Page 3 of The Homecoming (The De Montforte Brothers #6)

Chapter Two

T he weather had been inclement for most of the day, the moody turbulence of spring not quite ready to yield the stage to summer’s abundance of warmth and light.

Showers had moved in on this late afternoon, and inside the great dining hall of Blackheath Castle, the family had gathered for tea.

Ornate plasterwork and Italian art lent the room a rich elegance and on the walls, portraits of de Montforte ancestors gazed down at their living descendants.

Steam rose from teacups of finest porcelain.

Lit tapers of beeswax glinted off crystal, china, and silver and glowed warmly against the faces of the family, all of them hoping that today would be the day they’d finally get to welcome home a sister, and for most of them, to get their first look at a dubious and still-to-be-approved brother-in-law.

They were an attractive group, the men handsome, athletic, and well-bred, elegant in their frock coats and embroidered waistcoats, the women in beautiful gowns of silk, their hair upswept, their necks, wrists, and fingers adorned with jewels and pearls.

Lucien, the powerful Duke of Blackheath at the head of the table, his wife, Eva, at the foot.

Lord Charles, the second eldest of the family, tall and blond, a military man who was not in uniform but whose demeanor was no less the taciturn for it.

His beautiful American wife, Amy, so large with child she was uncomfortable in her chair no matter what position she adopted and trying hard not to call attention to the fact.

Lord Andrew, his auburn hair drawn back in a loose queue, idly plucking at a slice of lemon cake while his wife, Celsiana, crusader for the plight of abused dogs (and horses), discreetly slipped a biscuit to Esmerelda, who was begging beneath the table.

Lord Gareth, a Member of Parliament, who along with his American wife, Juliet, and their two children, had journeyed from his estate in Abingdon to be here for this homecoming that could not, would not, be missed.

Even the liveried footmen stationed in the shadows veiled their excitement behind stoic expressions that belied the delight that electrified Blackheath’s vast number of servants.

Lady Nerissa would arrive any day. It had been, after all, over a year and a half since his Grace’s only sister had last been here in her ancestral home.

“Half-five and they’re still not here,” Celsie lamented. “I guess today won’t be the day.”

Gareth glanced at the ornate clock on the mantelpiece before directing his gaze out the window into the rainy afternoon. “Don’t assume anything. The Flying White is probably running late.”

“That stage is always running late,” Eva affirmed, reaching for her teacup.

Juliet nodded. “It wouldn’t know the meaning of the word, punctual .”

Celsie slipped another piece of biscuit to the setter, hoping no one would notice and knowing that nobody would care, even if they did.

“Maybe they’ll be on it,” Andrew said hopefully.

“Oh, wouldn’t that be nice!” Celsie touched Amy’s wrist. “Just in time for your birthday tomorrow!”

“Do you think so? Why, I couldn’t wish for a nicer gift.”

Juliet raised a speculative brow as she noted how far back from the table poor Amy was seated in order to accommodate her burgeoning belly. “I must say, I wonder if your birthday and the next de Montforte’s will end up being one and the same.”

“Oh no, the baby isn’t due until next month,” Amy said, laughing. “We’ll keep our own separate birthdays, I think.”

The other three women just exchanged glances.

Amy pushed aside her plate. “In any case, I do hope Nerissa has adjusted to life in America as well as I’ve done in England ... I can’t wait to see her, to meet her family, to hear all about everyone back in my old hometown.”

Celsie sipped her tea. “I wonder who our little nephew, Aidan, looks like?”

“Nerissa writes that he favors his father,” Juliet said. “A head full of curly dark hair but with her eyes.”

“I look forward to making the man’s acquaintance,” Gareth said. He looked at the duke and grinned. “You have the advantage over us, Lucien. You too, Andrew, as you’ve both met him.”

“I’m sure you’ll find him quite engaging,” Lucien murmured. “Though I daresay he may feel quite ... overwhelmed by the grandeur of this house. Please, all of you, do endeavor to put him at ease. I do not wish him to feel uncomfortable here.”

Charles looked into his tea with a flat expression and didn’t say a word.

“What do you think he’s like?” Celsiana asked breathlessly, looking around the table.

Juliet reached for the sugar. “I never met him myself, but he was the talk of the town back in ’75 when he was the Irish Pirate.

A dashing smuggler with a bounty on his head.

If it wasn’t for him, I think it’s safe to say many people in Boston would’ve starved under the blockade.

He made sure food got through. And arms.” She smiled, remembering.

“He sure was a thorn in the Royal Navy’s side, but to Boston, he was a hero. ”

“Oh, my,” said Celsie, fascinated. “Amy, did you ever meet him?”

“I’m afraid not.” She smiled. “But I’m told he’s very handsome.”

Charles’s expression went even flatter, and he picked up his teacup, staring into space as he took a sip.

“I fear I’ll never be able to wrap my tongue around his name,” Celsie lamented, turning to her husband. “Andrew, can you pronounce it for us all again?”

“Roo-a-ree. And he’s not the sort to take offense if you don’t get it right.”

“All the same, it would be quite rude not to at least try.”

“Roo-a-ree,” Andrew repeated.

“Rory?” Celsie tried, hopefully.

Laughter, and a ripple of nervous excitement.

“Maybe I should just stick to Captain O’Devir,” Celsie murmured. “Unless that is dreadfully formal.”

Charles pushed away his teacup.

“What is it, Charles?” Amy’s hand went to her husband’s. “Did you meet him when you served in Boston?”

“Thankfully not.”

“Charles!”

“Forgive me if I cannot share in the excitement,” he said sharply. “That blackguard has a long way to go before I can forgive what he did.”

Glances were exchanged in the sudden uncomfortable silence and Gareth cleared his throat. But it was Amy, her dark brown eyes suddenly sad, who squeezed her husband’s fingers. “I know this is hard for you, but please, just give him a chance,” she said softly.

“As if he deserves one!”

The duke’s black gaze swung wordlessly to his brother. Charles met it with defiance. It was during this tense moment they suddenly all heard it. Hoofbeats. The sound of wheels on the crushed stone outside. A yapping dog. Voices.

“Ohhhh!”

“Is that them?”

“Well, who else would it be?”

Hopeful glances were exchanged, and unable to help herself, Celsie jumped up from her chair and hurried to the window.

“They’re here!” she squealed.

Excitement rippled around the table, the women tittering and the men grinning.

Charles took a sip of his tea and remained unmoving, his stare directed at the opposite wall.

Andrew regarded him and exchanged a worried glance with Lucien.

Esmerelda scooted from beneath the table and out of the room, and a moment later, her frenzied barking could be heard out in the Great Hall.

Celsie rushed back to her chair and quickly smoothed her skirts.

“Ohh!” Amy said happily, taking Juliet’s hand in excitement.

“Should we rush to greet them or stay here and pretend a measure of civilized aplomb?” Gareth asked, looking around the table.

“Let’s stay here,” Eva said. “It sounds as though Esmerelda’s already overwhelming them with delight at seeing her long-lost mistress. No need to add to it. They’ll be tired after such a long journey, and will wish to come in, sit down, and have some refreshment.”

“Judging by Esmerelda’s bark, she must approve of him!” Celsie exclaimed.

“She’s a setter,” Charles muttered. “She approves of everyone.”

Celsie pretended she hadn’t heard. “I bet he’s a dog lover!”

“Ohh, here they come!”

Out in the hall beyond the doors, they heard footsteps and approaching voices: Nerissa’s excited chatter, a man’s deep murmur, a small dog yapping in excitement, and Esmerelda’s happy barks, woofs and whines.

“By God, I’ve missed that laugh of hers,” said Gareth, grinning. “She sounds so happy.”

“Because she is happy,” Lucien murmured with a warning look at Charles. “And you, my brother, will do nothing to make her regret bringing the man she loves here. You will treat him with civility and respect no matter what your feelings. Do you understand?”

“You ask a lot of me,” the major snapped. “I have no wish to—”

“That’s enough,” Lucien said firmly. “You cannot pass judgment on him until you’ve met him.”

“I’ve no need to meet him, I have no desire to meet him—”

“You will treat him as one of the family,” Lucien warned.

“You would take his side over your own brother’s?”

“There are no sides here. Your sister has made her choice, just as you did, just as you all did. You will respect that.”

“Well, some of us didn’t have a choice,” Celsie quipped, trying to lighten the rising tension.

“Isn’t that the truth,” Gareth added.

Amy placed a hand on her husband’s arm. “Just give him a chance, Charles. That’s all that is asked of you.”

Charles’s handsome face darkened.

Outside the doors, somewhere out in the hall, the voices grew louder as the newcomers approached.

Lucien leaned forward, his eyes hard with warning. “He has made our sister happy. She loves him deeply. He has given her a life of joy, adventure, and purpose. He deserves our gratitude.”

“That’s not what you were saying when you charged off across the Atlantic to bring her back after he stole her right out from under Andrew’s nose!”

“The circumstances were ... different.”

“You went over there intending to kill him in cold blood!”

“Indeed, I tried. But you will note I did not succeed, nor did I bring him—or our sister—back. Their union and contentment satisfied me as the head of this family, Charles, and you will let it be enough for you as well.”

Charles gripped the edge of the table with both hands, leaned forward, and finally lost his temper. “Has everyone forgotten he abducted her!”

Horrified gasps, shocked faces, one or two hands clapped to a mouth, and Amy reaching out to lay a soothing hand on his wrist just as two people appeared at the open doors, Esmerelda’s long feathered tail thumping against their legs.

The tall, confident man displayed a natural charisma, with the commanding stance of a leader and eyes that weren’t quite blue and weren’t quite violet but something in between.

His lean angular face and high cheekbones contrasted with wildly curling black hair caught neatly at his nape.

He held a puppy in his arms whose tail whipped against the buttons of his fine green coat.

If the opulence of his surroundings made him uncomfortable, he didn’t show it.

If he felt intimidated and out of place within this grand and ancient home that had been the seat of some of the bluest blood in England, he gave no hint of it.

And if he’d heard Charles’s outburst—which surely he had—he was choosing to ignore it.

Nerissa, there at his side, was choosing not to ignore it. She held a fussing child in her arms, and her pale blue eyes were hurt and accusing as she turned them on Charles.

“Well, that is not quite the homecoming I’d envisioned,” she said icily. “Perhaps it was a mistake to come here.”

“Easy now, mo grá, ” her husband murmured in a startling thick Irish accent. “Just let it go.”

Charles slammed down his napkin and began to stand up.

It was Lucien who smoothly took control of the situation. Rising, he came around the table, warmly exchanged bows with the Irishman, and embraced his sister as the rest of the family, looking on, held their breaths in horrified anticipation.

“Ah, my dear, dear Nerissa ... Ruaidri ... how very good it is to see you both again. You must tell us all about your trip. And may I?” He reached out to take the child from his sister.

She cast a final accusatory look at Charles and then turned her back on him without further ado.

“You must be Aidan, our newest little nephew. Hello, young fellow!” Pulling back the child’s knit cap so his face could be more easily seen, the duke angled him toward his family while guiding Nerissa and her husband—still carrying the squirming puppy—to their chairs.

“Welcome to Blackheath. Shall we make the introductions?”