Hell Hath Frozen Over Read online

  Thomas shook his head.

  Although several guests had already come down to the salon, the duchess had arrived late. The younger duchess, dressed in a pale pink concoction, greeted the older woman and led her toward a high-backed upholstered chair with all due respect. Thomas chuckled to himself at the duchess’ irritation. With a regal nod, she excused the younger woman to attend to her other guests.

  Likely she’d done the same numerous times during her own reign as Duchess of Prescott.

  The young duchess sent a grimace toward her husband, who then raised his shoulders in a casual shrug. They obviously found themselves at something of a loss as to how to deal with the widow.

  She’d belonged here all her life, and yet now, somehow, she didn’t. Or she didn’t think she did.

  What a horrid lot women had! Even duchesses lacked the independence of a hardworking man.

  “The widow,” a voice sounded near his ear, “no longer takes spirits.” Mrs. Goodnight, one of Cecily’s friends’ mothers had crept up behind him.

  He resented that she’d caught him watching the duchess. He resented even more the gleeful spite he heard in Mrs. Goodnight’s voice.

  “I’ve witnessed many a strong man taken down by spirits.” He spoke non-committally.

  The duchess would not appreciate such gossip. Surprisingly, he didn’t wish for her to think he would stoop so low as to discuss her personal inclinations with such a busybody as this Goodnight woman.

  “Yes. Well.” The woman, who must have at one time been a beauty, grimaced. She’d obviously expected a different response from him.

  Thomas tugged at his cravat, averting his gaze to another cluster of guests.

  His beautiful daughter, Cecily, mingled naturally in the fine salon. And she was happy. Thank God, she had finally found happiness—despite the debacle of a marriage he’d promoted for her to the Earl of Kensington.

  Stephen Nottingham, Cecily’s husband, was watching her as well, a tender expression in his gaze. If Thomas had done nothing in his life, he’d always know he’d raised a fine daughter—and she’d gone on to find happiness.

  “Poor, dear lady,” Mrs. Goodnight’s voice carried that tone which was meant to sound sympathetic, but in truth, veiled insult. “To lose so much at once and then later be dealt such a blow as the child’s uncanny coloring.”

  Thomas blinked. The child’s coloring? What was she nattering on about? Why ever would the child’s coloring be another blow?

  Mrs. Goodnight waved one hand in the air and laughed. “Oh, you men! Never paying attention to the details that matter. Why Little Lady Harriette, you’ve seen her. She’s the spitting image of the duke.”

  Black hair. Black eyes.

  But of course.

  He performed a little mental math and the truth of the child’s paternity dawned on him. Not the spitting image of Lord Harold, the young duchess’ husband at the time of conception. Not the spitting image of the widowed duchess’ son.

  The child was not her granddaughter, merely a great niece. And yes, yes. Something of an insult, he’d imagine.

  A stirring at the door signified new arrivals. The babies, carried by two mop-capped women, had arrived. Little Finn, who already was reaching for his mama, and the other with a thumb in her mouth, looking about for one of her parents. Pride burst within him as he watched Cecily lift the boy high into the air, and he realized at the same time, that the duchess had been denied even this.

  The little girl’s eyes indeed matched those of her father, black as night and her hair nearly the same.

  When his gaze swung to where the duchess sat, he watched her smile tightly. Of course, she loved the child, but… her son…

  Thomas raised his brows at all the ramifications of this epiphany.

  “I think I’d be even more inclined to take spirits, if I say so myself.” Mrs. Goodnight, observant woman that she was, had watched him closely as he’d contemplated her remark. “Darling child, though, she is.”

  “Beautiful baby,” he agreed, wishing to extract himself from this woman’s conversation. A cool hand dropped onto his arm though.

  “Although I can’t say I’d do it again. Raising a child leaves one with little opportunity to pursue one’s own… interests.”

  Upon those words, Thomas realized, he just might be one of those interests to which she referred.

  He must excuse himself before getting caught in this woman’s crosshairs.

  Loretta’s eyes drank in the sight of Sophia and Dev’s precious little girl. She wanted to squeeze and kiss the child without wishing she was Harold’s. She wanted to bury her face in the sweet fragrance of the child’s hair.

  Children signified the future. They signified hope.

  Harold, Lucas, Prescott… they were her past. Why hadn’t they taken her with them?

  She pinched her lips at the thought and turned her head.

  This world belonged to Devlin and Sophia now. Loretta tried to keep herself to the dowager house but Sophia insisted, often coming herself to deliver invitations. To dinner. Brunch. Tea. And what excuses could Loretta use?

  Loretta considered herself something of an imposter.

  Even Mr. Findlay fit into this gathering better than she did. How ironic was that?

  Her gaze flitted across the room to where he stood with Mrs. Goodnight.

  Good Lord, was the woman flirting with him? The imposing man shuffled his feet and lifted one hand to tug at his already loosened cravat. His gaze shifted uncomfortably around the room. He’d never pass for a gentleman. All the money in the world couldn’t purchase enough refinement to repair his manners.

  A shiver swept through her.

  Mrs. Goodnight didn’t seem to take issue with those manners, though. In fact, she seemed quite impressed by him, in general. Or perhaps it was just that she was impressed with the man’s bank account. Loretta had known for years of the Goodnight’s financial woes…

  Mr. Findlay took one step back, and then another, in a subtle attempt to escape the married woman’s attentions. He’d have mercantile beliefs about marriage, no doubt. He’d not understand that wedded couples often found pleasure and comfort outside of their marriage.

  Even Prescott…

  Loretta dropped her attention to her folded hands. She’d never done so herself. She wouldn’t have known where to begin.

  And what, on earth, had caused her to even think such a thought?

  “You ventured out of your hideaway.” Mr. Findlay had made his escape and had apparently chosen to provoke her now. She straightened her spine.

  “I am a sociable person.” She refused to take his bait. Such an aggravating man.

  He chuckled, evoking a strange warmth in her chest. “Of course, you are, Duchess.”

  Sophia glanced across the room upon hearing the title spoken but Loretta shook her head. Sophia was a dear, dear girl and would be a wonderful duchess in her own right. Was a wonderful duchess in her own right, Loretta corrected herself.

  Without permission, Mr. Findlay lowered himself into the chair beside her. Leaning forward, resting his elbows along his knees, he appeared at a loss of words for a moment. “There is a property, an estate located some ten miles south of here. I’m considering purchasing it and would appreciate a woman’s opinion. Would you be up to driving down there with me tomorrow? Cecily had intended upon joining me but it seems the younger set is planning a shopping expedition into town for some last minute Christmas gifts.”

  This was the last thing Loretta expected him to say. A drive? With Thomas Findlay? She’d have laughed outright at the thought less than two years ago. She was likely to laugh at such a thought now.

  Only… there was nothing improper in driving alone with him. She wasn’t a young miss, for heaven’s sake. She was a widow nearing her dotage.

  He was just so… common. Either he’d embarrass her or bore her to tears.

  She turned her head just enough so that she could study his stark profile.

&n
bsp; Yet if she did not go with him, how would she spend her day? Sophia no longer required her assistance in managing the staff or doing anything else for that matter.

  Loretta, quite frankly, had absolutely nothing else to demand her attention.

  “What is the name of the estate?” She knew something of most properties in the area. She’d like to know ahead of time if the adventure would prove to be a waste of time.

  “Talon’s Gate,” he supplied.

  She’d not heard of this one.

  “You wish to purchase it as an investment?” Surely, the man didn’t intend to settle down.

  He smiled a bit self-consciously. “I’m a grandfather now. I need a home where my grandchildren might visit me.”

  “Grandchildren?” He only had one. “Is the Countess…?”

  Mr. Findlay winced. “I’ve not said a word. You heard nothing from me.” And then he covered his eyes with one hand and shook his head. “Cecily will have my hide.”

  Ah, another child.

  “I believe the weather will hold. Will you make the journey with me?” He persisted with his original question.

  Perhaps it would rain tomorrow. Or snow. “If the weather holds.” she nodded. Thick clouds hovered in the distance. Likely, she’d be saved from having to spend several hours in this man’s presence.

  A small cry pierced the sounds of several different conversations in the room. Sophia gently bounced the baby in her arms. “Hush now, darling.” She soothed, patting the top of her daughter’s head. The child scrunched up her face and let out a second cry.

  In a surprising move, Mr. Findlay rose and crossed with arms outstretched. “May I? I’ve learned a particularly affective trick with my grandson.”

  The young mother looked indecisive for a moment but with a reassuring glance from Cecily, handed the child over.

  With Sophia fussing over the long lacey dress, Mr. Findlay turned the baby girl so that she rested her stomach along his arm and proceeded to pat her bum heartily. Surprisingly, the baby stopped fussing.

  Whether he’d simply scared her into silence, or she found the motion soothing, Loretta couldn’t say. But as he paced across the room holding the child thusly, a murmur of approval sounded from more than one of the other guests.

  And then he lowered himself into the seat beside her once again. This time with the baby lying, face down across his lap. He jostled her gently by bouncing one foot.

  Unable to stop herself, Loretta reached over and ran her fingers along the child’s cheek.

  “She is beautiful.” Although not Harold’s child, Loretta had always loved her nephew dearly. Her nephew had spent a great deal of time in their household. He and Justin White had practically been raised as brothers alongside her own two sons. This beautiful baby was Dev’s flesh and blood.

  Mr. Findlay moved to turn the baby upright, tangling the skirts of the ornate gown once again, so that Loretta had to adjust them.

  “Why, in God’s name, would anybody dress a child in something long enough for a fully grown adult?” Mr. Findlay groused as he tried to settle Lady Harriette upright upon his lap.

  “Give her to me.” Loretta demanded, drawing a sardonic lifting of the brow from the annoying man. “And the gown is lovely.”

  She reached across and placed her hands beneath the baby’s arms, inadvertently touching more of Mr. Findlay’s firm chest and arms than she’d anticipated. Such a contrast, the baby’s fragile and tender body, covered in white muslin and lace, against this hard, unfamiliarly muscled man clad in wool and linen.

  As she lowered the child onto her own lap, she purposely inhaled the fresh smell of clean baby in order to erase the scent of bergamot and soap… maleness…

  Loretta had held the child before, on more than one occasion. But she’d not had this busybody of a man watching her so closely. Self-consciousness arose in her, an unfamiliar emotion for a duchess.

  “Bah.” Lady Harriette grasped at the broach pinned at Lorretta’s neck. A solitary diamond, encircled in a bed of delicate silver leaves. It had been a gift from Harold.

  “Does that sparkle?” The child’s gaze remained fixed upon the jewelry while tiny fingers examined the design. Loretta shifted her so that she could reach it more easily.

  “Bah.” The baby announced once again, this time raising her eyes to meet the wearer of such a sharp and sparkly toy.

  Loretta swallowed hard but couldn’t help laughing and smiling back. “Ah, yes, bah. You’re a very smart girl already, aren’t you?”

  “Already enjoying diamonds.” This from Mr. Findlay.

  Loretta laughed again as her gaze met his approving one.

  One of Mrs. Mossant’s younger daughters approached and then lowered herself to her knees to watch the baby. Loretta remembered herself before marrying, and how she’d been drawn to infants almost beyond her own control.

  That had been so very long ago.

  “She’s simply adorable, don’t you think, your grace?” She was quite taken with such innocent sweetness.

  And then the other sister, the youngest, joined them as well. She likely was barely six and ten.

  “She looks just like her papa, doesn’t she?” Seemingly without thought, the words tumbled from the girls mouth.

  And then she glanced toward the duke.

  Conversation stalled and an uncomfortable strain seemed to hover in the room. A strong and warm hand took hold of her arm.

  “And her mother as well. If you look carefully at that stubborn chin, I have to say she got that straight from her grandmother.” And by God, if Mr. Findlay didn’t have the audacity to tap Loretta on the chin three times, drawing laughter from Dev and Sophia.

  The impertinence!

  The urge to chastise him died suddenly, however, when the baby reached up to touch her chin as well. Loretta stared down at Dev’s baby.

  Lady Harriette’s chin did seem a little familiar. And then she laughed outright. Dev was her husband’s brother’s son. She had no blood relation with him at all.

  Mr. Findlay had simply been teasing her, the blighter. When she caught his gaze, she couldn’t help but allow him a tight grin. He’d smoothed over the awkward moment with his outrageous comment.

  Why had he done that?

  Perhaps it wouldn’t rain tomorrow after all. Or snow. What would an entire afternoon be like in the company of a man such as Thomas Findlay? She’d find out soon enough. She just wasn’t sure if she was dreading doing so or anticipating it.

  What was the matter with her?

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Mighty generous, I declare, for a duchess to go driving with one such as he.” Millie merely lifted her chin at Loretta’s disapproving glare. “Well you are a duchess.”

  “And he is a guest,” Loretta reminded her maid for the second time this week. “And he’s asked my opinion. I ought to at least be able to give that. He’s considering purchasing the property. Rather smart of him really, to seek another assessment.”

  “Well he didn’t get filthy rich for no reason, I suppose.” Millie tutted as she added one last pin to her mistress’ hair.

  Loretta gazed back at her reflection, jolted by the dull lavender of her dress, rather than the black to which she had grown accustomed. She wasn’t sure what had prompted her to leave it off today. Perhaps holding the baby yesterday. Perhaps it had been the prospect of being of some value to another human being.

  Or going driving, with a gentleman.

  A handsome gentleman, at that.

  She shivered. All the times she’d dismissed him as uncouth, as ungentlemanly even.

  Likely he’d not notice what she wore. He simply wanted her feminine opinion, in lieu of Cecily’s absence.

  And why would she care if he noticed? She would not!

  “You’ll need your coat and a warm hat. And your muff.”

  Loretta glanced out the window. The same clouds which had hung heavy in the sky for days now remained on the horizon. They’d yet to produce either rain o
r snow.

  The clock on the mantel showed nine o’clock exactly, the time he’d said he wished to leave.

  Loretta wished Millie had taken more time with her hair, or her dress even. She mustn’t appear too eager. She needed to wait another ten minutes or so before going down.

  Because she was not.

  Eager, that was. She was merely prompt.

  She’d already placed any necessary items for the trip into her reticule. Money. Comb. A small vial of perfume, and the small portraits she carried of Lucas and Harold.

  Perhaps she should wear some jewelry. A broach?

  She fumbled through her jewelry box but couldn’t decide on anything specific.

  The clock now read three after.

  “I’ll need my coat now,” she told Millie. She didn’t feel like delaying this morning.

  Thomas jerked his head up when he heard rustling at the top of the ornate staircase. He’d expected to wait longer for her. Up to an hour even. Gratification coursed through him at her timely appearance. Something else sped through his veins when he realized she was not wearing the ever present black.

  Pleasure?

  He’d best not comment upon it. She likely felt self-conscious.

  When she reached the bottom landing, she nodded at him in greeting. Upon first meeting the lady, he’d been annoyed by her aloof gestures. Strangely enough, he appreciated them more lately. He’d begun to see more to her than the arrogance her bearing suggested. It was as though the woman inside of her was fighting to break out. Would she allow it?

  “Duchess.” He grinned back at her serene façade.

  Her cheeks flushed slightly. “Mr. Findlay,” she returned.

  He’d thought to borrow one of the duke’s carriages, but at the last moment decided upon taking his curricle.

  The weather would hold off. It had already done so for several days; why would today be any different?

  Upon stepping outside, the duchess took one look at the high flyer and swung her gaze accusingly toward him.

  He supposed he could have a traveling carriage brought round if she insisted. He’d make her insist, however.