James stripped and climbed into bed, but sleep was kept at bay by his thoughts. He regretted that his sweet sister Jane, the Countess of Dalkeith, had been absent from the Christmas Eve festivities with the rest of the family because she was on duty with the queen. He acknowledged that Victoria’s first Christmas without Albert would be an emotional time for her, but then he thought of the unconscionable way she treated her son Teddy and thought, It’s no wonder the Irish refer to her as the “Auld Bitch of a Quayne”!
James was reconciled to spending Christmas Day with the prince, and not just because it was his royal duty. He did not want Teddy to feel bereft and lonely. He had rented a town house in his own name on Jermyn Street, where the prince spent at least one night each week, presumably enjoying the services of a courtesan, or titled wife of a complacent friend. He didn’t know, and he didn’t want to know. But Christmas Day was different and should be spent with someone who truly cared about you. Most of the morning would be spent in church. After that, James decided, they would go to Marlborough House, where the Prince of Wales could relish his freedom and make plans for the future.
His last waking thought, as it was most nights, was how much he regretted not stealing Anne away from the masquerade ball. If I had made love to her that night, it would have removed John Claud from the picture.
The moment he drifted into sleep the beautiful object of his desire was there with him. They were sitting close on a love seat before a cozy fire. James took the pins from Anne’s hair one by one, until the red-gold tresses tumbled about her shoulders. He threaded his fingers into the silken mass and set his lips to the tendrils that curled so enticingly on her brow.
Her green eyes sparkled with mischief. “I warrant you’re naked beneath that kilt.”
James began to laugh. “You are an amazing judge of human nature.”
“Take it off and show me,” she challenged. “I’ve never seen a naked man.”
“Since you’re incurably impulsive, why don’t you undress me, then I’ll return the favor. That will allow us to explore our curiosity about each other.”
Anne, bubbling with laughter, unwound the green tartan from his hips. She sat back and gazed wide-eyed at his rampant cock, rising from the black curls between his legs.
He lifted a tress of bright hair from her shoulder and rubbed it between his fingers. “I warrant the curls on your mons are as silky soft as this one. You have no idea how often I’ve seen them and touched them in my dreams, sweetheart.”
“I’ve dreamed about you too, James, but I must confess the real flesh and blood man puts my daydreams to shame.”
The moment James raised his hands to unfasten her gown, John Claud arrived on the scene. “James, I’m glad you finally met Lady Anne. She’s the girl I’m going to marry.”
“I’ll fight you for her.” James was naked, save for his rapier. Miraculously, John Claud had a sword in his hand.
“First blood,” John Claud declared.
“Nay.” James shook his head. “Last blood!”
With a swift parry, his brother’s weapon arced into the air; then James thrust, aiming straight for the heart.
• • •
On Christmas Day, the Curzon-Howes gathered at the mansion in Grosvenor Square. The tree had been set up in the ballroom, because that was the only room large enough to accommodate the earl’s plethora of sons and daughters and their families.
Anne had difficulty keeping them all straight. She knew that her father’s oldest son, George, was married to Harriet and they had a sixteen-year-old daughter, Alice. The rest of her father’s sons by his first wife were all military men, and she could hardly keep their names straight, let alone their ranks.
Her father’s daughter Georgiana, who was married to the Duke of Beaufort, had four sons ranging in age from nine to fifteen, but the only child Anne liked was eight-year-old Blanche. Her father’s daughter Adelaide, who was married to Henry Fane, Earl of Westmorland, was the only sibling who treated Anne like a sister, and as a consequence Anne loved their four-year-old son, Anthony.
Anne, holding young Blanche and Anthony by the hand, led them around a table laden with fruit, nuts, biscuits, chocolate bonbons, and sweetmeats. She tried one of everything and encouraged them to do the same. She winked at them. “Don’t get sick, or I shall get the blame.” She took them to look at all the presents piled under the tree.
“I want a pony,” Anthony declared.
Blanche murmured in confidence, “I saw a big box with a rocking horse in it.”
Anthony frowned, “Don’t want a rocking horse!”
“You are a frightful boy,” Blanche declared. She glanced over at her brothers, who were roughhousing in a corner. “I don’t like boys much,” she confided to Anne.
Her aunt laughed. “You only have four brothers. Pity me, I have eight.” She spied Henry Fane and led Anthony to his father. “He says he wants a pony.”
Henry picked up his son. “I bought you a pony. It’s in the stable at Apethorpe.”
“Can I see him today?” Anthony begged.
“No, you little blighter. You’ll have to be patient,” he admonished.
“Tomorrow, then?”
Fane winked at Anne. “Go and pester your mother. I’m just as eager to go to Apethorpe as you are, milado.” When Anthony ran off to find his mother, Fane confided, “Adelaide will have a bloody fit when she learns I bought a four-year-old a pony.”
Anne whispered, “You have horse piss in your veins!”
Fane threw back his head and roared with laughter. “You have a wicked Irish wit, m’dear. ’Tis a thing to be cherished.”
“What’s so funny?” Leicester Howe asked.
“I’ll never tell,” Fane replied, with another wink.
Leicester’s glance swept Anne from head to toe. “May I say your beautiful gown makes you look like a glittering Christmas angel.”
Anne laughed. “Henry will attest that I am no angel. You were very lucky to get leave at Christmas, Leicester. Aren’t you stationed in the Ionian Islands?”
“Not anymore, my dear. I take it you heard that King Otto was deposed and Greece is now ruled by King George. Since the new king is friendly to Britain, we are transferring the Ionian Islands to Greece. They will no longer be under British protection, so I won’t be going back.”
“Have you any idea where you’ll be stationed next?”
Leicester’s eyes crinkled in a confidential smile. “I have my eye on Ireland.”
“There you are, Leicester.” Montagu was delighted to see his half brother. He was hell-bent on joining the prestigious Rifle Brigade, and Leicester had promised to help him.
“I think it must be the green jackets he can’t resist,” Anne teased. As she watched Leicester and Montagu talk, she was struck once again at the family resemblance. They were like two peas in a pod and even shared the same mannerisms.
According to custom, the children opened their presents before Christmas dinner was served, and the adults opened their gifts after the meal. By the time the goose was ready to be served, the grown-ups were happy to troop to the dining room and leave the ballroom that was littered with toys and games. The servants had set up a children’s table beside the Christmas tree, and Anne thought privately that the youngsters were glad to be rid of their parents for a few hours.
Emily eyed Anne’s glittering gown with disapproval, and Anne returned the favor with a look of pity for her sister’s drab dress, the color of which could best be described as cat shit. Anne caught her mother’s eye, and both of them had to exercise constraint.
Emily, however, was simply bursting to share her news with the rest of her family. She waited until the soup was served, knowing everyone would be caught agog with their spoons halfway to their mouths. “His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales has become secretly engaged. Buckingham Palace will mak
e the announcement in the New Year!”
“Oh, that is exciting news,” Georgiana Beaufort declared. “Who is the lucky bride?”
“I shall tell you only because I know all of you will keep this in strict confidence.” Emily paused, keeping everyone in suspense, basking in their undivided attention. “He is to marry Princess Alexandra of Denmark!”
“Poor princess,” Lady Howe murmured.
“What on earth do you mean?” Emily demanded.
“She’s so young, and coming to a strange country to a husband she doesn’t know.”
“In my humble opinion, there is nothing strange about England,” Emily protested, “but then of course you’re Irish.”
“She never had a humble opinion in her life,” Anne murmured to Henry Fane, and watched him cover his laughter with his napkin.
Henry’s wife, Adelaide, said, “Well, Queen Victoria is so rigid and strict, I don’t envy the young princess. Emily, didn’t I hear you remark that Buckingham Palace is like a mausoleum these days?”
Anne simply couldn’t resist. “The Prince and Princess of Wales won’t be living at Buckingham Palace. They are to have their own establishment at Marlborough House.”
Everyone spoke at once, save Emily, who sat with an open mouth. When she recovered, she demanded, “How did you come to possess such privy information?”
Anne’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “I’m Irish. . . . I have second sight.”
Everyone at the table laughed at the clever retort, except for Emily, who pressed her lips together in hatred.
Henry Fane remarked to Anne, “The prince is mad about horses and racing. Once he gets his own establishment and cuts the royal apron strings, he’ll be a regular on the racing circuit.”
“Yes, I recall that he was at Newmarket the day I attended the races with you.”
That was one of the happiest days of my life. James stole my heart that day, and not for the first time.
The topic of the upcoming marriage between Prince Edward and Princess Alexandra lasted throughout the entire meal. Then the ladies withdrew to the drawing room while the men remained in the dining room to enjoy their port and cigars.
An hour later when the gentlemen joined the ladies, it was time for the adults to open their gifts. It was the custom for the men of the family to give their wives jewels. This was the first Christmas that Anne’s niece Alice was old enough to join the adults. She opened a gift from her parents and eagerly showed the other ladies her seed-pearl brooch.
When Anne opened her present, she was thrilled to find an emerald bracelet. She knew it was her mother who had picked it out, though she also thanked her father profusely, knowing it was his money that had paid for it.
She watched her mother open her gift from her husband. It too was emeralds, a lovely matching set of necklace and earrings. Mother and daughter smiled into each other’s eyes. “You have exquisite taste, Mother.”
Montagu, who had been charged with the pleasant task of handing out the gifts, gave his sister a square box, and an oblong box to his mother.
Anne glanced down at the card that read: Happy Christmas, Lady Anne. The card gave no indication of whom the gift was from. Her mother opened her box first, and held up a carving of Poseidon, the God of the Sea, holding his trident.
“Oh, Leicester, how thoughtful. This is from the Ionian Islands. I shall treasure it.”
Anne bent to pick up the card that had fallen from the gift, and when she glanced at it, she frowned. She tried to remember where she had seen the initial L before, and it came to her in a flash that it was precisely the same handwriting she’d seen on the love letter she’d found in her mother’s dressing room. That cannot be! My mother couldn’t possibly have been in love with my father’s son. Anne dismissed the thought. She firmly told herself that such a wicked idea was unworthy of her.
She sat down to open her own present. She drew the snow globe from its box and sat gazing at it in wonder. There was a tiny figure of herself, sitting in a horse-drawn sleigh. It was even wearing a white fur Cossack hat. She tipped it up and watched in delight as the snowflakes swirled about in a frenzied snowstorm. She read the card again:
Happy Christmas, Lady Anne. Because of the white fur hat she had worn to the masquerade ball, she knew that it could be from only one person: James!
Where on earth did he find such a treasure? Anne examined the box, and saw the words Made in Belgium. She felt the warmth from her cheeks slowly spread to her heart. She put the globe back in its box. She suddenly felt very possessive about it and didn’t want to share it with anyone. Besides, there would be all sorts of questions about who had given her such a lovely present, and why, and she didn’t want to answer them.
Anne didn’t remove the snow globe from its box until she was safely in her bedchamber for the night, after all the Christmas festivities were over. She tipped it upside down and delighted in the flurry of snowflakes. She set it on the table beside her bed so that she could see it and touch it, and, yes, daydream about the man who had bought it for her.
After she got into bed, she reached over half a dozen times to stir up the snowstorm inside the magical glass globe and knew without a doubt it was the most precious gift she had ever received. She lifted the card and read it again: Happy Christmas, Lady Anne.
She suddenly remembered her mother’s card from Leicester that bore the distinctive letter L. Her mother’s voice floated back to her: I was in love with a man who was just a little older than me. He warned me that my mother would conspire with Queen Adelaide to marry me to the lord chamberlain. He was a young officer in the army.
Anne knew that Leicester and her mother were about the same age, and he was certainly an army officer. She suddenly thought of her brother’s marked resemblance to Leicester. Oh my God, what if Mother was having Leicester’s child when he was posted abroad? Perhaps that’s the reason she allowed her mother to coerce her into marrying my father. Anne’s thoughts were so shockingly sordid, she instinctively denied them.
Mother couldn’t possibly have been intimate with both a man and his son. But the forbidden thoughts came back again and again. Anne thumped her pillow and turned over. It’s wicked to think such vile thoughts. I adore my mother; she couldn’t possibly have been involved in something so scandalous.
Chapter Eleven
“I haven’t received even one proposal of marriage, and Florence has received two!” Frances Hamilton put up her umbrella as she and Anne Howe walked briskly to the waiting carriage. The friends had been shopping on Oxford Street with the bride-to-be.
As expected, Lady Florence Paget’s engagement to Viscount Henry Chaplin had been announced in mid-January, and the wedding was planned for Saturday, February 21.
“She said Henry Rawdon is begging her to elope.” Anne opened the carriage door and both young women hopped in out of the rain. “Florence really should call off her wedding to Chaplin. I know it will take a great deal of courage, but she’ll have no chance of happiness marrying a man she doesn’t love.”
As the carriage rolled along on its way to Hampden House, Anne remembered her mother’s words: I should have listened to him when he begged me to elope. I’ve always regretted that I did not have the courage to take my happiness in my own hands and marry the man with whom I was so deeply in love.
“Do you think Florence has the courage to elope?” Frances asked.
“I don’t know. She doesn’t seem the impulsive type,” Anne replied doubtfully.
When the carriage stopped at Hampden House, Frances invited Anne to come in.
“You might as well wait until the rain stops.”
Lady Lu came to the top of the stairs when she heard them arrive. “I’m so glad you’re back. Come and have a look at the Illustrated London News. Buckingham Palace has finally announced the engagement of the Prince of Wales!”
Frances and Anne h
urried up and went into the dining room, where the duchess had laid out the newspaper on the long table. They were extremely curious about Princess Alexandra and pored over the newspaper engagement photographs with great interest.
“The setting is beautiful, but her gown is rather plain for an engagement.”
“I think it’s better to be too plain, rather than too frilly and fussy, Frances. That way everyone will look at her and not her dress. She has a sweet face,” Anne said.
“When the princess and her family live in Denmark, I wonder why the engagement took place in Belgium,” Frances asked.
“That’s what I asked your father,” Lady Lu confided. “Apparently, when he wrote the official letter to Prince Christian of Denmark, they were thrown into a dilemma. The family lived in rather Spartan circumstances. They didn’t want the Prince of Wales to see Princess Alexandra in this setting. Unbelievably, she shared an attic bedroom with her sister Dagmar, and the girls made their own clothes. Abercorn immediately wrote to King Leopold of Belgium, and of course Prince Teddy’s uncle was more than happy to offer the splendid hospitality of his Royal Castle of Laeken in Brussels.”
“I had no idea a princess could be poverty-stricken,” Anne declared. “My heart goes out to her.”
“Her circumstances are about to change dramatically. According to James, the inside of Marlborough House is positively opulent. He and Prince Teddy are busy interviewing a legion of servants to run the place. He says the grand mansion will be the envy of Society and everyone will vie for an invitation. Personally, I can’t wait.”
“It says the royal wedding is to take place at Windsor on Tuesday, March tenth.” Anne finished reading the article. “St. George’s Chapel isn’t very large.”
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