The Duke's Winter Promise: A Christmas Regency Romance Read online

  Gone were the too-long limbs and childish freckles. No longer did her feet get caught up in the hems of her dresses nor did the careful pinning of her locks take a wayward tumble down her back after a mid-day slide on the sledding hill with the duke’s son.

  Emily looked quite presentable, a proper country lady. Would Alexander have changed as well? The thought excited her. Emily had not seen him in years. She could only picture the shy somewhat awkward boy she once knew.

  Emily thanked Carrie for her assistance and the maid bobbed a curtsey. “Is Aunt Agnes awake?” Emily asked.

  “I believe so, miss.” Carrie replied. “Lainie took tea up to her only a little while ago.” Lainie was Aunt Agnes’ ancient maid. Emily marveled that the woman could still climb the stairs.

  Carrie continued. “But I’m sure Lady Stratton will be in the breakfast room shortly. Your uncle awaits her.”

  “Very good. You may take the day off and enjoy the countryside or visit with your relatives.” Carrie must not have seen them for as long as Emily had been away.

  “Thank you, miss.” Carrie broke into an excited smile.

  Emily knew that there would be little for the maid to do here in the country where no one stood upon ceremony. Carrie shut the door softly behind her and Emily went back to her musings. It felt strange that there was no hurry to be anywhere, no breakfasts or balls called her to rush.

  No matter that most of her life had most recently been spent in London, she felt at peace here in the country in her childhood bedroom. The blue curtains that draped her bed were the same that she had slept beneath during her most recent visit several years prior.

  Perhaps it was this room that made her long for the days of her childhood. The summers or winter holidays spent living life to the fullest. She was older now and ought to be thinking of marriage, rather than childhood games. Not that her mother would ever allow her to forget.

  Emily fully expected daily letters from her mother asking whether or not she had made a decision between Robert Hawthorne, Reginald Beatram, or some other fine London gent. Emily could put aside the letters, but she remembered the conversations with distress.

  “Robert Hawthorne will be an earl one day,” her mother said firmly.

  Emily nodded, but silently she thought, only if his ogre of a grandfather ever shuffles off this mortal coil.

  She was quite sure that Robert Hawthorne’s father, Lord Hanway, thought he would be an earl one day too, but Lord Hanway was over fifty with no sign of Lord Thornwood giving the reins to him. Instead, the old man kept the entire family under his thumb, and Emily feared that if she married him, she would be under Robert’s thumb.

  “What of Lord Barton? Reginald is kind, if not strictly handsome, and his sister is a joy.”

  Her mother was right. Emily did not find Reginald handsome. Oh he was personable enough, but with her chestnut hair and his, just this side of ginger, they would raise a brood of carrot topped, freckled faced children who would be mercilessly teased for their ginger hair just as she had been.

  Emily could not willingly be party to torture. Besides, she could not quite wrap her mind around the thought; children with Lord Barton. He was nice, but the thought of kissing him, left her cool.

  She liked both gentlemen well enough, and she adored their sisters, but she was not in love with either of the men.

  Her mother continued naming others and their attributes, including Cousin William and Emily had finally put her foot down, flatly refusing. Cousin William was Uncle Cecil’s nephew.

  Mother pointed out that they were not related by blood, and since it was most unlikely for her aunt and uncle to produce a son at this late date, when Uncle Cecil passed, William would inherit Sandstowe Hill and be made the earl. Still, William felt like a brother to her. Emily could no sooner marry Cousin William than she could Edmund.

  She pushed the thought away with a smile.

  Lady Kentleworth had continued with her list of names of eligible gentlemen. Emily had gone to wool gathering, but she knew she must eventually come back to reality.

  She could not deny Cousin William would be a catch, as would her brother Edmund, but the thought seemed as strange as considering young Alexander as a suitor. Perhaps when they were all older and responsible enough to inherit it would make a difference.

  William would have the Stratton Earldom, Edmund would have the Kentleworth Viscountcy and Alexander would be made the Duke of Bramblewood. Emily smiled at the thought. She could not quite imagine Alexander with his shy smile as the formidable duke. Still, William had settled into his responsibilities. Alexander must one day grow up as well.

  “Emily,” she said to herself. “You are a woman grown. It is time to settle into your own responsibilities. Mother is right.” She sighed. “Isn’t she always?” Emily traced her fingers over the ribboned edge of the curtains and flicked them away. If only she could push her willful thoughts away as easily as the curtains.

  She promised herself, one last Christmas enjoying the country. One last holiday before she would be packaged and parceled away to a husband.

  Emily would enjoy her visit to Northwickshire in spite of the current inclement weather. Until such a time as she returned to London, she would collect as many memories as time would permit: memories to last a lifetime.

  Afterwards she would return to London. She would do as she ought and take responsibility upon her shoulders. She would make her choice of a husband and submit to society’s expectation.

  It would not be such a hardship, she told herself. She liked order in her life. It was the way of things. Like her mother, and all ladies before her, Emily must put childish things aside and henceforth be a proper lady. But not yet. She was on holiday.

  2

  Emily intended to have a leisurely breakfast with her aunt. She smiled and admired the Christmas decorations as she headed toward the breakfast room. The stairs and mantle were hung with boughs of pine and holly and red ribbons festooned the dining room. The scent of pine was heavenly.

  Aunt Agnes always did love Christmas. Sandstowe Hill looked and smelled like Christmas for a month before the holiday. She hoped the frivolity would cheer William and his sisters.

  Uncle Cecil and Aunt Agnes had insisted that William stay on with them after his mother’s passing since Sandstowe would one day be his, and surely he did not want to go home to an empty house for the holidays. Time enough to take up the reins of the household after Christmas, Aunt Agnes had said, and as usual, Uncle Cecil agreed with her. William and his two sisters, Claire who was twelve and Caroline, ten, had moved into Sandstowe Hill.

  Emily had brought Christmas gifts for all along with fruit and sweetmeats for the children although they were hardly children any longer. When Emily was eleven, she was already in finishing school.

  Still, she knew that all the presents in the world would not give the girls what they truly desired, their mother back with them. Still, she hoped that for a little while on Christmas Day, they might be happy.

  Emily gave strict orders that the presents were not to be opened until Christmas Eve, but she shared the candy and fruit cake. She hoped she could be friends with the girls, but they seemed very shy. They did not know her well. She had been away too long.

  As Emily descended the stairs, she could hear her aunt and uncle’s voices raised in their habitual disagreement, but even their banter could not quell her festive spirit. Emily slipped into a seat beside her brother, well clear of the fearsome glare that her Aunt Agnes was directing across the table toward her Uncle Cecil.

  “It is not proper, Cecil, as you well know.” Aunt Agnes was determined to have her say, and she did so for the next quarter hour while the servants put breakfast on the table.

  The girls, Claire and Caroline were in the dining room, seated with their brother William, their breakfast plates before them. They smiled shyly as Emily greeted them both.

  She wanted to bring them some Christmas cheer, but she was utterly clueless as to how to
proceed. Emily turned her attention to her aunt.

  “What is not proper?” Emily interrupted at long last.

  “It is rude for the men to go out on a ride at such short notice, when more company shall be arriving any moment!” Aunt Agnes insisted. “Anyway, it is raining.”

  “Nearly snow,” Edmund added with a solemn nod followed by a covert grin.

  Emily in feminine solidarity with her aunt kicked her brother under the table.

  Caroline noticed and grinned at her.

  “I do not see the problem,” Uncle Cecil said. “The women will take ages to change their traveling frocks and make themselves presentable. We shall be returned before they even take notice that we have gone.”

  “The problem is, you will catch your death,” Aunt Agnes said, and with the recent bout of the flu, the words had an ominous meaning. Aunt Agnes flipped an apologetic glance towards William and the girls.

  “I’m going into town,” William said. “I trust my sisters can stay here. I will be back before the party.”

  “Of course,” Emily said including Claire and Caroline in a bright smile. “I would love to get better acquainted.”

  “The gentlemen will have many fine mornings to go about their sport later in the week,” Aunt Agnes continued. “They do not need to go today.”

  The sound of horses gathering on the lawn drew the party’s attention. “Someone is coming,” Claire said.

  “A lot of people are coming,” William added. “You can spend the day in your rooms reading or playing games or you can sew or play your music. I’m sure Mrs. Catchpole has schoolwork for you. I shall come up before bedtime.”

  Claire nodded. “Mrs. Catchpole said we should return right back up to our rooms after breakfast.”

  “You should practice, Caroline, before too many people arrive,” William added.

  Caroline wrinkled her nose. “I would rather ride,” she said.

  Caroline gazed longingly toward the window and Uncle Cecil shook his head. “Not today, Caroline,” he said to her unasked question. “It is too wet.”

  “So you agree with me,” Aunt Agnes persisted.

  Edmund leaned over and patted his sibling on the crown of her head. “I am certain that my dear sister would rather not be bothered with gentlemen milling about while she reacquaints herself with the ladies of her youth. Is that not true, Em?”

  “Do not try to engage me in this argument,” Emily laughed. “Why should I help you to escape?”

  “I could smuggle you with us,” Edmund teased.

  Emily sighed for she knew that it was not to be. She was no longer a child and such ways were to be left in the past. Instead, she tried to look to her Aunt Agnes for example. She observed the woman’s stern look and disapproving shake of her head, as Uncle Cecil pulled her into the doorway.

  “Mistletoe,” he said glancing up, but Aunt Agnes just turned her cheek to him.

  Uncle Cecil waited until she turned back to him, no doubt to scold him, and then kissed her full on the mouth.

  Laughing, Aunt Agnes pressed a hand to her husband’s cheek. “Go on with you, then,” she said. “But wear your woolen socks, and do not stay out too long.” She shook a finger under his nose.

  Emily had to smile. Aunt Agnes sounded much the same as if she were speaking to the children. While Lady Stratton chided her husband Edmund turned to Emily.

  “Surely you see, Em. You know that it makes sense for the women to meet with you first,” Edmund urged. “They will all want to change clothes. Once the ladies are in the drawing room, the gentlemen can greet them all at once. That way, the gentlemen will not find themselves in the way of the ladies’ conversations.”

  “You would, no doubt, find yourself in the way, brother,” Emily smiled in reply.

  She knew when Edmund was trying his best to wheedle out of a task. Even as a child, Emily had found little joy in the intricacies of female companionship, except Anne, of course, but her words usually had purpose. Emily preferred to steer clear of the drama that seemed to follow the female sex.

  Years earlier she and Anne would have been outside on horseback among the gentlemen, rain or no. Today, she would remain in the drawing room to fulfill her duties and receive the other ladies. She was after all, a lady herself.

  “Get on with you then.” She said at last waving her brother out of the room.

  “That is why you are my favorite sister,” Edmund called over his shoulder as the two men raced for the door, the elder moving with surprising speed for a man who had, only the night before, claimed an ache in his back.

  “I am your only sister,” Emily called after him.

  “Either way,” her brother’s laughter rang from the hall, “you are first-rate, Em.”

  “You are welcome,” Emily muttered to herself. A glance at her Aunt Agnes revealed the woman shaking her head in apparent displeasure. Then, a slow smile crept across the elder woman’s face and she sighed.

  “That man will be the death of me,” Aunt Agnes laughed. “Only The Lord knows why, but I love him.”

  “We might pray in advance for whichever lady finds herself the focus of Edmund’s fancy,” Emily replied with the phrase her own mother had oft repeated over the years. “She must have the patience of a saint.”

  “That, indeed,” Aunt Agnes agreed with a pointed glance at Emily. “At least we can be grateful that one of you found the right path. The other,” she shook her head at the sound of hooves beating past the window. “You should not coddle him so.”

  “He is my little brother,” Emily said affectionately. She could not help it. She wanted Edmund to enjoy what time he had left in his bachelorhood. Soon enough Emily would be married and their mother would have little else to focus on than her free spirited son. Edmund would have the undivided attention of both Mother and Father.

  When such a time would come, she shuddered to think of the battle of such stubborn wills. Edmund was already stifled enough in London. It was no wonder he spent so much time away. For now, Emily would bear the brunt of her mother’s attentions and Edmund might breathe freely for a while when Father was engaged in politics.

  Emily turned to her aunt.“Who will be here tonight?” She asked with interest.

  Aunt Agnes began naming families. By Lady Stratton’s estimation nearly all of the nearby families would be represented in one form or another. Some, of course, had sent regrets, but most were happy to be invited to the celebration. It was, after all the opening of the holiday festivities.

  Aunt Agnes said that the Earl of Pelburton had promised to come with his new wife and his son from a previous marriage. It had been rumored that the countess had fallen deep into her widowhood, vowing never to love again, but the earl had, by some miracle, managed to change her mind.

  “Or perhaps they just wanted to join their properties,” Emily said with her utmost practicality. She knew their abutting estates had now been joined into one of the largest properties in Northwickshire, save Bramblewood Park.

  “Perhaps they fell in love,” Aunt Agnes added. “In any case, I am eager to speak with her.”

  Emily was not eager to become acquainted with the earl’s son again. The young man was already full of himself and now with his father’s marriage, and the extended property, Emily expected the gentleman to be insufferable.

  “And the Duke and Duchess of Roswell?” Emily asked.

  Aunt Agnes shook her head. “They have sent their regrets.”

  “Oh, I do hope your friend feels well,” Emily said with a bit of worry.

  3

  As it drew nigh on towards mid-afternoon, Emily and her aunt went to dress for company, and still the gentlemen were not back from their ride.

  Emily knew they had decided to “take the round” as they called it. Her brother and uncle would ride the full circle of the lower property. The trek took several hours, and eschewing a canter in the icy mud, it would take longer.

  As promised, the gentlemen stayed away as the company began to
arrive.

  The Lady Harcourt entered with a flourish and kissed Aunt Agnes on both cheeks. Lady Harcourt was one of the most upstanding citizens in Northwickshire and several years older than her aunt. She commented on the lovely greenery that Aunt Agnes had used for Christmas decoration.

  Emily greeted Mrs. Ladley who arrived shortly thereafter and they talked for a bit about what new books might interest her while her aunt entertained the Lady Harcourt.

  Mrs. Ladley ran the ladies book club in town. She was also a friend of her aunt’s from their season in London. Emily knew Mrs. Ladley was called so for respect, but she had actually never married, being a confirmed old spinster.

  Many of her aunt’s acquaintances exclaimed their pleasure at Emily’s return and she was pleased to note that she recalled the names of all except one, whom she had not known well. Still, all were nearer Aunt Agnes age than her own and she hoped some of the younger ladies would arrive soon.

  The visiting gentlemen retired to the drawing room while Aunt Agnes fluttered about belying the absence of their host. Emily was sure her brother and uncle would be back soon and told her aunt so.

  It was about that time that William returned and after handing off his packages to the footman, he took charge of the gentlemen to Aunt Agnes’ great relief.

  Although Emily noticed that with each offer of condolences on his mother’s passing. William’s face contorted in a mask of pain. “Thank you for your kindness,” he muttered softly.

  Emily moved to welcome the guests and offer him some reprieve. She realized that there were many residents who were advanced in years that she was only just meeting for the first time beyond name, now that she was among the adults rather than the children.

  After a dozen people had passed by, turning to greet one another, Emily found that she could no longer put names to faces. There was, however, one individual who did stand out above the rest and always would: her long-time friend, Miss Anne Albright.

  Anne spotted Emily before she even removed her cloak and bubbled to her side with a squeal. “Oh, Em,” she cried. “It has been too long.”