Pleasures of a Notorious Gentleman (25 page)

“It wasn’t Mother’s favorite place, as I recall,” Stephen said.

“But that has changed,” the duchess said, taking John from Jeanette. “Oh, look at you, my darling boy,” she crooned. “You have grown, haven’t you? Leo, don’t you think he’s doubled in size?”

“Not quite, my love,” he said, his voice warm with affection.

“Lynnford, come meet my newest grandson.” She turned to a tall, blond man.

Mercy couldn’t help but stare as he bent over the blond-haired child. Lynnford was Stephen’s guardian, but surely he was related in some manner as well. Although no one had mentioned a relationship, she could see an uncanny resemblance between him and Stephen. Surely, it was that side of the family that Stephen had inherited his light features from when everyone else was so incredibly dark.

“He’s quite the charmer,” Lynnford said, an odd expression on his face as though he were holding back his true emotions. He looked up at Stephen, and Mercy realized his eyes were a remarkable blue. “Takes after his father in that regard. It’s good to have you home, lad.”

“Thank you, m’lord.” Stephen’s tone contained a stiltedness, and she remembered that he’d mentioned the difficulty he’d had in pleasing Lynnford. “Allow me the honor of introducing you to my wife, Mercy.”

Lynnford bowed, then as though deciding it was not enough, he moved forward, took her hand, and placed a kiss against her knuckles. “Mercy, it is an honor to make your acquaintance. I never thought to see this one settled.”

“I consider myself most fortunate. He was quite remarkable in the Crimea.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Come,” the duchess said. “You must meet Lynnford’s family. They’re waiting in the parlor.”

The duchess grabbed her arm and was steering her toward another room before she had a chance to object. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Lynnford approach Stephen, say something to him. Based on Stephen’s expression, she could only deduce that he was very touched by the words.

In the parlor, a tree sat on a table. Lit candles adorned the branches. Small gifts rested at the base of the tree. Garland was draped over the mantel. This Christmas was going to be celebrated a bit differently from what Mercy was accustomed to. She’d seen an etching in the
Illustrated London News
showing the royal family with their Christmas tree. She’d assumed Stephen’s family would embrace the new tradition. Thank goodness she and Stephen brought presents to put under it.

Two young men who very much favored Lynnford approached. The duchess introduced them as Lynnford’s eldest son, Viscount Mallard, and his other son, Charles. Mercy then met his daughters: Emily, Joan, and Charlotte. The girls favored their mother, Lady Lynnford. She was a small woman with brown hair. Mercy recognized right away by the pallor of her skin that she was not well.

“A malignancy of the bone,” the duchess said quietly, before Mercy could ask, as though she recognized that Mercy’s training would alert her to the woman’s health. “I shall miss her. She is a dear, dear friend.”

Mercy squeezed her hand. “I’m so very sorry.”

“My dear girl, it is life. We must not let it dim the festivities. Angela would never forgive us.”

“May I hold your son?” the countess asked.

“Of course.” Mercy bent down and placed John in the woman’s arms. He stared up at her with his large, blinking eyes.

“Oh, what a lovely lad. I can see the family resemblance. He looks so much like his father.”

“Yes, he does, doesn’t he?” the duchess asked.

“Tessa, you must be beside yourself with two grandsons already.”

“They are an absolute joy.” John began to fuss. “And when they cry, they can go back to their mother or the nursemaid.”

“I would so like to have grandchildren,” the countess lamented.

“You will, darling,” the duchess said.

John released a wail that startled the countess and had Mercy reaching for him, taking him, and quieting him in one smooth movement. “I think he’s simply hungry after the long journey.”

Mercy felt a familiar hand come to rest on the small of her back. “If you’ll excuse us,” Stephen said, “we’re going to retire to our chambers and freshen up before dinner.”

“Of course. Absolutely,” the duchess said. “We shall dine within the hour.”

“I’ll show you to your rooms,” Claire said. Once they were back in the entry hallway, she wrapped her arm affectionately around Stephen’s. “I’ve put you at the far end of the west wing. You shan’t be disturbed there.”

“I barely remember this place from my youth,” Stephen said, “but I recognize your influence now.”

“Westcliffe’s fault entirely, since he left me to wallow here while he gallivanted around London.”

“Which was my fault.” Stephen stopped, held her arms so she faced him directly, and he could study her eyes. “But you’re happy now, Claire, aren’t you?”

“Frightfully happy. It means the world to Westcliffe that you’re here. He always felt as though the family abandoned this place when your mother married Ainsley.”

“I daresay we did.”

Claire looked around Stephen to Mercy. “It is no secret that the duchess did not fancy her first husband. He was not a kind man.”

“She’s happy now though,” Mercy said.

“Remarkably so. Leo is good for her. Tomorrow he plans to begin a portrait of Lynnford and his family. They’re going to stay here until he’s finished it.” She moved until she stood between Mercy and Stephen. “We must have him do a portrait of your family.”

“I would like that very much,” Mercy said.

Claire led them down a long, broad hallway. A portrait gallery. Mercy slowed to study one portrait after another. “These are your ancestors,” she said quietly.

“Yes, I suppose they are. I’ve never seen portraits of them. Never really cared, quite honestly.”

“They’re all so dark.”

“I can see Westcliffe in them,” Claire said. “It’s uncanny really.”

“I must have taken from Mother’s side of the family,” Stephen said. “Never gave it much thought.”

Although Mercy wasn’t as sure. Even the duchess had dark hair and brown eyes.

Leaving the portraits behind, they ascended a wide sweep of stairs. At the end of the hallway, Claire escorted them into their suite of chambers. “We’ve assigned servants to see to your needs, so don’t hesitate to ring for them.” Leaning up, she kissed Stephen briefly on the cheek. “I’m so grateful you’re here.”

With that, she slipped out, closing the door behind her.

“You two are very close,” Mercy said.

“We grew up together; I was always tugging on her braids,” Stephen said as he walked over to the window and glanced out. “You’ve no cause to be jealous.”

“I’m not.” Strangely, she realized she wasn’t. “It’s obvious she adores Westcliffe and looks upon you as a brother. I’m going to take John to Jeanette.”

Merely nodding, he continued to gaze out. When she returned, he was still standing at the window. She crossed over to him and laid a hand on his back. “Are you all right?”

“Lynnford said something rather odd. Said my father would be proud of my accomplishments. Then he added, ‘I could not be more proud if you were my own son.’ ” Stephen shook his head. “I don’t remember my father. Couldn’t tell you if his portrait is in that gallery. I barely remember Ainsley’s father. But Lynnford . . . he’s been harping on me for as long as I can remember.”

“Your mother was a young widow—twice.”

A corner of his mouth curved up. “Very young. I didn’t make things easy for her.”

She eased around him, nestled against him until he was forced to turn from the window and place his arms around her. “That’s all in the past.” Easing up she nipped his chin, which caused him to give her his first genuine smile since they arrived. “We’re going to have a jolly lovely Christmas here.”

Dipping his head, he began to ravish her neck. “Perhaps we’ll be late to dinner.”

“It would be rude.”

“My family’s known me to be rude before.”

He nibbled on the sensitive spot below her ear. He could control her so easily.

“Not too late,” she murmured.

“Not too late.”

Laughing with triumph, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed.

D
rawing her cloak more closely around her, Tessa stepped out onto the terrace. “Lynnford, whatever are you doing out here? It’s freezing.”

He didn’t speak, just continued to stare at the winter gardens. Even in December, Claire managed to see that they retained some beauty.

Tessa stepped nearer to the earl. She had been a young girl when she’d fallen in love with Lynnford. He’d brought joy into an otherwise miserable life. “I’ve never liked this estate, but I come here because it’s important to Westcliffe. It’s his inheritance. Claire has somehow managed to erase the coldness of it.”

“My memories are a bit fonder. It was here that I met you. I’d come for a fox hunting weekend with my father. He and your husband were friends.”

“That was so long ago.”

“I was a fool, Tess. How could I have not seen the resemblance all those years? Stephen favors me a great deal.”

“You had no reason to look closely. What do you think of . . . our grandson? He’s remarkable, isn’t he?”

“I can hardly fathom it. It took everything within me not to ask to hold him.”

“You should have. No one would have thought anything of it.”

He shook his head. “Will you ever tell him?”

“Stephen?”

He nodded.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what good would come of it. And there is your family to think of.”

He nodded again, and finally his gaze came to land on her. She remembered a time when she had lived for the moments when he would look at her.

“Your young painter is in love with you,” Lynnford said softly.

“Yes, I know. But it is not a love that will last. He will meet someone younger, prettier, and I will be relegated to pleasant memories.”

“I would not be so sure if I were you. When a young man falls in love with you, it is very difficult for him to fall out of love with you.”

“It has been many years since you’ve spoken to me of love.”

“I do not do so now, Tessa. I speak to you only of young men, of which I am no longer one.”

“Oh, yes, you are so terribly old.”

“A grandfather. Christ.”

“Do you want Stephen to know?”

“I don’t know. I have not yet wrapped my head around all the implications. I have no desire to cause hurt to my family, especially to Angela.”

“Then our secret it shall remain.”

“Is that fair to you?”

“My dear Lynnford, I have long had the strength to weather unfairness. We shall be dining soon. Don’t stay out too long.”

She stepped into the house and came up short at the sight of Leo lounging against the wall. “How long have you been standing there?” she demanded.

“Long enough to know he still doesn’t put you first.”

“Don’t start, Leo.”

Reaching out, he took her hand and tugged her into his embrace. “Let’s forego dinner. My appetite leans more toward carnal delicacies.”

“I shall satisfy that appetite after dinner.”

“Then I shall dine quickly.”

She laughed as he led her from the room. She wasn’t certain how she would survive when he did grow bored with her. But surely, he would.

S
tephen and Mercy were indeed late to dinner, but as he’d anticipated, it hardly mattered. It was an extremely informal affair. Several conversations were going on at once, and no one was being particularly quiet or discreet. It was as though they were all caught up in the festivities and thought their voices should compete with the church bells that would be ringing on the morrow.

Stephen became acutely aware of Mercy growing anxious as she sat beside him, hardly touching the food on her plate. As for himself, he was downing the wine as though it were the main course. He didn’t know why he was feeling tense. He usually enjoyed the camaraderie and was as loud as the rest of them. Leaning over, he asked Mercy, “Are you all right?”