. Clair.
“If you don’t mind, Barton, I would appreciate it. Are you sure you don’t want to leave His Grace’s service and become my valet?”
The butler chuckled. “Your kind offer is duly noted, Mr. St. Clair. I will consider it.”
It was a game they played, Hudson trying to steal Jeremy’s longtime retainer, with Barton always pretending he would change employers. Barton never would have left the Duke of Everton’s employ. None of the Everton servants would have. Jeremy and Catherine were thoughtful and kind to all, including their servants. Just as they’d been kind to him over the years.
He went to the familiar drawing room where he’d spent many an hour. Eversleigh was like a home to him, as was Linwood, where Laurel and Anthony resided most of the year with their children. Hudson had rooms of his own at both estates and moved freely between them, though he spent a majority of his year in London when not traveling. After university, he’d undergone a different kind of tutoring under Jeremy’s guidance and had first learned about estate management, spending time at each of the family’s country residences. He learned about farming and breeding, how to keep tenants happy, and how to maximize crop potential.
Next, Jeremy had moved him into shipping and Hudson had spent time in the London offices, learning everything about that business. Afterward, he learned about construction projects from large to small, working with Rachel on gardens and working his way up to renovating and finally building houses and places of business. Nowadays, he worked hand in hand with Matthew Proctor, helping to manage all the St. Clair business, from transportation to land purchases to coal mines. All in all, he led a satisfying life, one much different from his time working on the London docks and streets.
Entering the drawing room, he saw a gaggle of relatives present. His eyes went first to his sister. Laurel had always been a beauty but she’d blossomed ever since having children. She was deep in conversation with Caroline, his brother Luke’s wife. Hudson sneaked up behind his twin and wrapped his arms about her.
“Hudson!” Laurel cried, spinning and kissing his cheeks. “You’re as cold as ice.”
“It’s blustery out there,” he said. “Rain threatens at any moment. I was glad I arrived when I did. Hello to all.”
He made the rounds, greeting his hosts, Jeremy and Catherine, along with Catherine’s sister, Leah, and her husband, Alex. Rachel squeezed him tightly, and her husband, Evan, offered his hand. Hudson had thought for a time he might like to go into the military and become an officer as Evan had been before his marriage. While it hadn’t seemed as if England would be at war any time soon when Hudson had graduated from university, Jeremy had discouraged him from pursuing that path. Now that war had broken out on Africa’s Gold Coast and in Burma, he was glad he’d heeded Jeremy’s advice and gone into business instead.
“Where are Anthony and Luke?” he asked. “Wait. Don’t tell me. They’re in the nursery.”
Caroline laughed. “Luke is the biggest child of them all. You know that, Hudson. Anthony is his willing cohort. The only good thing is that they’ve been in the nursery most of the afternoon and will have worn the children out.”
“I’ll go see all of them after tea,” he promised. Looking around, he frowned. “Where is Cor?”
Cor was the grand dame of the St. Clair family and Dowager Duchess of Everton. Of all his St. Clair relatives, he was closest to his grandmother. She had spent many hours helping to shape him and his outlook on the world. Cor was the smartest person, man or woman, that Hudson had ever met. She could speak knowledgeably on any topic and had a biting wit. He’d learned which fork to use and all of his ton manners from her. She’d taken a raw, almost uncivilized boy of eighteen and turned him into a polished man. Though not quite a gentleman. He’d always be known as a by-blow of Everton’s. Hudson might dress and speak as cultured as any man of the ton but he would never be accepted. Laurel had escaped being branded in such a manner by becoming Anthony’s duchess. Even then, Hudson supposed a few gossips talked behind her back.
“Cor is resting,” Catherine told him. “She rarely takes tea with us anymore, preferring to have it in her room.”
“Perhaps I should go and be with her,” he said.
“No,” Laurel said firmly. “I haven’t seen you in ages. You’ll visit with all of us and then you can go see Cor.”
He laughed and said to the others, “Simply because Laurel came out first and is the elder by fifteen minutes, she thinks she can order me about.”
“I side with Laurel on this,” Rachel said, her eyes full of mischief. “We sisters stick together, you know.”
Anthony and Luke returned at that moment and Hudson went to greet them. The tea carts followed and they spent a pleasant hour discussing family, business, and the women’s charity efforts. Laurel, in particular, was heavily involved in an orphanage located in the area where she and Hudson had grown up. She shared several stories about her recent visits and Anthony joined in, describing some of his efforts to remake the neighborhood.
Hudson couldn’t help but think how different this afternoon was from the Christmases he and his twin had spent in poverty. It had taken his mother’s death and Laurel discovering their link to the Duke of Everton before this side of the family had been revealed to them. Overnight, their lives changed. Laurel had a Season and wed Anthony. Jeremy had paid for Hudson’s university education and employed him beyond that. He had the support of this large, loving family and had become close friends with his brothers and brothers-in-law.
He still wondered sometimes, though, about taking on the St. Clair name as a bastard son to the former duke. Luke had eagerly pressed him to do so. Jeremy had told Hudson it was his choice but encouraged him to make up his mind before he left for university. In the end, Hudson had cast aside his Wright surname and adopted St. Clair. He knew it would please his new relatives and, ultimately, it would open doors formerly closed to him as he pursued matters of business. He might not hold a title as Jeremy and Luke did but the magic of the St. Clair name was the next best thing.
As tea ended, Jeremy said, “I’ll walk you up to see Cor.”
“Don’t forget to stop by the nursery after,” Laurel reminded him. “If you don’t, we’ll send the mob of children looking for you.”
“Is that a threat?” he teased.
“Most certainly, a promise,” she said.
Hudson laughed and left the drawing room with Jeremy. He knew his brother enough to realize Jeremy had something to tell him, apart from the others.
“What do I need to know?” he asked.
“You’ve always been intuitive. That, along with your common sense, makes you the businessman you are,” Jeremy noted. “The various family fortunes are in good hands and have almost doubled in your time at the helm.”
“I brought a few boxes of documents for us to go over,” Hudson told him. “Regarding bridge construction and steam engines. I also have an inventor I’m going to see two days after Christmas. With the Stockton and Darlington Railway now open, more public trains pulled by steam engines will begin operations. I have a group of investors that will go in with us to create our own railway company.”
“Men you trust?”
“Of course. Besides the family, Lords Neville and Morefield. Lords Merrifield and Rutherford, too. All close friends to the family and in a position to invest. But we can talk more about this later. What about Cor?”
His brother stopped. “Cor is dying.”
Hudson knew it was coming. His grandmother was eighty-five. It was unheard of for anyone to live to that age. Yet Cor seemed ageless to him. She’d had th
e most influence on his life and taught him so much. Next to Laurel, he loved Cor most of all. Trying to picture his life without Cor in it was unthinkable.
“Does she know?” he asked.
“Yes. The doctors have come and gone. She has a few weeks, at best.”
“I plan to spend every minute with her then,” Hudson said with determination. Then he remembered his appointment with the eccentric inventor, which had been hard to come by. “I have that one pressing business commitment just after Christmas but I will return then and not leave her side.”
They continued to Cor’s rooms and Jeremy paused outside the door.
“I’ll let you speak to her alone. She’s been eager for your return.” With that, he nodded and left.
Hudson took a deep breath, gathering his courage. He didn’t want his grandmother to see defeat in his eyes. He forced a smile on his face and tapped on the door and then pushed it open, knowing Cor had grown a little hard of hearing in recent years and might not hear his knock.
She was lying on a chaise lounge next to the window, a place she loved because she could look out and see the lane leading up to Eversleigh. He’d spent hours with her sitting there, talking about everything and nothing.
A book sat in her lap but she wasn’t reading. Her gaze was turned out the window. Her abundant, snowy-white hair was piled high on her head. Jet earrings dangled from her earlobes. Her gown was simple but his grandmother was a commanding woman who wore her clothes. Her clothes did not wear her.
“Cor?”
She turned and her smile grew radiant as she caught sight of him. Even at her age, Hudson thought Cor a great beauty. She must have been breathtaking in her youth.
He bent and brushed his lips against her wrinkled cheek and then took her hands and kissed them reverently.
“I have missed you,” Hudson said.
“Have you?” Those brows arched. “I heard you’re keeping company with a new mistress.”
He flushed. “I’m not sure where you could have heard that. I’m not one to be tied down. You know I’m a confirmed bachelor.”
Her eyes assessed him. “So you say.”
Hudson had recently gotten rid of the mistress his grandmother referred to. He wasn’t in the habit of keeping one because he found them too needy. Seeing one woman—even a courtesan—was too time-consuming. He’d rather have a light, casual affair every now and then with a married woman who’d produced her heir and spare and tired of her husband. An experienced woman who wouldn’t cling or make demands on him. It amused him how many women of Polite Society wouldn’t have acknowledged him if he entered a ballroom yet they welcomed him into their beds.
He kissed her hand again. “I have no mistress.”
“Good. Because I want you to find a wife. I know Jeremy told you that I’m dying. It’s no secret. The doctors came and went all in the last week.” She sighed. “Frankly, it’s time. I’ve had a wonderful life, Hudson, thanks to my grandchildren. My marriage was arranged. My only son was a disappointment. It’s my grandchildren, though, who have added richness to my life. Raising Jeremy, Luke, and Rachel and then seeing how they turned out to be kind and loyal warmed my soul. Then discovering you and Laurel and having you become double blessings late in my life has made these last years worthwhile. I felt useful again, teaching you what I know.”
She hesitated. “I can go to my grave happy because I’ve seen four of my grandchildren make a perfect match in finding their soulmates. The great-grandchildren they’ve given me have been a gift too precious for words.”
He shook his head. “If you’re worried about me, Cor, don’t be. Like you, my life is richer for having come into the St. Clair family. You have been my shining star as you guided me into this life I never expected. My good character and beliefs can be laid at your doorstep. Family means a great deal to me—but that doesn’t mean I want one of my own. I enjoy the love and friendship of my brothers and sisters and their spouses. I take delight in my nieces and nephews, especially your namesake, Delia. I don’t want a wife or children of my own, though. I like being able to travel for the work I do for our family. I don’t ever want to be attached to only one woman. I like women far too much to ever stay faithful to one. It wouldn’t be fair to take a wife and leave her alone so often, both physically and emotionally.”
“That’s bloody hogwash,” Cor proclaimed. “I know you’re a good-looking man, Hudson. You’re all St. Clair in looks and charm. But deep down inside, you feel inadequate. Not quite good enough since you’re a by-blow St. Clair. A man without a title or his own home.”
Her words cut him to the quick—because everything she said was true. Hudson believed himself a fraud, using the St. Clair name. He moved among the edges of Polite Society and did business with a great many of them. Although he had numerous friends—and a vast army of female admirers—he never really felt as if he fit in. His brothers and brothers-in-law were titled gentlemen with numerous estates between them. While he had made a good deal of money, he didn’t believe any good woman would ever want him.
“Instead of looking for a wife and facing possible rejection, you’ve gone the total opposite way,” Cor accused. “You’ve become a rogue. One who plays with the hearts of married women because you keep your own locked away.”
She squeezed his hand. “Quit guarding your heart, Hudson. Let it loose. Take a chance. I’m not saying you should wed some silly girl of the ton, straight out of the schoolroom. Being illegitimate does limit your choices. There are many other nice women out there who have never set foot in a London ballroom, though. Daughters of solicitors or doctors or bankers.” She gave him a pointed look. “Even shop girls, earning their living, as Laurel did before she married Anthony. These women aren’t interested in a titled gentleman. They are looking for a good man. One who is loyal and giving and will treasure them for who they are.”
Cor smiled sagely. “They say former rogues make the best husbands. I am certain that will be the case with you.”
He shook his head. “You know I adore you. I would move heaven and earth to please you. But I will not go and trap some woman into marriage just so I can wed her before you pass away.”
She shrugged. “I’m not saying you must find one that fast. I merely want you to be open to the idea of marriage. That’s all.”
Hudson wanted to keep the peace between them and make her final days happy ones so he said, “I will certainly consider it, Cor.”
Once his beloved grandmother was gone, though, a wife would be the last thing he would ever seek out.
Chapter Three
Hudson left the small inn and rode toward Warlingham. His destination, Morris Park, was just east of Warlingham in Surrey. The innkeeper had given him good directions and Hudson should arrive at Lord Morrison’s estate in just under an hour. He hated that he’d wasted two days inside a carriage to reach the inventor. If his suspicions were correct, railways were the future of travel, with steam locomotives and their miles of track able to carry passengers and goods far greater distances in a single day than could be attempted by horseback or coach. That was why he wanted to visit with Lord Morrison in person.
He’d been intrigued by the viscount’s designs, which had been shared via their correspondence. If the prototype proved to be worthy, Hudson was willing to spend a goodly sum to invest in the man’s steam engine. It would still be months—if not a year or more—for production to be set up and engines manufactured. But he thought it a wise investment for the family’s future. It would also give him time to study how the Stockton and Darlington Railway progressed in the meantime. What problems they faced. How they were solved. How the public took to riding the rails. He’d already ridden twice on the new railway himself, wanting to check out the possible competitor to the St. Clairs and have a better idea of travel in that manner.
He arrived at Morris Park and rode up the drive. Though he understood it was the dead of winter, the place still appeared forlorn, as if it had seen better days and had b
een forsaken, its owners moving on. Yet he knew the property wasn’t abandoned. He’d corresponded several times with Lord Morrison over the past few months. Was its peculiar inventor a man who neglected his estate and spent all his time trying out new ideas?
Arriving at the house, he waited a moment. No one came out to greet him. He knew he was expected, if only for the day. Hudson called out and had his driver pull around to the eastern side of the house and found a few dilapidated sheds and a stable which had seen better days. It needed a few good coats of paint to start. A thin man with a limp came out, surprise on his face.
“Who might you be, my lord?” he asked as Hudson disembarked from the carriage.
“I am Mr. St. Clair. I have an appointment to speak with Lord Morrison.”
“Good luck with that,” the man muttered under his breath.
“My driver can help you see to the horses. They need to be watered and fed. I’ll only be here for a few hours.”
The servant nodded. “You can go back around to the front. I’m sure Lady Mia will be the one to help you.”
Hudson reluctantly left, glad his driver was present to help with the horses. He wondered if the man he’d spoken to was even a groom. He also wondered why he was directed to Lady Mia. Was she the viscountess? He didn’t have time to waste on a woman. He needed to see Morrison and firm up a deal if pleased with what he saw. Then he would go to London and iron out a few things with Davidson, the St. Clair solicitor, before returning to Eversleigh in order to spend time with Cor. She had made it downstairs to Christmas dinner but had tired easily. Hudson had carried her back to her bedchamber and remained with her the rest of the day, away from their boisterous family and numerous children. It had been a good afternoon and early evening, spent with a woman he held dear. Fortunately, she hadn’t pressed him any further about finding a wife. Hopefully, she’d forgotten about such nonsense.
