* * *
Jocelyn placed a practiced smile upon her lips as she followed Lord Hough into his manor house. Despite her persistent denials to the opposite, the earl’s honest responses to her son’s questions regarding her relationship to Hough had set off Andrew’s cautious suppositions. If it was not for her mother’s upcoming arrival on the morrow, Jocelyn would box both Emerson’s and James’s ears thoroughly before leading her little party to the nearest inn. Her brother and Hough had always been as thick as thieves, and she could not help feeling ill-used. She prayed Lord Hough had not purposely planned for her to reside under his roof. If so, the gentleman would be sorely disappointed with the outcome of any seduction he named.
“You have arrived at last,” Lady Hough called as she crossed the foyer to greet them.
“Good day, Mama.” Lord Hough bent to kiss his mother’s upturned cheek. “I have brought guests.”
“As I see,” Lady Hough said with a genuine smile that eased Jocelyn’s nervousness. “Lord Powell sent us a message regarding whom to expect.” She turned to Jocelyn. “Ah, my dear Jocelyn, it does my heart good to look again upon your lovely countenance. This neighborhood has missed you and your love of life.” She caught Jocelyn’s hand in a gesture of what felt of pure affection, and Jocelyn knew her façade began to crumble. She had always adored Lady Hough. The woman had been Jocelyn’s champion when James and Emerson attempted to leave her behind while exploring the countryside.
“And I have long wished to be in your company again, my lady,” Jocelyn responded in earnestness. She looked to her sons. “Permit me to give you the acquaintance of my children, Lady Hough.”
Her ladyship turned to Andrew and Michael and then looked back to Jocelyn. “Although my eyes are not what they once were, surely you cannot claim motherhood to two such handsome young men. Your beautiful countenance still holds the look of a woman in her first bloom. Is our Jocelyn not as handsome as ever, James?”
Before Jocelyn could protest, Lord Hough said, “The most handsome woman of my acquaintance.”
Jocelyn glared at the man before turning to his mother. “I assure you, ma’am, I am the mother of these two gentlemen, whom I wish to have your acquaintance.”
“Certainly, my dear,” Lady Hough said with a pat of Jocelyn’s hand. “I did not intend to embarrass you. I am simply happy to have you in Yorkshire, where you belong.
Chapter Four
For that same groan doth put this in my mind,
My grief lies onward, and my joy behind.
William Shakespeare, Sonnet L
Jocelyn made her way to Lady Hough’s favorite drawing room, the one overlooking the garden. It was where her family shared tea with the Highcliffes yesterday afternoon and where they had gathered before going in to supper last evening. It was a room she recalled so well, and one which made her quite homesick and a bit anxious to be sharing it with Lord Hough over the next few days. She and her mother had spent many an afternoon in this very room, conversing with Lady Hough, Jocelyn always hoping for a glimpse of James. As is typical for girls when it comes to relationships, she knew she loved James Highcliffe perhaps two years before he had any idea she existed beyond being Emerson’s younger sister. Now, he offered her everything she once desired, but she was no longer in a position to claim it.
“Good morning, Lady Hough,” Jocelyn said upon her entrance. A quick survey of the room said neither her sons nor Hough were in attendance. Although she dreaded another conversation with his lordship, his absence brought a frown rushing to her forehead. She curtseyed, adding a determined smile to her lips. “Lady Mary, Constance. I pray I am not tardy. We did say ten of the clock, did we not?”
Lady Hough smiled genuinely upon her, making Jocelyn feel even more confused about how Emerson and James had manipulated her into staying at Hough Hall, than when her brother announced measles prevalent at the family estate. She had loved Lady Hough as dearly as she loved her own mother. Perhaps more, for Lady Hough appeared to understand Jocelyn better than did her mother.
“You most certainly are not tardy,” Lady Hough assured. “And even if you were, none of us would complain after such a long journey.”
“Are my sons about?” she asked as she joined Constance upon a settee.
“Lord Lathrop and Mr. Lathrop rode out with Lord Hough,” Constance said, setting her book aside. “His lordship meant to show your sons something of his estate and where it marches along with Papa’s land. Lord Andrew expressed interest in the different crops, but I believe Michael wished to view the course where the annual hunt will take place on the day after Christmas.”
Jocelyn chuckled. “I imagine you correct. Michael has always held a strong affinity for horses. I believe he would make an excellent breeder.”
“The boy could learn much from Hough,” Lady Mary said without looking up from her stitches. “James has some of the best horseflesh in all England in his stables.”
Jocelyn swallowed the yearning which had been slowly simmering beneath the surface since she learned Hough would serve as escort for her and Constance. “I recall his lordship spending hours in the saddle, sometimes to the detriment of his studies.”
“My late husband tolerated James’s proclivity,” Lady Hough said in fond tones.
Jocelyn drove away her favorite memory of James Highcliffe: untucked shirt, open at the neck, no waistcoat or jacket, no wig, high boots, windswept hair, and carrying his crop as he crossed the open glade toward her, a crooked smile of welcome upon his lips. For several elongated seconds, she closed her eyes and savored the thrill of the moment. At length, with an internal sigh, she asked, “When do we expect Lord Sebastian and Lady Meredith?”
“They were to stay with the Connicks for several days and depart Derbyshire today. Neither is much fond of spending time with poor Louisa’s family, but Hough insists they show respect for his late countess’s relations,” Lady Hough shared. “I am certain both have had their ears bent by Lady Connick, who continually criticizes Hough for leaving off with his mourning. Her ladyship would have my son grieve for a woman who was always too consumed with her own pleasure, rather than to do her duty to her husband and children. James and this household wore black for more than a year. The reason I am still at Hough House, instead of retiring to the dower house and my own affairs, is because Louisa had no desire to manage my son’s household.”
“The woman was never fit enough to be Hough’s countess,” Lady Mary grumbled. “Talked herself into dying. Spent three years in bed, refusing to see her children and barely tolerating Hough’s presence. My nephew spent a fortune on one physician after another, but none could cure her, for Louisa Highcliffe’s ailment did not exist, except in her head.”
“Mary,” Lady Hough warned. “Hough prefers we not discuss Louisa in such derogatory terms.”
Lady Mary frowned at her sister. “It will not change the facts if I soften my criticism of the woman who thought her children should be forbidden to laugh. Hough deserved better, and I will not tolerate any who blames him for Lady Hough’s demise. However, if you insist, Sister, I shall simply say Louisa chose to leave this world upon her own terms.”
Jocelyn looked on in shock. She had always assumed James’s marriage had been ideal while she had suffered under Harrison’s hard rule. Obviously, Hough had not known the hardships she had, but if Lady Mary’s tale was true, James’s marriage had been bleaker than Jocelyn had expected.
* * *
He had spotted her in the upper gardens on his return to Hough House, and at that moment, James was thankful young Lathrop had insisted on examining the new mill James and Lord Powell had built together across the river separating their lands. Mr. Locke, James’s steward, had agreed to provide the Lathrop brothers a tour after the young lord began asking questions on the operation.
Dismounting, James left Sultan to munch the grass along the hedgerow and entered the garden off the nature trail to cross to where she studied one of the fountains.
�
�Good day, Joy,” he called as he came near.
“Oh, Lord Hough.” She jumped as if he had frightened her.
“Woolgathering, my dear?” he said with a smile.
“Simply considering something Lady Hough and your aunt mentioned earlier.”
“And what might that be?” An odd shot of desire crawled up James’s spine. Every time he looked upon Jocelyn, a primal demand overcame his good sense, and it was all he could do not to catch her up in his embrace and kiss her senseless.
“They spoke of your wife’s illness and of her slow death,” she confessed.
James frowned. “They should not have bothered you with the particulars of Louisa’s decline.”
As was typical for Jocelyn, she ignored his warning tones. Instead, she said, “I was astonished to learn of Lady Louisa’s propensity to—”
“To what?” he demanded.
Jocelyn hesitated, her gaze landing hard upon his countenance. “I have spoken from form. Your relationship with the late Lady Hough is none of my concern.”
James swallowed the retort rushing to his lips. If he expected to learn what occurred in her marriage, he must be more forthright in discussing his. He made himself respond in even tones. “I have nothing to hide. Louisa and I never fit. Despite what some may tell you, at least, in the beginning, I came to like her; she is the mother of my children, and for that fact, I owe her my kind regard. That being said, my wife and I held little in common. We were of the nature of distant cousins, each holding on to a relationship forced upon us and attempting to make the best of what we had been handed. I said earlier ‘in the beginning’ when I spoke of my caring for my countess. As time passed, we drifted further apart. Our attempts to make the best of our situation vanished. We differed on every point. If Meredith fell in the mud and soiled her dress, I would find my daughter’s actions amusing, praising her for her strong imagination and willingness to fight the dragon as fiercely as did her brother, whereas Louisa would look on the incident and my reaction with abhorrence.”
“Lathrop would have also found Lady Meredith’s actions repugnant,” she disclosed. “Poor Michael knew his father’s strap more than one time for returning home with muddy boots.”
James attempted to disguise his interest in Lathrop’s high-handedness. “Then Michael favors you in more than just his features,” he said cautiously, watching for Jocelyn’s reaction. “I recall your crossing muddy fields, chasing after Emerson or simply enjoying the day, your skirt tail three inches deep in mud.”
She laughed lightly. “My poor maid. Always scrubbing my petticoats. And, yes, Michael favors my temperament.” She looked past his shoulder as if expecting to see someone behind him. “Where are my sons?”
“I pointed out the new mill your brother and I had built at the mouth of the river. Mr. Locke rode out with us this morning, and he agreed to provide Andrew and Michael a tour of the facility. I believe young Lathrop hopes to borrow some of his uncle’s ideas for the Kent estate.”
She sighed heavily. “I am pleased Andrew seeks both your and Emerson’s advice, but I wish he would occasionally place his responsibilities for his title aside and simply enjoy a few days of family. Both of my sons, but Andrew, in particular, have difficulty separating Harrison’s exacting ways from those of the rest of the world.”
James wished to know more, but he had learned not to push Jocelyn for answers. She related more details each time they spoke, and he must practice patience. Instead, he used the opportunity to put forward his plan to bring her family and his together. “Then perhaps we can join forces to indulge our families, for I have promised Sebastian and Meredith a proper Christmastide celebration. Louisa’s long illness and eventual demise kept my household dark for four years. My children requested we celebrate in the manner of their youth, and I mean to see it done. Sebastian has recently met his majority, and Meredith is already asking for a Season. Soon they will claim their own families. I would have them carry happy memories of Hough House with them when they are elsewhere, not the ones of their mother wishing her life away. Please say you will seriously consider being a part of my plan. Surely you wish the same for Andrew and Michael.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “What did you have in mind?”
“The typical things: holly and mistletoe and a yule log, plus Yorkshire pudding and a turkey, as well as the annual hunt. All the things we had growing up here.” He spread his arms wide. “Anything we care to imagine. Tell me, Joy, what are some of your favorite memories of Christmastide at Powell Manor?”
She sighed dreamily. “Spiced cider and charades and visiting neighbors and children singing carols and a proper Yorkshire Christmas pie and the Wassail bob and ‘Christes Maesse.’ Oh, I am certain some of these are no longer practiced; after all, I have been gone away for two decades, but you understand, do you not?”
James laughed conspiratorially. “I doubt if the new vicar would approve of vessel maids calling upon households and asking each party to pay a penny to view her unwrapping one of the cloth-covered figures of the nativity. Although I do understand the tradition is still accepted over near Haworth, the good people of Leeds and the surrounding area long ago abandoned the practice, despite the good fortune it is said to bring to the households which participate.”
“But you hold no objections to the others?” she insisted.
James’s expression softened when he looked upon her. “My dearest Jocelyn, if you wished for Lathrop and Michael to view the Wassail bob, I would hire a whole troop of vessel maids to entertain them.” He wagged his eyebrows at her. “Nothing is too lavish for such honored guests.”
Her frown lines deepened. “Do not be foolish, James. What kind of mother parades vessel maids before her sons?”
“None that I know personally,” he teased. “Although, I did hear of a most outrageous mother when I was still at university. The chaps spoke of her often. Some opera dancer who married a baron. DeLong, I believe the name was.”
“You are outrageous, my lord.” She laughed prettily. It was a sound James had longed to hear since they had become reacquainted. Her laughter was a sound that reminded him of all the things he missed about her.
“Then you promise to aid me in my quest?” he implored.
“You truly wish my assistance?” she inquired.
“Naturally, my mother will volunteer, but, I fear, even with Aunt Mary’s assistance, Lady Hough cannot handle all the preparations. She contracted consumption some four years removed. Although she thankfully recovered, my mother still tires easily.”
“Why do we not each create a list of favorites and then compare them? Certainly, the young people will also have favorites. We should not ignore their suggestions.”
James caught her hand and placed it on his arm. “It is chilly, and I believe my mother will have ordered tea by now. Let us go in and consult with Lady Hough. She will be thrilled with your involvement. And, of course, your mother will arrive later today. We will make a jolly group, will we not?”
* * *
The look of contentment on Jocelyn’s features when Lady Powell swept her daughter up in a comforting embrace fascinated James. It was as if Jocelyn had been starving for her mother’s presence in her life, and he supposed, in many ways, she was. While they had waited for Lady Powell’s arrival, he learned Jocelyn’s mother had been permitted but two visits to Lathrop Manor during the twelve years Jocelyn and Lathrop lived together as man and wife. James was not quite certain why Jocelyn shunned her mother’s comfort since Lathrop’s death, but Jocelyn carefully ‘danced’ around the subject when Aunt Mary posed the question. Such was another secret of which he must discover answers. He knew only of the one time that Jocelyn had traveled to Yorkshire, that being when she received the news of her father’s passing. He had been surprised to learn of her coming alone: Lord Lathrop had not accompanied her.
James had purposely not called on the marquess’s household while Jocelyn was in residence. Previously, he had paid his respects to
Lord Emerson and to the new Lady Powell at the services held for the former marquess before the family, minus Jocelyn, buried their patriarch.
Although he was aware of Jocelyn’s arrival, no opportunity proved itself for James to look upon her and wonder what could have been until he came across her walking—or rather, hobbling, across an open glade, perhaps a week before she was due to return to Kent. At the time, they were both married to others, but with one glance, none of that mattered. As he slid from his horse’s back and approached, he studied her. Thick golden blonde hair curled with stubborn abandon about a delicately hewn face—a face that set his heart pounding when he realized she was not part of his imagination. Until that moment, he had attempted to persuade himself that seeing Jocelyn again would have no effect upon his heart, but he had failed completely. On more than one occasion, Louisa had forbidden him any contact with the Powells, such was the reason he and Powell had fallen into only being speaking acquaintances. Thanks to the local gossips, his wife had been made aware of James’s former fascination with Jocelyn Powell.
“I shall not have you shame me by fawning over your lost love,” Louisa had declared after learning from the vicar of Jocelyn’s presence at Powell Manor.
“I do not understand your jealousy, my lady. I have done as you asked,” he had retorted. “I have married you, as was the agreement between my father and yours. Although you have never chosen to share your affections freely with me, I have brought you to child. At your request, I have effectively become a recluse, never venturing forth unless on estate business. What more do you require of me?”
Later, when Meredith was a child and overheard him and Louisa arguing, his daughter would plead with him not to upset her mother. “Mama is not well, Papa.”
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