Christmas with the Duchess (33 page)

“I didn’t, Lord Colin,” Carstairs replied. “Lord Camford asked me to deliver this note to the major personally and discreetly. I am here to complete the errand.”

“Never mind all that,” Colin said impatiently. “Tell us where we can find Lord Camford. Quickly, man!”

Lady Harriet pushed him aside. “Take us to Lord Camford’s room at once,” she commanded the butler. “There is not an instant to lose. He is about to commit adultery with Princess Elke, and we should very much like to catch him in the act.”

“Certainly, Lady Harriet,” said Carstairs, at his most accommodating.

Emma put the finishing touches on the last of the Christmas presents, then stood up, rubbing the back of her neck. She was debating whether or not to wake up Harry and send him along to bed, when Lady Anne flew into the room in her nightgown and bare feet.

“Have you seen Julia?” she gasped, as she nearly collided with a tall Chinese vase.

“Have I seen Julia?” Emma repeated stupidly. “Why, what is the matter?”

Harry sat up on the sofa. “What’s this?” he asked, yawning so hard that tears stood in his eyes.

“It’s Julia, your grace,” Lady Anne answered, sketching a rather confused curtsey. “She is not in her bed. Have you see her?”

“No, of course not,” Harry said rather crossly. “I have been here with my mother. She needed me to help her wrap presents,” he added.

“Perhaps Julia is with one of her sisters,” Emma suggested.

“She did not summon her maid to help her undress,” said Lady Anne, “and her best cloak is missing! My other girls are in bed.”

Emma frowned. “Julia would not leave the house, surely. The dogs—”

Breaking off, she ran to ring the bell.

“Oh, no! The dogs!” Lady Anne began to cry hysterically. “The dogs will tear her apart!”

“I will go and speak to the groundsmen at once,” said Harry, but, at that moment, Lady Susan came into the room, still wearing the black gown she had worn to dinner. With her was Mrs. Allen, sans pug, in a nightgown and lace cap. Between them, they supported a very pale Octavia.

“There is no need to speak to the groundsmen,” said Lady Susan. “They have run off together. Julia and Mr. Palafox. They have eloped. Poor Octavia has found a note in Mr. Palafox’s room.”

“I don’t believe it,” Harry declared. “Julia? And Palafox? Why, it must be a joke.”

Emma brought Octavia a glass of brandy. “Charles is gone,” Octavia whispered, staring. “He has eloped with Julia! It’s true! Oh, how could they do this to me?”

“Drink this, Miss Fitzroy,” Emma said gently. “Harry is right. It must be a prank. Charles has far too much sense to run off with your sister.”

Mrs. Allen snorted. “No, he don’t!”

“I beg your pardon, ma’am,” said Emma. “But he would not risk displeasing you. He depends on your fortune.”

“Which he thinks he has already,” Mrs. Allen replied. “I told him I’d made my fortune over to him, and that it was irrevocable. I showed him some very pretty papers made up for me in London. Not even slightly legal, but Charles doesn’t know that. I wanted to see how he would behave if he were independent of me. Now I know,” she added dryly. “He wasted no time, I must say. I only told him this very night!”

Octavia began to sob. “I cannot be jilted again! This cannot be happening to me!”

Lady Susan helped the distraught young woman to a chair.

“I shall leave all my money to an orphanage,” Mrs. Allen declared.

“No!” cried Octavia, starting up from the chair. “Please, Mrs. Allen! Have pity on me! You must bring Charles back and make him marry me! I am sure he will be good from now on. I will
make
him good. I cannot be jilted a third time. I do not deserve this!”

Wildly, she appealed to Harry. “Sound the alarm, your grace! Send the servants after them. They cannot have gotten very far. They may even still be on the estate!”

“Calm yourself, Octavia,” said Emma. “The damage is done.”

“To Julia,” she agreed. “But
Charles
can still be saved. He cannot marry Julia, after all; she is married already. But he can still marry
me,
if Mrs. Allen will only forgive him. When he realizes he has no money, Charles will give Julia up very readily.”

“Mama, this is dreadful,” said Harry. “Mr. Palafox must have abducted Julia! She would never go of her own free will.”

“Show him the letter!” cried Lady Susan. “’Twas Julia herself who wrote it.”

Octavia produced the incriminating page, but Harry was too embarrassed to look at it. “What are we to do, Mama? Should I—? Will I go after them?”

“No!” Emma said sharply. “Where is Julia’s husband?”

Lady Anne gasped. “Nicholas! Someone will have to tell him,” she whispered, wringing her hands.

“I will tell him,” said Emma. “Someone must go after Charles and Julia, and he is by far the most proper person.”

At that moment, Nicholas was thrashing in his bed, in the throes of a nightmare. He was in a dark, hot, humid place, the West Indies, perhaps. He was being devoured by an immense, powerful python. The evil beast had pinned him to the ground, its incredible weight squeezing the air from his lungs. He could feel his bones cracking as the serpent slowly engulfed him.

Opening his eyes, he screamed, his cry lost in the damp, mounded flesh encircling his face. A large, muscular female had planted herself on top of him, and the mounds of flesh were her very large, sweaty breasts.

“Hush,
liebchen,
” said a low, guttural voice. “It is I, Princess Elke von Hindenburg.”

“Oh, my God!” he said, throwing her off of the bed by main strength. In the process, he discovered that he was entirely naked, the princess having relieved him of his nightshirt as he slept.

The princess landed in a heap on the floor, but sprang up hissing. “You wish to wrestle with Princess Elke? Very well, puny Englishman. We wrestle.”

“I’m dreadfully sorry, your highness,” Nicholas said, stumbling out of the bed as she threw herself down onto the spot where he had been. “You startled me. Obviously, there’s been some sort of dreadful mistake,” he added, edging to the door.

“No mistake,” she said stoutly, stomping toward him in all her naked glory. “Princess Elke has chosen you to be the father of my child.”

Nicholas began to stammer. “Thank you for the compliment, madam, but I—I’m a married man, you know. My wife—”

“But English husbands do not sleep with their wives! This I know already. You will make love to Princess Elke now,” she commanded.

“What about
your
husband?” cried Nicholas, grabbing a pillow to cover himself.

She snorted.
“Er ist ein Schwul,”
she said. “He does not make love to Princess Elke.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” said Nicholas. “But…I do not make love to Princess Elke, either. So sorry.”

“You English!” she spat. “You are all the same.”

Babbling angrily in German, she scooped up her clothes.

“I’ll wait for you outside while you dress,” Nicholas offered civilly.

Going out into the corridor, he came face-to-face with the duchess.

“Emma!” he exclaimed, startled.

Emma was equally startled. “You’re awake,” she murmured. “You’re naked,” she added.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, adjusting his pillow. “Were you—did you want to see me?”

“No, of course not,” she answered quickly.

“Oh,” he said. Taking another step into the hall, he closed the door behind him. “You look upset,” he said. “Has that gigolo done something to upset you?”

“No. No,” she repeated. “Nicholas, I’m afraid I have some very bad news for you.”

“What is the matter?” he asked sharply.

“It’s Julia,” Emma began, but before she could get any further, the door to Nicholas’s room opened. Princess Elke stood in the doorway wearing only her long honey-blond hair.

“You will dress Princess Elke now,” she commanded Nicholas. “Princess Elke does not dress herself.”

“Nicholas!” said Emma, shocked. “What is she doing in your room? Why is she naked? Why are you both naked?”

“I know how this looks,” Nicholas began.

“You told Princess Elke that Camfurt has the pox,” said the princess. “You lie to Princess Elke.”

“I don’t have the pox,” said Nicholas. “I never had the pox. You told her I have the pox?”

“Don’t you
dare
try to change the subject,” said Emma. “You were in bed with her, weren’t you?”

“What if I was?” he shot back. “What do you care? You have a lover. Where is your gigolo, by the way? I trust he got your billet-doux!”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” said Emma. “Major von Schroeder was never my lover. I only said that so you would go back to Julia. Instead, I find you with—with this bitch in heat! She’s desperate for an heir. Did she tell you that?”

“She mentioned it, yes.”

Princess Elke exploded. “Princess Elke thinks you are a bitch in heat, too!” she snapped, slapping Emma across the face. Focused on Nicholas, Emma hardly noticed.

“I don’t believe this,” said Emma, blinking back tears. “After all those things you said to me! You’ve broken my heart, Nicholas.”

She slapped him hard across the face.

“I did?” Nicholas said faintly. “Emma, what are you saying? Are you saying you love me?”

“I am not saying
anything.
I am not
speaking
to you.”

Princess Elke slapped Nicholas across the face. “Princess Elke is not speaking to you either!” She retreated back into the bedroom and slammed the door.

Carstairs appeared at the end of the hall. Colin pushed past him, followed closely by Lady Harriet. “Emma? What’s going on?”

“Julia has eloped with Mr. Palafox,” Emma answered dully. “I was just coming to tell Lord Camford the terrible news, and
I found him in bed with Princess Elke!
”

Colin heaved a huge sigh of relief. “Thank the gods! I am betrayed! With witnesses!”

“But nothing happened!” Nicholas protested. “Emma, please believe me. I never touched her.”

“Don’t say that,” Colin pleaded.

“I know what I saw, Nicholas,” Emma said wearily. “Are you going after Julia, or not?”

“Why should I?” said Nicholas. “Palafox is welcome to her. She can have an annulment any time she likes. Emma—”

“But Charles isn’t going to marry her,” Emma said impatiently. “Mrs. Allen only pretended to settle her fortune on him. When he finds out he’s as poor as he ever was, what do you think he will do?”

“I will make him take responsibility,” said Nicholas. “He will have to marry Julia.”

“You’d better get dressed,” Emma said tartly. “No one takes a naked man seriously, you know.”

“Yes,” said Nicholas. “I should get dressed. But I will speak to you another time, Emma. This conversation is not over.”

“Yes, it is,” she said, retreating back down the hall. “Good-bye, Nicholas.”

December 1816

The following year, Colin was three days late in arriving at Warwick Palace.

Shivering in the cold, Emma went out to scold him as he alighted from his carriage. In his coat of glossy brown otter fur, Colin looked as elegant as ever.

“You’re late,” his twin sister rebuked him. “I was worried you’d met with some accident. You could have sent word, you know.”

“Nag, nag, nag,” he growled at her, shaking out his stiff legs. “
You
never send word when
you
are late. Anyway, I have the most excellent excuse. I have been up all night with a colicky baby. I’m dead on my feet.”

“Baby!” Emma exclaimed, startled.

As she spoke, a nursemaid stepped out of her brother’s carriage. She carried a small bundle of fur in her arms. “Is that—is that a puppy or something?” Emma asked curiously. Colin was just absurd enough to hire a nursery maid for a puppy, she thought. Since being named Royal Consort of Hindenburg, he had become increasingly eccentric and self-important.

“A puppy!” Colin said indignantly. He snapped his fingers and the maid gave him the bundle. Marching up the steps, he dumped the bundle into Emma’s arms. “Call that a puppy, do you?”

Emma stared down at the tiny pink face of a baby in a brown rabbit fur bunting, complete with long, velvety soft ears. The infant could not have been more than a few months old. “I stand corrected,” she murmured. “It’s a rabbit, not a puppy. Colin, where did this baby come from?”

“Must I tell you indeed?” said Colin. “I should have thought you of all people would know where babies come from. May we go inside, please? This cold wind is not good for little Mimi. And it ain’t good for little Colin, either.”

The child in Emma’s arms began to cry. Hastily, Emma followed her brother into the house. She stood shushing the baby while a servant helped Colin out of his coat of glossy brown otter fur. “Mimi,” Emma repeated, looking at the babe curiously. “Is that her name?”

“Better give her back to me,” Colin said, reaching for the baby. “I seem to be the only one who can comfort her.”

Emma turned away from his grasping hands. “No, she’s settling down beautifully,” she protested. “I
have
had some experience with babies, you know.”

“Not like this one,” Colin retorted. “Mimi is quite unique. She listens to no one but me. She won’t even nurse if her Papa isn’t in the room. We have a special connection.”

Turning, he caught sight of himself in the gilt-framed hall mirror. There were dark circles under his steel-blue eyes. The sight of these imperfections caused him to grimace in pain.

“Papa?” Emma repeated incredulously.
“You?”

Colin scarcely heard her. “Look at me,” he said brokenly. “I haven’t slept in weeks, Emma. I stand before you in ruins and shambles. There are bags under my formerly sparkling eyes. My formerly rosy cheeks are sunken. Before the baby came, I was beautiful. Now I’ve gone all hollow. If this keeps up, I shall have to resort to rouge.”

“Colin! The baby?” Emma snapped.

“Oh, that’s right. You’ve not yet met your niece. You were too busy to come to Hindenburg for the christening,” he added coldly. “Your Highness, may I present my sister, the Duchess of Warwick. Emma, this is her royal highness, the Princess Wilhelmina.”

“This is Elke’s child?” Emma asked in surprise.

“Yes, but we don’t hold that against her, poor little thing,” Colin replied. “She comes from good stock, on her father’s side, after all. Now, where did I put her little silver rattle?” he went on, absently patting his pockets. “It sometimes amuses her.”

Looking down at the infant’s face, Emma caught her breath as she realized that she was holding Nicholas’s daughter, the product of his liaison with Princess Elke last Christmas Eve. She had already noticed that the baby had sparkling blue eyes and rosy cheeks. A few pale gold wisps of hair had slipped out from under the hooded bunting. She was perfect and beautiful, like her father.

“I had my reasons for staying away,” she said. “You call her Mimi, do you?”

Colin grimaced. “She was christened Wilhelmina Griselda Margarethe Ottilie, after her maternal grandfather—which, if you ask me, is a damned peculiar name for a grandfather, maternal or otherwise, and an even worse name for a princess. Of course, no one
did
ask me. I wanted to call her something cheerful like Robina or Iphigenia, but no one in Hindenberg ever listens to
me.
” Colin shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “To the Hindenburglars, I am a person of no importance whatsoever, merely the royal consort. They christened her out from under me, so to speak. But when we’re alone, I call her Mimi, and, thus far, she has not objected. She looks like a Mimi, too, don’t you think?”

“Yes. It must be the bunny ears.”

“Aren’t they adorable?” he said, his enthusiasm sparked. “A very clever young man in Drury Lane makes all her costumes for me. She has a little bear suit, an owl, a froggie, of course, and a badger, and, oh, all sorts of things.
This
is but one of several bunnies we own. I thought Brown Bunny looked the best with my otter coat.”

“Ah! Here you are!” Otto, Duke of Chilton came jogging down the stairs toward them. “Another day, and you would have missed me, Colin,” he added, embracing his younger brother.

“Yes, I thought you’d be at Chilton by now,” Colin replied.

“We meant to stop here but three days, but Cecily was feeling a little poorly, so we stayed longer than expected,” Otto explained. “Is that your baby?”

“Yes, this is Mimi,” Colin said proudly. “Hasn’t she grown?”

Otto glanced at the child in Emma’s arms. “Possibly. You should see my boy. He’s just starting to walk.” Beckoning to the nursemaid, he added, “Go and fetch Lord Scarlingford from the nursery.”

“Baby Otto couldn’t possibly compare with my beautiful little Mimi angel.”

“Not without a significant handicap,” Otto retorted. “My son is a gentleman, after all.”

“Gentlemen!” Emma rebuked them, laughing. “Boys! Children! It’s not a competition!”

Quickly, she led the way to the drawing room. As she had hoped, Colin was instantly distracted by the changes in the decor. “Emma!” he exclaimed in dismay. “What have you done? This used to be a very pretty yellow room. Now it’s all sad and dark. Who advised you on your colors?” he went on, glaring at the green-on-green damask panels that lined the walls. “Persephone? Hecate? Aunt Harriet?”

The green velvet curtains blocking most of the windows were so dark they looked almost black. The furniture was big and dark and overstuffed. The paintings were all of hunting scenes, dogs, and horses. Even the rugs were hunter green. The beautifully carved white mantelpieces had been replaced with black marble.

Emma shrugged helplessly. “Harry insisted,” she explained. “He wanted something more masculine, I suppose. I was doing so much work at Wingate this year, I could hardly refuse him. It
is
rather dreary, isn’t it?”

“It’s the smoking room at Brooks’s,” Otto complained.

“I was going to say waiting room at the undertaker’s,” Colin said, shuddering. “This isn’t masculine; it’s mausoleum. I’ll give you some names, Emma.”

Emma sighed. “Harry likes it. His friends like it, too. All seven of them,” she added resentfully as she rocked the baby in her arms. “The spotty little beasts. We’re overrun with Harrovians this year, I’m sorry to say.”

“Eight fifteen-year-old boys?” Colin was appalled. “Under one roof? Why, it must be pandemonium.” Quite overcome, he strode to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a large brandy. “It reminds me of the nightmare of my school days.”

“
And
four thirteen-year-olds,” Emma told him. “Grey has invited three friends to his first stag hunt. But, at least,
they
are staying with the harbourer at his hut. I don’t have to put up with
them
staring at me with their mouths open while I try to eat my dinner.”

“Well, that’s Harrow for you,” Otto sniffed. “No manners. You should have sent them to Eton,” he told his sister. “Young Etonians are taught not to stare freely at a woman’s breasts. At least not at dinner.”

“It’s been a challenge keeping them out of the wine cellar, too,” said Emma. “Mind you, ever since they knocked down poor Aunt Harriet and broke her arm, they have been
slightly
more civilized. So that’s good anyway.”

“Aunt Harriet!” Colin exclaimed. “Broken? I wondered why she did not come down to see me. I will go to her.”

“She’ll be down in a moment,” Emma assured him, settling onto the sofa with the baby in her arms. “Her legs are not broken. She was working in the garden when you arrived. She wanted to wash up. Sit down,” she urged him. “I haven’t seen you in almost a year. Not since Princess Elke bribed you not to divorce her. How do you like being a royal consort?”

“I am bearing it as best I can,” he replied, with a martyr’s sigh.

“Oh, I can see that. I must say, I’m amazed her highness let you bring her daughter to England for Christmas.”

Colin gaped at her. “Lord, don’t you read the newspapers? The political situation in Hindenburg is hardly stable. The economy’s in a shambles. The peasants are constantly on the verge of revolting. The Treasury is all but empty, and there are some very impertinent people who seem to resent the enormous allowance they are paying me. Austria’s moving to annex the whole sorry place. It has been decided that Princess Mimi will be better off with her papa in England. You’d know all this already if you took an interest,” he added.

“I’m glad you mean to stay in England,” Emma said quickly. “And Mimi is adorable. I’m sorry I did not meet her sooner. I’m afraid I’ve reached that age when I cannot hold a baby without wanting one of my own,” she added.

“Yes,” Colin said smugly. “Mimi does has that effect on people.”

“It’ll pass,” said Lady Harriet as two sturdy youths carried the chair in which she was seated into the room. Harry, Duke of Warwick, trotted behind the trio carrying a velvet cushion. “Easy now, boys!” she rasped, as her assistants cautiously lowered her chair to the floor. “You mustn’t jostle me! I’m an old woman!”

Harry gently positioned the cushion beneath his great-aunt’s right arm, which was in a sling. Lady Harriet groaned piteously.

“Sorry, Lady Harriet!” the boys chorused, wincing in sympathy.

“So I would think,” she barked at them. “You may go. I’ll call you if you are needed again.”

The two boys ran from the room.

“Ambrose and Carter really are sorry, Aunt Harriet,” Harry told her.

“They should be sorry,” she retorted. “Running through the house like a pack of wild Indians! I feel lucky to be alive. You might say hello to your uncle, young man,” she added, glaring at him. “Duke of Warwick or not, you should show a little respect for your elders.”

“I’m not that much older,” Colin said indignantly.

“Hello, Uncle Colin,” Harry said obediently. “How are you, sir?”

“Not bad,” Colin answered, “for an elder, I suppose.”

Emma brought the baby for Harry to see. “And this is Princess Wilhelmina. Isn’t she pretty? Would you like to hold her?”

Harry backed away. “Must I?”

“No,” Colin said firmly. “And you needn’t hang about here with your
elders
either. Go and be with your friends.”

Harry did not have to be told twice. He darted from the room as if his feet were on fire.

“Would you like to hold the baby?” Emma asked Lady Harriet.

“Certainly not,” said Lady Harriet. “Can’t you see I have a badly sprained arm?”

“I thought you said it was broken,” said Emma.

“It isn’t. But
they
don’t have to know that,” Lady Harriet answered.

Emma bit back a laugh. “Aunt Harriet! That is horrible.”

“A bad sprain is quite painful, you know,” Lady Harriet said defensively. “It just doesn’t inspire as much guilt as a
broken
arm. And guilt is so very useful, you know.”

Lady Aleta Grey came into the room, leading her little brother, Lord Scarlingford, by the hand. Not quite twelve months old, Lord Scarlingford was already walking, and his father was justifiably proud of his tottering, wobbly steps. “Let him go, Aleta,” he commanded the girl. “He can walk on his own.”

After a brief struggle, Aleta managed to free her hand from the grip of Lord Scarlingford’s little fingers. “See how he grips her hand?” Otto said proudly. “He has the grip of a blacksmith. Look at that.”

“He must get it from Cecily,” said Colin. “That’s nothing. You should see Mimi with her rattle. Now
there’s
a grip!”

“Speaking of blacksmiths,” said Lady Harriet, turning to Colin as Lord Scarlingford staggered about the room at his father’s insistence. “Whatever happened to that big, ugly Scotsman of yours? I suppose he crawled off and died of a broken heart?”

Colin gave a weary groan. “Oh, I do hope it’s not going to be one of
those
Christmases,” he said, “where we all sit around asking whatever happened to so-and-so? Such a bore! I may as well ask you where Aunt Susan is this year. Or ask Emma where Lord Camford is hiding these days.”

“Susan is visiting her eldest daughter this year,” Lady Harriet replied, shrugging. “Emma?”

“What?” Emma said sharply.

“Your brother is asking about Lord Camford. She has not seen him since last year,” Lady Harriet answered, when it became clear that Emma would not.

Colin stared at her. “I confess I am amazed! I thought for certain he would come flying back into your arms the moment he received his divorce decree.”

“Annulment,” Emma said coldly. “It was an annulment, not a divorce.”

“Whatever. I should have thought he’d seek you out the moment he was rid of poor Julia.”

“I don’t know why you call her ‘poor Julia,’” Emma said crossly. “The scandal was of her own making, and she came out of it better than she deserves. Harry has given her the use of his Lincolnshire estate. She lives there with her parents and her two unmarried sisters, rent free.”