He shook his head. “You cannot tell a soul,” he warned.
Alice frowned, wondering in whose household his sister might have worked. “I won’t,” she assured him.
“The Elegant Courtesan,” he whispered, his eyebrows arching up to indicate she probably shouldn’t have asked. “Despite working in an upscale brothel, Eva prevailed because someone there saw to it she learned what had to be done each day,” he explained before he turned his attention back to Alice.
“She must have prevailed somewhere else,” Alice whispered. “The Elegant Courtesan has been closed for... ” She allowed the sentence to trail off as she tried to sort how many years it had been since the Earl of Norwick had married. It was rumored his current wife, Clarinda Ann Brotherton, had only accepted his proposal because her father had made arrangements for her to marry the earl. As a condition of his marriage to her, David Fitzwilliam had been forced to sell off his gambling hell and close the exclusive brothel. “At least three or four years now.”
“Indeed,” Alonyius replied with a smirk. “My sister is now Lady Norwick’s housekeeper.”
Her mouth dropping open in astonishment, Alice regarded the valet in disbelief. “Barbara Banks is your sister?” she whispered in disbelief, and then she rolled her eyes when she wondered how she hadn’t sorted it for herself. Clarinda, Countess of Norwick, was a good friend of Lady Torrington’s. The two hosted one another for tea several times a week. “I would not have thought it possible,” she started to say and then stopped.
“What is it?” Alonyius prompted. He thought she referred to his sister having worked at a brothel and how unlikely it would be to be hired in an earl’s household. But given his sister had been in service to that same earl—or his business, rather—it made sense that he would see to it his loyal employees had positions when The Elegant Courtesan was closed.
“It’s how I started in service,” Alice said with a sigh. “As a scullery maid. At Fitzsimmons Manor. For Lord Chamberlain. Long before he married, of course,” she added with a wave of her hand.
“But you were probably the very best scullery maid at Fitzsimmons Manor,” Alonyius said with a grin, thinking Alice would have been fastidious in her chores.
“I was the worst!” she countered with wide eyes before she suddenly sobered and sighed. “But one of the other kitchen maids took pity on me, and...” Alice stopped, inhaling sharply at the thought of how she was trying to do the same for Libby.
She wasn’t really doing the girl any favors by doing the work for her, though. She should have been teaching the girl how to accomplish the tasks on her own. “I’ve been doing this all wrong,” she murmured, her eyes lifting to meet his gaze.
Alonyius kissed her then, a gentle kiss that had her eyes closing. Her breath held as his lips slid over hers until they suddenly locked in place.
He had rarely kissed other women—the act was far too intimate to enjoy with a casual lover—so he found it interesting he felt compelled to kiss Alice so frequently. Perhaps it was because her lips swelled a bit with each kiss. They took on a glossy shine and were tinted a darker red after his attentions. Or perhaps it was because Alice always seemed so surprised by them. She was certainly willing, her tongue tangling with his when given the chance, her soft moans as encouraging as how she pressed her body against his.
When Alonyius finally ended the kiss and pulled away, he touched his forehead to hers.
“What was that for?” she whispered, well aware her cheeks were as flushed as her lips were red from his unexpected kiss.
“We’ve been gone from Worthington House for... eight days,” he said simply. “If Libby is to make it as a servant at Worthington House, she has had eight days to prove herself. Since we may not return for another...” He paused as he considered how much longer they might stay at Torrington Park and quickly did the math in his head. “Fifteen days or more, we will not learn of her fate until the middle of January,” he added carefully.
Alice nodded her understanding. “And since Lord Torrington has decreed that no one will lose their positions—”
“—Then she will still be a servant at Worthington House,” Alonyius finished for her.
Grinning, Alice leaned against his side and sighed. “He is a good employer, isn’t he?” she whispered.
“The very best,” Alonyius agreed. He kissed her again, and continued to do so until the sounds of jingling bells had them both turning their attention toward the window.
“They’ve returned,” Alice whispered.
Sighing, the valet gave her one last kiss and lifted himself from the bed. “I best get to the vestibule. As should you,” he murmured. He reached for her slippers and made quick work of sliding them back onto her feet. Once he donned his top coat, straightening it on his shoulders with a shrug, he gave her a quick bow and took his leave of her quarters.
Alice sighed and finally stood up from the bed, straightening her livery before following the valet at a respectable distance. Once they were both in the vestibule, they stood side by side as they waited for their employers to come in from the cold.
Chapter 42
Then Comes a Question
Dusted with snow, their cheeks red from the cold, the Earl and Countess of Torrington spilled into the vestibule of Torrington Park in a fit laughter. Stomping the snow from their boots, the two sobered as they regarded their servants with mischievous grins.
“We shall have to do that again on the morrow,” Milton said as he turned to allow Banks to remove his cape coat.
“It was positively invigorating,” Adele gushed as Alice helped to remove her mantle. The lady’s maid draped it over an arm as she held the snowy fur muff and a scarf that appeared as if it had been dragged through the white stuff.
“Haversham has a better idea of the lay of the land now,” the earl stated. “So we shouldn’t find ourselves in such deep snow.”
“I thought I’d be stuck in that drift for good when we tipped over,” Adele countered. Although her words suggested they’d had an accident, the manner in which she spoke them was rather lighthearted.
“Tipped over?” Alice repeated in alarm. Her gaze darted from Lady Torrington to the earl and back again. No wonder the two looked as if they had rolled in the snow. They probably had!
“Oh, we’re fine,” Adele assured her with a wave of her gloved hand. “Poor Mr. Haversham took the worst of it. I’ll never forget the look of that horse when he turned his head around to look at us, though. I could swear he was grinning,” she said, sotto voce.
“That’s because he was,” Milton replied with a smirk. He gave his valet a nod. “He’s a Friesian with a sense of humor. Did the same thing two years ago. Cantered right up to the edge of that hill and then suddenly turned so we’d tip sideways,” he said as the blade of his hand moved through the air to illustrate how the sleigh ended up on its side.
“You could have been injured, sir,” Alonyius said with a frown.
“Unlikely. Drowned in snow is more the case,” Milton replied, one of his eyebrows arching up. He suddenly shivered.
“Mrs. Miller is seeing to tea,” Alice stated. “Where would you like it, milady?”
“The warmest room in the house,” Adele replied as she made her way into the grand hall. On any other day, she would have given an involuntary shudder at entering the massive room, but not on this day. A fire burned in the giant stone fireplace at one end, the tree in one corner was dressed in red ribbons and candles, and the greenery of the season hung above the nativity scene on the mantle. The new stable, appropriately rustic, looked as if it had always been part of the set. Even a star, carved from wood, had been mounted on the highest point of its pine needle thatched roof.
She wouldn’t have noticed the animal heads mounted on wood plaques at the tops of the walls except that several had swags of greenery strung over their antlers and horns.
Sighing, she was reminded of how she giggled like a schoolgirl at Milton’s amusing tales as they made th
eir way to Hexham in the sleigh. She couldn’t remember a time she had felt so unencumbered by the strictures of the ton.
“Parlor, then,” Alice said with a nod, referring to where tea would be served. “Would you like to change out of your boots, milady?”
The countess shook her head. “Not yet. Perhaps after tea.”
Alice bobbed a curtsy and hurried off with the outerwear.
Still in the vestibule, Alonyius dared a glance in her direction before turning his attention back to his master. “Will there be anything else, my lord?” he asked.
Milton shook his head, but gave a nod in the direction of the retreating lady’s maid. He had noticed her bee-stung lips and realized what might account for them. Adele’s had the same appearance after a spirited round of kissing. “She seems... happy,” he murmured, his voice kept low.
Alonyius couldn’t help the flush that colored his neck. “I believe she is, my lord,” he replied, well aware that the countess had overheard the earl’s comment.
“So... everything is sorted between the two of you?”
The valet nodded. “It is, my lord,” he acknowledged. He cleared his throat. “Would you have any objections if I was to ... consider... taking a wife?”
A slow smile developing on his face, Milton shook his head. “I would not,” he stated. “And I rather doubt her ladyship would mind, either.” He turned and regarded Adele for a moment, just to ensure she shared his opinion.
She gave a shake of her head, but said, “As long as the wedding trip isn’t overly long, I suppose.” Although she had been without her lady’s maid’s services for a few days, she found she rather enjoyed having Simpkins style her hair and help her to dress. The maid was far more efficient than Milton given he merely wanted to undress her all the time.
And he was absolutely no help when it came to styling her hair.
Adele suddenly inhaled sharply and added, “As long as it’s Miss Simpkins we’re discussing,” she amended quickly.
Alonyius allowed a grin. “It is my lady,” he admitted, a bit sheepish. “I merely lack a ring and a marriage license. I can see to both when we’re back in London.”
Milton angled his head to one side. “If you’re up for a Christmastime wedding, I believe we can see to both.”
Frowning, Alonyius wondered what the earl could mean. “If it’s possible, then I suppose I would be amenable,” he hedged. “Though I still have to propose.”
Screwing up his face in annoyance, Milton replied, “Well, of course you’ll be amenable. And so will she. I’ll pay for the license and give you a ring if that’s what it takes.”
Adele allowed a sound of surprise but was soon smiling broadly. “A Christmastime wedding!” she cooed.
Alonyius stared at his master for a moment, suddenly realizing just how guilty the man must still feel over what had happened with Alice. “Very well, my lord,” he finally replied.
He only hoped the ring would be gold and not a ring of paper from a cheroot.
As it turned out, the Earl of Torrington’s idea of a ring was far grander than a cheroot band. Grander even than a simple gold band. For when he and the valet went up to the master suite, Milton regarded the collection of brightly colored boxes still littering his bed and plucked a small one from the pile. He gave it to the valet and said. “May I suggest a Christmas day proposal?”
Alonyius regarded his master for a moment before returning his attention to the box he held. “Was this intended for the countess, my lord? I really shouldn’t accept it if—”
“It’s not one of Stedman and Vardon’s finest”, the earl stated with a shake of his head. “I only bought it because I thought to have a bauble or two handy in the event something important might happen. And it seems it has.”
His brows furrowing, Alonyius started to give the box back to the earl, but Milton’s staying hand stopped it.
“I had hoped my countess would have news for me whilst on this visit,” Milton said in a quiet voice. “But it’s become apparent she’s not yet been blessed with a child.” He arched an eyebrow. “Until a few weeks ago, I didn’t much care if we had children or not, but now...” He allowed the sentence to trail off, as if he couldn’t put voice to whatever had changed his mind.
At first, Alonyius held his tongue, remembering all too well the number of times the earl had insisted his cousin Gregory would make the better earl. If his master died without issue, Gregory Grandby would become the Earl of Torrington.
He opened the small box and peered inside, stunned to see a diamond mounted on a gold band. Not a particularly large stone, it was the perfect size for the width of the band. He imagined how the ring would look on one of Alice’s small fingers, imagined the look on her face when he gave it to her.
Imagined the words she might say.
Although he might have been able to purchase the jewel with the monies he had saved over the years, he certainly wouldn’t have much left.
Not that money really mattered, he supposed. Not after what he had learned during the afternoon he had spent with his brother.
Alonyius closed the box and returned his attention to the earl. Curiosity suddenly got the best of him. “May I inquire as to what happened to change your mind, my lord? I ask only because...” He stopped, blinking because he wasn’t quite sure why it was suddenly so important to know.
Is this what happened to a man who waited too long to take a wife? Who waited too long to consider heirs and spares? The earl was well past the age to consider starting a nursery. The countess would be forty in a couple of years. And yet it seemed as if they were both regretting their impending mortality.
Milton regarded his valet a moment before he provided a most unexpected response. “I think my countess wants a child,” he whispered, as if he feared Adele might be listening outside the door. “She’s become insatiable, I tell you! If I don’t get a child on her soon, I won’t be able to walk.”
Alonyius blinked. And blinked again. Prepared to feel sorry for his master, his eyes suddenly widened in amused surprise at the earl’s response. He could barely suppress the chuckle that nearly erupted from his throat.
That is, until he remembered he and the earl were nearly the same age.
Before this trip, Alonyius had never given any consideration to the idea of taking a wife. Of having children. And yet the earl seemed to think it was still possible. For him, it was almost a necessity.
Alonyius finally nodded. “Perhaps we’ll have a blizzard, and there will be nothing to do except bed your wife, my lord,” he offered in a lighthearted manner.
Milton’s eyes widened. “Then I really will be lame,” he replied, the crinkles around his eyes deepening before he suddenly allowed a chuckle. “Happy, though, to be sure.”
Giving his master a nod, Alonyius thanked him again for the generous gift of the ring and excused himself from the master suite.
He had a proposal to prepare.
Chapter 43
Festivities of the Season
Later that day
As Alice hung up her ladyship’s carriage gown and matching redingote, she wondered at that evening’s entertainments. She thought it rather odd that the earl would have the servants celebrating on the night of Christmas Eve rather than the evening of January fifth. But then she realized it was unlikely any servants would wish to make their way to Hexham or wherever the nearest church might be located tomorrow morning. During that day’s hanging of the greens, several maids mentioned they hadn’t been out-of-doors for days given the cold weather and snow. Perhaps the early ball was a means of providing exercise. A chance at a bit of revelry.
Alice wondered what she could wear to such a fête. Although she had one gown she considered her Sunday best, it wasn’t really appropriate for a ball. Alonyius would look dashing in whatever he wore, she thought, his clothes fitting as if they had been custom-made for him.
She blinked, realizing they probably were.
Having walked all the halls of all t
hree stories of Torrington Park, she had finally found the chapel. The small room in one corner of the lodge was as tall as two stories, its arched ceiling held up by what appeared to be curved beams. Light from its two stained glass windows gave the room a golden glow, the color repeated in the vestments on the altar and in the gilt decorating the pews. She wondered if the staff would use it for a Christmas morning service.
Adele appeared in the doorway. “I’m so glad to have found you,” she said as she hurried into the bedchamber.
Alice gave a look of alarm. “What is it, milady?” she asked as she dipped a curtsy.
“We need to find an appropriate gown for you to wear to the ball tonight,” the countess replied, already halfway to the dressing room. “And one for me, I suppose. I’ve been told I should expect to dance with every footman in the household.”
“Milady?” Alice’s eyes were wide as she watched her mistress breeze into the dressing room and begin a search through the gowns that hung on the pegs.
“It’s important, Simpkins. I want you to look your very best this evening.”
Alice blinked, not sure how to respond. She was further dumbstruck when Adele appeared in the dressing room doorway holding her very best turquoise and sarcenet ballgown. “But, I cannot wear such an expensive gown, milady! What if...? What if something should spill on it, or if one of the footmen steps on the hem and tears it?”
Giving her maid a shrug, Adele said, “You’ll clean it or fix it as you always do. Let’s see if this fits you.”
Touching the sarcenet as if it were made of gold leaf, Alice gave Adele a worried glance. “Milady, I would be sick if I couldn’t repair it.”
“Nonsense. I’ve worn it twice in London and don’t expect I’ll do so again—”
“Which is why we packed it for this trip, milady. So you could wear it for the Twelfth Night ball,” Alice argued, just then realizing she was putting voice to a protest. Why, her words almost sounded like a complaint. “But I would love to wear it. Truly.”
The Christmas of a Countess (The Holidays of the Aristocracy Book 1) Page 29
