His By Christmas (Hamilton Sisters) (14 page)

“Lucien?” Yvette cried in astonishment. “Why on earth would Lucien hit you?”

“It’s a long story, and not mine to tell, but suffice it to say that Juliette and I were meddling in his romance with Colette. I deserved no less. But how old were you then, Yvette?”

“I was thirteen the year Colette met Lucien and we all met you.”

“And now?” He continued to rub her feet.

“I shall be twenty-one in January.”

“Why, you’re all grown up now!” His blue eyes gazed steadily at her. “And I was right.”

“About what?”

“You are the most beautiful of all your sisters.”

Her breath caught for an instant. All she could manage to say was, “Oh.”

“It’s nothing but the truth.”

Her heart flip-flopped at the intense look in his blue eyes. Slowly, she pulled her feet away from his hands, tucking them under her as she huddled on the sofa with the blanket still wrapped around her. “And how old are you now?”

“Thirty-three.”

“And you are still a bachelor! You ought to be married by now. Lucien married Colette years ago and he’s your age. How do you manage to stay unattached, Jeffrey, when all the women are mad for you?”

His expression grew somber. “Not many wish to marry an illegitimate son. You know that as well as anyone, Yvette.”

“That’s not true.”

“Would
you
marry me?”

She giggled uneasily at his question, which seemed to have some deeper meaning that she didn’t quite understand. “Well, no, of course not. I could never marry you. But not because of the illegitimacy.”

“The fact that I can’t inherit my father’s dukedom wouldn’t stop you from marrying me?” He eyed her carefully, almost with skepticism.

Feeling oddly defensive, she hesitated before responding. “No . . . I couldn’t marry you because I know you too well, Jeffrey.”

His brows furrowed. “What does that mean?”

“I know how you are.”

“No.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “You only
think
you know how I am.”

“You’ve been part of this family for eight years, Jeffrey, I do believe I’ve learned a thing or two about you.”

“Pray, go on.” His eyes danced in amusement at her comment.

“I am aware of your . . .” Yvette struggled to find the proper words to describe what she was trying to say. “I’m aware that you have many dalliances with certain types of women.”

“And to exactly which types of women are you referring?”

She waved her hand dismissively. “We’ve discussed this before. Actresses. Dancers. That sort.”

“Yes, that’s true,” he admitted frankly, with a shrug. “But do you know why I ‘dally,’ as you so eloquently phrased it, with that type of woman?”

Yvette found that she was oddly fascinated by their conversation. “Why?”

“Because they don’t care that I’m a bastard. It doesn’t matter to them in the least. They love me for myself.”

“I love you for yourself.” The words bubbled out before she realized what she was saying. Because they were true.

The room grew silent and they stared at each other for a long moment. Yvette blinked first.

Jeffrey continued, “Do you think I don’t know that mothers warn their daughters to stay away from me? That your Aunt Cecilia warned Colette and Juliette away from me when I first met them?”

“But that’s because you’re an outrageous flirt and a charming rogue, Jeffrey!” Yvette laughed in protest. “Your reputation precedes you.”

“No, it’s because most mothers deem me not worthy enough for their daughters to marry. Which is fine with me, for I’ve no wish to marry most of them anyway. There are some benefits to being a bastard son. There is no lineage I’m required to maintain, therefore I am not hounded and pressured to marry and produce an heir.”

“But don’t you wish to have children someday? To have a family of your own?”

“I suppose so . . . yes.” Jeffrey grew quiet, almost pensive. “I’ve never given it much thought before now, to tell you the truth. However, it seems to be on my mind frequently of late.”

She suddenly recalled the day at Lisette’s house when Quinton Roxbury remarked that Yvette and Jeffrey looked like a family while playing with her nephews, Charles and Christopher. “You seemed very comfortable with Lisette’s children.”

“Oh, I love other people’s children.” Jeffrey’s expression softened. “I just hadn’t thought of having any of my own. You wish to have children though, don’t you?”

“I seem to be gaining nieces and nephews at an alarming rate and I don’t think I’d want as many as my mother had, but yes, I’d like to have children of my own someday.”

“Legitimate children,” he pointed out dryly.

She eyed him with sympathy. It was such an unusual conversation and she had never seen Jeffrey so contemplative. “It bothers you much more than you let on, doesn’t it?”

“It bothers me much less than it did when I was a child and tormented by the other boys at school. Children can be vicious to each other. I was lucky Lucien Sinclair befriended me when he did.”

Full of curiosity about him, Yvette asked, “How did the two of you meet?”

“At Eton. We were ten or eleven years old, the youngest ones there. He overheard another boy, named Walter Brockwell, call me a bastard. Lucien punched Walter in the face and almost got expelled for doing so. None of the other boys said anything to me after that, at least not within my hearing. Years later Lucien told me he didn’t know what ‘bastard’ even meant at the time, he only knew that boy was taunting me. He earned my undying loyalty that day and we’ve been friends ever since.”

“I never knew that story.” Yvette tried to imagine Jeffrey as a young boy, away at school, being teased for reasons that were not his fault. She could almost picture him, a handsome little boy with black hair, those impudent blue eyes, and fair skin, sad but smiling to act as if he didn’t care. He acted cavalier, pretending those taunts didn’t hurt him. Just as he did now.

“But my becoming friends with Lucien, who has been like a brother to me,” Jeffrey continued, “had added benefits I didn’t foresee as a child. It’s through Lucien that I met all the Hamilton girls. You became the family I never had. The family I think I always wanted.”

Yvette thought back over the years. Yes, Jeffrey had been present at every one of their family gatherings and at the holidays. He’d won over all of them. Even Genevieve adored him. Indeed, he had become a member of their family, but she’d never given much thought to his family. Of course Yvette had met Jeffrey’s father, the Duke of Rathmore, on more than one occasion. He was just like Jeffrey, handsome and charming, which is why everyone accepted Jeffrey as his son. But no one ever mentioned his mother. Yvette had heard rumors, but she realized she had never heard Jeffrey talk of his mother.

“What about your mother, Jeffrey?”

“What about her?”

“Well, do you see her often? What is she like? Are you close to her?”

“She’s a wonderful person, and yes, I see her often. She lives just outside of London.” He paused before asking, “Would you like to meet her some day?”

Yvette was momentarily stunned. “Well, yes, of course, I would like to meet her.” And she realized she really did wish to meet the woman who had borne Jeffrey and created such a scandal.

“I’ve told her all about you,” he said.

“You have?”

“Oh, yes, she knows all about the Hamilton girls. And how much you mean to me.”

“Well, you mean a great deal to us as well, Jeffrey.” Yvette stressed the word
us
, but she really wished to tell him just how important he was to her in that moment. But she suddenly felt very shy about doing so. Instead she asked, “Jeffrey, I’ve been wondering about this.... What brought you by to see us this afternoon? We weren’t expecting you.”

He shrugged casually. “I hadn’t seen you in a few days, and I thought I’d stop in and say hello, see how you and your mother were doing. That’s all.”

Yvette had seen more of Jeffrey Eddington in the weeks that Lucien and Colette had been in America than she’d ever had. He seemed to be turning up everywhere she happened to be. Her suspicions finally bubbled over. “Did Lucien or Colette ask you to watch over me?”

He gave a noncommittal smile. “Perhaps.”

That was answer enough for her. In truth, it didn’t surprise her that he had been asked to keep an eye on her. “Well, they needn’t have bothered to ask you. But thank you for taking time out of your schedule to play nursemaid. I assure you that it isn’t necessary.”

His voice grew lower. “I don’t mind looking out for you, Yvette, and I would have done it even if Lucien hadn’t asked me to. I’ve rather enjoyed it. In fact, spending time with you has been my pleasure.”

“Truly?”

“Yes.” He looked deep into her eyes and Yvette felt an odd sensation rush through her.

This whole evening had an unreal quality to it. The hours ticked by with just the two of them, cozy and confiding in each other before the fire. She had never been so intimate with a man before.

It was near to midnight when the door to Genevieve’s bedroom opened and Dr. Carlisle walked into the sitting room at long last.

Yvette fairly flew off the sofa at the sight of him. “How is she?”

“Your mother is resting comfortably now, I believe, Miss Hamilton. I’ve given her some laudanum to help her sleep. It seems that she did have a mild attack of apoplexy. We won’t know the full effects until she awakens tomorrow. There may be partial paralysis on her right side and some impairment of her speech. It’s difficult to know for certain at this point. However, she will need plenty of rest for a while.”

“But she will be all right, won’t she?” Yvette asked in a small voice that squeaked. “She won’t . . . die?”

He shook his head in sympathy. “No, my dear, I doubt she will die from this. Now, there’s nothing more you can do until the morning when she wakes. Her lady’s maid is in there with her and I have left instructions with her. So I suggest you both get some sleep. Tomorrow could be a difficult day, I imagine. I’m going to take my leave now and I’ll be back by noon tomorrow to check in on Mrs. Hamilton.”

Yvette wrung her hands. “May I go see her now?”

“Yes, of course, but she’s heavily sedated and won’t even know you’re there.”

“I just need to see that she’s all right. Thank you, Dr. Carlisle,” Yvette said.

“I understand. Good night, Miss Hamilton. Lord Eddington.” The doctor tipped his hat to them and made his way out of the room.

With a backward glance at Jeffrey, who sat back down on the sofa and nodded at her to go, Yvette hurried in her stockinged feet to her mother’s bedroom. Except for a small lamp burning on the nightstand, the room was shrouded in darkness. Yvette stepped softly across the carpet to the large four-poster bed. Genevieve looked quite small and frail lying there, her gray hair spilling around her on the pillow, her complexion ghostly pale.

Gently, Yvette held her mother’s limp hand, whispering, “Oh
Maman
, I’m here. I’m here if you need me. Everything will be all right. The doctor said you shall be well again soon.” Not knowing if her mother could hear or understand her words, she said them anyway.

Fanny, her mother’s devoted servant, said to her, “Now, Miss Yvette, you get yourself to bed. It’s late. I’ll sleep on this little sofa here, in case anything happens, so don’t you worry. She’ll need you tomorrow when she wakes.”

“Yes, I know, Fanny. And thank you. It’s a comfort to know that you are here with her.”

“We’ll get Mrs. Hamilton as right as rain again. You’ll see.”

“Sleep well,
Maman
.” Yvette pressed a kiss to her mother’s cheek. She then turned to Fanny. “Good night. I hope you can get some rest too, Fanny.”

“Oh, I will. Don’t you worry your head about me. Good night, Miss Yvette.”

With a heavy heart and reluctant feet, Yvette returned to the sitting room, where Jeffrey waited for her expectantly. He met her at the door and walked her back to the sofa.

“How is she?” he asked.

“She’s sleeping now, but just as the doctor said, we won’t know how she really is until tomorrow. Dear Lord, I hope she’s not paralyzed.” Yvette slowly sank down on the sofa, her legs too weak to hold her any longer.

“You should get to bed,” Jeffrey suggested.

“No. I think I’d prefer to stay here a little longer, in case she wakes and calls for me.” Feeling guilty that she’d taken up Jeffrey’s entire evening, she looked up at him. “You don’t have to stay with me any longer, Jeffrey. You’ve been so wonderful to me, but I think I’ll be fine now. You can go home.”

“You are my home and I’m not leaving until you go to sleep.”

The utter sweetness of his words was her undoing, and Yvette couldn’t stop the tears that slowly rolled down her face.

In an instant Jeffrey was beside her, taking her in his strong arms once again. He whispered soothing words. “Shhh, Yvette, it’s all right.”

Weariness overwhelming her, Yvette placed her head on his shoulder and let him pull her close again. This time she sobbed like a baby. The myriad of emotions she had held in check all night spilled forth in the strength, warmth, and safety she found in the arms of Jeffrey Eddington.

13

The Coming Dawn

Jeffrey knew the minute Yvette fell asleep in his arms. Her whole body relaxed against his and her breathing slowed. Holding a sleeping Yvette gave him the most beautiful feeling of peace and a sense of home he’d never experienced before. She had cried herself out, and then grown quiet, just snuggling against him, while he stroked her back in a soothing motion. Little by little, they had shifted themselves so he was reclining on the sofa with Yvette in his arms, her head resting on his chest. She fit him perfectly.

It was ridiculously improper and scandalous of them to be lying in such a position together. But he didn’t care. There was no one to see them anyway. The servants were all asleep by then and nobody would ever know.

He should wake her and send Yvette to her bedroom, to go to sleep properly in her own bed. But he was loath to rouse her. And he was too selfish. He wanted to stay here on the sofa in the little sitting room in front of the dying firelight, and hold her close to him a little longer, her heart beating slow and steady, close to his. She felt so good in his arms, cuddled warmly against him. It was as if he held the world’s most priceless treasure.