His By Christmas (Hamilton Sisters)

by Kaitlin O'Riley

  “What has happened to Mrs. Hamilton?” asked Fanny, her round face wrinkled with worry.

  “We’re not sure yet,” Jeffrey answered.

  “Oh, Fanny, she just crumpled to the floor and now she won’t wake up!” Yvette cried.

  “Oh, dear lord!” the woman exclaimed, moving to the other side of the bed.

  “Mother? Maman? It’s Yvette, Maman. Can you hear me?” Tears welled in Yvette’s eyes. She had been so angry with her mother just a few moments ago; now she wished desperately for her to awaken. “Maman!” she called softly. “Please, please wake up.” She brushed the soft gray hair from her mother’s forehead and kissed her. Taking Genevieve’s soft, wrinkled hand in hers, she held it tightly, willing her mother to be well.

  Yvette had no idea how long she sat there until Jeffrey, placing his hand on her shoulder, whispered softly to her that the doctor had arrived.

  Dr. Carlisle bustled into the room and quickly opened his black leather medical bag. “Luckily for you, I happened to be across the street with the Deane family. They have a touch of fever over there. Now what seems to be the matter with Mrs. Hamilton?”

  Yvette scooted out of his way. “She was fine one minute and then just fainted away, Dr. Carlisle.”

  The doctor leaned over the bed and examined the unresponsive form of Genevieve Hamilton. Her breathing was shallow and she had very little color to her skin. Her face looked slack, as if she had no muscles underneath. “Was there any change in her behavior before she fainted?” the doctor asked.

  “Well, she wasn’t making any sense when she spoke, now that you mention it,” Yvette explained. “She’d been complaining of a headache, but that was not unusual for her. She was chattering and using a mix of French and English that made no sense. It all sort of slurred together at one point. And then she dropped her tea cup on the floor.”

  The doctor pondered this bit of information. “Hmmm. She might have had an apoplectic fit.” He turned and looked at Yvette kindly. “Now Miss Hamilton, please wait outside and let me examine your mother here.”

  Yvette refused to go, shaking her head. “No. I wish to stay with her.”

  Dr. Carlisle gave her a disapproving frown. “Now, now. Please let me try to help your mother. It would be best if you left, Miss Hamilton.”

  Gently, Jeffrey placed his hand on her shoulder again. “We should listen to the doctor. Come with me, Yvette.”

  “Will she be okay?” she asked the doctor.

  “I hope so.” Dr. Carlisle smiled at her, but his eyes looked worried.

  The knot in her stomach tightened.

  “Come with me now,” Jeffrey whispered low and took her hand in his.

  Reluctantly, Yvette let him lead her from the bedroom, leaving Dr. Carlisle and Fanny to care for her mother. In mute obedience, she followed him to the small, rarely used sitting room across the hall from Genevieve’s bedroom, where Jeffrey guided her to the large chintz-covered sofa. The room was dark and cold.

  “Sit here,” he ordered. Taking a wool blanket that was folded on a chair, Jeffrey wrapped it around Yvette’s shoulders carefully, trying to warm her up. She watched as he pulled the service bell, then he sat down beside her. In a swift movement, Jeffrey encircled her in his arms.

  Leaning gratefully into the warmth and strength of his body and drawing comfort from him, Yvette once again felt tears well in her eyes.

  “No crying,” Jeffrey admonished gently, handing her his handkerchief. “There’s nothing to cry over at the moment and hopefully there won’t be. We don’t know anything yet. But I do know that your mother is a strong and spirited woman and will most likely be better before we know it.”

  Sniffling, Yvette dabbed at her eyes, feeling foolish for overreacting, and nodded. “Yes. I suppose you’re right. It was just so frightening to see her like that.”

  Jeffrey hugged her close. “I agree. I was frightened by it myself.”

  “You didn’t seem frightened.” She had marveled at his quick control of the situation while she simply stood there, horrified and helpless.

  “Well, I assure you that I was.” He flashed her a warm smile.

  One of the housemaids hurried into the room and Jeffrey removed his arms from Yvette, rose to his feet, and gave the girl instructions. “Let’s have the fire lit since it’s like an icebox in here and we’re likely to be here for a while. Then have the cook send up some strong tea and something to eat for Miss Hamilton and myself. Also please have Granger send a footman with a message for Lisette Roxbury right away. She’ll want to know about her mother.”

  “Yes, sir.” The girl left hastily and moments later one of the footmen came in with wood to light the fire. In no time, a bright fire was blazing and a few lamps were lit, making the seldom-used room instantly seem cozier.

  “Thank you, Jeffrey,” Yvette said, grateful he was there with her and she was not alone. She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders.

  “No need to thank me.” He gave her a small smile and stepped toward the door.

  Fresh panic surged within her. “You’re not leaving me, are you?”

  He paused, gazing at her with understanding eyes. “I was only going to let the doctor know that we are just across the hall in case he needs us. But no, I was not planning to leave you, Yvette. Unless you wish for me to go.”

  Oh, how she wanted him to stay! She could not face whatever might happen alone. “Please stay with me?”

  There was an intense flickering in his eyes that sent a strange flurry of feelings through her as he said, “For as long as you need me.”

  “At least until Lisette gets here,” she murmured thickly. Oh, if only Lisette were here now! Yvette would feel much better if one of her sisters were with her.

  Jeffrey went and spoke to the doctor, and after a tray with biscuits, fruit, and tea was sent up, they were alone in the sitting room again, which had finally grown a bit warmer.

  Yvette whispered her greatest fear. “Oh, Jeffrey, you don’t think she’ll die, do you?”

  He came and sat beside her on the sofa once more. With a long sigh, he said, “I wish I could tell you that I didn’t think so, but I am worried about her too.”

  Yvette caught her breath as he echoed her own thoughts. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost her. Especially after all the horrid things I was thinking about her earlier. I had no idea she was truly ill!”

  He took her hand in his and squeezed tightly. “Your mother has never made things easy. But let’s just keep good thoughts, shall we?”

  Yvette nodded, thinking his hand felt warm and strong. “I wish Colette or any of my sisters were here. I feel like I don’t know what to do. They are all so much more capable than I am. They always know what needs to be done.”

  “Yvette, dearest, you are more than capable and there’s nothing to handle at the moment. We sent for the doctor immediately and got your mother settled upstairs. We sent a message to Lisette. Dr. Carlisle and Fanny are in there with her now. There’s nothing more for you to do but wait.”

  “I hate waiting.”

  “I do too.” He gave her a halfhearted smile and squeezed her hand again before releasing it. “Come, have a bite to eat with me. This could be a long night.”

  12

  By the Firelight

  Yvette looked at the little ormolu clock on the mantel. It was nearing eight o’clock already. Jeffrey was right. She should eat something. But after a failed attempt at a few mouthfuls of food, all she could manage was to sip some tea. She had no appetite, but having Jeffrey there beside her was more comforting than anything else.

  Granger came into the sitting room, his kind face worried. “Miss Yvette, Davies the footman has just brought a message from your sister. It seems Miss Lisette’s baby daughter is quite ill with a terrible fever and she can’t leave her right now. She sends her regrets and said she will come over just as soon as she can.”

  “Oh.” Yvette’s heart sank at the news. Poor little Elizabeth. Of cou
rse Lisette should stay with her baby. Yvette wouldn’t have it any other way. Still, she had been counting on her sister to come to Devon House. To help their mother. To help her.

  Jeffrey’s face looked grim. “Thank you for letting us know, Granger.”

  Granger looked toward Yvette once more. “Can I get you anything, miss? Anything at all?” he asked with concerned eyes.

  “No, thank you.”

  The butler nodded. “Please let me know if I can assist in any way,” he offered before leaving the room.

  Again tears welled in Yvette’s eyes. Lisette would not be coming to Devon House tonight. Now Yvette was left to care for their mother on her own, without even one of her sisters there to help her. She had no choice but to handle it alone. She whispered a silent prayer not to let her mother die. She couldn’t bear to think of that happening while she was all alone.

  Barely able to breathe, she gazed at him. “Oh, Jeffrey, Lisette’s not coming. . . .”

  Without a word, Jeffrey drew her into his strong arms. “I’m here and I won’t leave you, Yvette,” he whispered as he stroked her hair in a soothing motion.

  “I miss them all so much,” she sobbed, clinging to him. She missed Colette and Lucien and her darling nephews, Phillip and Simon. The house had seemed too empty without them the last two months. She couldn’t remember a time when at least one of her sisters hadn’t been with her. And since she had moved into Devon House, there had always been someone there. Now everything was different.

  She had never felt so lost and alone in her life.

  “I know you do, sweetheart,” he murmured. “I miss them too.”

  Jeffrey held her for some time as Yvette soaked up his strength. He understood how she felt because, in a way, they were his family too. Slowly, she pulled away from him and took a deep fortifying breath to steady herself. “I’m sorry. I don’t usually act like a watering pot. Thank you.”

  Jeffrey gave her one of his signature heart-melting smiles. “Anytime.”

  He looked so incredibly handsome when he smiled like that, that she almost forgot what was happening. Closing her eyes for a moment, she settled back against the cushions with the blanket wrapped around her for warmth and propped her feet on the sofa beside him.

  “Before you know it your mother will be well and all your sisters will be home for Christmas and everything will be right with the world,” he said as he slowly took her right foot in his hands. Carefully he unlaced the ties of her little black boot.

  “I hope you’re right.” Surprised by his actions, Yvette held her breath as he gently slipped the boot from her stocking clad foot, watching in fascination as he did so.

  “Of course, I am,” he said. “I am always right.” He then removed her left boot in the same manner, leaving her feet resting on his lap.

  It was a shockingly intimate thing for him to do, but she permitted it. On this unexpectedly frightening November evening, she allowed Lord Jeffrey Eddington to remove her boots. She felt taken care of, cherished even, by this man who could so easily make her comfortable and safe.

  “Do you remember the first time I met you, Yvette?” he asked, while he rather absently massaged the bottoms of her stocking clad feet. He pressed his thumbs against the insteps of her feet, rubbing and squeezing all the tension from within her.

  No one had ever touched her feet before and the sensation was almost too heavenly to bear. It took all her wits to form an answer to his question. “It was at the bookshop, as I recall.”

  He continued to leisurely massage her feet as he spoke. “I’d met all of your older sisters before I ever met you. But I remember you were in a red dress that day, climbing a ladder in the shop, looking most adorable and trying so hard to act like a little lady.”

  “It was a navy dress with red stripes and red ribbons and I loved that dress!” Yvette smiled, oddly touched that he would remember such a trivial detail about her.

  “You were just a slip of a girl, but I knew even then that you were the prettiest of the Hamilton sisters.”

  A warm blush crept in her cheeks. “Jeffrey.”

  “It’s true.” He winked at her.

  “I remember I thought you were most dashing. You bowed over my hand like a knight!”

  Jeffrey laughed. “I did?”

  “Yes, you did and I almost swooned. Then Juliette sent me from the room. But you had a terrible cut on your face that day, didn’t you?”

  “Oh, yes.” He grinned, rubbing a spot under his eye in remembrance. “I’d forgotten about that. Lucien had hit me.”

  “Lucien?” Yvette cried in astonishment. “Why on earth would Lucien hit you?”

  “It’s a long story, and not mine to tell, but suffice it to say that Juliette and I were meddling in his romance with Colette. I deserved no less. But how old were you then, Yvette?”

  “I was thirteen the year Colette met Lucien and we all met you.”

  “And now?” He continued to rub her feet.

  “I shall be twenty-one in January.”

  “Why, you’re all grown up now!” His blue eyes gazed steadily at her. “And I was right.”

  “About what?”

  “You are the most beautiful of all your sisters.”

  Her breath caught for an instant. All she could manage to say was, “Oh.”

  “It’s nothing but the truth.”

  Her heart flip-flopped at the intense look in his blue eyes. Slowly, she pulled her feet away from his hands, tucking them under her as she huddled on the sofa with the blanket still wrapped around her. “And how old are you now?”

  “Thirty-three.”

  “And you are still a bachelor! You ought to be married by now. Lucien married Colette years ago and he’s your age. How do you manage to stay unattached, Jeffrey, when all the women are mad for you?”

  His expression grew somber. “Not many wish to marry an illegitimate son. You know that as well as anyone, Yvette.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Would you marry me?”

  She giggled uneasily at his question, which seemed to have some deeper meaning that she didn’t quite understand. “Well, no, of course not. I could never marry you. But not because of the illegitimacy.”

  “The fact that I can’t inherit my father’s dukedom wouldn’t stop you from marrying me?” He eyed her carefully, almost with skepticism.

  Feeling oddly defensive, she hesitated before responding. “No . . . I couldn’t marry you because I know you too well, Jeffrey.”

  His brows furrowed. “What does that mean?”

  “I know how you are.”

  “No.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “You only think you know how I am.”

  “You’ve been part of this family for eight years, Jeffrey, I do believe I’ve learned a thing or two about you.”

  “Pray, go on.” His eyes danced in amusement at her comment.

  “I am aware of your . . .” Yvette struggled to find the proper words to describe what she was trying to say. “I’m aware that you have many dalliances with certain types of women.”

  “And to exactly which types of women are you referring?”

  She waved her hand dismissively. “We’ve discussed this before. Actresses. Dancers. That sort.”

  “Yes, that’s true,” he admitted frankly, with a shrug. “But do you know why I ‘dally,’ as you so eloquently phrased it, with that type of woman?”

  Yvette found that she was oddly fascinated by their conversation. “Why?”

  “Because they don’t care that I’m a bastard. It doesn’t matter to them in the least. They love me for myself.”

  “I love you for yourself.” The words bubbled out before she realized what she was saying. Because they were true.

  The room grew silent and they stared at each other for a long moment. Yvette blinked first.

  Jeffrey continued, “Do you think I don’t know that mothers warn their daughters to stay away from me? That your Aunt Cecilia warned Colette and Juliette away
from me when I first met them?”

  “But that’s because you’re an outrageous flirt and a charming rogue, Jeffrey!” Yvette laughed in protest. “Your reputation precedes you.”

  “No, it’s because most mothers deem me not worthy enough for their daughters to marry. Which is fine with me, for I’ve no wish to marry most of them anyway. There are some benefits to being a bastard son. There is no lineage I’m required to maintain, therefore I am not hounded and pressured to marry and produce an heir.”

  “But don’t you wish to have children someday? To have a family of your own?”

  “I suppose so . . . yes.” Jeffrey grew quiet, almost pensive. “I’ve never given it much thought before now, to tell you the truth. However, it seems to be on my mind frequently of late.”

  She suddenly recalled the day at Lisette’s house when Quinton Roxbury remarked that Yvette and Jeffrey looked like a family while playing with her nephews, Charles and Christopher. “You seemed very comfortable with Lisette’s children.”

  “Oh, I love other people’s children.” Jeffrey’s expression softened. “I just hadn’t thought of having any of my own. You wish to have children though, don’t you?”

  “I seem to be gaining nieces and nephews at an alarming rate and I don’t think I’d want as many as my mother had, but yes, I’d like to have children of my own someday.”

  “Legitimate children,” he pointed out dryly.

  She eyed him with sympathy. It was such an unusual conversation and she had never seen Jeffrey so contemplative. “It bothers you much more than you let on, doesn’t it?”

  “It bothers me much less than it did when I was a child and tormented by the other boys at school. Children can be vicious to each other. I was lucky Lucien Sinclair befriended me when he did.”

  Full of curiosity about him, Yvette asked, “How did the two of you meet?”

  “At Eton. We were ten or eleven years old, the youngest ones there. He overheard another boy, named Walter Brockwell, call me a bastard. Lucien punched Walter in the face and almost got expelled for doing so. None of the other boys said anything to me after that, at least not within my hearing. Years later Lucien told me he didn’t know what ‘bastard’ even meant at the time, he only knew that boy was taunting me. He earned my undying loyalty that day and we’ve been friends ever since.”