Page 8 of Pride of Arm
The dowager duchess moved through the heart of Mayfair tonnish society and had the power to make or break denizens of the ton with a wave of her hand. No one dared comment on her third son Sir James and Lord Rumsford’s, um, arrangement or risk his or her own reputation. She’d ruled the rich and powerful levels of society for decades along with her good friend since childhood, Lady Camilla Bowles Attington Carrington Whitby. Maddie protected her son, and Camilla did the same for her beloved nephew, physician to the poor, Lionel Carrington-Bowles. Because of her advancing age and the extreme cold weather, Camilla would not be joining them this year. And of course, she doted on her nephew’s small wards at their London St. James Square home over the holidays.
Viscount Rumsford personally made certain each Christmastide that the kissing balls were placed strategically throughout the hallways so that all of his female guests would end the holiday having been thoroughly bussed.
Sir James assisted him, making sure he always saved at least one for a private spot in the viscount’s study. The men made a thorough project of selecting locations, taking two footmen with them - one to climb the ladder, and another to make sure the other man didn’t fall.
Although Sir James had a grand estate and stables at Clifford Park in Middlesex, he always spent some time each year at the Abbey with Lord Rumsford. The friends gave two enormous house parties each year at the Abbey, a masque in the autumn around Samhain, and a Twelfth Night masque at the end of an extended Christmastide house party.
Lucy held the last bit of greenery in place in the library whilst one of the footmen pounded a tiny nail into the wood trim a few feet down from the ceiling. When she carefully backed down the steps of the ladder, a familiar pair of hands lifted her down the last few steps. She started and twisted her head around to chastise Hugh for frightening her when he held his fingers against his lips. “Shush. I have something to show you.”
When she followed him across the room, he whirled suddenly and captured her lips in a firm kiss. “What are you doing?” she demanded. He said nothing but simply gave her his usual mocking grin and pointed upward to the last kissing ball she’d had the footmen hang from the lintel above the door to the library.
Lucy could not stop the feelings of fury reeling through her. How dare he make her think he’d stolen a kiss when she’d actually walked into his trickster’s trap? She was just another Christmas reveler on which he’d bestowed a kiss. Why was she angry? She could tell from Hugh’s fading grin that he waswondering as well. Instead of explaining, she held her head high and walked past him without another word.
Thankthe gods Hugh knew where Rummy kept his brandy. He marched there immediately, not even stopping to check on whether Duncan was behaving himself or picking a fight with one of the guests over a misunderstood conversation. He did spy him just before he tapped on the door of Rummy’s study. He was guiding a veritable army of servants in dragging and placing the huge Yule log into its place of prominence for the duration of the party - the fireplace in the large formal front drawing room. The hearth there was so enormous, a tall man (like Duncan) could stand up inside without his head hitting the top of the fireplace enclosure.
Hugh sucked in a grateful breath. Placing the Yule log and getting the fire going would be enough physical exertion to keep his friend busy and occupied for the rest of the night. Since Duncan had seemed to give Grace Phippen a wide berth ever since they’re returned from their afternoon labors in the estate’s woodland park, Hugh could only assume the poor rotter had run afoul of one of the Phippen women as well.
Hugh was surprised when the door to Rummy’s study opened quickly, and he was unceremoniously dragged inside.
“What are you up to now, you sly badger?”
He looked up into the smiling face of Sir James and said, “Brandy,” without prologue.
“I should think so. What took you so long?” The other man paused for a moment and gave Hugh a long, assessing look. “You’ve been poncing about pretending to be nothing but friendswith Lucy, and now you’ve bollocks’ed up your chances. Am I right? Or am I missing something?”
Rummy drew up behind Sir James with a crystal tumbler gleaming with the amber contents he needed immediately, without preamble. When he extended a hand to take the drink, Rummy smiled and pulled the brandy away. “Tell us what’s going on. Just who is courting whom in this latest yuletide farce to cross our doorstep?”
Hugh lunged and neatly snatched the drink before taking a deep draught and sitting down in the overstuffed chair nearest Rummy’s warm study fire. His host took a long metal rod and poked the coals around so that the flames leapt back to life.
He settled into the comfortable chair and stuck his booted feet straight out in front of him, toward the fire. He raised a sort of toast toward them and tried to give them a no-nonsense, shortened version of the Christmas drama of star-crossed lovers that seemed to be playing out before his jaded eyes. “Lucy, ever the madcap like her idol Mina, decided to try to save their girls’ academy in Kensington by agreeing to marry their threatening landlord.
“Grace, being Grace…” He paused then with a nod toward Rummy who nodded in agreement in return. “She’s too proud to let me help them out.”
“And then,” he continued, “the two of them came upon the aftermath of an explosion in which MacKenzie and I nearly ended up playing harps, or perhaps being jabbed by devils’ forks all because of a too-short fuse. Since it was by then late afternoon, and they insisted on fussing over us and taking us back to Westmont…inyourcarriage, I made sure they spent the night for safety’s sake. The roads from my abode to yours are untenable in the daytime, let alone after dark.”
“To avoid making an endless story interminable, Grace latched upon a notion to throw Lucy and the major togetherto save her from the evil landlord. But in the process, she apparently made herself indispensable, desirable, etc., etc., to said Major MacKenzie.” He paused for another deep draught of brandy.
“From the looks of what transpired in the library, I don’t think that’s the end of your little farce.” Rummy gestured toward Hugh with his glass.
“If you must know, your friend the knight errant…” He stabbed a finger toward his own chest. “Ever charging to the rescue of distressed maidens, I seem to have tried to cheer up Lucy and in the process have exposed my poor, misguided heart once again.”
All three men were silent for long minutes while they all contemplated whatever they were seeing in the flames.
Rummy finally broke the silence. “You know, Westfalia, love is messy and tends to be a many-faceted puzzle.”
Sir Thomas added his thoughts. “You have to tell her how you feel.”
“But she’s chosen another man, like all of the women with whom I seem to fall in love.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Rummy intoned. “Don’t make the mistake of listening to your pride instead of your heart.”
6
CHRISTMAS DAY
MONTCLIFFE ABBEY
Essex, England