Authors: Father Christmas
Leland laughed and gestured toward the door. “See? It’s open, all very proper. You’re safe, I promise.”
“But you’ve lied to me before. Twice now, I believe. Once about promising the boys a curricle ride and once about your aunt.”
“No, she did want to get a look at the twins, I swear. But please, Mrs. Warr—Cousin Graceanne, I did want to speak to you, away from the parsonage.”
She folded her hands in her lap as primly as a schoolmistress. “Yes, Your Grace?”
“I…that is, what have…um, are you sure you don’t gamble?”
“Of course not, Your Grace. My father would never have permitted such behavior. While I was with the army, the wives led very circumspect lives. There were no polite gaming parlors, if that’s what you are thinking. Naturally the officers indulged. If you are afraid I’ll chouse your aunt Eudora out of her pin money, you are far off the mark.”
“No, no.” But he sounded relieved nevertheless, adding to Graceanne’s confusion. He ran his hand through his hair. “Confound it all, there is no delicate way of putting this.”
Graceanne was certain now that another slip on the shoulder was in the offing. First he wanted to make sure she wasn’t expensive to keep. She jumped to her feet. “No, there is no polite way to ask a lady if she will—”
Just then a mighty crash came from somewhere down the hall, followed by minor noises, slamming doors.
“Oh, dear, I knew we shouldn’t have—”
The butler entered with the tea tray and two footmen to help serve. Leland merely raised an eyebrow. The butler bowed and said, “I believe Monsieur Henri has just tendered his resignation, Your Grace. Will that be all?”
Graceanne couldn’t make a scene, not with two footmen standing at attention in case the sugar bowl was emptied. She couldn’t leap up and run away from this makebait philanderer or toss his extravagant, ostentatious repast in his lap. So she sat and drank her tea and ate his pastries and made small talk about their favorite Christmas carols. And she seethed.
Then came the unmistakable sound of glass shattering. Graceanne’s teacup fell from her hand. Thank goodness it was empty, and the carpet so thick the delicate Wedgwood only bounced. Besides, the footman almost caught it before it hit the floor.
The butler returned. And bowed. “Not one of the stained glass panels, Your Grace. Will that be all?”
Graceanne was on her feet. “Please, Your Grace, I must leave.”
“No, no. Milsom will handle everything. He always does.” The duke blocked her way to the door before she could bolt like a nervous filly. “I haven’t yet had a chance to ask you—”
“Please, it will only embarrass us both.”
“Then you
do
know what I’m talking about.”
“Yes, to my eternal shame.”
“Ah-ha, so I was right! You
have
done something underhanded with the money!”
“The money?” If he’d said he wanted her opinion on the Corn Laws, Graceanne couldn’t have been more surprised. She sat back down. “What money?”
“It’s a little late to play the innocent, Mrs. Warrington.” He took up his position in front of the mantel, then started pacing. “Or did you think I was such a here-and-thereian, I’d never ask where the money was going?” He didn’t wait for Graceanne’s answer, which was just as well, for she didn’t have one. “I’ve been racking my brain to think what it could be. Clothes? Jewelry?” He gave her one disdainful look in passing. “Not likely. I’ve seen your Posy, so it’s not fast horses. You say you don’t gamble, and I believe you.”
“Am I supposed to be thankful for that?” Graceanne murmured into his tirade, her head rotating from side to side with his long strides.
“So I asked myself, what could it be? Is she paying off some terrible debt? Buying Consols for her old age? Keeping a lover?”
“Your Grace!”
He came to a halt in front of her, glowering down. “So tell me, what in the blazes are you doing with Tony’s money?”
“Oh,
that
money!” Graceanne sighed in relief. “You must know I didn’t have any dowry to speak of, just a pittance from Mama’s family. The settlements, therefore, were negligible. Papa says my widow’s jointure barely covers the cost of what the twins break—that is, what they breakfast on.”
“Cut line, ma’am, I know to the shilling what your portion is. I ought to, my man of business helped draw up the marriage papers. What I am talking about, if you wish to play the game to its conclusion, is Tony’s money. The money I hold as trustee and whose interest I deposit at your bank monthly, having started the account with a substantial sum. The money that is supposed to ensure Tony’s children a happy, healthy childhood and his widow security. The money, in short, that is withdrawn and never spent!”
“I…I never knew Tony had any money. He never spoke to me about it. We never wanted for anything, but neither did we live grandly. I thought his army pay…”
“The army pays chicken feed. Of course Tony had money of his own; his grandfather was a duke. There was no property, since they lived at Ware House in London, but a tidy competence. How do you think Tony bought his commission?”
Graceanne stared at her fingers. “I thought you must have purchased it for him.” She shook her head. “And his mother lived in a rented house.”
Now it was Leland’s turn to study the Turkey carpet he had almost worn out. “Aunt Eudora moved into Ware House” was all he said. It was enough.
Graceanne was so silent for a moment, obviously thinking, that Leland could hear a clock ticking, and feet pounding down a hall somewhere. Many feet. He let her think. Then he handed over his handkerchief. Damn and blast, he never meant to make her cry. It wasn’t as though he was going to have her clapped in irons, either, especially if what he now suspected was true. He started pacing again.
Graceanne dabbed at the tears that trickled down her cheeks and snuffled into the fine linen. “Thank you,” she said automatically, staring at a private hell so intensely that she didn’t hear the shouts in the hall. Many shouts.
At last she spoke: “That’s why he didn’t want me to spend time in your company. He didn’t care about my good reputation, or your bad one. He just didn’t want us to converse. It’s his collection, of course. I’ve heard that some men get like that over gambling, where they will lie and cheat their own families to support their wagering. He told me there wasn’t enough money to bother about, that he would handle everything for me the way he always did, that women had no head for business anyway. My own father. The temptation must have been too great.”
“That’s not much of an excuse. If temptation is too great for a man of the cloth, how are we poor mortals expected to manage? Right now I am tempted to go wring your father’s scrawny neck! To think of you acting the servant in his home so he can purchase moldy old books makes my blood boil. I’ve half a mind to have him hauled before the magistrate.” His pacing grew more rapid.
“You mustn’t, please. My mother is of a nervous disposition. That would kill her.”
“Then what would you have me do? I cannot just plant him a facer, a man his age, and I certainly cannot issue a challenge to a cleric. Of course, I have it in my power to see he’s not a clergyman in my district anymore.”
“Please, the church is his life. He really is a devout man.” Graceanne sniffled again, which did not ease the duke’s anger one whit.
“Except for greed, deceit, and dishonor, to say nothing of being the starched-up prig Aunt Eudora called him. You cannot intend to let him get away with this.”
“Exactly how much…? That is, how tempted was he?” Graceanne wanted to know.
Leland paused long enough in his pacing to listen to the dying commotion in the hall, which she seemed not to hear, thank goodness. Then he named a sum that had the widow gasping. Graceanne knew the value of things from doing the household accounts; this was far beyond any computations she’d handled.
“Why, that’s a king’s ransom!”
“Not quite,” he said dryly. “It wouldn’t even pay Prinny’s debts for a month. But that’s the capital, of course, which should stay intact so the children have a legacy when they reach their majority. Unless Willy is duke by then, in which case only Leslie inherits. Meanwhile, the interest and earnings on investments should be enough for living expenses and incidentals. That’s decent living, mind you, befitting a gentleman’s sons, no more scrimping and cheese-paring. I had always intended to pay the boys’ schooling”—he hadn’t thought of it till then, but he should have—“so you needn’t count that in your figuring. Nor the ponies.”
“Oh, my.” She’d never been fonder of Tony than at that moment, nor of His Grace! With a radiant smile, she said, “What a marvelous Christmas present! I don’t know how I can ever thank you.”
He kicked the edge of the fireplace. “Thank me? You should be wishing me to perdition. I should have seen you settled back in England myself, but it was easier to assume you were more comfortable with your parents. And then I should have looked into the matter sooner rather than suspect you of any hugger-mugger.”
“But you couldn’t have known. And I think you are taking on too much responsibility. I should have asked to see Tony’s papers.”
Leland was about to explain that looking after those dependent on him was his responsibility as duke, when the butler cleared his throat in the doorway. “Your Grace?”
“Yes, Milsom, what is it?”
“I thought Your Grace might be wondering about the slight disturbance. The fire is out now.” He bowed and backed out of the room.
Leland resumed his pacing. “So what about the reverend? What shall you do?”
“I shall cast up my accounts if you don’t stop moving to and fro,” she said in exasperation, rubbing her temples.
Leland smiled. “See the power of money? A bit of a windfall and no more meek little sparrow. The humble widow is already giving orders to dukes. Not that you were ever quite humble,” he amended, taking a seat across from her. “But seriously, you don’t have to stay in your father’s house any longer.”
Graceanne pondered her choices. “My suddenly taking a cottage in the village would be degrading to my mother. And it would leave her and my sister no better off. They’d still be at Papa’s mercy.”
“You could move in here,” he suggested. “The boys being my heirs, no one would think anything of it.”
No one would think anything good of it, he should have said. Graceanne could just hear the gossip now. “I think not.” Rather than discussing his reputation, she said, “It wouldn’t be healthy for the boys to live so far above our station. Think of the comedown when you marry and have heirs of your own, as I am sure you’ll eventually do.”
“What, do you think I’ll toss Tony’s family out into the snow?”
“Of course not, Your Grace.” But his wife might.
“I thought you had agreed to stop ‘Your Gracing’ me, Graceanne. Please, Leland is adequate.
Cousin
if you insist on the formality.”
She did. “Cousin. Besides, I am not sure Ware Hold can survive the twins.”
He laughed. “You’re right. It’s withstood siege for only two or three hundred years. Well, if you won’t move into the castle, perhaps you’d consider Ware House in London?”
“With Lady Eudora? No thank you! I think that would merely be substituting one form of tyranny for another. Maybe I should move away altogether, be truly independent for the first time in my life. Bath, perhaps, or Brighton, where the boys can play on the beach in the summer.”
Leland got up and walked toward the desk, where a decanter and glasses stood. “Madeira, Cousin?”
“No, thank you, my father thinks imbibing is—why, yes, Cousin, I do believe I would enjoy a sip of sherry.”
While Leland poured, he spoke. “I shouldn’t like you to move where I cannot see the boys.”
Leland really meant he’d miss seeing the sprouts grow up, miss the riding lessons he was already planning and the hunting, fishing, and swimming expeditions his own father never took him on. Grace thought his words must imply a threat. His Grace was being agreeable now, but cousin or not, he was still the imperious duke. And he held the power and the pursestrings. She mustn’t forget that for a moment. “I suppose I’d hate to move where I knew no one.”
Out of relief that she wasn’t emigrating to Canada or something impossible, he handed her a glass and said, “Well, you know me. My offer of a cottage in the woods still stands, or a little house in Kensington…”
She did know him. And she must never, ever forget that he was a rake of the first water. She slammed the wineglass down on a table beside her, hard enough to rattle the collection of ivory figurines there. A drop of wine sloshed out onto the carved cherrywood. Graceanne hurriedly used her handkerchief, the duke’s actually, from when she was weeping, to dab at the spill. “That is not, and never will be, an option, Your Grace.”
“Back to ‘Your Grace’ again, eh? I suppose I owe you another apology, ma’am. Just as you cannot help mopping at spills, I cannot help flirting with a pretty girl.” Which wasn’t true at all, Leland admitted to himself. There was something about this woman… “At any rate, you won’t want to decide anything till after Christmas, when I’ll have a chance to visit the bank. Do you want all the bills and such sent to me to handle?”
Graceanne was taking deep breaths to try to regain her composure. Then she decided to take a sip of wine instead. The tingle on her tongue worked better. “I am not a nodcock, Cousin, who has never seen an account book. I am sure I can manage my own finances.”
“It’s not the way things are usually done, a woman in charge.” With misgiving he eyed the fragile wineglass, the delicate ivories, and the spark in her blue eyes. “But I suppose we can try that arrangement for now. I’ll make provision for the funds to be at your sole disposal at the first of every month, with no one else to have access without my approval. That should put a crimp on the reverend’s sticky fingers.”
Graceanne nodded her satisfaction. “Then on the first of January I shall be free to make my own decisions for once. A new life for the new year.” She savored the freedom, and the wine. One of the unfamiliar experiences gave her the courage to ask, “Do you think…that is, I hate to bother you. It’s vulgar to speak of money and such, but might I have an advance or whatever?”
“What, outrunning the bailiff already?” he teased. “And here you just assured me you could manage to live within your means.” But he stood up and went to the desk, where he opened a drawer and then a cash box. “How much blunt do you need, my dear?”
Her cheeks were warm; that must be the wine, not the familiarity. “Oh, just enough for Christmas. I’d like to send something to Tony’s batman in Dorset. He was injured trying to save poor Tony, only to lose him to a fever, and he returned on the ship with us, seeing to our comfort the whole way.”
“Confound it, I should have seen to him.” He added a few more bills to the pile in his hand.
“And I’d like to buy some gifts, even if there’s not much time to shop. Do you think there will be sleds for the boys here in Warefield? Cook says it will snow for Christmas, and they could have so much fun. And a new set of dishes for Mother, a dress length or two for Prudence. Velvet, I think. A new uniform for Meg. No, a new uniform and another nursery maid!”
Leland kept adding to the stack, smiling. She hadn’t mentioned anything for herself, so he did. “And a new bonnet, I hope, for me and the boys.”
“A bonnet? Whatever could you and the children want with a bonnet?”
“So we don’t have to look at that monstrosity you’ve been wearing. Save it for the snowman we’ll build if Cook is right. And get yourself some prettier gowns, too. Tony wouldn’t like you looking the dowd.”
She looked down. “No, he wouldn’t. Perhaps one or two if I find the time to sew.”
He laughed. “And you said you were a downy one. You don’t need time, sweetheart, you have money! The village seamstress will stay up Christmas Eve to see you outfitted properly, for enough of the ready.”
“A new gown for Christmas would be lovely, even if it must be black.”
“Make that two or three. I’d like you to be here with me and Aunt Eudora on Boxing Day to help give out the gifts, so Willy can meet the tenants. My relatives should certainly be dressed as well as the farmers.” He shrugged and emptied the rest of the cash box into a leather purse which he handed to her. “My Christmas present.” Before Graceanne could argue about the money coming from her account, he asked, “But what about your father? Should I speak to him?”