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O
h, thank goodness dinner is over.
Nora stood when the duchess did, and quietly the ladies—which consisted of the duchess, Lady Lettice, and herself—left the large airy dining room of Ivy Castle. “Thank you, Your Grace. Dinner was quite good,” she murmured and matched the older woman’s pace.
“The food was adequate, perhaps overshadowed by that horrible tension pervading the table this evening,” the duchess replied with an air of resignation. “Did either of you notice it?”
Lady Lettice said she hadn’t, but then, she didn’t pay much attention to her brothers, while Nora couldn’t help but feel the awkwardness among the diners.
“I did, yes.” It had been exhausting. As a group, the Ivy family was boisterous enough, and tonight, they’d been all together, for the youngest Ivy had finally arrived. Graham—Lord Bonham, which was a courtesy title if she remembered correctly—was the family rake, the consummate man-about-town, and he’d perfected a charm that even Stephen didn’t possess. Since he’d been seated across from Nora, he’d tried his level best to flirt with her, and had, on two occasions, put a blush in her cheeks from his over-the-top compliments. “Perhaps everyone needs time to acclimate in being together again.”
There had been an underlying thread of anxiety running through the family, and more often than not, each member had become lost in thought at some point throughout the meal. Nora had kept her own counsel, not speaking until directly spoken to, for it had been fascinating to observe them. Why were they suffering from concern? Did it stem from the parents’ wish to see them all matched and wed? That had certainly been a topic of conversation put forth by the duke. Or did they singularly wrestle with worries not connected with romantic affairs?
“Perhaps,” was all the duchess said in response.
At dinner, Nora had been seated next to Lord Hollingsworth. Her mind still reeled from the conversation they’d shared in the portrait gallery, as well as her own effrontery in leading him through it to begin with. Every time she saw him flagging while sharing barbs with his brothers or in danger of shrinking into himself to deflect attention, she’d gently guided the conversation back to him and his good qualities in an effort to show him in a favorable light. Would he not see that he was just as worthy as his brothers, even if he was the more quiet of the three?
It all seemed so superficial, so ridiculous, this task she’d been given by the duke and duchess, for what was the point of building Lord Hollingsworth’s confidence if he would rely on her too much? She certainly wouldn’t be available to him in the future.
“Or perhaps I’m merely tired from all the planning,” the duchess said, and the sound of her voice wrenched Nora out of her thoughts.
She exchanged a glance with Lady Lettice, who shrugged. Nora stifled a sigh. If the disconnect between the family persisted, it would prove a long holiday season indeed. Still, she couldn’t help feeling excited amongst their lot, for she’d always wished for a large, unwieldy family for her own life. “In any event, I appreciated the invitation to dinner. I hope you both have a lovely evening.” When she would have gone down a branching corridor from where the duchess headed, the older lady voiced a protest.
“Nonsense, Miss Ridley. Stay and gather with us. You’re part of the family too. I’m sure they’d love to have you around to converse with.”
“Indeed,” Lady Lettice added. Though she smiled, exhaustion lined her expression. “The nursery maid assured me she’d bring Lucy down to say goodnight to everyone. The child usually brightens things up and has learned to wrap her uncles around her little finger.” A tiny sigh escaped her. “Besides, we have so little women about the place, it’ll be good to have someone to chat with that isn’t a brother.”
In that moment, Nora felt a kinship with the woman. It must be difficult living with so many men who had so many different personalities and egos. She nodded. “Very well. I’ll stay for a little while.”
“I’m so glad!” Lady Lettice linked her arm with Nora’s. “Come. We’ll have a bit of a gab before the boys join us. You can tell me exactly how my father is doing, for he refuses to speak about his condition.”
Oh, dear God! Would the lie need to keep growing? “I... There’s not much to say, truly.” In a bit of a panic, Nora shot the duchess a frantic look. The older woman narrowed her eyes and gave a tiny shake of her head.
The secret needed to remain.
“It doesn’t matter.” With a grin, she pulled her along the corridor ahead of the duchess. “By the by, that gown looks better on you than it ever did on me. It makes me happy it’s having a second life. You should always wear bright, vivid colors as you are now. Maroon is especially nice for your skin tone.”
“Thank you.” Heat slapped her cheeks, for she didn’t care to find herself singled out. In that, she had an affinity with Lord Hollingsworth.
A pleasant half hour passed in genteel conversation with Lady Lettice and the duchess. Once the men joined them, the drawing room rang with the sounds of their laughter and good-natured teasing. Someone suggested cards while someone else put forth dancing. Nora didn’t wish to do either. Instead, she wished only to observe the Ivy family.
In particular, Lord Hollingsworth. Though not brazenly handsome as Lord Bonham or outgoing and dominant as his twin, there was a certain charm and appeal about him that spoke to her soul. His height and lean form made him a striking figure; the cut of his clothing emphasized his shoulders and lean torso. When he laughed at something Lord Bonham said, the baritone sound of it tugged at her chest and sent tiny tingles into her belly. It was nonsensical to be so affected by a man in such a manner, but she couldn’t deny that glimmering connection which had sprung between them in the portrait gallery. If she concentrated hard, she could still feel the brief brush of his lips on her cheek from where he’d kissed her.
She clenched her hands in her lap as she continued to watch him joke about with his brothers. In their company, he seemed at ease more than at dinner. Why? Did he consider dinner a formal affair? There was nothing wrong with him that familiarity couldn’t fix. He merely needed to put himself into situations where he’d excel. Once he had confidence in himself, there’d be no stopping him. Certainly, he’d make a splash in society if that were what he wished.
“A moment, if you please, Griffin.” The duchess drifted over to his location, and soon their heads were together as they held a whispered conversation.
Lady Lettice uttered a cry of joy and sprang up from the low sofa where she’d been seated next to Nora. Seconds later she caught Lucy in her arms as the child flew into the room, followed at a more sedate pace by a young nursery maid by the name of Abigail. “Oh, you silly monkey! I’m glad you’ve come to say goodnight. Mama missed you at dinner.”
It was sweet how the two interacted together. Nora smiled but looked away, only to discover Lord Hollingsworth had finished his conversation with the duchess. He accepted a snifter of brandy from his twin, plucked a glass of madeira from a silver tray a footman offered, and then drifted over to her sofa. “Hello again, Miss Ridley.” He held out the glass. “Would you care for a bit of a tipple?” Oh, that voice! It sent a thrill down her spine.
“I suppose that would be nice.” When their fingers brushed at the hand off, gooseflesh raced over her skin. “Although, I’m not one to indulge in such things.”
“Neither am I, but I’m of a mind for some old-fashioned Dutch courage now that the family is gathered together into one place.” When he smiled, the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled and amusement danced in his rich brown depths.
“You needn’t rely on alcohol for courage, Lord Hollingsworth. It’s banked deep inside you this whole time, waiting to be summoned.”
“I appreciate that.” He took a sip of his brandy while she did the same with her drink. Subtle hints of walnut and coffee mixed on her tongue from the fortified wine. “That colors suits you, Miss Ridley. Brings life into your cheeks.”
“Oh?” With her free hand, she smoothed her fingers along the maroon taffeta. It was cool against her skin, and she rather liked the sound the fabric made when she moved. Never had she worn anything quite so fine. “Thank you. It is rather cheerful.”
“Yes, quite.” He glanced away. Acute embarrassment lined his face. Poor thing. He truly had no idea how to converse once away from his brothers. “They say the weather has been cold enough that some of the more shallow ponds have frozen over.” When he swung his regard back to her, she caught her breath. “Might you find an interest in skating during the week?”
Her heartbeat accelerated. “I’m afraid that’s not something I’ve ever attempted.”
“Not even as a child?” One of his dark brown eyebrows rose in question.
“No. We lived on the outskirts of London, and coin was tight.” She shrugged. Let him wonder at her past, for it had been sordid enough to live through. “Once, I was given a carriage ride with a friend through Hyde Park and was able to watch people skate on the Serpentine.”
“I... er, that is to say I would enjoy it ever so much if you’d let me teach you how during the house party,” he said in a rush, as if offering to put himself into the company of a stranger were foreign to him.
Perhaps it was.
“You see,” he continued in a hushed voice, “I’m quite adept at it.” The grin he offered was on the shaky side. “It’s the one sport I’m not an abject failure at.”
The honesty in his expression tugged at her chest. How endearing this man was! “All right, then. If we can find skating blades, I’d be game to learn.”
“Excellent!” Relief chased away the anxiety, and he took a gulp of his brandy, which caused his eyes to tear.
Nora tamped on the need to smile lest he think she made jest of him. “Yes, well, contain your enthusiasm, for I’m quite certain I shall fall more than remain upright.” Yet the thought of being caught in his arms sent another wave of gooseflesh over her arms. What would that feel like, being briefly held by a man? She gave into a shiver.
Drat, but I should have run upstairs for a shawl.
“We’ve all done that a time or two before we had the hang of it.”
“Miss Ridley!” The shout in the duke’s sonorous voice, made her startle. “I need my evening tincture this instant.”
All conversation came to a halt as everyone glanced her way with varying degrees of concern etched upon their faces. Heat filled her cheeks. “It’s not time for that dose, Your Grace.”
“I think I know when I take the vile stuff, young woman.” He gestured with a hand from his place in one of the chairs by the fireplace. “Now, go! I want it, this instant.” Never had he been quite so demanding of her, which made her again question the solidity of his mind.
Quickly, she scrambled to her feet and rested her glass of wine on a small table nearby. “At once, Your Grace. I’ll just run up to your suite and grab the supplies.”
“Good. Good.” The duke waved his hand again. “Take Griffin with you. The corridors are dark this time of night.”
“That’s not necessary, Your Grace.” Nora snorted with amusement at his overprotectiveness. “I’m quite capable—”
“Do it, girl. I don’t want you falling down the stairs or tripping over a rug.”
Lord Bonham interjected. “I can escort Miss Ridley.”
“No, no. Griffin can suffice. He’s right there,” the duke countered and rested his hawk-like gaze on her.
“All right. Don’t work yourself into a tither, Your Grace.” She glanced at Lord Hollingsworth and shrugged. The duke had never had a care about that before.
He leaned toward her and said into her ear, “Humor the old boy. He’s not long for the world.”
“Actually, he’s...” When she instinctually tried to correct him, she caught the duke’s eye. With slight movement, he shook his head. She sighed. “Fine.” Obviously, the ducal pair didn’t wish to discuss the duke’s health openly with the family... or even at all.
Why the devil not?
As she and Lord Hollingsworth made their way through the castle, the candlelight in wall lanterns made the trip romantic and magical. Her companion of the moment didn’t seem inclined to talk, so she enjoyed his company. In such close proximity, his unique scent teased her nose. The hints of citrus and sage suited his personality, not overblown like some other shaving soaps a man could choose. When she couldn’t stand the silence any longer, she asked, “Are you looking forward to the Christmastide festivities your parents have planned?”
He grunted. “Not particularly. Undoubtedly, I’ll be a target. Unmarried and about to assume a dukedom are powerful aphrodisiacs.” Bitterness clung to his voice. “Are you?”
A ping of sadness shot through her chest. “I am not.” They’d reached the private ducal sitting room, and she darted inside.
“Why? You seem the sort who enjoys the festive season.”
Which drove home the point that he knew her not at all. She shook her head. “I shouldn’t bore you with the details of my life.”
“You’ve helped me. Why not let me do the same for you? Listening, I mean.”
“I’m not sure...” Yet the need to tell someone about why she didn’t enjoy Christmastide grew strong.
“Come with me.” He led her to one of the low sofas in the elegantly appointed room, and when he gestured, she sat.
A tremble moved down her spine as he seated himself, entirely too close to her if she were honest. His look of expectation hastened her words. “Christmastide makes me remember the less than happy occasions.” Nora laid her hands in her lap. While shadows danced in the flickering candlelight, she met his gaze. “My mother suffered from depression, negative thoughts, some said mental hysteria, as if that would explain it. I can’t tell you why she did, but no amount of talking, herbs, outings, or remedies could keep her from the darkness.” Even though it had years since she lost her mother, her voice caught. A wash of quick tears sprang into her eyes.
“You needn’t continue if you don’t wish it.” Lord Hollingsworth touched her hand, lingered over it for a few seconds, and then covered it with his.
“It’s all right.” She liked that connection, the slight weight of his hand on hers, the way he rubbed the pad of his thumb over her knuckles. It made her feel understood, wanted even for a moment. “Perhaps I need to talk about it.”
“You have my discretion.”
“Thank you.” She ignored the feeling of butterfly wings brushing through the insides of her belly from his ongoing touch. “On Christmas morning seven years ago, I went in to wake her, to give her the coffee she looked forward to all year but only indulged in during this time, but I found her dead.” Sadness tugged at her chest, opening doors she’d rather stay closed. “My mother had ingested belladonna leaves in a tea, probably the night before.”
“Dear God. I’m so sorry.” Shock reflected in his eyes. “Did she leave a note, last words?”
“Unfortunately no, but I knew depression took her.” A tear fell to Nora’s cheek. She left it to roll down and plop onto her hand. “She’d never made peace with the death of my father a few years before that. He succumbed to a bad bout of pneumonia.”
“Your mother’s death was what made you wish to become an apothecary.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes. I was curious as to how belladonna worked on one’s body, or even how she’d obtained it.” Nora shrugged. At this point that part of her life didn’t matter. “Burying her took the remainder of our blunt. I was out of options and devastated by grief. Without the coin to pay the rent, I lost our house.”
“Is that when you came to work for my father?”
She took a shuddering breath. “Almost. I went to work with a local apothecary in the village who offered the use of a tiny room above his shop. I remained there for about a year learning the trade, reading everything I could find that related to medicine or how to practice the craft.” Her gaze fell to her hand where his still rested. “Eventually, your mother’s lady’s maid came in for a tincture or powder for recurring headaches.”
“Oh yes, I remember. Mother suffered from them quite regularly until you began treating her.”
“I enjoy helping people.” Once more, she raised her gaze and met his. The compassion and understanding in those coffee-hued eyes stole her breath. “I delivered the powder to your parents’ townhouse in London. Then the duchess wished to meet me. We talked and she discovered my dire situation.” Nora shrugged. Another tear fell. “Yes, I’m extremely grateful to the duke and duchess. Without them, I shudder to think what would have become of me.” A self-depreciating laugh left her throat. “I’m too long in the tooth and too plain besides to make a good living as a lightskirt, and not high enough on the instep to be part of the demimonde.”
Oh, dear, whatever will he think of me now?
“You are so much better than that, Miss Ridley, so please don’t put a negative connotation on yourself,” he defended with a fair amount of strength in his voice. “As for your looks...” He roved his gaze up and down her person and she felt that heat as if he’d caressed her. “There is nothing wrong with them. You’re quite... superior to many women I’ve known, and you have this certain way of grinning that practically lights a room.”
“Oh, my.” Heat infused her cheeks, whether from embarrassment or pleasure, she couldn’t say. “Thank you, Lord Hollingsworth.”
“Please, call me Griffin. After this, I rather think we’re forming an intimate friendship that doesn’t need titles.”
It certainly closed the societal gap between them somewhat. “All right... Griffin.” How lovely that word felt on her lips! “You may refer to me as Nora.”
“What a splendid name.” When he grinned, another thrill went down her spine. He was certainly charming in an understated way.
She wiped at her teary eyes. “In any event, this season isn’t my favorite because of sad memories.”
“Then we must make happier ones for you to remember instead.” He squeezed her fingers.
“How?” She leaned toward him, couldn’t help herself. The heat of him, his tempting scent that wrapped around her, the soothing register of his voice all worked to draw her closer.
Griffin slowly bent into her personal space with his gaze focused on her lips. “Join me during the familial festivities. Then I won’t be alone and anxious, but you won’t be either. And as I said, there will be ice skating.”
Nora gasped. “You wish to have a friend for Christmastide?”
“Well, yes. It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?” He tightened his hold on her hand.
“It does indeed,” she said in a choked voice. The intensity in his eyes worked at her undoing. What would it feel like to be kissed by this man? “I’d rather like having a friend.” The words were breathless.
“Good.” He didn’t move; neither did she.
She waited, her heartbeat racing, her breath stalled. Dear heavens, will he kiss me? Yet, he didn’t make the overture, and eventually it grew awkward sitting there staring at him. “Well, I must go.” Nora stirred lest she fall into those eyes and never want to leave from his kindness and attentiveness. What a ninny she’d become, merely because a man was nice to her for a handful of moments. “I need to retrieve the tincture for your father. No doubt he’s blustering about my absence.”
“Of course.” Griffin sprang to his feet when she rose. “I’m sorry, again, about your mother. Life isn’t fair at times.”
“No, it’s not.” Cold disappointment slunk through her chest, for she’d wanted that kiss. “I look forward to seeing if you can change my views on Christmastide.” She ducked her head to hide her flaming cheeks or the desperation that was no doubt reflected in her eyes. “If you want, you can return to the drawing room. I’m quite certain I’ll be fine in the halls.”
“Papa’s correct. They are quite dark, even with the candlelight.” He flashed a grin that almost smacked of cheeky had he been anyone else. “I’ll wait for you. I’m a gentleman, and you deserve the kindness.”
“I appreciate that.” Nora smiled softly as she went into the bedchamber to procure the tincture from her work bag. Yes, he was that, and perhaps having a friend for the holidays would be nice indeed, and perhaps for one tiny moment she could pretend he might want her for more than that.