“You better be a gentleman, Robert Holland,” she warned him. He knew she didn’t mean it. A roguish chuckle escaped his lips.
“Oh, I am a gentleman in whatever I do.”
Chapter 4
A Blessing or Thorn
Robert watched his son leave the dining room with the young lady. His choice in women left much to be desired. He glanced over at Suzette, who had quickly noticed his morose mood. She reached for his hand and gave it a tight squeeze.
“What’s that for?” He looked into her eyes that attempted to comfort him.
“A show of affection for my troubled husband.”
Her playful look melted his stone facial expression, and a small smile replaced it. “I can clearly envision my father laughing at my predicament from across the expanse of eternity,” he announced, shaking his head. “No doubt, he is immensely enjoying my interactions with our son as my punishment.”
He squeezed his wife’s hand once more and pulled it away. “I now understand my father’s frustration with my own youth,” he confessed. He threw his napkin down on his plate and rose to his feet. “Surely, I must have been a thorn in his side as much as our son is to mine.”
The duke spoke the words in haste and with immediate regret. His wife’s empathetic countenance turned into a disapproving frown. Suzette followed suit, threw her napkin down, and rose from her chair.
“A thorn,” she said, glaring at him in disdain. “I thought children were a blessing from God.” She stomped out of the room unmistakably annoyed.
He glanced at the expressionless footman who stood ready to clear the table. No doubt watching the Holland family theatrics infused the gossip downstairs amongst the staff, he thought to himself in embarrassment.
The duke discounted the blank stare of the young man standing at attention. He left the dining hall to pursue his wife and apologize. After all, he did love his son, but his love had been laced with profound disappointment over his character. Surely, Suzette felt the same way.
Robert had turned out to be a self-centered, pleasure-seeking young man with no ambition or desire to succeed. At the age of twenty-three, he should have settled into an advantageous career pursuit. Instead, he acted like an unbroken stallion. His pride in his son had waned, and he struggled with profound embarrassment among his peers and family. Of course, his sister’s son had turned out no better and had obviously been a bad influence in Robert’s life.
As he embarked on a search for Suzette, the duke pondered the price he had paid for marrying his mistress. Young Robert had dealt with his share of snide remarks and teasing from his fellow friends, which didn’t help matters. Perhaps, he felt ashamed of his father, though he never expressed it to his face. Undoubtedly, the years past had been difficult socially, but the duke harbored no regrets for making Suzette his wife.
After wandering from room to room, he finally found her tucked away in the corner of a small parlor, sitting by a bay window. In her lap lay the latest attempt to embroider another piece of cloth into some pleasant rural scene. She enjoyed the hobby, but Robert often thought the finished product left much to be desired.
Suzette lifted her eyes upon his entrance, scowled, and then returned her attention to the needlepoint. He walked over to her and knelt down on one knee like a repentant sinner.
“I apologize for calling our son a thorn, Suzette. It left my lips in frustration.” Purposely, he used a gloomy and somber voice to make his point. “Please forgive me.”
For the next few moments, she continued to thread in and out of her creation as if she were silently stabbing him with each thrust of the needle. Finally, she set the fabric down and looked up into his sorrowful eyes.
“I know you are frustrated with him, Robert. There are times that I am too. It’s your attitude toward the matter that grieves me.”
“Point taken,” he swiftly responded. She had been forthright and frankly correct. “I shall reign in my discord and keep my thoughts to myself from now on.” He looked at her with a smirk on his face as if the apology had already been accepted. “Is all well?”
“Oh, get up.” She flashed a forgiving smile.
He rose to his feet and glanced out the window. In the distance, he could see Robert with his prize standing underneath a large oak tree. A moment later, he began kissing her ardently.
“There he is, even now, out where the entire world can see him, making advances toward the young lady.”
Suzette jumped to her feet. She grabbed his arm and peered out the window looking. “Where?”
“Under the large oak to your left,” he pointed with his finger.
It didn’t take long for her own frustration to fly through her lips as she cursed angrily in French. Robert chuckled at her hypocrisy. Whenever she swore, she did so in her native tongue in case she shocked the staff by her unladylike language.
“Frustrated are we?” He smirked.
“Why must he be so brazen?” Suzette grimaced at his behavior.
The duke glanced back at Robert. “What shall we do with the lad? Lock him in his room? Send him away? Leave him to his own devices?” The duke patted her hand and smiled.
“What did your father do with you?” Suzette looked at him with an inquisitive gaze.
She knew damn well what his father did to him. “He married me off to a woman I didn’t love,” he said.
“No, Robert, I mean before your marriage,” she clarified.
His eyebrows rose. He had never spoken of his father’s advice and warnings that he received as a young man. Even when he gallivanted about the countryside and in Paris doing as he damn well pleased.
“He gave me a few stern lectures regarding my responsibilities. For the most part, I did not wish to hear what he had to say. It wasn’t until he told me that he was dying that I finally faced my inescapable duties.”
“Hmm,” she pondered with a slight giggle in her throat. “It doesn’t seem that our son is much different. My only hope is that he doesn’t wait until you are at death’s door to come around.”
“Well, you’re quite humorous.” The duke smiled, feeling a slight relief from his gloomy mood. “I know what you’re trying to do—shame and remind me of my former rebellious ways.”
“You eventually accepted your duties, Robert. Don’t you have enough faith in our own son that one day he will do the same?”
“I only wish the best for him. You know I do.”
“Of course, and so do I.” She reached over to his forearm and touched him tenderly. “He needs to find his way as you found yours. There may be poor decisions he makes and heartache for us, but I know in my heart that beneath his immature conduct our son possesses the wise and honorable character of his father.” She paused for a moment and thoughtfully continued. “I think he needs a good influence in his life, which I’m afraid lacks among his friends.”
The duke looked at her lovingly. No matter what he had done in the years they had been married, Suzette never spoke ill of him. Her love remained true and supportive like a bulwark beneath him. As his mother predicted, they had suffered for their scandalous union. To spare his wife from hurt, they often remained in the country rather than traveling to London during the social season. Most of his peers had shunned him, though a few had stayed by his side. Thankfully, they remained close to his sister and her family, which helped somewhat to relieve the situation. The thought of which brought him to the next thing on his mind.
“My sister has invited us to London for their annual affair.” Immediately, he could see the reservation in her eyes. “It’s been some time, Suzette. I think we should attend this year.”
“You know how I feel about it, Robert. I love your sister but am uncomfortable in social settings with proud women with who I have nothing in common. They still think of me as your mistress and not a duchess that deserves any respect in their aristocratic circles.”
Robert’s hand rose to the side of her face. Gently he stroked her smooth cheek with his fingertips. She
had remained as beautiful as the innocent mademoiselle he had fallen in love with twenty years ago. There had not been a day when his adoration for his wife failed to grow stronger.
“I can see in your eyes you wish me to agree,” she said, raising her brow.
“We will make it a family affair. I am sure our son will be more than willing to come with us. Who knows, perhaps one of my peers will offer him a job or introduce him to a decent woman. One never knows what the season will bring, do they?”
“You English and your season filled with parties, balls, the theater, and endless social gatherings,” Suzette toyed. “The French need no season to find love and companionship. The entire English affair is a matrimonial bazaar. Parents display their children like wares in a market looking for profitable marriages.”
Suzette lifted her chin into the air and reached over to Robert’s blond hair twirling a short lock in her index finger. With a slight push of her breasts toward her husband, she teased him like a flirtatious young girl.
“The French need no season for love. It is in our blood.”
“You are being exceedingly forward this afternoon and should behave. One of the servants might observe us together in this compromising position. Such assertiveness should be shared behind closed doors,” he warned her sternly.
Suzette rolled her eyes and dropped her hand to her side. With a step backward, she looked at him disappointed. “Shall I ever be able to express my feelings to you in this house without it being behind a closed door?”
“You know how I feel about displaying our affections before the household servants. It’s unbecoming and causes gossip among the staff.” Robert lowered his voice and leaned toward his wife. “You know how I feel about you, darling.”
“Yes, I know,” she conceded.
His wife remained silent pondering the invitation. Having learned never to pressure Suzette, he gave her time to think. He glanced out the window and saw that Robert had disappeared with his prize. He hoped to God they didn’t sneak off out of sight to have intercourse.
“All right, Robert. I agree to go to London for the season, what is left of it at any rate. You may send word to your sister that we will arrive before her grand ball.”
“Wonderful,” he said.
“Will they mind if we stay with them?”
It had been some time since Robert sold their townhome in London due to financial reasons. His sister, however, had been more than welcoming to have them stay. “I’m sure she will accommodate us.”
Suzette turned around. A coy smile spread across her face. “I shall require a new ball gown, I’m afraid.”
Robert shook his head. “I’m not surprised that I must pay for your less than happy visit. A new ball gown you will have.”
“Good then, it’s settled.” She turned to leave but then halted. “As for later, I shall have more to say to you about this subject behind closed doors.”
His wife had been such a tease at the most inopportune moments. Nevertheless, he loved the way she would entice him into their bed.
Chapter 5
Right or Left
They arrived at Euston Station and hired a growler with the capacity to carry the trunk and multiple suitcases. As they began their journey to the Whitefields, Jolene tried to enjoy the scenery during the five-mile trip. The London streets were teaming with motorcars, omnibuses, hackney carriages, and electric trams. To make it even more confusing, they were driving on the left side of the street rather than the right as in Austria. Poor Maria looked as surprised as she did.
“My lady, so many people and the streets are terribly crowded. Why are they all driving the wrong way?”
Jolene giggled at her maid’s facial expression of horror. “In England they drive on the left rather than the right side of the road, Maria.” She looked out the window and felt disoriented, as well. “It’s going to take getting used to, isn’t it?”
“Look at the motorcars.” Maria studied them with curiosity. “The world is changing around us so fast that sometimes I have trouble keeping up.”
“If you think that strange, London has an underground train line beneath the streets.”
“What?” She spun her head and looked directly into Jolene’s eyes as if she had heard her wrong.
“It’s like a tube railway of tunnels underground.”
“Heaven help us,” she balked. “I would never crawl in the underworld to ride a train.”
As the trip progressed further, Jolene absorbed as much of the landscape as she could take in. Vienna and London were different in geography and architecture. However, the country’s history had always fascinated her more than the royalty of the Austrian empire.
After some time, Jolene glanced out of the carriage window and noted they had turned on a street named The Boltons where the Whitefields resided. Giving closer attention to the sights, she curiously peered out of the windows at the expanse of impressive white facade buildings that lined the street. She had arrived in the area known as Kensington, which housed some of the richest families in London. She glanced at Maria whose wide-eyed expression looked humorous.
“We should arrive shortly,” Jolene announced. As the words left her lips, the carriage slowed and pulled to a stop in front of an impressive home. “Well, apparently that moment has quickly arrived,” she giggled in excitement.
A tingle of nervous anticipation sent a shiver down Jolene’s spine. Somewhere in the city held the answer to the confessional letter. Jolene could hardly wait to arrive and visit the address on the back of the envelope.
The carriage door opened. She lifted her eyes to see the staff exit the residence and greet their arrival. A serious looking man, who she assumed to be the butler, spoke first.
“Lady von Lamberg, I presume.”
After he closely scrutinized her, the housekeeper and maids followed suit. A footman stepped forward and offered his hand to assist her and Maria out of the carriage. Her lady’s maid stood behind her eying the staff with whom she would mingle among in the days ahead. Jolene hoped that they would give her a warm welcome in spite of their expressionless faces.
Suddenly, a middle-aged woman burst through the doorway followed by an extremely tall man with salt and pepper, colored hair. Both were impeccably dressed in the latest fashion. When they approached, she knew that she had met the Whitefields. To her surprise, they were both somewhat boisterous over her arrival.
“Your aunt's description of you doesn't do you justice,” Lady Whitefield began. “What a beautiful young woman you are.”
Jolene smiled demurely, trying not to laugh over Lady Whitefield’s gregarious greeting. She didn’t expect such an animated personality, since she had been told the British were reserved in social settings. Perhaps, Lady Whitefield was an exception to the norm.
“Thank you. You are extremely kind,” she replied, returning a genuine smile.
“Lord Whitefield, at your service. Our condolences on the passing of your father.”
The kind tone of his voice touched Jolene. She inhaled a deep breath to suppress her emotions, not wishing to brandish an out-of-control personality. “Actually, he was my stepfather and a wonderful man. I miss him terribly and appreciate your kind words.”
As they walked into the foyer of their vast townhome, she was amazed at the décor.
“Our footmen will take your things to your suite,” Lady Whitefield announced. She glanced at Maria. “I presume this is your lady’s maid?” She raised a brow and gave poor Maria a looking over.
“Yes, this is my faithful servant, Maria Brunn. She’s been serving me for a few years now, and I hope that your staff will welcome her.”
“Does she speak English?” the butler inquired.
“Yes, enough to get by and understand what is spoken to her. She is not as fluent as I wish her to be, but perhaps our travels will expand her vocabulary. Of course, in private, we speak German to one another.”
Lady Whitefield turned to the butler. “Branson, see to
it that Maria is shown to her quarters. Let her know where she may find the komtesse and tend to her needs later on.”
Maria glanced at the butler, whose expression remained subdued.
“Yes, my lady, I will see to it that she is given proper accommodations and will introduce her to the staff.” He barked orders at the footmen to take her luggage up the stairs, and then turned toward Maria giving her an order, as well. “Come along now, and follow me. I’ll show you where to put your things.”
Jolene watched Maria scurry behind him with a worried look upon her face. It would be an adjustment in a strange household. She was about to say something when she lifted her eyes and noticed a young woman gracefully descend the staircase. Her golden blonde hair, upswept in a low pompadour style, looked perfectly accented with a jeweled hair clip. She wore a pleated, white lace blouse and a dark blue shirt. Her rosy complexion and expressive, blue eyes stood out as her best features.
“Grace, my dear, come here and let me introduce you.” Lady Whitefield held out her hand toward the young lady.
She looked kindly at Jolene. A warm, welcoming smile spread across her face. “How young you are to possess such a grand title,” she spoke.
Her voice, sweet and sincere, made her feel welcome. Somehow, she knew that they would become friends.
“Grace, what a thing to say,” her father scolded her.
“Oh, no, she is right,” Jolene agreed. “I am not used to my new title. It’s taken me a long time not to feel embarrassed when I hear it spoken.”
“Oh, my,” Grace blurted enthusiastically. “Your Austrian accent is captivating. Every available male in the city will be lining up to hear you speak.”
Jolene didn’t know how to respond. The thought of available men pursuing her gave rise to the warnings from her solicitor and aunt. Of course, she had never been pursued by anyone, thanks to her protective stepfather. She often thought that one day he would arrange her marriage since he had come from the old world where the practice had been widely practiced.
The Price of Love Page 5
