Twelfth Night Secrets (9 page)

“Ah, Harriet . . . there you are at last . . . let go of my arm, you silly man.” Augusta swatted the attendant footman with a degree of vigor. “Take poor Horace to my chamber, and fetch him some chicken livers. I am afraid he is catching an ague . . . such a dreadful, interminable journey. I don’t know why we don’t just stay at home, but of course, dear child, I must do my duty. My dear brother must have a hostess for his endless parties. Now, let me look at you.”

A pair of surprisingly sharp green eyes subjected Harriet to an intent scrutiny. “Well, you don’t look too bad. You’ve left off mourning, I see.”

“It was the Duke’s wish, ma’am. Nick has been gone almost a year,” Harriet responded. She had been prepared for this, and the sooner it was over and done with, the better. “Will you come inside? The Duke will be waiting to welcome you.”

“Well, where is he, then?” The lady raised a lorgnette to her eyes and looked pointedly around. “Can’t be troubled to come to the door, I see.”

“He was with his estate manager, ma’am. He asked to be informed the moment you arrived,” Harriet said soothingly. “Please come inside out of the cold.”

Her ladyship allowed herself to be ushered up the steps into the house. As Harriet set foot on the bottom step, something drew her eyes upwards. Julius, standing at an open window of the Long Gallery, touched his forehead in a mock salute of congratulation, and there was something about the accompanying smile that seemed once again to include her in their own private circle.

A little chill ran down her spine. It was how she and Nick had been. Negotiating their way through the family maze, sharing their own private jokes. But she couldn’t have that with anyone else. Most particularly not with Julius Forsythe.

The bustle of arrivals continued for the next several hours. Julius kept to the sidelines, watching with considerable respect the deft way Harriet managed to be everywhere at once, solving problems, smoothing ruffled tempers, instructing servants, even as she deflected the more outrageous demands and complaints of Aunt Augusta and several other imperious dowagers, whose personal maids appeared more demanding even than their mistresses.

“Good God, man, come into the library, it’s the only sane place in the entire house,” the Duke declared, entering the hall after welcoming a trio of gentlemen guests. “Don’t know why we have to do this every year, but Harriet insists upon it . . . says it’s our
duty to the family.” He gave a snort of disapproval. “Come and join me in a glass of port, dear fellow.”

He took Julius’s arm and ushered him swiftly into the library, closing the door behind them with a sigh of relief. “Oh, good, Harriet’s made sure we’ve some nourishment in here.” He gestured to a sideboard where a cold ham, smoked trout, and a loaf of wheat bread reposed beside decanters of port and claret. “The red salon will be full of gannets eating me out of house and home,” he announced, filling two glasses with port. “Bad enough to have their incessant chatter over dinner, without having to endure it in the middle of the day.”

Julius took the glass with a smile of thanks. “You really dislike Christmas festivities that much, Duke?”

The Duke gave a wry grimace. “I suppose I was overstating the case, somewhat. The first day is always the worst; once everyone settles in, it isn’t so bad. Harriet achieves miracles, don’t know how she does it, just a slip of a girl.” He sipped his port and turned to the sideboard. “Help yourself, dear boy. We won’t dine until seven tonight, after the carolers have come up from the village.” He piled a plate with the offerings on the sideboard and carried it to a fireside chair.

Julius followed suit. The library was an oasis of peace and quiet amidst the noise and bustle of the house. “Any word on the Boxing Day hunt, sir?”

The Duke looked much more cheerful. “Yes, indeed, we are in luck. Jackson thinks the ground will be fine if we don’t get another hard frost.” He took a hearty bite of bread and ham.

Julius glanced towards the window, where weak sunlight sparked off the still frosty lawn. The long case clock chimed one o’clock. It would be almost dusk in three hours, and he needed to ride into Oxford and back before full dark. He set down his plate and glass. “If you’ll excuse me, sir, I’ve a mind to ride out for a couple of hours. My horse has been eating his head off in the stables for the last couple of days, and if he’s to be fit to hunt, he’ll need to work out the fidgets.”

“Of course, dear boy. Go with my blessing. I only wish I could accompany you, but Harriet will frown if I leave before the last guest arrives.” His grace shook his head with a mock mournful air. “In truth, I owe it to her to stay around at least for today. Augusta will demand my presence soon enough.”

Julius laughed sympathetically as he rose to his feet. “I’ll bid you good afternoon, then.”

“The carolers assemble in the great hall at six,” his
host reminded him. “Harriet will not be best pleased if you miss them.”

“I will be there, sir. I wouldn’t wish to displease Lady Harriet.”
Rather the reverse,
he thought with an inner smile. He bowed and left the library, leaving the house by the side door to avoid the seething hall, on his way to the stables.

“Have you come to see the new colt, sir?” a child’s voice piped from somewhere close to where he stood in the stable yard.

“Yes, he’s out of Sultana by Atlas, and Judd says we can name him,” another voice declared. “Only unofficially, of course, because he has to have a proper stud name.”

“Where are you two?” Julius demanded, looking around.

“Here, of course.” Two strawberry-blond heads popped up from behind a rain butt. “We’re racing water beetles in a bucket.”

“You’re doing what?” Mystified, he stepped behind the rain butt. “Oh, I see.”

The twins had filled a large pail with water in which two water beetles were scudding across the scummy
surface, encouraged by little flicks from a desiccated leaf.

“That one’s mine,” Grace declared, pointing.

“No, it’s not, that one’s mine,” her brother protested. “Mine was always the one on the left.”

“No, it isn’t, they change sides all the time,” Grace stated. “I know mine because he’s got one leg shorter than the other.”

“Don’t be silly, of course he hasn’t. Anyway, how do you know it’s a he? It could just as easily be a she,” Tom pointed out.

“Let’s see, then.” Grace encouraged one of the creatures onto the leaf, then frowned in puzzlement. “Where do you look? They’re not like horses or dogs.” She looked up at Julius. “Where do you look, sir?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” he said. “Biology was never my strong suit. Let the poor thing go, now, and show me the colt.”

The water beetle and its leaf were dropped into the water, and the two children hurtled off towards the stable block, calling for Judd, who appeared from the stables, hands thrust into the pockets of a baize apron. “Afternoon, m’lord.”

“Good afternoon, Judd. Could you have my horse saddled, please?”

“Yes, but you have to see the colt. Doesn’t he, Judd? He
has
to see the colt.” Grace pranced around Judd.

“All in good time, Grace,” Julius said. “You may show me the colt while my horse is being saddled, if that’s all right with Judd.”

“Oh, aye, sir, ’tis all right by me. Them imps’ll show you where he is. But you mind, now,” he said, addressing the children. “No shouting, and don’t you be gettin’ him agitated, or the mare. It’ll turn ’er milk.”

“I’ll make sure they’re quiet,” Julius said with a quick smile at the groom, who gave a laconic nod before going to fetch the Earl’s horse. Julius followed the children into the gloom of the stable block. They led him in exaggerated silence, fingers pressed to lips, to the end of the row, where an elegant chestnut mare was nuzzling a leggy brown colt.

“What should we call him, do you think?” Tom whispered loudly. “We thought Legs because he’s all legs, but Judd said he wouldn’t always be like that.”

“I want to call him Star, because of that little white spot on his head,” Grace said in a fierce whisper. “Legs is a silly name.”

“Star is boring,” her brother objected. “It’s ordinary.”

“So is Legs.”

The mare stirred restlessly, raising her long head to regard her visitors with a somewhat baleful stare. “I think we’ve overstayed our welcome,” Julius said firmly. “Come out, now, and leave them in peace.”

The children followed him out into the yard, blinking in the weak sunlight. “Is that your horse? He’s so big.” Grace gazed up in awe at Julius’s raw-boned gray gelding.

“When I’m grown, I’ll ride a horse that big,” Tom stated. “Nick’s Lucifer was that big.”

“Lucifer was black,” Grace said. “When Nick died, he died.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, but Julius could hear a quaver that aroused an unusually powerful emotion in his breast. He had never considered himself in the least sentimental. He couldn’t afford to be in his business. He had counted Nick as a friend, one whose death had been inevitable. He had buried him and then turned his face forward to the next step of his mission. What else was there to do?

Just asking himself the question surprised him. He had merely coped as he always had done with such situations, but now he felt a momentary stab of loss and for the first time acknowledged to himself that friends in his world were too few to be easily forgotten.

Judd glanced at both children. Tom had turned away and was idly kicking an upturned barrel, his face averted. The groom looked back at Julius. “Will you mount, my lord?” His voice was crisp, but his eyes were soft and filled with his own sorrow. He held the horse as Julius prepared to swing himself into the saddle.

“That’s a fine animal, my lord.” Harriet came into the yard, well wrapped in a fur-trimmed cloak, the hood drawn up against the sudden chill of an icy gust of wind. She crossed the cobbles to where he stood by the gelding.

“I can’t deny it,” the Earl said, running a possessive hand along the curve of the animal’s neck.

“What do you call him?” She stroked the velvety nose, and he whickered against her palm.

“Casanova.”

“Casanova?” She stared at him incredulously. “What kind of name is that for a horse?”

He smiled. “I’ve crossed the Bridge of Sighs many times, my dear.”

“More times than you’ve climbed through the casements of wives and maidens?” she queried with raised eyebrows.

“Probably,” he returned with the same enigmatic smile. He put a foot in the stirrup and vaulted into the
saddle. “If you’ll excuse us, Lady Harriet, Casanova needs a good gallop.”

She stepped back, opening her palms wide in a gesture of mock permission, and watched him walk the horse out of the yard. He moved as one with his mount in the manner of all superb horsemen. Nick had ridden in the same way, as if he and Lucifer were one whole, with one mind. She blinked rapidly and turned around, remembering her errand.

“Grace . . . Tom, where are you?”

“They’re be’ind the rain barrel, my lady,” Judd informed her. The children had taken advantage of their sister’s momentary distraction to disappear from sight, guessing correctly that they were the object of her arrival in the yard.

She sighed with exasperation and crossed to the barrel. “Come out of there, now. I need you in the house. You’ll be expected in the drawing room for tea, and you’re both so grubby, it’ll take Nurse Maddox an hour to get you respectable again.”

“Do we
have
to?” they groaned in chorus.

“Yes,” she responded, seizing a hand of each. “The aunts are asking for you.”

“Not Great-aunt Augusta,” they moaned as she tugged them along beside her.

“Yes, Aunt Augusta and Aunt Sybil are very anxious to see you. And Grandfather will be in the drawing room, too, so you need to be as quiet and civilized as you can possibly manage. Don’t forget, tomorrow is Christmas Day.”

The reminder silenced further incipient protests, and they trotted along beside her with more equanimity. “The Earl said he doesn’t know how to tell the sex of a water beetle,” Tom said, as if remembering something of great importance. “Do you know how to tell, Harry?”

The non sequitur startled her into silence for a moment, before she asked mildly, “Why would you be discussing the sex of water beetles with Lord Marbury?”