His Favorite Mistress (31 page)

“How old was my husband?”

Mrs. Armstrong met her gaze, her eyes filled with sorrow. “Only ten. He wept like a wild thing, shaking his father and telling him to wake up. He wouldn’t leave, refusing to accept. We finally had to force him to his room and give him a little laudanum so he could sleep. I think His Grace blamed himself for the duke’s death. I think he blamed his mother as well.”

Gabriella wiped a trace of moisture from the corner of her eye, remembering the deaths of her parents and how hard it had been to cope—and she had been a great deal older than ten.

“Her Grace arrived two days later, after we sent word of what had occurred,” the housekeeper went on. “She stood over the body and didn’t shed a tear, Your Grace, and when the young master ran to her for comfort, she…she sent him back to the nursery. But that wasn’t the worst.”

“Why? What did she do?”

“She decided to send him off to school. His father hadn’t even been in the grave a week when she told him he would be going. Maybe I shouldn’t tell you this, since I don’t think even His Grace realizes I overheard, but…he begged her to let him stay. He got down on his knees and pleaded with her to allow him to remain here at Rosemeade. He told her he’d be good and wouldn’t get into a bit of trouble. He’d mind his tutor and do every lesson he was given. He told her he loved her and asked her to stay and not go traveling again for a while. I was as relieved as the young duke when I heard her tell him he could remain.

“But the very next morning…she ordered all his trunks packed, and made us awaken him early to get him dressed and fed. Then with her lover standing right at her side, they put him in the coach. She told him it was time he acted like a man, instead of a weak little boy. He was the duke now and he ought to behave as befits his title and his duty. Lord above, I’ll never forget the master’s face—he looked so shocked and betrayed. But he didn’t cry, not so much as a tear. I think whatever love he felt for her died that day. Maybe she was alive, but for him, he’d lost both parents. I know that was the last time he ever called her Mama.”

She drew a rueful breath before concluding her story. “After his coach rolled away, she went off to the Continent with her lover. His Grace didn’t come home for six more years, not even for holidays. Once he did return…well, he truly was a man grown, the duke in every way in spite of his young years.”

Gabriella sat for a long minute, imagining it all, seeing Tony as he must have been then, young and defenseless, without anyone in the world who truly loved him—certainly not the woman who had given him birth. How could she have been so callous? How could any mother treat her son in such a cold, heartless way? It was a wonder he could bring himself to speak to her at all. Gabriella would not have done so, and if she’d known last week what she knew now, she would have sent the woman away with a flea in her ear. She didn’t know how Tony could so much as tolerate being in the same room with her—hateful woman!

“Thank you, Mrs. Armstrong,” she said. “Thank you for telling me. I can only imagine how abandoned he must have felt. How alone. She is a dreadful woman and I shan’t be inviting her here to the estate, nor to the townhouse in London. I wouldn’t serve her so much as a cup of tea, I’ll tell you that!”

The housekeeper smiled. “Oh, Your Grace, it’s glad I am that the duke has found you. You are just what he needs, and we can all see how deeply you care for him. I don’t believe he has trusted any woman since he was a boy—I expect that’s why he was so adamant about never wanting to marry. But he couldn’t resist you, now, could he? Nor you him.”

“No,” she said. “As I have discovered, His Grace is completely irresistible.”

Is Mrs. Armstrong right?
Gabriella wondered. Had Tony’s refusal to marry all these years been because he couldn’t trust a woman enough to commit to such a bond? Because he wouldn’t let himself take the risk of falling in love? He’d made no secret of his intention to spend his life as a bachelor. And yet he’d married her, had he not? If she’d needed confirmation that he loved her, she didn’t any more. After all, what other reason could there have been for his change of heart and mind?

Still, there was a part of him that remained closed off to her, she knew, inviolate and accessible to no one but himself. Yet trust took time, did it not? And patience. Maybe she only needed to wait and show him her love, until slowly, like water dripping on a rock, the barrier he kept between them gave way.

Besides, she sensed he was happy despite the fact that they spent much of their days apart now. He was busy with his duties, while she had new responsibilities of her own. And there was still so much for her to learn about Rosemeade, and especially about how to be its duchess. She wanted Tony to be proud and have no cause to regret his choice of bride. To that end, she supposed she really ought to return to her review of domestic matters.

“My thanks again for telling me about His Grace. I shall not forget it,” she told the servant. “We were discussing menus before, were we not? Shall we continue?”

“With pleasure, Your Grace.”

Chapter Seventeen

“
O
H, YOU’RE HERE
!” Gabriella exclaimed as she hurried down Rosemeade’s front steps toward the refined, black coach-and-four that had pulled to a stop only moments ago. Her scarlet cashmere cloak fluttered in the crisp December wind, her pleasure impervious to the clouds that lumbered in the overcast sky.

“Gabriella!” Julianna said as soon as Rafe finished assisting her to the ground. The two women embraced, laughing at being together once again; then it was Rafe’s turn to wrap Gabriella in an exuberant hug before setting her away for his inspection.

“I need not ask how you are,” he said with a smile, “since I can see that for myself. You look well.”

She smiled. “I am. Wonderfully, in fact. And so glad you could come for the Christmas holidays. Ethan and Lily arrived not fifteen minutes ago and are already inside with Tony. Everyone else should be here soon, including Maris and William and Harry. I’m so glad Maris decided she felt well enough to travel, what with her being nearly six months along with the baby.”

“I had a letter from her just last week,” Julianna volunteered, “and she says she’s feeling extremely well. A good thing, too, since she would have been quite blue-deviled to have had to miss the festivities.”

Without warning, Gabriella felt a light tug on her cloak. Glancing down, she discovered Campbell Pendragon’s intense green gaze on her, his little arms stretched high in clear expectation of receiving his own greeting. “Up, Aunt Gabby. I want up.”

“Hello, sweetheart,” she said, as she bent down to lift him into her arms. “So you haven’t forgotten me then, hmm?”

“Lord no,” Julianna replied with a smile. “He’s talked of nothing else over the past two weeks, ever since I told him we were coming to visit Aunt Gabriella and Uncle Tony.”

The boy snuggled close, grinning as he twined his arms around her neck. She shifted him, finding him amazingly heavy despite his lean frame. “He looks more like Rafe every day.”

“And acts like him, too, if the stubborn streak he’s developed is any example,” Julianna quipped, taking fourteen-month-old Stephanie from the nursemaid.

“You love my stubborn streak,” Rafe countered with supposed affront.

“I love
you,
darling. As for the streak….” Julianna gave a teasing shrug before trading adoring glances with her husband.

“Oh, just look at the baby!” Gabriella declared. “Oh, how she’s grown. And so beautiful!”

“Ladies, if I might offer a suggestion,” Rafe interrupted. “Why don’t we continue this conversation inside where it is warm and not threatening to pour rain at any moment?”

Agreeing, the five of them entered the house, along with a small swarm of servants who were working to unload the baggage from both coaches and bring it into the house. In the front hall, they met Tony, Ethan, and Lily, who had been on their way outside to greet them. A fresh round of hugs and welcomes ensued, with Cam passed happily to several different pairs of arms.

They were about to go upstairs to the drawing room five minutes later when Gabriella saw Lily pause suddenly and turn her head. Her pretty red eyebrows drew together as she stared at a wicker hamper that had just been carried inside. “Perhaps I am mistaken, but is that basket mewing?”

Julianna’s dark eyes grew wide, turning to hand the baby to Rafe. “Oh, my! In all the excitement, I nearly forgot.”

“Forgot what?” Tony asked, shooting an incriminating look at the basket in question.

“We’ve brought you a special present. Well, Gabriella really, but they’re for both of you to enjoy.”

Tony frowned harder.
“They?”

A fresh set of meows resounded. Hearing them, Gabriella smiled and hurried forward. Yanking open a strap, she pulled the top off the wicker hamper. “Kittens!” she cried as she gazed down at two of the most adorable cats she’d ever seen, one orange and the other black. “Oh, they’re just precious.” Reaching inside, she stroked one, then the other, their fur soft as silk.

“Another one of Aggie’s litters,” Julianna remarked. “They needed homes and we thought of you. They’re both boys, so you shouldn’t have too many more.”

Tony crossed his arms over his chest. “Thank God for small favors.”

Gabriella sent him a look. “Don’t be a spoilsport. They’re adorable, and I love them already.” Carefully, Gabriella lifted one of the kittens into her arms, eliciting a fresh round of meows.

“In that case, I suppose there is nothing else to say, but thank you.” Walking nearer, Tony reached out to pet one small, furry head.

Gabriella had just set them down outside the basket when a scrabbling of claws and barks announced the arrival of Rafe’s two dogs, Max and Digger. She and Tony reached for the kittens at the same time, but it was too late—the little cats arched their backs and started spitting as a frenzy of commotion broke loose. It took them a couple of minutes, but they managed to secure the dogs and catch the frightened cats, returning them to the safety of their hamper.

“Well,” Tony said as he wound a handkerchief around his bleeding hand. “This should be an interesting holiday.”

“Would you care for a brandy?” Tony asked two weeks later as he and Ethan walked into his study, afternoon sunlight filtering through the windows to warm the room in spite of the frosty January air outside. Ethan agreed to the proffered drink and took a seat in one of a pair of comfortable wing chairs near the fireplace.

All the other guests had departed a few hours earlier—everyone except Ethan and Lily, who had decided to remain another day due to Lily’s having awakened that morning with a queasy stomach.

“I never did get an opportunity to give you a proper toast, what with all the recent festivities,” Tony said. “After all, it’s not every day a man learns he is to become a father.”

A wide smile creased Ethan’s face. “True, especially the first time. Lily is so excited. I am, too.”

Filling the snifters, Tony replaced the crystal stopper, then crossed to hand one to the other man. After doing so, he sank into the seat opposite. “Congratulations, Papa.”

As he and Ethan drank to the toast, Tony let his thoughts drift back over the days just passed. The holiday had proven not only interesting, as he’d predicted, but enjoyable. To make the house festive, a Yule log had been felled and carried inside to burn in Rosemeade’s largest fireplace, while ribbons and bells and greenery had been strung in charming displays throughout the house. During the day, Tony had taken the men out riding and hunting, while the women stayed indoors to talk, sew, read, and paint—Gabriella complaining that her watercolors were as shamefully dismal as ever. In the evenings after dinner, everyone gathered for fun and games—singing and playing music some nights, while on others they indulged in cards or guessing games like crambo and charades.

Two days before Christmas, the rain that had fallen earlier in the week turned to snow, coating the ground in a glittery blanket of white. Tony had ordered sleighs prepared, the whole party traipsing out into the cold so they could enjoy the thrill of racing out over the frozen fields. He could still picture the delight in Gabriella’s pert violet eyes as he drove the two of them, her cheeks rosy as she huddled warm and secure beneath a thick layer of woolen coaching blankets and her own fur-lined cloak.

Afterward, they’d all trundled inside to warm up over dishes of hot tea, mulled cider, and fragrant spice cakes. And before long, he and Gabriella had found themselves standing beneath a strand of mistletoe. Never one to let an opportunity pass, he’d pulled her into his arms and given her a thorough kissing, one that had elicited hoots and a round of good-natured teasing.

Much later that night, after everyone had retired for the evening, he’d come to her room to continue what he’d started downstairs, taking her mouth in a series of long, drugging kisses that had driven both of them nearly mad with want. Using his hands and lips, he’d brought her to peak time and time again until she was half-delirious from an excess of pleasure. Only then had he sheathed himself inside her warm, willing flesh, joining them in a way that never failed to leave him satisfied.