Midnight Marriage: A Georgian Historical Romance (Roxton Series) (29 page)

“I thought I knew your son very well,” Deb replied, a sob in her throat and tearful gaze on the small hand that held hers. “But, yes, you are quite right, Mme la duchesse, I find that I do not know Lord Alston at all.”

A polite cough had all three occupants of the library turning to the double doors. The butler had quietly trod the length of the room and had been waiting to be noticed. At the Duke’s nod he announced that nuncheon was ready and that family and guests had assembled in the dining room anteroom. Deb was all for making her excuses to decline nuncheon when the butler departed, leaving wide the door.

In strolled a tall, thin boy with coal-black curls tied back with a large white ribbon and dressed in a waistcoat and breeches of exquisite embroidered richness. His skin was so pale it was translucent and his black eyes were ringed with dark shadows. There was no mistaking his parent. He was the image of the Duke and had the beginnings of his father’s strong nose. At his heels pranced four whippets with diamond collars that upon seeing their master scampered up to the Duke to receive his adoration.

And lastly into the room bounded Jack, copper curls falling into his eyes, clothes slightly crumpled and with his shoes scuffed, which is what Deb expected of a rough and tumble boy almost ten years of age. Not at all like Lord Henri-Antoine who was precise to a pin and carried himself with a languid upright insolence, the antithesis of Jack’s easy gait and friendly open look.

At sight of her nephew all Deb’s pent up emotion spilled forth and she rushed forward to enfold Jack in a tight embrace. Through her tears she told him how much she had missed him and that if it had been in her power to come to Paris earlier to be with him, she would have done so. Did Jack forgive his aunt’s neglect?

Jack suffered Deb’s tears and hugs with good grace for he had genuinely missed her very much but was embarrassed at such overtly female carryings-on in front of his best friend. But Lord Henri-Antoine did not seem to care. After being introduced to Deb as his brother’s wife he bowed politely, showed mild interest in the fact that this tall female was also Jack’s aunt and then promptly returned to the problem uppermost in his mind.

“Bailey says I’m to have an afternoon nap,” Lord Henri grumbled, tucking his hand in that of his ancient parent’s. “I don’t want to, Papa. He had the impertinence to tell me that he will bar me from attending my own brother’s marriage ball tonight if I don’t. It’s most unfair!”

“But nonetheless a necessary evil,” the Duke answered and brought the whippets to heel with a snap of his long fingers. He kissed his son’s thin hand. “If you want to stay awake for the ball you will take Bailey’s advice and have a nap. Versailles made you overly tired.”

“I think it’s the most tremendous news that you and Alston are married!” Jack was saying eagerly to Deb. “He lets me call him Alston, Aunt Deb. He says that it’s only proper I should, now that he’s my uncle. Alston says I’m to live with you both and that Harry can stay with us whenever he wishes. Can he, Aunt Deb?” He looked at the Duke and Duchess, as if for confirmation and felt heartened when the Duchess smiled. It made him add in a rush, forgetting his French, because his aunt looked as if she was about to burst into tears again, “Harry and I had the most wonderful time at Versailles. There’s a great hall of mirrors and everything, I mean
everything
, is covered in gold and marble and there are fountains that spring up everywhere along
l’Majesty’s
walk, and we saw the King! He’s always surrounded by hundreds of gentlemen in truly outrageous skirts and very tall-heeled shoes! And he has a great hooked nose just like on the coins and—”

“Oh Jack, I am very pleased King Louis did not disappoint you and I cannot tell you how happy it makes me to see you so well and enjoying yourself, but perhaps it would be best to tell me the rest after nuncheon?” Deb said with a watery smile, aware that Lord Henri-Antoine was very pale and had slumped against the Duke’s arm. “You must be hungry after your trip to Versailles?”

“But Harry and I aren’t the least bit hungry. Alston’s set up a row of archery boards on the courtyard lawn. There’s to be a tournament for our friends and us this afternoon before the ball. Did he tell you about it? Did he show you the marquees? Are there circus performers with a bear like he promised? I know there’s to be ribbons and cake and—” Jack stopped at his aunt’s knowing look and, suitably chastened, apologized and bowed to the Duke and Duchess. “Come on, Harry. We’d best eat something. If we don’t eat, Bailey will—”

Lord Henri-Antoine scowled. “A curse on Bailey! What does he have to say to anything?”

The Duchess looked up from the dogs, at Jack and then at her son who was paler than usual, his skin almost gray in hue and his eyes dull and sunken. He was completely worn out. “He has a great deal of say, if it is your health which is of concern,
mon chou
,” the Duchess said quietly. When Lord Henri-Antoine shot Jack an angry look she added, “Jack you must not blame. He is only concerned like us all for your well-being.”

“But, Maman, Bailey would have me forever in doors if he had his way! You can’t imagine what it’s like to be always resting and being forced to eat pap when I don’t want to in the least!” he sulked. “Why should I miss out when other boys—
Jack
—doesn’t have to
nap
in the middle of the day? He isn’t cosseted and clucked over. It’s insulting to be saddled with a jailer physician who won’t even let me pee in private!” At this outburst the Duchess couldn’t help an indulgent giggle but the Duke raised his white brows in displeasure, which was enough to make Lord Henri-Antoine drop his head in penance. “Forgive me, Papa, but it makes me madder than anything.”

“Yes, it must,” the Duke sympathized.

“Alston! Tell Papa what a kill-joy Bailey was at Versailles,” Lord Henri-Antoine called out to his brother. “Tell Papa how Bailey followed me
everywhere
like a beggar! It was most embarrassing.” He went up to his elder brother and slipped his hand in his. “You’ll keep an eye on me this afternoon, won’t you?” he pleaded, looking up at him expectantly. “I need not have a nap or I might miss the start of the tournament. I don’t
want
Bailey behind me. Not this afternoon and tonight with Henriette and Paul and Rene here.
Please
, Alston,
tell
Papa!”

The Marquis had strolled into the library with his hands in the pockets of his embroidered waistcoat, dressed in tight buff breeches, white shirt with a plain linen stock and polished jockey boots. His black curls were freshly washed and simply dressed, and he’d shaved. He was as far removed from the pomaded and powdered courtier that the breath caught in Deb’s throat and her heart gave the oddest flutter.

Julian pulled Lord Henri-Antoine into an affectionate embrace, an arm about his brother’s thin shoulders, and came up to his parents. He acknowledged Deb with a slight bow but that was the extent of his attention. After kissing his mother’s hand and nodding to his father he ruffled Jack’s hair, before saying,

“Come, Harry, you can’t expect me to spend my afternoon in Bailey’s shoes, following you about like a beggar.” He winked at Jack. “I have better things to do with my time than watch over a couple of scapegrace boys—”

“But, Alston,” Lord Henri-Antoine whined, “You promised…”

“He’s roasting you, Harry!” Jack said with a grin. “Of course Alston will keep an eye on us. The tournament was his idea after all. And if you want, I’ll pick up all your spent arrows so you need not get tired.”

Lord Henri-Antoine rolled his eyes, leaning against his brother’s tall frame. “Don’t be an ass, Jack,” he drawled in very much the manner of his father. “We keep dozens of lackeys to do such menial tasks—”

“Thank you, Jack, for your kind offer,” interrupted the Duchess with a smile, a reproachful glance at her younger son as she slipped her arm over the Duke’s velvet sleeve. “With a house full of guests and tonight the ball, I am sure not one servant can I spare to run after my son’s whims. Is that not so,
mon chou
?”

“Yes, maman,” Lord Henri-Antoine agreed reluctantly, and when the Marquis gave him a friendly nudge he apologized to Jack, who good naturedly said there was nothing in it, and the two boys fell in behind the Duke and Duchess as they went into nuncheon.

Deb turned to follow the little procession, watching the Duke who, she noticed for the first time, leaned on a Malacca cane whenever he was upright, and who now used his wife’s arm for support as they left the library.

“The cane is a recent addition,” Julian commented, coming up to her, watching his father. He offered her his crooked arm. “Only eight months ago he was astride his horse every morning. Now… His breathing is labored taking the main stairs.”

“His Grace seems little altered since that night nine years ago,” Deb mused, walking with Julian through to the dining room. She looked up at him pensively. “Is he very ill?”

“Yes.”

“I am truly sorry. The Duchess your mother is—is—”

“—much younger than he,” Julian interrupted, finishing the sentence for her. “There in lies the greater tragedy.” And added in a whisper at her ear, before stepping back to allow Deb to be introduced to family and friends who were all gathered in the anteroom, “Today is his birthday. Your news is by far the most precious gift…”

T
WELVE

C
RYSTAL, SILVER AND GOLD
winked in the blaze of light of two chandeliers that were suspended over the long mahogany dining table. Deb was sure that there was enough silver cutlery laid out at each place to confuse even the most fastidious of diners. Elaborate arrangements of fruits of the season were displayed in worked bowls of finest porcelain, and crystal vases were filled to overflowing with large heavily scented roses. A roaring fire in the marble grate of the fireplace, over which hung a portrait of the Duchess by the fashionable painter Fragonard, kept the company warm, as did the many and varied courses served at table by the army of soft-footed and attentive liveried footmen under the direction of a blank-faced butler.

Only immediate family and Martin Ellicott were in attendance. Sir Gerald had excused himself with a head cold, but everyone knew his French was so poor he could not sit through a dinner without his wife as interpreter, and Lady Mary was visiting friends at a nearby hôtel. Julian’s godfather arrived a few minutes late, and in time to hear Lord Vallentine declare loudly that he had yet to meet a musician whose delicate sensibilities permitted more than the ingestion of a thin broth. He conveniently ignored his son Evelyn’s plate, which was piled with capon, a wedge of pigeon pie and enough vegetables to fill a small garden plot. But the Duchess did not ignore this fact and she defended her nephew at the expense of his parent; their usual playful banter easing the formality of sitting through a nuncheon with an illustrious host who rarely joined in the conversation, except to make an acute observation designed to turn the topic to one he considered more worthy of discussion and which usually left family and friends alike floundering until the Duchess steered the conversation in the right direction.

The laughter had barely died away from one of the Duchess’s sallies at Lord Vallentine when his wife, a fascinating gray-haired lady, blue eyes very large and resembling her elder brother the Duke, was heard to complain loudly about the rigid formalities observed at the Court at Versailles.

“It is quite unbelievable to me,” Estée Vallentine said with a sniff of annoyance, “why an old lady is made to stand for hours and hours in the presence of the King until her bones seize up, and dearest Antonia, who is young enough to be my daughter, is permitted to sit on her tabouret. I tell you, I do not see the fairness in it.”

“Fairness has nothin’ to do with it,” Lord Vallentine stuck in, gnawing on the bone of a fowl soaked in garlic. “You ain’t a duchess and only duchesses get to sit in the presence of Louis. I told you how it would be but you insisted we go. Never more bored of a place in all my days!”

“You did not enjoy the spectacle of the Court then, my lord?” Martin Ellicott inquired politely.

“Spectacle?” Lord Vallentine snorted. “A gentleman’d need glass bottle spectacles to get a glimpse of His French Majesty! Forced to stand around kickin’ me heels for most of the day with a room full of prosin’ struttin’ birds of a feather; powdered, patched and beribboned, all to be able to bow and scrape to Louis’ back whenever he passes by, surrounded by an entourage of perfumed fools! Not my idea of entertainment, I can tell you, Ellicott.”

“We did not ask you to come with us,” the Duchess said loftily. “It was you who would not be left behind by Monseigneur. What was it you said…? Ah, yes!
To rattle around alone in this haunted mausoleum
.”

Lord Vallentine grinned and looked about at the other diners for confirmation of his own cleverness. “Did I say that? Well, I’ll own to it!”

The Duchess opened her green eyes very wide. “But, Lucian, I do not like at all for you to call our home such a thing, especially when it was the childhood home of Monseigneur and of your wife, too. If this hôtel
is
haunted by ghosts I should think they are of the living-dead variety only.” There was a hint of a smile about her lovely mouth as she exchanged a glance with the Duke and Martin Ellicott, the Marquis’s godfather hiding his mirth behind his napkin.

Estée Vallentine glared across the table through the roses at her husband. “Lucian! Me you owe an apology!”

“Eh? An apology?” blustered Lord Vallentine. “But I didn’t mean anythin’ by it. She’s teasin’ again, you can see that, can’t you? And I’ll tell you all somethin’ for naught: This place is full of ghosts.” He shot the Duchess a dark look, catching her smile, and blinked. “Eh? Now, now, Mme la duchesse, who are you callin’ the livin’-dead?”

Deb laughed along with the rest of the family, feeling very much at ease for the first time in a long while. She took an instant liking to Evelyn’s father Lord Vallentine. He reminded her of a stick insect with his long, loose-limbed frame and square cut jaw; his saffron yellow silk frock coat she presumed to be all the rage amongst the dandy set of the aging nobility. And the Duchess she liked very much. Her youth and beauty were truly startling, but watching her now as she held court at the dining table Deb was surprised and delighted to discover that her beauty was matched in kind by a loving personality. There was an aura about her tiny person, of vitality and joy and an eternal optimism that infected all those about her. Deb had never met a couple so dissimilar. The Duke certainly lived up to his reputation of being a phlegmatic and arrogant nobleman. Yet when he spoke with the Duchess or either of his two sons he became a wholly different being.