Lord Philip's Christmas (Regency Belles &Beaux Book 2) Page 16

  “How can I help you?”

  “I intended to leave Benson here with her for protection. She doesn’t want to leave and I have agreed not to send her away unless Brussels is actually threatened. Benson has instructions to take her to England in the event that fortune turns against us, but he would prefer to come with me. He’s a good soldier and I would be happy to keep him by my side. If you could stay here with Alice until we know the outcome of this campaign, that would greatly relieve my mind. If anything happens to me, Alice will find it easier to be with you and Grace than with anyone else. If not, we can all go home together.”

  The fine June day was warm and sunny when the new Earl of Kirkmore stepped out of the hotel with his sister and his bride-to-be. He was about to rejoin the society he had fled from so many years earlier. A transformation had taken place and tailors had worked through the night to alter some of Edward’s garments to fit him. From the top of his hat to his shining shoes Philip was now a picture of perfection. The travellers’ smelly clothes had been given away and a story concocted to account for their arrival in such a state. A stirring tale of a carriage accident, robbers and a narrow escape was circulated amongst the servants and seemed to be accepted. Not that anyone appeared to be interested, with all the exciting things that were taking place outside the city.

  True to his word, Edward had ridden out early that morning to find his regiment. Benson rode beside him, looking relieved, or so Philip thought. Clearly, staying behind at the hotel had not been his preference. Alice was surprisingly calm although she betrayed her nervousness by quick speech and a restlessness she could not disguise from her brother. So, when she seized on the notion of taking Philip and Grace to visit the few acquaintances she had made in Brussels, he did not try to dissuade her.

  “We must establish you in your new personality,” she insisted. “If we are open now, Philip, you are far more likely to be accepted than if you keep away from everyone.”

  He agreed, thinking that going visiting would at least take her mind off what was happening to Edward. So, they strolled along the streets, called at several houses and lunched at one of the smaller cafes near to the Grand Place. Here Alice was hailed with acclaim and begged to join a party of other English people who were discussing the latest news. Philip was introduced by his new title which raised no eyebrows and was accepted without comment since he accompanied his sister.

  “They say that Bonaparte has left Paris already. We’ll see some fighting now, I’m sure,” one man said.

  “He may not come in this direction,” another disagreed.

  “Nonsense. This is where the armies are gathering. He’ll either stay in France to defend the country or attack us here. If he makes no move, Wellington is certain to lead an invasion south. Don’t you agree?” he shot the question at Philip who replied without thought,

  “He’ll attack, that’s his way. The Emperor is not known for fighting defensive wars.”

  “You almost sound as if you admire him.”

  “I do.” Philip heard Grace give a little gasp at his side and several people frowned. “In many ways he’s a genius especially on the battlefield, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want him stopped. We’ve been fighting the French all my life. It’s time there was peace.”

  “That monster is coming here?” the wife of the first speaker asked nervously and, when Philip nodded, she turned to her husband.

  “Shouldn’t we leave for the coast directly, before he comes? There are the children to be thought about, after all.”

  “Don’t worry, Sarah. No need yet. We’re bound to find out when things start happening. Time enough then if we have to go.”

  As they were walking back to the hotel, Alice said,

  “You really shouldn’t praise Bonaparte, Philip. People did not like to hear you say what you did. Such views draw attention to you, which is dangerous when you can’t explain why you hold them.”

  “I agree with Alice, Philip,” Grace murmured. “Some of them looked at you askance and no doubt will remember you and your remarks.”

  He looked at her and noticed that she was paler than usual. “I’m sorry. I spoke carelessly. You’re right, but I have spent the last years running away, hiding myself and my thoughts in another country. I would like to express my views occasionally.”

  “Not here, not now!”

  “Perhaps not. Since it worries you both, I will be more discreet in future.”

  That evening, Alice had been invited to dine with a Mr. and Mrs. Gibson. They were some sort of distant relations of hers, who had embarked on a Grand Tour of Europe. She did not want to go before she had news of her husband, but Grace persuaded her to do so.

  “If Edward has been accepted back into his regiment, he can’t possibly return to Brussels tonight. He must be very busy at the camp. I’ll tell one of the lackeys to bring you word if he returns or sends you a note. If you stay with us here, you’ll only worry and I’m sure there is no need at this moment.”

  So, Alice allowed herself to be persuaded. It was decided that Philip would accompany her, because it was another opportunity for him to establish his credentials. Grace had a headache and, on this occasion, wanted to remain behind. The evening was not a great success. The dinner was excellent and the rubbers of whist an interesting challenge since there were several excellent players among the company. Unfortunately, the talk was all about the coming war, and Alice became prey to her fears once again. She found it very hard to hide her feeling under a mask of good manners. Eventually, when she managed to snatch a moment alone with him, she begged Philip to take her home.

  “Of course. Do you have a headache too?” he asked. “You look as if you do.”

  “I really cannot bear it any more. All they talk about is war.”

  They made their excuses and returned to the hotel where Madeleine took charge of her mistress, bathed her face with lavender water and put her to bed. Grace had already retired but Philip sat up in the salon. He was restless and found it hard to concentrate on the novel he was attempting to read. A sudden noise caused him to toss the book aside and look out of the window. A single horseman was clattering up the street. By the light of the lanterns by the door of the hotel, Philip could see that he was in uniform.

  “What’s happening?” Both Alice and Grace came out of their rooms and stood behind him.

  “A rider making a dashed lot of noise, that’s all,” he replied with a shrug, closing the window.

  “What sort of rider?” Alice asked.

  “Couldn’t see. It was too dark,” he lied. “Go back to sleep, both of you. When Edward comes, Alice, he won’t want to see you with black circles under your eyes and looking like a ghost. I’ll wake you if anything happens, I promise.”

  Alice left him but Grace remained. They sat beside each other for a long time holding hands and saying nothing, content just to be together. Then, at last, Philip said,

  “My dear, tomorrow I have to make arrangements to get you and Alice out of Brussels and to the coast. The longer I put it off, the more difficult it will be. I can’t stand the thought that you might be in danger.”

  He kissed her and she returned his kisses until he murmured,

  “We must stop now or we’ll anticipate our wedding night. Leave me, my love, while I can still ask you to go.”

  Grace left but Philip did not immediately seek his own room. He sat nodding in a chair, staring into the embers of the fire, trying to order his thoughts. He wanted to marry Grace before anything happened to prevent it. Then he would have the right to protect her. Would it be possible for them to wed in Brussels? She might prefer all the pomp and ceremony of a big society wedding, of course, and to be properly introduced to the Ton. Then he smiled. A woman who had ventured into a foetid prison was unlikely to insist on pomp. From the kisses she had given him tonight, he thought that she, too, would not want to wait much longer.

  Tomorrow he would make the necessary arrangements and then he would ask her. Brussels
was safe enough for the present, although it would not remain so for long. He would also fulfil his promise to Edward and find a way to remove Alice, if danger threatened. Sleep claimed him unexpectedly and nothing further disturbed him until the sunlight found the uncurtained window and fell across his face.

  “Do either of you need me this morning?” Philip asked at breakfast. “If not, I have some business of my own to do.”

  “Is your business very secret?” Alice smiled.

  “Not at all. If I am to play the part of the Earl of Kirkmore properly, I must call on the ambassador and tell him that I am here. That is the usual procedure when visiting a foreign country as you know. If I do not, he may wonder why and ask awkward questions that are best avoided.”

  “Edward and I met him the day we arrived. Sir Charles Stuart was the ambassador to Spain when the army was fighting there. They say he’s a favourite of Wellington’s, who has asked for him to be sent to France when his time here is finished.”

  “What’s he like?”

  “Pleasant enough, as you would expect from a man in his position, but shrewd for all that. He told me that he had been at school with Papa but that I favoured my mother.”

  “Which you do, thank God.” Philip laughed. “I intend to ask him to make me a loan against the estate. The dibs are beginning to run low.”

  “Edward and I have money.”

  “You may, little sister, but who knows how much we will need in the future? I have to be prepared.” He smiled to himself. He had another question for the ambassador, but it was one he would only tell them about if he received the answer he wanted.

  Philip called at the ornate house of the British Ambassador overlooking the park. He asked rather diffidently for Sir Charles Stuart, explaining that, due to his carriage accident, he did not have any visiting cards to send up to him. He thought he might be refused but the lackey bowed and requested him to wait, saying that he would inform his master. Philip was not kept kicking his heels for long. A middle-aged man wearing a rather elaborate uniform arrived. He looked hard at Philip and said,

  “Yes, yes, Kirkmore? One of his sons? I was expecting your father when your name was brought to me, I’d forgotten for a moment that your sister told me about his death. Such sad news. My condolences, my boy.”

  “Thank you, sir. I am his second son. My elder brother also died last year.”

  “Dear me, two deaths only a few months apart. You resemble your father, young man, now that I look at you. I remember him well and he had not changed much when I saw him last. We were boys together, you know, it seems such a short time ago. He was younger than me, of course, and full of mischief. Always getting into trouble with the masters. I’m sorry to hear of his passing and your brother’s. Please give my sympathy to your mother.”

  “Certainly, sir,” Philip replied trying hard to reconcile the thought of a youngster ‘full of mischief’ with the dour parent he had known all his life.

  “What can I do for you, my boy?” Sir Charles asked.

  “I came to register my presence with you, sir. I’m staying with my sister Alice until my brother-in-law returns. He has recently rejoined his regiment.”

  “They called upon me a day or two ago. Good man, Edward Maitland. Not a soldier yourself?”

  “I never had the chance, sir.”

  “Going to join?”

  “Perhaps, if I can make arrangements for my present responsibilities. On that subject, sir, I wonder if you could help me...?”

  Chapter Twenty

  An hour later, with funds in his pocket, information and the address of a bishop who was currently visiting Brussels, Philip left Sir Charles. He walked north towards the Bassin des Barques, where the barges moored. Sir Charles had recommended them as the best way to convey the two ladies safely to the coast.

  “In Spain, the roads were always clogged with refugees during the fighting. Men and women, children, wagons, livestock, a whole town on the move. It was very difficult to get through. The country here is different, of course. No mountains and they have all these canals going in every direction. If I were you, I’d make enquiries there and book a passage on one of the barges for the ladies. They’re slow but they’re easily overlooked. A carriage or riders are more likely to be halted and questioned, if the French are out. Not that you will need to leave. Wellington will stop Bonaparte, you mark my words.”

  “I’m sure you’re right, sir, but I believe it’s necessary to be prudent and make provision for the unexpected. I shall enquire. My thanks for your help.”

  The barge captain, Janssen, was a tall weather-beaten man of about Philip’s own age. He was loading a cargo of grain which he intended taking to the coast in a few days’ time. He agreed to put off his journey and wait for his passengers, provided that Philip paid half the fare in advance. Philip concluded the bargain and gave him the fee he asked.

  Content to have made arrangements in case of emergency, Philip next fulfilled the hope that was dearest to his heart. He found the bishop staying at the house of a Lady Morton. He sent in his name by a supercilious butler who would have refused him if he had not handed him the note Sir Charles had thoughtfully provided. The bishop was a bluff, hearty man who looked as if he would be more at home in the hunting saddle than in the pulpit. He listened to Philip politely and enquired as to the age and circumstances of the bride. Then he wrote out the special licence which allowed a couple to marry without banns being read for the usual three weeks. Philip left him with good wishes ringing in his ears and the address of a local Protestant church where the ceremony could be performed.

  His missions complete, he hurried back to the hotel, intending to speak to Grace alone. This intention was doomed to frustration though, because, when he entered the salon, he found Benson talking to the two ladies, who had just risen from their luncheon. He brought a message to Alice. She was holding the much-crossed letter as if it was a serpent. She jumped up as soon as Philip came into the room and thrust it at him.

  “Edward has written me a letter but I can’t read it and neither can Grace. You try.”

  Obediently Philip scanned the missive but realised his sister’s difficulty. The writing was cramped and the paper was crumpled. He spread it out on the table and studied it.

  “He says he is well. How is he really, Benson?”

  “Pleased to be back with his old friends, my lord. When we arrived, the colonel took one look at Sir Edward and accepted him on the spot. Then I was sent hither and thither collecting horses and borrowing a spare uniform from the other officers. You’ll remember Lord Summerfield, my lady?” Alice nodded. “The master is sharing quarters with him.”

  “Has anything been heard of the French?” Alice asked.

  “Not that I know of, my lady. There are a lot of skirmishers out and we’ll be ready for Boney when he comes, never fear. Perhaps the master’s letter will tell you more.”

  “I’ll read it directly. Are you able to wait for a reply or do you have to go straight back?”

  “The master told me to take my time, as nothing was likely to happen before I returned.”

  “Then Philip, please see that Benson has something to eat and then help me read my letter.”

  Philip took Benson to the dining room of the hotel, ordered food and sat with him.

  “What more can you tell me, Benson, now that my sister is not here?”

  “Not much more, my lord, except that everyone is uneasy, expecting things to happen soon. They say that Boney is already on the banks of the Lys on his way here, but rumour may be wrong.”

  “Sir Edward asked me to make arrangements to take Lady Alice away if the battle goes against us. I’ve booked a passage for her on one of the canal barges which the ambassador recommended as the best means of travel.”

  “Clever of him. The roads aren’t good here, for all they’re flatter, and they are certain to become crowded.”

  “Tell Edward please, although I hope that it won’t be necessary.”


  “We all hope that, my lord.”

  Philip left him then and returned to the salon. Alice was sitting looking out of the window, the opened letter and a sealed one lying before her on the table. She smiled when she saw her brother and exclaimed,

  “Between us, Grace and I have managed to decipher most of it. Edward must have been in a great hurry, because usually his writing is very clear. He tells me that no action is expected for several days and that he is perfectly well, so I am not to worry. I have written to find out if we may drive to the camp to visit him.”

  “That’s good news and I’m glad. Benson has been telling me much the same thing.”

  “I expect you asked him all sorts of difficult questions which you would not do before me?”

  Philip grinned. “I did, but the answers were as I have told you.”

  It took Philip a little while before he managed to speak to Grace on her own, but when he did so he said,

  “My darling, after last night, I can’t wait any longer for you to become my wife. Tell me, would it grieve you very much to forgo a splendid wedding in London or in Yorkshire and marry me right away?”

  Grace gave a crow of delight. “Do you mean it? Here? Now?”

  “Yes, if you do not dislike the thought.”

  She took his hand and smiled up at him. “I don’t dislike it at all. I’ve never had the chance to care about splendour or to be the centre of all eyes. Now is not the time to start and I’m sure it would embarrass me dreadfully. I told you I’m not the sort of person for you to choose as your countess as doubtless everyone will say.”

  He bent down and kissed her lips which were invitingly near.

  “I don’t care what others say. You’re exactly the type of female to be my countess. I wish for no other. I hoped you would agree. So, I have taken the liberty of calling on a bishop and obtaining a special licence which allows us to be wed without waiting for the banns. The local vicar will marry us as soon as you say the word.”