O Night Divine A Holiday Collection of Spirited Christmas Tales - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,61

his grandfather was lonely? He could just imagine her, an aged widow perhaps, with nothing better to do than poke her nose into other people’s affairs.

He dropped the letter onto the table and sat glowering into space. His grandfather had cut him out of his will, the unentailed part, and refused to speak to him for a year, and as far as Hugh could see, that was not about to change. If the earl was lonely, then all he had to do was write. He had refused to listen to Hugh’s explanation of what happened up at Oxford, and instead took the matter out of Hugh’s hands, as if he were still in short trousers. Well, he wasn’t about to go rushing down there. Not just to appease some woman his grandfather had probably insulted at church after she’d tried to inveigle him into supporting one of her charitable causes.

As a servant poured his coffee, he dug into the eggs and bacon. Chewing, he thought about the day ahead. Then he turned to the rest of the week. Nothing on the social calendar except dinner at his club with Gordon Manion. Couldn’t go to a boxing bout, and riding in the park didn’t appeal. Christmas was a time to be with family, no question. Surely his grandfather wouldn’t toss him out until Boxing Day, at least. He wasn’t that unkind. Hugh called his valet.

“Burns, pack a valise. I’m going to Kent for Christmas.”

“Shall I accompany you, my lord?”

“No. I’ll get the stage. Visit your family,” Hugh said, slightly guilty at not having suggested it before this.

Burns grimaced. “Yes, my lord.”

Chapter Two

Alice was a little uneasy. Gerald sometimes showed a careless disregard for proprietaries, but Marian was very strict. She would not have approved of the letter.

Every afternoon for the next four days, Alice climbed the wall and talked to the earl as he strolled about with Leo.

She suspected Lord Hawkinge enjoyed their chats. Alice certainly did. He came over to the wall, and they discussed all manner of things. His recounting of his time in India enthralled her. Several days later, Alice asked him again if she might call on him.

“Only if you get permission from Belfies,” he said.

“I shall.”

Alice knew better than to ask Marian. She went directly to Gerald and gained his approval. “A social call on the old fellow? Why not indeed,” he said without glancing up from his newspaper.

The following afternoon, carrying a box of Cook’s excellent mince pies and a Christmas cake, Alice knocked on the earl’s front door. She had picked a branch of holly on the way.

An aged butler in somber black admitted her and announced her in the drawing room. The room was so shadowed with the long windows covered with the heavy claret velvet curtains, that she didn’t see his lordship until he rose from his wing chair.

“Good afternoon, Lady Alice. What have you there?”

“Mince pies and Christmas cake.”

“Some time since I’ve had Christmas cake,” he said with one of his sad smiles.

He summoned a footman and sent the food to the kitchen.

Alice arranged the holly on the marble mantel. Above it hung a portrait of a pretty lady. “Is that the countess?”

“Yes. Elizabeth,” he said, his voice somber. “Gone ten years now.”

“How sad.”

“Time passes.” He gestured to the oyster velvet sofa.

Alice sat and arranged her skirts around her. “Is there a reason for the curtains to be closed?”

“I prefer it that way,” he said, looking mulish.

“I suppose one’s eyes…as one gets older…”

“My sight is perfect,” he blustered.

“It’s a lovely day outside,” Alice remarked as a footman brought in the tea tray.

“Open the curtains, William,” the earl said.

Sunlight spilled into the room, alighting on a glass case filled with delicate flies, lures fashioned for trout fishing. Alice rose to study them. “Did you make these?”

“Used to be a hobby in my salad days,” he said. “Come and drink your tea before it cools.”

While they enjoyed the cake, a knock came at the door, and the butler stepped in.

“Lord Gifford, milord.”

The cup rattled in the earl’s hands, and he hastily returned it to the table. “What? Hugh is here?”

“How are you, Grandfather?” A tall, broad-shouldered gentleman followed the butler into the room, carrying a parcel. He cast a careful eye over his grandfather. “You seem fit enough. I brought you some of that marmalade you like from Fortnum and Mason’s.”

Alice caught her breath when his eyes, much like the earl’s, found her and widened. A smile appeared deep in those blue depths,