Christmas with the Duchess (31 page)

He laughed. “Who else is there?”

Emma looked him square in the eye. “Can’t you guess? It’s Major von Schroeder, of course.”

To her considerable annoyance, Nicholas snorted.

“Is it so unbelievable that I should have a lover?” she said, bristling. “I have not been lonely this past year, Nicholas, I can assure you.”

“Oh, yes! But where were all your lovers when Napoleon returned to France?” he demanded. “They left you to your fate, did they not?”

“It’s true they deserted me,” she admitted. “But they were all French. Fritz is German.”

“Fritz!” He shook his head. “Your sons’ tutor? I don’t believe it. You would not give yourself to a servant.”

Emma arched her brows. “Have you become a snob, Nicholas?” she asked him.

Nicholas flushed.

“I like Fritz,” said Emma. “He’s a good man. The boys respect him. They will listen to him where they will not listen to anyone else.”

“Then he is not your lover. He is your bear-leader,” Nicholas said.

“He’s versatile,” Emma said, tight-lipped with anger. “He is both.”

Nicholas sniffed. “If you ask me, he’s more interested in your brother’s wife, the Princess Elke. He seems to live in her pocket. The man’s a gigolo, Emma.”

“Not at all. I asked Fritz to look after her highness,” Emma said primly. “He speaks her native language, you know. Fritz is very obliging.”

“Oh, very,” Nicholas agreed.

“Are you insinuating that Fritz has betrayed me with the princess?” she demanded.

Nicholas shrugged.

“Well, perhaps I have been neglecting him,” said Emma. “I’ll be sure to pay more attention to him from now on. Thank you for your…observation, Nicholas.”

Curtseying, she excused herself and went to find the others.

Colin, who knew Wingate at least as well as the housekeeper did, was leading the rest of the party up the grand staircase, pointing out the elegance of the carved marble bannister. Emma slipped into place next to her son Grey, who was bringing up the rear.

Octavia, clinging tightly to the arm of Mr. Palafox, paused at the landing to study the handsome stained glass window. “The house seems so singularly perfect for you, Lord Colin,” she said, “that I wonder you never bought it for yourself.”

A puzzled frown appeared on Colin’s face. “Yes, so do I.”

“I believe it was the bells that put you off,” Emma called up to her brother.

Colin widened his eyes at her. “Ah, Emma! There you are! You disappeared. Where did you go? And Camford disappeared at the same time. ’Tis very strange.”

Emma glared at him.

“But you’re quite right about the bells,” her brother went on blithely. “All these old houses are built shockingly close to the village churches. One doesn’t like the thought of the bells crashing into one’s head at the crack of dawn, after all. And, then, of course, there’s the location. It’s halfway between Chilton and Warwick.”

“I should think that would make it perfect for you,” said Octavia.

“Hardly,” he retorted. “I have no need of an estate halfway between my brother’s and my nephew’s. If I want to stay at Chilton, I stay at Chilton; and if I want to stay at Warwick, I stay at Warwick.”

“I am much obliged to you, Uncle!” said the Duke of Warwick, laughing.

Colin gave a weary sigh. “It’s so dreadfully hard having all this money and no home to call one’s own. To be a here-and-there-ian—it’s no kind of life.”

“You’re too particular,” Emma told him. “If you found fault with people the way you do with houses, you would be a hermit.”

“Instead, I am a vagabond,” he sniffed. “I believe I shall buy Aylescourt, after all. It is close to Oxford University; Harry and Grey will like that. To have a rich uncle scarcely twenty miles away is always a great boon for a young man.”

“And, of course,
I
would be able to visit my sons any time I like,” said Emma.

“Lord!” said Harry. “A man don’t want his mother around when he’s at University! You’ll make me a laughingstock, Mama!”

Emma laughed to hide the fact that his rejection stung. “Well, Grey will be glad to have me nearby,” she said, ruffling her younger son’s hair.

“I daresay!” Harry retorted. “For he is a mother’s boy.”

Scowling, Grey swatted Emma’s hands away. “I am not a mother’s boy!” he howled.

Harry laughed at his younger brother. “If you say so,” he said shrugging.

“I am not! You take that back, Harry!”

“I won’t,” said Harry, continuing up the stairs with Julia on his arm.

Grey tore loose from his mother and launched himself at his elder brother, but Harry reacted quickly. By simply placing his hand on Grey’s forehead, he held him at arms’ length while the younger boy pummeled the air.

“Was ist das?”
Major von Schroeder demanded, pulling Grey to one side. “Is this how young gentlemen behave in the presence of ladies? I think not. Both of you will apologize at once.”

There was a long pause. Then Harry drew himself to his full height.

“You are quite right, Major,” he said, to Emma’s relief. “Ladies, I do apologize, and the fault was entirely mine. It was very wrong of me to tease my brother. Do let us go on and see the rest of the house.”

The tour went on, but, after his brother’s insults, Grey would not even look at his mother, let alone walk with her or speak to her. He walked ahead, insinuating himself between the major and Princess Elke. Nicholas rejoined the party, offering his arm to Lady Anne. After a while, Major von Schroeder looked back, and seeing Emma quite alone in front of a painting, took the opportunity to console her.

“It is a difficult age, your grace,” he said kindly, looking up at the painting with her so that to a casual observer it might appear they were simply discussing the artist’s merits. “When I reached that age, I wanted nothing to do with women. I did not want to be…how do you say…tied with the apron strings? You must give them their heads and let them gallop. They will come back to you in time.”

Emma was obliged to turn her face away as tears pricked her eyes. “I am fully aware they are growing up, Major. I just didn’t think it would happen so quickly,” she added, crumbling as he silently passed her his handkerchief. Hastily, she dabbed her eyes and returned it to him. “Thank you,” she said, pulling herself together.

“I am always happy to be of service to your grace,” he answered with a little bow.

“I wonder if you really mean that, Fritz,” she said, as they began to walk together. The party had split up and smaller groups were exploring the upstairs rooms at whim. Emma and the major walked the long length of the hall.

The major laughed. “Put me to the test,” he invited her.

“The fact of the matter is…” Pausing at a curio table, she pretended to study the miniatures displayed under the glass top. “I’ve done something very foolish, and I need your help,” she went on quietly, switching to German.

The major bent over the curio table as a flurry of people came out of one of the rooms. “Ah! These little miniatures, they are so lifelike!” he said loudly in English.

“I believe they are painted on ivory,” Emma shouted. When the hall was empty again, she went back to German. “There is a certain married gentleman,” she began delicately. “I’m afraid he fancies himself in love with me.”

“Ah, the Lord Camford,” the major said immediately.

“My dear Major!” Emma rebuked him.

“I’m afraid I saw you at the window,” he apologized.

“This gentleman, I’m afraid, has lost his wits,” said Emma. “In a moment of weakness, he has declared himself. He seems ready to abandon his wife. In short, he has had the temerity to ask me to run away with him.”

He nodded wisely. “You want me to get rid of him?”

“Yes,” Emma said gratefully.

“I’ll do the job for a hundred British pounds sterling,” he said amiably. “His body will never be found.”

“What?” cried Emma, horrified as she caught his meaning. “No! Good Lord, Major! I don’t want you to
kill
him.”

The major looked surprised. “No? But…the gentleman is a nuisance,
nicht wahr?
”

“You are not to kill him,” she said firmly.

“What then?”

“I’m afraid I told him that you and I—that we are lovers. I just want you to pretend to be my lover, that’s all. You don’t have to kill anyone. I’ll pay you, of course.”

“Ah!” he said, enlightenment clearing his countenance. “You want me to be your lover.”

“No! No, I want you to
pretend
to be my lover,” she corrected him firmly.

He chuckled. “This has been quite a day for me,” he declared. “I put this day in my memoirs, I think.”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Emma said sharply. “Thank you all the same.”

“No names,” he assured her.

“Oh, well, in that case,” she muttered. “No one will ever scry who the Duchess of W—is, I am sure! No one will ever be able to fill in the blanks.”

The major chuckled. “Today a certain gentleman asked me to be correspondent in his divorce. Then a certain lady asked me to be the father of her child. And, then, another lady asks me to be her lover! I have never had such a day.”

Emma gaped at him. “My brother asked you to be correspondent? And Princess Elke asked you to be the father of her child?”

The major held up a hand. “Please, no names,” he said virtuously.

“But I shall look ridiculous if my lover is making love to somebody else! You will just have to tell the princess no.”

He sighed. “Unfortunately, I have a war wound that makes it impossible for me to comply with the princess’s request. I can give a woman pleasure, you understand, but I cannot father a child. Her highness will have to find someone else for that task, I fear. But I shall be more than happy to be your lover, madame.”

“Pretend lover,” Emma reiterated.

“Of course.”

At the conclusion of the tour, Octavia seemed inclined to take the lease at Wingate, but Mr. Palafox, exercising one of the few powers remaining to him, declared he was not persuaded. The bells, he said as they were enjoying their luncheon on the sunny terrace, worried him very much.

“Nonsense,” Octavia said impatiently. “It is a very big house, Charles, and the bedrooms are situated quite far away and opposite to the church. You will never hear them.”

“You will allow me to make up my own mind,” he said coldly.

“Of course,” she said coldly, and nothing more was said on the subject.

The return to Warwick was accomplished without incident, and the next few days were taken up by preparations for Christmas. For Christmas week itself, mourning was suspended. The black bunting was taken away, and the dining hall and the main drawing room were decorated with arrangements of tinsel, balsam, and sugared fruit. While the ladies were engaged in the house, the gentlemen busied themselves out of doors, busily shooting birds for the table. Their activities culminated in the annual stag hunt, which some of the ladies attended, Emma included. She rode out with Princess Elke, Julia, and Augusta.

Augusta quickly moved to the forefront to be closest to the action. Julia instantly attached herself to Mr. Palafox, leaving Emma alone with her sister-in-law.

Princess Elke eyed her coldly. “The major is to take the shot, is he not?” she asked in German.

“Yes, I believe so.”

“Do you not mean to be at his side?” said Elke, her mouth pursed in disapproval.

“I don’t care about the hunt,” Emma confessed. “I’m just here for the fresh air…and the venison, of course. I do enjoy my Christmas dinner. Is that not hypocritical of me?”

Princess Elke grunted. “If you truly loved Fritz, you would be at his side,” she said contemptuously. “A woman in love is not squeamish, even if she is English.”

“But I am not in love with Fritz,” Emma told her. “He is only pretending to make love to me to keep Lord Camford away.”

Princess Elke scowled. “To keep Lord Camfurt away? Princess Elke saw you with him at Wingate. Princess Elke was walking in the garden, and she happened to look up. There you were, with him, in the window. You did not see Princess Elke, but Princess Elke saw you. I think, perhaps, Lord Camfurt doesn’t have the pox at all.”

“You accuse me of lying?”

Princess Elke made a guttural sound of disgust. “These games! Princess Elke does not like games. I want only one thing: a strong, healthy man. Together we give Hindenburg a strong heir. There is no need for games. Does the man have the pox or not?”

“Look here!” Emma said crossly. “Lord Camford is not interested in you. You’re not his sort of woman at all. Spare yourself the humiliation of rejection, and just leave him alone.”

“Ha!” said Princess Elke. “You English are not to be trusted.”

“Quite,” Emma said tartly. “But we did save your arses from the French. Your highness might show a little gratitude.”

Princess Elke bristled. “It was the Prussians who secured the victory at Waterloo!” she snapped.

Emma hid a small yawn behind a gloved hand. “If you say so,” she said. Kicking her horse, she galloped off to catch up to the others.

The hunters chased the unfortunate stag from one end of the duke’s demesne to the other, until finally, after nearly six hours, the beast was brought to bay in the middle of a stream. The major strolled into the stream and casually took the shot, felling the stag at once. The company, most as exhausted as the stag, applauded, but, Emma could not help but shudder, remembering how cheerfully the major had offered to kill Nicholas for a mere one hundred pounds.

The duke promised that the major should have the head for his wall, and, cold and wet, they all rode back to the house, where a nasty shock awaited Charles Palafox: his aunt, the rich and vulgar Mrs. Allen, had arrived unexpectedly. When her presence was revealed to him, he looked rather like the stag brought to bay, Emma thought, almost feeling sorry for him. Discreetly, she went up to her room to bathe and change.

She had scarcely completed her toilette when Colin burst into the room. “I suppose you’ve heard Palafox’s aunt has come to stay,” he said, ignoring her furious protests against this invasion of her privacy. “Pshaw! If I can’t invade your privacy what good are you to me? Besides, I peeked through the keyhole to make sure you were decent first.”