His By Christmas (Hamilton Sisters) (12 page)

When the duchess, who had always been very kind to Jeffrey in spite of the awkwardness, finally passed away a number of years ago, he’d thought for sure that his father would remarry and try to produce a legitimate heir to the dukedom. Yet he did not. He busied himself with a string of gorgeous mistresses instead.

“Why do you not just marry again, Father?” Jeffrey posed the question to him yet again. “I know there are plenty of young women willing to be your bride. You could have a passel of children if you wanted.”

Maxwell shook his gray-haired head. “My marriage to Georgia was not a happy one by anyone’s standards. In fact, it was a disaster from the start and it is not something I am eager to repeat. But I am getting on in years and having a wife whose company I enjoy might be a comfort. Who knows? Besides, I don’t need any more children. I have a fine son sitting here in front of me.”

“Father.” Jeffrey gave him an exasperated look. “You know what I mean. You could have an heir of your own and James would get nothing, as he deserves.”

“Yes, I do know what you mean and I just told you. I haven’t married again because I was pressured into an arranged marriage when I was young and it ruined so many lives. Georgia and I were terribly unsuited for each other. As I strayed, she became consumed with jealousy, and the fact of her barrenness tormented her. I think she died of bitterness, yet it was a relief for me and I think it was for her as well. We were finally rid of each other. So, I didn’t have a favorable view of marriage after that. I’ve been quite free as a widower and I’m more than content with my life as it is.”

Jeffrey’s eyes narrowed. “So then why were you visiting my mother?”

Maxwell smiled sheepishly. “I hadn’t seen Janet since before Georgia died, although we correspond regularly, mostly about you. I was coming back from my estate in Sussex and stopped by to see her for a few days.”

“A few days?” Jeffrey asked, incredulous at this news. “You stayed with my mother for a few days?”

It almost looked as if his father was blushing. “Yes. We had a lot of catching up to do.”

The conversation made Jeffrey undeniably uncomfortable. He did not wish to think of how his mother and father spent their time alone together. “I see.”

“She and I talked about you at great length,” the duke said pointedly.

“Oh?” Jeffrey rose to refill his glass, slightly amused at the idea of the two of them discussing their grown son. He held up the decanter of whiskey. “Would you like another drink?”

“Yes, please.” Maxwell handed Jeffrey his glass. “Your mother and I both think it’s time you married.”

Jeffrey raised a brow as he filled his father’s glass and handed it back to him. “It’s perfectly fine for me to marry, but not you?”

“Touché.” The duke laughed heartily. “But you see, I was already married once. Now it’s your turn.”

“I suppose you both have someone in mind for me as well?” Jeffrey asked with not a little sarcasm as he walked back to his seat.

“Well, no. Of course not,” his father protested, looking a little abashed. “I would never presume to choose for you, Jeffrey. I’ve been on the receiving end of meddling parents and an arranged marriage and know how terrible it can be. But yes, I do have ideas, of course.” He paused expectantly.

“I don’t wish to hear them.”

“Well, I’m going to tell you anyway. You’ve missed your chance with those pretty Hamilton sisters you’re so involved with. But the youngest one is still unattached, and you spend an awful lot of time in her company or so I hear. Do you not?”

“Yes, but . . .” Was his father actually suggesting that Jeffrey marry Yvette Hamilton? The idea was preposterous.

“But what?” His father eyed him intently. “Don’t let this one slip through your fingers like you did the others.”

“I wasn’t interested in marrying the others,” Jeffrey shot back.

“But you are interested in marrying the youngest one?”

Jeffrey remained silent, unsure how to respond to that. He didn’t wish to discuss Yvette with his father.

“All I’m saying is that I happen to like her and her sisters. They’re a wonderful family and they’ve been good to you. I believe you’d be happy with her, my boy.” He paused before adding, “I just think it’s time for you to think about marrying and having children of your own.”

Marry Yvette and have children? Jeffrey shook his head in disbelief. She would never have him. He wasn’t half good enough for her. “Have you forgotten that even if he is the son of the Duke of Rathmore, no respectable woman wants to marry a bastard?”

His father’s face looked stricken. The room grew silent.

Jeffrey immediately regretted his words. He sighed in remorse. “Forgive me, Father.”

“No. It is I who should beg your forgiveness, Jeffrey. I’m the cause of the terrible situation you’re in.” Maxwell sighed heavily, a sudden sorrow in his eyes. “I wish things had been different for you. I was so pleased when you were born, but saddened by the circumstances that surrounded it. You’ve done nothing but make me proud of you each and every day. I wouldn’t have wished this label of illegitimacy on you for all the world, Jeffrey.” He mumbled under his breath, “That accursed marriage to Georgia. I should have run away rather than marry her.” He looked sadly at Jeffrey. “I just wish I could have given you more.”

“You’ve given me a great deal, Father. More than most fathers give their sons.”

“No. I wish I could give it all to you, Jeffrey. My land, my title, my money. There were times I thought perhaps I should not have acknowledged you and let you live your life in relative peace and obscurity. But I wanted to acknowledge you. I was always filled with pride that you were my son.”

Jeffrey was touched by his father’s words. “Thank you. I’ve always been proud to be your son. Even when I got the stuffing beaten out of me for it.”

“It builds character,” the duke said with a grimace.

Jeffrey gave a rueful laugh, recalling his tumultuous years at school. “Well, then, I have character in spades.”

“But you’ve done quite well in spite of it. You’ve made your own fortune in your shipping business with Lucien Sinclair and Harrison Fleming. You don’t even need my money. You’ve made me quite proud of you, my boy.”

“Thank you. I’m glad of that.”

“You’ve done more with your life than that half-wit, James.” Maxwell shook his head in disgust. “You deserve to inherit more than he does. Why, with all the work you’ve done for the government alone, that should make them grant the title to you!”

Jeffrey laughed at his father’s outrageousness. Leave it to his father to think that the British government owed him a favor, a debt. “Honestly, Father.” He sipped his drink.

“Am I wrong?” Maxwell asked. “Have you not provided them with an invaluable service with your spying? Don’t they rely on the work you do for them in Europe? In France especially? You’ve spent the last year there, gathering sensitive information for our government, risking your life, and what have they given you in return? I ask you, Jeffrey?”

“One has nothing to do with the other, Father.”

Very few people knew of Jeffrey’s secretive dealings with the government. Only his father, Lucien Sinclair, and Harrison Fleming. That was it. He preferred it that way. Everyone in London thought him to be a careless rogue, a playboy bastard, and a charming rake who spent all his time in pleasurable pursuits with beautiful women. Over the years, he had cultivated that image, part of which was true, because it detracted from anyone questioning what he really did. No one took Jeffrey Eddington seriously and that suited him just fine, because he knew better.

After he graduated from Oxford, Jeffrey had been approached by one of his father’s friends, who worked for the government. He had asked Jeffrey to go to France, just before the Franco-Prussian War of 1870, to gather some sensitive information. With nothing else to do, Jeffrey had agreed. He’d been such a success that they had sent him to a few more countries. Spain. Germany. Italy. Even America. He had contacts in most every city in Europe. And no one suspected him in the least. He actually enjoyed the work he did. With his easy charm and careless manner, he was able to get people to tell him things they shouldn’t. It was almost like a game. And he always won.

This past year in France, he’d been working on a highly sensitive case. It had ended quite well and he was glad to have some time off to simply enjoy himself. That was until he took on another highly sensitive matter for his friend Lucien Sinclair.

Keeping an eye on Yvette Hamilton.

“Yes, but Jeffrey, it is time you started thinking of yourself,” his father pressed on. “You’re thirty-three. Life goes by faster than you think. You’re going to wake up suddenly one day at sixty years old, finding yourself all alone and it will be too late.”

Jeffrey sighed heavily. “You’re not alone, Father.”

“And neither are you, my boy.”

“Perhaps you should rethink your views about marriage,” he suggested.

“Perhaps. I will if you will,” Maxwell said slowly.

“Deal.” Jeffrey winked at his father.

11

Those Who Are Dear to Us

Yvette wanted to crawl under the carpet. She wanted to jump out the window. Or run away and never come back. The afternoon couldn’t possibly get any worse or be more mortifying.

Yvette was rendered speechless as her mother embarrassed her in front of Lord Shelley.

The visit had started pleasantly enough, but then Genevieve had grown more and more fractious. First she had complained of a headache, her usual affliction, then she had become nothing short of disagreeable. She interrupted William every time he spoke, asking him questions that made no sense, and then she outright insulted him. Her mother could not have done a better job of it if she was deliberately trying to ruin Yvette’s chances with him. Yvette simply couldn’t understand what was the matter with her. Genevieve was acting so strangely and Yvette was helpless to stop it.

“C’est un imbécile s’il ne veut pas de toi!”
Genevieve said to her.

Praying that William’s French was not up to par, Yvette cringed. With another anxious glance at the clock on the mantel, she hoped that it was time for William to take his leave and finally end this humiliating visit. Never had time passed so slowly!

Although Lord Shelley remained unfailingly polite, Yvette could tell he was just as taken aback by her mother’s increasingly bizarre comments and rude behavior, even before Genevieve began speaking entirely in garbled, nonsensical French.

The visit grew more awkward and uncomfortable by the minute and she felt her cheeks burn scarlet with embarrassment. She apologized to William with her eyes, hoping he understood, as her mother continued to babble in French.

“Pourquoi est-ce que ma fille voudrait épouser un crétin pompeux comme lui? Je ne comprends pas. Il n’y a qu’un idiot pour porter un tel chapeau. Regarde ses chaussures. Pourquoi est-il içi? Je ne l’aime pas. Je n’ai aucune intention de lui parler. C’est un âne! Un idiot. Fais-le partir. Oh ce chapeau! Il est horrible!”

“Please forgive my mother, William,” Yvette murmured in utter mortification. “She doesn’t seem to be herself today.” Her mother, aside from being insulting, was making no sense! “Mother, please,” she hissed furiously at her.

“Me pardonner mais pour quoi? Je n’ai rien dit qui ne soit pas la vérité! Tu es une petite idiote.”
Genevieve stared at them.

William looked as confused and embarrassed as Yvette felt. “I think that perhaps I should—”

At that moment Granger came in the room and announced that a visitor had arrived. Yvette was delighted for the distraction, whoever it might be, but her jaw dropped slightly when Jeffrey Eddington entered the drawing room, where she sat with her mother and Lord Shelley.

“Jeffrey!” she exclaimed in surprise, rising to her feet. “What brings you here this afternoon?”

“I just stopped by to say hello to the two prettiest ladies in London, but forgive me, I did not mean to intrude.” He glanced coolly at Lord Shelley. “I wasn’t aware you had company.”

“That’s quite all right, Eddington,” Lord Shelley rose hastily to his feet as well, obviously grateful for an excuse to leave. “I was just making my farewells. I have a previous engagement I need to attend to.”

“It was kind of you to visit, William.” Yvette gazed at him worriedly, apologizing with her eyes. He must think her mother was a witless fool. Or even worse, a drunkard! She whispered to him, “I do apologize. My mother has not been well for some time and I don’t know what has gotten into her today.”

He looked rather embarrassed as he whispered back, “There is no need to apologize. It was a pleasure, as always, Yvette, to see you.” He turned to her mother, speaking loudly. “Thank you for an enjoyable visit, Mrs. Hamilton.”

Staring blankly at him, Genevieve babbled something in unintelligible French.

“Merci,”
Lord Shelley responded with utter politeness to her incoherent ramblings. He thanked Yvette once more, promising to see her again soon, and nodded to Jeffrey, and then Granger escorted him from the room.

“Mother!” Yvette cried when William Weatherly had left. “Why would you behave like that? How could you do this to me? I am humiliated! Oh, what Lord Shelley must think of us!”

Genevieve did not react to her daughter’s obvious distress. Instead, she stared mutely at the teacup in her hand, her eyes unfocused and blank.

“What is wrong?” Jeffrey moved quickly to Yvette’s side, whispering, “You look ready to cry.”

“It’s Mother.” Yvette blinked back hot tears of frustration and disappointment. “She has completely disgraced me, and our whole family, in front of Lord Shelley. He will never wish to marry me now.”

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as all that.” Jeffrey attempted to comfort her. “He did not seem that dis—”

The shattering of china caught their attention and they turned to stare at her mother. The teacup now lay in scattered pieces on the floor.

“Maman?”
Yvette asked, an uneasy feeling growing within her.