Gregory clamped his hands over Hannah’s ears this time. “My apologies, madam, for mistaking this for a house of good will. My ward and I will not be troubling you further. Good day.”
“And good riddance, I say. No doubt you thought to foist your by-blow off on my tenderhearted sister-in-law, who is known to be forever taking in wounded birds and feeding toothless old dogs. Well, that won’t wash, sirrah. The very idea of bringing that creature into my home makes me shudder.”
“Me, too, Lady Handbury, me, too,” Gregory told her as he lifted Hannah into his arms. “And you are perfectly correct. Such a precious little girl does not belong here.” He walked out of the room without a backward look, not even making his bow to Miss Haney, he was that furious.
So was Claire. She had been rapped with that fan once too often, and been subjected to her sister-in-law’s harangues twice too often. She might be no more than Lord Handbury’s beloved younger sister, but she was a woman grown, and not beholden to her brother—or his wife—for her sustenance. She reached for the fan when Diana raised it once more to emphasize her last point. Claire made a point of her own, several, actually, in small broken pieces of the dratted thing that fell one by one to the floor.
“Never again,” she said, snapping the last stick. “You will never raise your hand to me again. Nor will you insult a guest of mine again.”
Then she flew down the hall, past the butler, out the door, and onto the walkway. “My lord,” she called, not caring that she was, indeed, creating grist for the rumor mills. She was not even wearing a bonnet or gloves, although hailing a chance-met gentleman in the street had to be a far greater crime against society’s strictures. To the devil with society, the city, and her sister-in-law, she decided. Claire Haney could not turn aside a fellow man—not this one, at any rate—in need.
Chapter Five
“Lord Bryson, wait!”
That got his attention, and that of a passing jarvey, Lady Harkness who lived next door, and a maid and a footman sneaking a kiss behind the garden gate.
Gregory turned with Hannah still in his arms where he thought he could protect her from everything but insult. “Miss Haney, you have no coat on. Go back inside.”
“No, not until I apologize for my sister-in-law and invite you and Hannah to return.”
“I doubt Lady Handbury sent you out in the cold to request our company. She is correct, however. I do not belong there, yet I was indeed hoping to appeal to your gentle nature. Now I could not feel welcome inside, nor would I subject you or Hannah to any more of Lady Handbury’s vituperation. You have nothing for which you need apologize, for you have been nothing but kindness itself. Thank you and good day.”
She had been dismissed. Claire nodded. “It is quite cold.” And she had cold feet about offering her aid to a top of the trees gentleman. Her idea was so presumptuous, he was liable to think her some poor country spinster tossing her handkerchief at his feet, which she was not, of course. What, consider Lord Bryson an eligible parti? Never. His lordship was known to be pockets-to-let, seeking to repair his tattered fortune with a dowry darning needle. After yesterday’s events, rumor had him the worst kind of rakehell, seducing a young woman and then abandoning her and the resultant infant. Diana had been pleased to announce at the breakfast table that all doors were likely closed to Gregory, Viscount Bryson, from that day hence.
The butler coughed, reminding her that the door to Handbury House stood ajar. Well, Claire had no intentions of sending out lures to a gazetted fortune hunter and libertine. It was nearly Christmas, though, and he did seem concerned about finding loving care for the love child, whosesoever Hannah might be. Claire liked him, and she liked Hannah. It would never do to say so, naturally, but perhaps she could convince her brother to lend assistance to the gentleman. Right after she convinced Handbury to let her set up her own establishment.
Claire retraced her steps, thinking of what she could do when she had the ordering of her own household, but she halted when Lord Bryson called out, asking her to wait. She could feel her heart lift, foolish thing that it was, as she turned back.
Gregory strode up to her, holding Hannah as effortlessly as if she were an umbrella or a cane. “We were about to sample the wares of a nearby sweetshop, to relieve a somewhat bitter taste. Would you care to accompany us? With your outer garments, of course, and a maid, to play propriety.”
She would, more than she should. Claire ran off to fetch her cloak and bonnet.
While they waited, Gregory made sure that his hair was neat, that his cravat was unrumpled by Hannah’s grasp around his neck, and that his nose was not going to disgrace him. He retied the bow on Hannah’s bonnet and tried to gather her loose hair back with another ribbon. “We have to make a good impression on the lady, poppet,” he told the little girl.
“Why, Papa? She already likes us.”
Gregory remembered Miss Haney’s smile when he extended his impromptu invitation. He smiled himself. “She does, doesn’t she?”
While Hannah tried to decide whether cream-filled pastries or raspberry tarts were her favorites, Claire and the viscount discussed his predicament. Gregory made no secret of his financial straits, for the so-called polite world would learn of Belle Towers’s loss within days of the new year.
“If I had enough time, I might be able to turn things around. But now with needing to make provision for Hannah, I fear I am out of options.”
Claire feared he would never accept assistance from her brother, if she could urge Handbury into offering any, which was dubious, considering Diana’s attitude. Handbury and the viscount were acquaintances, merely, not close friends. Neither would Lord Bryson accept a loan from her, she knew, for gentlemen had their odd notions of honor. She could offer an interim proposal, however.
“My lord, do you have plans for the Christmas holidays?”
Gregory’s eyes clouded. He’d forgotten all about Christmas, thinking of New Year’s and the mortgage payments. “I had intended to go to Ravencroft for the gala, along with half the ton, I suppose. Now…” He shrugged, not wanting to say that, with the heiress turning her back on him, he had no reason to go and would be uncertain of his welcome. He also had Hannah to worry about, but did not want to ruin the imp’s enjoyment of her first lemon ice by saying so.
Claire nodded. “I thought you would be invited. I will be going, and I think you ought to come, you and Hannah.”
Hannah put down her spoon, her eyes wide. “To a duchess’s house?”
Gregory could have echoed her sentiment. “I do not think Her Grace…”
“The Duchess of Ravencroft is my godmother, you know. Any guest of mine will be welcome,” she stated with conviction. “The nursery will be filled, with scores of maids and nurses, so one more child will not matter. And I will have time to spend with Hannah, for I do not intend to partake of many of the entertainments, since I am in mourning.”
“That is a generous offer, indeed, Miss Haney. Ravencroft is near Belle Towers, where I was thinking of going anyway. And my aunt will be at Ravencroft,” Gregory mused out loud, “since she and the duchess are bosom bows. My cousin Floyd is also attending, unfortunately, but I could then ask Aunt Elvira if she would care for Hannah in Bath until I come about. If you are sure the duchess will not mind?”
“Her Grace is everything generous. In fact, I am intending to ask her if I cannot stay on after the holidays. She is always urging me to consider a long visit, and this shall be it. I doubt she thought I meant to stay until I reach my majority, but Ravencroft can house any number of guests, and we go on well together.” Much better than Claire rubbed along with her sister-in-law Diana, but that, too, was left unsaid. “If your aunt cannot look after a young child, perhaps you would consider leaving Hannah with me, if you need to.”
Gregory was almost speechless with the offer, but he had to ask, “And after you attain your majority, what then?”
“Why, then I shall have a home of my own, and may invite whomever I w
ish.”
Gregory assumed she meant with a husband of her choice. Perhaps she was merely waiting until she was out of mourning, or came into an inheritance at that date. Her eagerness to leave the London Marriage Mart meant she had the lucky gentleman already selected. Of course she did, such a charming female. Otherwise, eligible gentlemen would be swarming Handbury House. The chap must be a paragon indeed, if she was so sure he would accept Hannah into his home.
“I will think about attending,” he said, half decided that he should have one happy Christmas among family and friends, with good food and good cheer, before the vicissitudes of life intruded again. His raspberry ice went untasted as he considered that this might even be his last Christmas in England. Hannah should enjoy herself, too, for he doubted there had been much celebrating at Chiswell Academy. He doubted the sprout had ever played snapdragon, or tasted wassail. Likely she had not ridden on the Yule log as it was dragged back to the house, helped decorate kissing boughs, nor made pudding wishes, all the things he recalled from his own youth. He wondered if she had ever received a Christmas gift—and doubted it.
Hannah deserved this holiday for, despite Miss Haney’s kindly meant offer, who knew what the new year would bring to any of them? The duchess could decline to house a baseborn child, or she could decide to go traveling with Miss Haney as companion. His aunt’s rheumatics might make her refuse to take Hannah. A hundred things could happen, all of them dreary and depressing. The mention of dreary reminded Gregory of his shabby flat. The thought of spending Christmas there, with the greasy goose Mrs. Cauffin was bound to cook, was appalling. So was the cold lonely trek to Belle Towers to sell off the silverware, leaving Hannah with who knew what strangers.
“You might also consider the visit a chance to mend your fences with Lady Susannah,” Claire forced herself to say.
He laughed. “I doubt there is any hope in that quarter. Nor do I wish to try. I find that I cannot be comfortable with the notion of courting a woman who thinks the worst of me, without waiting to hear my side of the story.”
“But she is so beautiful.”
“Yet I would have to converse with the woman, spend years in her company, not just look at her.”
“What of her dowry?” Not that money would solve all of the viscount’s problems, Claire knew, but it would make the others easier to swallow.
“No, not even for her father’s blunt. I am not that much of a fortune hunter that I would live my life with a shrew, no matter how pretty or wealthy.” He looked over at Hannah, and tucked the serviette more securely under her chin. “Nor ask Hannah to live with one.” They both knew that Lady Susannah would never accept Hannah into her family, no more than Lady Handbury would. Gregory realized he wanted a different type of woman to be mother to his children, a woman who was kind and loving, not merely a beautiful ornament of the beau monde.
Claire silently agreed that he was well out of that match. She was also much relieved that he was not pining after a lost love, or a lost opportunity. “Then you will come? I was going to offer to take Hannah with me, if you would not. I am leaving within days, and have already bespoken a carriage and outriders, and rooms reserved along the way. I am sure my brother would welcome my having a gentleman escort.”
So he would not have to hire a coach or horses? So Hannah would be warm and watched at night? Gregory suddenly felt years younger, pounds lighter, and he owed it all to this darling young lady. He could have kissed her, if they were not in public. Instead he dabbed at a bit of strawberry jam that had landed on the corner of her mouth.
Blushing, Claire looked down at her plate. “My elderly cousin goes, too, of course, so there is no need to worry about our reputations.”
It was hers that was going to be affected by their proximity. “Are you sure? You could wait and go with Lord Handbury’s party.”
Claire looked up and met his concern with a smile. “Positive. This way Diana will have to cope with her own children by herself, for a change. The nursemaid’s mother died, which is why I was in the park with my nephews.”
So they made plans, and set times. Claire had much to do, with packing and sending messages and appeasing her brother.
Gregory and Hannah had to go shopping. His ward could not appear at the ducal residence with one faded dress and one yellowed pinafore, to say nothing of her one pair of badly darned stockings. She had no hope of being treated like a gentleman’s ward if she looked like a debtor’s daughter. Gregory decided that his own honor would be at stake if his niece, which was what he was calling Hannah in his own mind, were not treated with respect. He could not go around calling out children in the Ravencroft nursery, but he could deuced well make sure his charge looked as prosperous as they did.
The hackney driver knew of a shop on the fringes of Mayfair that sold made-up goods for children. Some had been worn only once, when the rich swells’ youngsters outgrew their party clothes. The castoffs were often given to the maids, who in turn sold them to a used clothing merchant. That would have to do, since they had no time to buy fabrics and hire seamstresses—and Gregory had as much understanding of little girls’ wardrobes as he had of a Hottentot’s.
The proprietress of the store knew exactly what was required, thank goodness. She had two sprigged frocks and a crisp pinafore with eyelet trim, in just the right size. She also carried flannel petticoats, flannel nightwear, white stockings, and an assortment of ribbons. Gregory added them all to their growing pile, while Hannah stood with her eyes wide and round.
She tugged on the viscount’s arm until he bent down, then whispered in his ear, “I thought we were poor, Papa.”
“Next month we will be poor, poppet. Today we are merely in straitened circumstances, not so far below hatches we cannot afford a special dress for Christmas.” He knew the children would be brought down to join the company for the holiday, and wanted Hannah to look her best. Her birth might be questionable, but she would not be ashamed of her appearance, not if Gregory had anything to say about it. “Something in velvet,” he told the shopkeeper.
The woman brought out a pretty red velvet dress, perfect for the festive season, she cooed, ideal for Hannah’s pale hair. It was too red for Gregory’s taste, too suggestive of scarlet women. “Blue, I think. To match her eyes.”
The woman did have one small blue gown, but it was new, exquisitely embroidered with tiny flowers, and dear. The child’s wealthy mother had decided she wanted her daughter dressed in green satin to match her own gown, instead of the ruffled blue velvet. “We will take it,” Gregory said the instant he saw the thing. Hannah would look as pretty as a princess.
“You mean no one has ever worn it before?” she whispered again, this time in awe, cautiously touching the soft fabric. “I am to be the very first?”
“And the most beautiful.”
“But will our ’stances get straighter?”
“We will stand tall and proud, looking our finest.”
Chapter Six
They were not poor yet, but they would be soon. Gregory figured he could save the month’s rent, at least, by deciding not to go back to Mrs. Cauffin’s hovel after the holidays. Lud knew he had few enough possessions, so what he was not taking with him to Ravencroft could be put in storage at Bellington House. The place might be rented, but the attics were still his.
They still needed to bring gifts for the duke and duchess, however.
The used apparel storekeeper directed them to a curio shop nearby, where they could find trinkets and treasures at far better prices than on Bond Street. Gregory was not familiar with the establishment, but he was all too conversant with its three-balled brethren.
He instantly spotted an intricately carved briar for the pipe-smoking duke, an ivory needle case for the duchess, and a silk scarf with a gold fringe for his aunt Elvira. In a tray of combs and brushes, he found a set with the initial A carved into the backs, but with so many loops and flourishes, it might have been an H, for Hannah.
She was staring at
a row of dolls on a shelf, so Gregory put back the fob watch he fancied, having pawned his own ages ago. “Which one do you fancy, poppet?”
None, it seemed, were as perfect as Valentina, despite her chipped nose and bandaged arm. Hannah did want a tiny sewing kit, though, so she could make pen wipes out of the remnants of Lord Bryson’s butchered shirtsleeves for Gregory and Mrs. Cauffin and Miss Haney.
Gregory wanted to get something for that young lady, too, but nothing seemed appropriate. Jewelry was too personal—and too expensive. He did not know her taste in books, doubted she’d want a fan or a knickknack after living with Lady Handbury, and hated the idea of giving her something as commonplace as a pair of gloves or an embroidered handkerchief. There was nothing commonplace about the lady who was rescuing Hannah and him from the doldrums.
Miss Haney deserved something special, something magical—something so far beyond his finances that Gregory lost the delight he’d been enjoying at shopping for Hannah and picking gifts, after years of counting his pennies. Claire had offered him a reprise, if not a permanent solution to his problems, and who knew what might happen in the ensuing days before the new year? Miss Haney had given him hope; Gregory had to find something better for her than a filigree flower holder.
Hannah wanted him to buy their friend a porcelain box for storing her hairpins, because it was heart-shaped, like the embroidery on her doll’s skirt. “And we can say she will always be in our hearts, like Valentina.”
Too intimate? Too encroaching? Too absurd, with her already promised to another man. Besides, the clerk recalled that the box used to belong to a wine-merchant’s widow, for her false teeth.
They looked at perfume bottles and hair combs and cameos and card cases. Hannah thought Miss Haney might enjoy a pin cushion in the shape of a horse and carriage. The clerk felt every lady ought to have a pair of opera glasses. Gregory was undecided between a velvet-covered journal with silver corners and a mother-of-pearl inlaid music box. Then he saw the telescope.
An Enchanted Christmas Page 10
