Lord Rakehell (14 page)

John Claud held his wounded arm and winced. “It was an old score my brother decided to settle. I had it coming. But I hope I can trust you to keep your mouth shut about this.”

Grosvenor Square

December 1862

L
ady Anne stood at the window of her bedchamber watching the snowflakes pile up on her windowsill. She was in a pensive moo
d as she drew the drapes, then sat down at her desk and opened her journal. She turned the pages back to September and reread her entries for the last four months. She had only briefly mentioned the quarrel between her rivals, and that she had gone to James Hamilton to prevent John Claud from dueling, but she remembered every moment of her visit to White Horse Street. He had seemed so delighted to see her that she had hoped James's attraction would be rekindled, but her hopes had been dashed. She had not seen or heard from him since that night.

She saw that John Claud's name was on almost every page. She admitted that though she hadn't encouraged him to court her, she hadn't discouraged him either. Because of her friendship with Frances and John Claud, she spent a considerable amount of time at Hampden House. So much, in fact, that the Hamiltons now spoke freely in front of her, as if she were one of the family. Anne sighed.
Unfortunately, John Claud takes it for granted that I will be one of the family.

Anne dipped her pen in the inkwell and wrote:
Because of the imposed mourning for the late prince consort, there has been no winter Season, nor will there be a glittering, festive Christmas to look forward to. There is to be a dull family Christmas dinner that I dread because Emily will make disparaging comments about everything from my mother's social skills to my choice of gown.

Anne scribbled one dreary sentence after another, and when she reread her words she suddenly began to laugh. “Hell's teeth, I'm filling the pages with gloom and doom!” Her mood lightened. “At the Christmas dinner I shall give Emily something to gnash her teeth about. I shall wear my white velvet gown with the brilliant crystal beads on the bodice. She will be wearing some dreadful funereal color that Queen Victoria insists upon. When she sees me, I hope it makes her swallow her bloody tongue!”

Anne redipped her pen and wrote:
There is a pent-up feeling of anticipation building. Everyone is so sick and tired of this dreary year of mourning. Once the year is over and 1863 is ushered in, Society will go mad and kick over the traces. There will be so many balls, entertainments, and weddings to celebrate that there won't be enough nights in the week to accommodate them all. The restaurants and theaters will be packed, and the fashions will change overnight.

The most exciting thing of all is that London will celebrate the nuptials of the Prince and Princess of Wales. Nothing has been announced yet, but Frances told me in confidence that when James returned from Brussels, he assured the family that Prince Teddy was formally betrothed to Princess Alexandra and she will be brought to England for a wedding in the spring. After they are married, they will take up residence at Marlborough House. Frances and I speculate that the newlyweds will eclipse Queen Victoria's influence, and they will become the leaders of fashionable Society. Hallelujah, I cannot wait!

Anne turned out her lamp and got into bed. About an hour after she drifted into sleep, she began to dream.

She was standing at the entrance to St. George's Chapel at Windsor Castle. She was wearing her white velvet dress, whose bodice was encrusted with glittering crystals, but the gown now boasted a long train. On her head Anne was wearing a magnificent jeweled crown, and she suddenly realized she was a princess.

Her father took her arm and began to lead her down the aisle. Her bridegroom, who was wearing a kilt, awaited her at the altar, and her heart lifted with joy when she saw that it was His Royal Highness Prince James.

The archbishop of Canterbury said, “Princess Anne, your gown is most elegant.”

She smiled. “Thank you. I designed it myself.”

The archbishop performed the royal nuptials, and the prince and princess exchanged their wedding vows.

“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Prince James lifted her veil and smiled into her eyes. “That's better. Now I can see your beautiful face and your glorious hair.”

He drew her close, and as he bent his head toward her, she closed her eyes and opened her lips in invitation. When his mouth touched hers, her eyelashes fluttered, and she whispered his name with longing. “James.”

Anne raised her lashes and gazed into a pair of fierce eyes. “You're not James!”

“Indeed I am not. I am your husband, John Claud Hamilton.”

“But I married James!” she protested.

“James is not the marrying kind. First sons are notorious rakehells. James is profligate.”

Anne felt as if her heart were being crushed inside her breast. Then her sorrow turned to red-hot anger. She raised her hand and slapped John Claud's face; then she turned to the archbishop of Canterbury and slapped him too. “The marriage isn't legal. I was only masquerading as a Russian princess!”

•   •   •

The hour was late when James Hamilton arrived at his town house in White Horse Street. He had spent Christmas Eve with his family at Hampden House. It had been a madhouse of overexcited children, not only his three young brothers, but his sister Harry's three boys, and his sister Beatrix's twins, plus her three other male offspring.

When his sisters had told him in no uncertain terms that it was time he married and produced an heir of his own, he had jested that spending the day with ten hooligans, all under the age of nine, had put him off siring children for a lifetime.

“Don't hold your breath waiting for James to take a wife. I shall be the next one married,”
John Claud had announced to the entire family.

As James lit his bedside lamp, he cursed Fate that both he and his brother desired Lady Anne Howe. He picked up the glass snow globe he had bought in Belgium, and turned it upside down to make it snow. Inside the globe was a horse-drawn sleigh that held a female figure wearing a fur hat and coat. When James had seen it in the shop in Brussels, he knew he had to have it.

He sat gazing into the tiny winter scene as the snowflakes settled about the lady in the sleigh, and suddenly he wanted Anne to have it. Impulsively, he searched for the globe's original box and found it in a desk drawer. He wrapped it up and wrote on the package:
Happy Christmas, Lady Anne.
Then he summoned Grady, asked him to deliver it to Grosvenor Square in the morning, and gave him a generous Christmas bonus.

James stripped and climbed into bed, but sleep was kept at bay by his thoughts. He regretted that his sweet sister Jane, the Countess of Dalkeith, had been absent from the Christmas Eve festivities with the rest of the family because she was on duty with the queen. He acknowledged that Victoria's first Christmas without Albert would be an emotional time for her, but then he thought of the unconscionable way she treated her son Teddy and thought,
It's
no wonder the Irish refer to her as the “Auld Bitch of a Quayne”!

James was reconciled to spending Christmas Day with the prince, and not just because it was his royal duty. He did not want Teddy to feel bereft and lonely. He had rented a town house in his own name on Jermyn Street, where the prince spent at least one night each week, presumably enjoying the services of a courtesan, or titled wife of a complacent friend. He didn't know, and he didn't want to know. But Christmas Day was different and should be spent with someone who truly cared about you. Most of the morning would be spent in church. After that, James decided, they would go to Marlborough House, where the Prince of Wales could relish his freedom and make plans for the future.

His last waking thought, as it was most nights, was how much he regretted not stealing Anne away from the masquerade ball.
If I had made love to her that night, it would have removed John Claud from the picture.

The moment he drifted into sleep the beautiful object of his desire was there with him.
They were sitting close on a love seat before a cozy fire. James took the pins from Anne's hair one by one, until the red-gold tresses tumbled about her shoulders. He threaded his fingers into the silken mass and set his lips to the tendrils that curled so enticingly on her brow.

Her green eyes sparkled with mischief. “I warrant you're naked beneath that kilt.”

James began to laugh. “You are an amazing judge of human nature.”

“Take it off and show me,” she challenged. “I've never seen a naked man.”

“Since you're incurably impulsive, why don't you undress me, then I'll return the favor. That will allow us to explore our curiosity about each other.”

Anne, bubbling with laughter, unwound the green tartan from his hips. She sat back and gazed wide-eyed at his rampant cock, rising from the black curls between his legs.

He lifted a tress of bright hair from her shoulder and rubbed it between his fingers. “I warrant the curls on your mons are as silky soft as this one. You have no idea how often I've seen them and touched them in my dreams, sweetheart.”

“I've dreamed about you too, James, but I must confess the real flesh and blood man puts my daydreams to shame.”

The moment James raised his hands to unfasten her gown, John Claud arrived on the scene. “James, I'm glad you finally met Lady Anne. She's the girl I'm going to marry.”

“I'll fight you for her.” James was naked, save for his rapier. Miraculously, John Claud had a sword in his hand.

“First blood,” John Claud declared.

“Nay.” James shook his head. “Last blood!”

With a swift parry, his brother's weapon arced into the air; then James thrust, aiming straight for the heart.

•   •   •

On Christmas Day, the Curzon-Howes gathered at the mansion in Grosvenor Square. The tree had been set up in the ballroom, because that was the only room large enough to accommodate the earl's plethora of sons and daughters and their families.

Anne had difficulty keeping them all straight. She knew that her father's oldest son, George, was married to Harriet and they had a sixteen-year-old daughter, Alice. The rest of her father's sons by his first wife were all military men, and she could hardly keep their names straight, let alone their ranks.

Her father's daughter Georgiana, who was married to the Duke of Beaufort, had four sons ranging in age from nine to fifteen, but the only child Anne liked was eight-year-old Blanche. Her father's daughter Adelaide, who was married to Henry Fane, Earl of Westmorland, was the only sibling who treated Anne like a sister, and as a consequence Anne loved their four-year-old son, Anthony.

Anne, holding young Blanche and Anthony by the hand, led them around a table laden with fruit, nuts, biscuits, chocolate bonbons, and sweetmeats. She tried one of everything and encouraged them to do the same. She winked at them. “Don't get sick, or I shall get the blame.” She took them to look at all the presents piled under the tree.

“I want a pony,” Anthony declared.

Blanche murmured in confidence, “I saw a big box with a rocking horse in it.”

Anthony frowned, “Don't want a rocking horse!”

“You are a frightful boy,” Blanche declared. She glanced over at her brothers, who were roughhousing in a corner. “I don't like boys much,” she confided to Anne.

Her aunt laughed. “You only have four brothers. Pity me, I have eight.” She spied Henry Fane and led Anthony to his father. “He says he wants a pony.”

Henry picked up his son. “I bought you a pony. It's in the stable at Apethorpe.”

“Can I see him today?” Anthony begged.

“No, you little blighter. You'll have to be patient,” he admonished.

“Tomorrow, then?”

Fane winked at Anne. “Go and pester your mother. I'm just as eager to go to Apethorpe as you are, milado.” When Anthony ran off to find his mother, Fane confided, “Adelaide will have a bloody fit when she learns I bought a four-year-old a pony.”

Anne whispered, “You have horse piss in your veins!”

Fane threw back his head and roared with laughter. “You have a wicked Irish wit, m'dear. 'Tis a thing to be cherished.”

“What's so funny?” Leicester Howe asked.

“I'll never tell,” Fane replied, with another wink.

Leicester's glance swept Anne from head to toe. “May I say your beautiful gown makes you look like a glittering Christmas angel.”

Anne laughed. “Henry will attest that I am no angel. You were very lucky to get leave at Christmas, Leicester. Aren't you stationed in the Ionian Islands?”

“Not anymore, my dear. I take it you heard that King Otto was deposed and Greece is now ruled by King George. Since the new king is friendly to Britain, we are transferring the Ionian Islands to Greece. They will no longer be under British protection, so I won't be going back.”

“Have you any idea where you'll be stationed next?”

Leicester's eyes crinkled in a confidential smile. “I have my eye on Ireland.”

“There you are, Leicester.” Montagu was delighted to see his half brother. He was hell-bent on joining the prestigious Rifle Brigade, and Leicester had promised to help him.

“I think it must be the
green jackets
he can't resist,” Anne teased. As she watched Leicester and Montagu talk, she was struck once again at the family resemblance. They were like two peas in a pod and even shared the same mannerisms.

According to custom, the children opened their presents before Christmas dinner was served, and the adults opened their gifts after the meal. By the time the goose was ready to be served, the grown-ups were happy to troop to the dining room and leave the ballroom that was littered with toys and games. The servants had set up a children's table beside the Christmas tree, and Anne thought privately that the youngsters were glad to be rid of their parents for a few hours.