"Yes. We had a bit of a falling-out over some of my debts of honor, so I'd wager she's glad I'm not about to torment her constantly."
"I understand completely. That's why we're not in Brighton with the rest of the family. After the Cheltingham tragedy of last year, I simply told Mama that Victoria has been ill and needs the rest. And Harriet's family has gone to spend the holiday in Scotland! Thankfully, Victoria also gets dreadfully sick on long carriage rides, so we had to decline the invitation," he replied with a wink.
Aubrey smiled broadly at him, finally looking more the thing. His blue eyes had once again begun to sparkle with mirth, and he no longer resembled a frozen spirit of the dead. "You're very lucky to have a daughter. I simply have to get in Mama's black books before she banishes me from her entertainments. To be truthful, I'm becoming rather bored with them."
Henry stretched his aching muscles in his chair. "I hope we're a trifle more entertaining. Nigel Manning, Lord Stratford, Harriet's cousin, is also visiting, as is her bosom bow from school, Emily Winterhaven. Harriet has all sorts of activities planned, and our entire house party has been invited to Lord Blackmore's New Year's Eve masquerade. It's rather a local tradition, and Blackmore is as rich as the Golden Ball, so you won't find a better rout in the country."
Aubrey stared into the fire and commented, "I do believe spending the Christmas holiday in the country is exactly what I need to cure my blue devils. It's dashed tiring being a con-firmed rake, you know," he finished wryly, a haunted look in his clear blue eyes.
"Mama, look at all the snow!" Victoria exclaimed, chasing Wellington through the freshly fallen snow.
Harriet giggled, and wrapped her cerise velvet-and-fur spencer around herself tightly. "Be careful you don't fall," she called with a laugh, and glanced toward Miss Turner, Victoria's nanny. Miss Turner was frowning prodigiously.
"Lady Ashton, this weather isn't good for the child. If she comes down with a cold, she might have to be bled," Miss Turner said seriously, rubbing her gloved hands together for warmth.
"Nonsense. A romp in the snow won't hurt Victoria," Harriet proclaimed, and turned to Emily, who was standing next to her and giggling to herself.
Once again, Emily could have shown herself to more of an advantage. Her brown redingote, which looked dashed warm, did nothing to liven her complexion or make her look anything more than a well-dressed servant. At least she has a muff, Harriet thought distractedly, squinting to see Victoria and her puppy through the thickly falling snow.
"Harriet, isn't that another carriage coming toward the house?" Emily asked, pointing toward a dim blur down the road.
Harriet squinted. "Yes, it does seem to be coming this way. Henry did mention that we might be having some additional visitors, since the weather suddenly turned so dreadful. I suppose they'll want some sort of shelter until the weather clears up," Harriet declared with a frown.
"Oh," Emily replied, her body becoming rigid with tension.
"Don't worry, Emily, they'll probably be some sort of unexceptional gentry types who will be heartily grateful for any sort of shelter. You needn't get in a tizzy every time you meet someone new in England," Harriet admonished, watching the slow progress of the carriage.
"I know. I just keep expecting everyone in the ton to be as awful as they were when I had my Season."
"It would be best if you forgot about that incident entirely," Harriet said, watching her daughter slide into a large drift of snow. Wellington followed after her, and all three ladies smiled. "For goodness sake, Emily, you spent more than your share of time on the Continent. I don't see why you didn't marry some sort of Italian comte while you were there so you didn't have to move in English Society at all," she said in a scolding tone.
"They have dreadful manners," Emily whispered with a devilish grin. "And are forever trying to take liberties."
The coach practically crawled up the drive at a snail's pace and Harriet proclaimed, "You are terribly selective, aren't you? I would have thrown Henry over in a moment if I had a bad-mannered comte trying to take liberties with me!"
Emily giggled, and Miss Turner, who was attempting to watch Victoria, could be heard choking a laugh herself.
"Well, I suppose we should go inside and clean ourselves up before our new guests arrive. Do you think they might decide to turn back and not seek shelter at our wonderfully inviting abode?" Harriet asked, and Emily automatically shook her head no.
"I thought not. Miss Turner, try to get Victoria and Wellington inside before the carriage arrives," she ordered and joined Emily on their short walk back to the house.
Nigel sat alone in Henry's vast, book-lined library, sipping a glass of port. He had located a wonderfully obscure translation of Homer and was quite content to while away the afternoon reading.
Of course, Miss Winterhaven made a pretty picture, standing outside with the snow whirling about her brown redingote. Her magnificent auburn hair was held in place loosely by some combs, and she looked dashed charming, he decided, losing interest in Homer.
As Nigel contemplated Miss Winterhaven, the matter of the Manning Mermaid prickled at his conscience. No, I most certainly won't forget about the mermaid, he thought with a sigh. But how can I begin to ask Miss Winterhaven to give up a gift from her grandfather, he mused, stretching his long, well-formed legs.
"How charming to see you again, Lord Ashton," Nigel heard a female voice say faintly down the hall, and for a moment he would have bet a guinea that it was the inimitable Lady Markston. But it isn't, thank goodness, he thought, staring out the window at the blizzard. And it most certainly was a blizzard.
He could hear Henry mutter something in response, and then heard Emily reply very clearly, "It's my pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Then the unthinkable happened. He heard a very pronounced giggle that could have belonged to only one person.
Striding down the hall, a frown marred his less-than-classical features. As he approached the parlor door, the frown turned into a look of utter horror.
Standing in the ghastly Egyptian parlor in her traveling clothes was Lady Markston, wearing the most odious puce fur-trimmed pelisse. Standing next to her, in a buff pelisse with a large, brown muff, was her daughter, Lady Susan Claredon. Both ladies were smiling broadly at Henry, and Emily stood alone in the corner, a slight look of distress on her delicate features.
"Nigel, so good of you to join us," Henry began, loosening his cravat a trifle. "Let me introduce you to the newest members of our house party."
Susan turned and faced Nigel, her face lighting up in pure delight. "Why, Nigel, what a surprise!" she proclaimed, practically radiating happiness.
Nigel was horrified. I left home to get rid of the harpy and her daughter he thought, at a loss even to greet them properly. They will drive me mad if they stay more than a night, he mused, not at all happy with the situation.
Henry frowned. Nigel was acting like a slow-top. "Nigel, do you know Lady Markston and her daughter?" he asked, running his hand through his unruly brown hair.
Lady Markston giggled, and smiled broadly, showing off her yellowing teeth. "Do we know Lord Stratford? Why, he's practically engaged to my Susan," she proclaimed, causing almost everyone in the room to gape at her in disbelief.
Four
"Oh Mama, that's doing it up a bit too brown," Susan giggled, tossing her long, blond hair over the brown fur trim of her pelisse. She gave a deliberate glance over to Nigel and turned to Henry. "Nigel practically runs tame at our home," she said in a confidential tone, ignoring the look of horror etched on Nigel's face.
Lady Markston stared at Nigel, her displeasure very apparent. "I wasn't aware that you were acquainted with Lord Ashton," she said formally, staring at Nigel as if he were a piece of lint on her dress.
"Lord Ashton is married to my Cousin Harriet," Nigel said, taking both ladies' gloved hands and giving them the most perfunctory kiss.
"Lady Markston and her daughter are going to be joining us until th
e weather makes travel possible," Henry commented, running his hand through his thick brown hair.
Before anyone could reply to that pronouncement, a rather pasty-faced young maid with short, red hair and a mobcap appeared and announced, "The suites in the east wing are ready m'lord."
Henry smiled broadly and stepped forward toward his new guests. "I'm sure you'd like to freshen up after your journey, Lady Markston. Mary will show you to your rooms. I hope they meet your satisfaction," he said politely, gently moving them out of the parlor and into the hall.
"I'm sure they'll be adequate," Lady Markston replied, waiting for Susan to follow her.
Susan stood frozen in her steps, her blue eyes fixed on Nigel. "It's so good to see you again," she said in a husky voice, as her hand reached up to caress her lily-white neck.
"Of course," Nigel replied in a tone that was still noticeably frostier than the weather outside.
"Come along, Susan," Lady Markston called from the hall, and Susan's undeniably beautiful features were marred with a frown. "Excuse me, Nigel," she said in the same husky voice, then remembered her manners and turned to Emily, who was still rooted in the corner. "I look forward to seeing you at supper, Miss Hinterwaven," she said with an air of false politeness as she breezed out of the room.
Nigel leaned against the wall, a look of total disgust on his face.
"So, should I be offering you congratulations, Lord Stratford?" Emily asked in a soft voice, her eyes wide with apprehension. Lord Stratford can not be engaged to marry that female, she decided, taking an instant dislike to Susan. Lady Claredon was exactly the type who had made her short time in Society such a trial, and it would be a deuced shame if Lord Stratford were going to be leg-shackled to someone like her, she thought grimly.
"No, Miss Winterhaven, you definitely should not be offering me any such thing," he said, walking over to one of the black Egyptian chairs with ormolu supports. He eased his long form into the chair and remarked, "In fact, this is just another incident in a string of bad luck I've been having."
Emily sat down in the matching chair across from him, and leaned forward, her hands resting in her lap. "Did you have a quarrel with Lady Claredon the last time you saw her?" she asked, then blushed delicately. "I'm so terribly sorry—that really isn't any of my concern. I sound like the worst gossip."
Nigel smiled at her, and could feel the tension leaving his body. "I'll tell you a secret, Miss Winterhaven, if you promise to keep it to yourself," he said, a wicked smile on his face.
"Of course."
"Lady Markston and her daughter both have some sort of maggot in their brains and are convinced that Susan will be the next Lady Stratford. That certainly isn't the case, and that's one of the reasons that I decided to take Harriet up on her offer. If I stayed home one more moment I'm sure Lady Markston would have put the announcement in the papers herself, just to help me along," he finished, stretching his long, muscular legs.
"Then you don't have an understanding?"
"Not at all. The truth be known, Susan is a cossetted ninnyhammer and I'm none too pleased that she's here," he concluded, then added, "You're very easy to talk to, Miss Winterhaven."
Emily blushed. "That's Hinterwaven, my lord," she replied with a deliciously feminine laugh.
"Yes, of course, Hinterwaven," he said, a relaxed smile spreading over his face. "So, Miss Hinterwaven, would you like to join me in locating Harriet to tell her the news? I believe she is acquainted with Susan, and I may need you to shield me from her blows," he said, standing up and extending his hand.
Emily placed her long, delicate fingers in his strong hand and let him help her out of the Egyptian monstrosity of a chair. "Certainly, Lord Stratford. Did you know that Harriet has gone several rounds with Gentleman Jackson? We were fond of visiting him on the days we weren't whiling our time away playing cards at White's," she said with a giggle, noticing how golden his eyes seemed in the light of the parlor.
As he tucked her arm under his, Nigel replied, "Then I most certainly need your protection. I've only stood up with Gentleman Jackson once, and he landed me a facer," he admitted, leading her out of the room.
She smiled up at him, truly enjoying his company. "You certainly don't act like a proper English lord, if I may say so," she commented, hoping he didn't take offense.
Nigel smiled at the tall, auburn-haired beauty who was so different from the woman that Roger described. "Most proper English ladies aren't this easy to converse with," he concluded, closing the parlor door behind him.
"Lady Jersey herself proclaimed my Susan to be a diamond of the first water," Lady Markston stated, smiling placidly at her supper companions.
Nigel, clad in a simple pair of buckskin breeches, white shirt, and a brown cloth coat with brass buttons, stared into his food and said nothing. If anyone was watching him closely, they may have noticed that his eyebrows were raised and he wore a definite look of disbelief.
"Oh Mama, you do embarrass me," Susan gushed, straightening in her chair so that Nigel, as well as the handsome Lord Langely, could get a better view of her womanly charms. Her Clarence blue satin gown with gold lace trimming around the hem and neckline offered all of the gentlemen present a glance at the swell of her bosom, that in Town, would have been thought of as all the crack.
Across the table, Emily ate her cotelettes á la provençale silently, and wondered how Lady Claredon avoided being mistaken for a cyprian. Of course, her mother is no better, she thought, glancing down the table toward the very large and loud Lady Markston.
For dinner, Lady Markston had chosen a purple taffeta gown with a matching turban that once again barely sat on her unnaturally brown hair. A peacock feather swayed on the turban, and a large, egg-shaped ruby graced her white, freckled hand. "Nonsense, Susan," Lady Markston said, and appeared to consume an entire potato at once. "So, why haven't we met you in Town, Lord Langely?" she questioned, downing her glass of hock.
Lord Langely, looking devilishly fashionable in a blue satin coat, neck cloth tied in the Oriental, and a cerulean-and-jonquille-striped waistcoat, gave Lady Markston a warm, welcoming smile. "I can't say I've been to Almack's lately— I've had too many other matters to attend to," he said, glancing over at the fetching Lady Claredon. "If I had known you were there, Lady Claredon, I would have been dancing attendance on you every night."
Susan giggled, that annoying giggle that made Nigel visibly cringe. "You must call me Susan," she said in a sultry voice, causing her mother to frown fiercely.
"That's a grand idea," Harriet said, trying to take control of the dinner. "The weather doesn't show any signs of letting up, so we're all going to be together for quite some time. I think it would be most comfortable if we were all on a first-name basis," she proclaimed, glancing over at Henry for support.
"Yes, it would make the holiday so much more… festive," Henry added, delving back into his sweetbreads.
Emily continued eating, oblivious to the conversation around her. Lord Langely (who had now transformed into "Aubrey") is a sporting enough fellow, she thought, but I'll bet a guinea that he's a gamester. Lady Claredon, who now insisted that she be called Susan, was still annoying her. How could Lord Stratford be involved with a ninnyhammer like her, she thought, finishing up the food on her plate. Last of all was the flamboyant Lady Markston, who it was summarily decided would remain Lady Markston. She would drive me insane if she were my mama, Emily mused, sitting quietly at the table, drifting off into her own thoughts.
She was brought back to the present when Lady Markston proclaimed, "Oh yes, we must have a musical evening. Susan has the voice of an angel, you know."
Before Harriet could reject the idea, Henry, in a rare move, said, "Certainly, we'd love to hear her sing. It will help pass the evening."
Lady Markston beamed. "Wonderful."
Emily's heart sank. Harriet knew that she had a singing voice that would call the dead from their graves. And now Lady Markston had suggested a musical evening. There was no
possible way she could escape having to sing. I could claim to be ill, she thought furtively, but that would show no breeding at all. No, it's the first night of the house party and I have to participate, she decided with a sigh, a look of resignation on her face. This was going to be a dashed long evening.
"Susan, that was lovely," Aubrey said, his blue eyes shining in admiration.
Susan had the temerity to blush, and Nigel, seated behind the pianoforte, once again rolled his eyes. That motion was not lost on Emily, who smiled at him. She was rewarded with a very forward wink that, thankfully, no one noticed.
"When we go wassailing, it's been said that my voice is the sweetest," Susan said, basking in the glow of praise.
"Do sing something else," Henry asked, casually glancing at his pocket watch.
"I wouldn't want it said that my Susan is putting herself forward," Lady Markston commented, and glanced toward Emily, who had seated herself alone in the far corner. Emily's modest bottle-green satin dress was rather unexceptional, but not completely unfashionable, and she could feel Lady Markston's look of pity. "Emily, why don't you favor us with a song? Susan and Harriet shouldn't have to do all of the entertaining this evening," she said, rather ungenerously pointing out that Emily hadn't taken her turn.
"I don't sing, Lady Markston," Emily said in a soft voice, turning a very deep shade of red.
"You don't sing? All ladies sing," Susan said, glancing over at Nigel. He was all but gaping at Emily.
"I'm sorry, I really don't sing."
"That's true, Lady Markston," Harriet quickly said, hoping to gloss over Emily's apparent womanly deficiency. "Emily and I were at school together, and I've heard her attempts. She has other musical talents that far outweigh a pleasant voice."
"Humph, all ladies should sing. I suppose you do embroidery and watercolors then?" Lady Markston asked curiously.
Before Emily could answer, Henry jumped in to rescue her from her immediate downfall. "You know, Susan," he began, focusing all of his attention on the spoiled young beauty at his table, "I'm sure everyone would love to hear another song, if you're not too terribly exhausted."
Emily's Christmas Wish Page 5
