Snowflakes and Scandals

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Penelope’s mouth momentarily dropped open as Eleanor smoothed her skirts and tried to stop her heart from racing. He’d come.

Were his ears burning?

“Of course, Joseph. Show him up.” The ladies busied themselves with tidying hair and gowns. Too soon, she heard his booted steps on the stairs. As he entered the room, her body lit up like it always did when in his presence, which wasn’t often enough.

“Eleanor—oh, apologies. I didn’t realize you had company. Good afternoon, Lady Penelope. I hope you are both well?”

Eleanor’s dried mouth almost made her voice squeak out. “We are both well, Ambrose. It’s a surprise to see you. Lillian is upstairs and settled in. Is anything the matter?”

He pulled a doll from under his coat. “Lillian left her doll at home and I thought she might miss her. Would you see she gets it?”

“That’s so thoughtful. Harry’s toys do not stretch to dolls. Would you like to sit. I’m sure Joseph can see to your drink.”

He seemed to hesitate, but then smiled and nodded. “A brandy if you have one.”

Once settle she noted his discomfort and asked, “Is there something else you wished to ask?”

He leaned forward. “I was hoping, if it’s not too much of an imposition, and you haven’t already made plans, if you and Harry would consider having Christmas day with Lillian and I.”

Penelope choked on her tea.

Eleanor ignore the coughing and smiled. “I had hoped to spend Christmas with Harry at home this year, but I’m sure he would approve of spending it with you and Lillian.” At Ambrose’s puzzled frown, she added, “Usually Lord Redington requests he attend Christmas with his family.”

“Crikey. That wouldn’t be much fun.” Then he realized what he’d said and his cheeks took on a lovely pink tinge. Penelope laughed.

“We would love to attend. May I bring something? Perhaps my cook’s famous Christmas pudding?”

“That would be lovely, but let me check with my cook. I don’t want a war breaking out.”

“So your house party is finishing…?”

Again, his face heated. “Oh, it will be well over by then. It's only for three days and you'll be pleased to know that I will be done with it after that. Hence why I thought I’d thank you for having Lillian each year without censure.”

She looked him directly in the eye. “I’m sure you have your reasons for whatever you do. However, it is good that you are moving on. Lillian is growing up.” Just then, the door flew open and Harry and Lillian arrived.

“Papa,” Lillian squealed and ran across the room to embrace her father. “What are you doing here?”

“Hello, poppet. I brought Lady Farah for you. You left her in my study. I thought she might be lonely without you.” He drew out a doll dressed in the latest Regency fashions.

“You are the best papa in the world,” and she cuddled Lady Farah to her chest.

Harry walked shyly to the Duke’s side. “Dolls are for girls, but I let Lillian play with my toy soldiers because mother says I should share.” Harry’s eyes filled with awe as he looked at the Duke. Her heart tightened in her chest as she admitted her son didn’t have a father figure to admire. Obviously, he liked Lillian’s father. The fact he was a duke also added to the allure.

“I have a room filled with toy soldiers. When you come over on Christmas day, I’ll show you. Would you like that?”

“I would, Your Grace,” Harry said, his eyes alight with eagerness. He turned to his mother. “Does this mean we will spend Christmas here?” And he began dancing around the room, clapping.

“Harry. Please stop that behavior and yes, we will spend the holidays here. His Grace has asked us to spend Christmas day with Lillian at their house, if you would like?”

Harry turned to stone as he slowly looked at His Grace. “Yes, please.” And Lillian squealed with delight and ran to hug Harry.

“It will be the best Christmas ever,” the little girl whispered loudly enough for all to hear.

“That’s settled then.” The Duke rose to his feet. “I must be off. I have—things to attend to.” He pressed a kiss to Lillian’s head. “Be good. I shall expect you home on Friday.” He bowed. “Ladies.” And then he left.

The room remained silent for several seconds before Penelope said, “Well, I never. Here’s your chance. We must attend the modiste immediately.”

“Chance for what, mother?”

“Nothing, Harry. Lady Penelope is being silly.”

“I like that you’re coming for Christmas day. I think my papa is lonely.” Lillian went to Eleanor and lay her hand on her sleeve. “Why don’t you marry Papa, because Harry says you’re lonely, too?”

“Out of the mouth of babes,” Penelope said smugly.

Eleanor ignored the wild beating of her heart and the hope these words instilled in her. She stood up and held out a hand to each child. “I think it’s time for an early super and then off to bed with you both.” She smiled at Penelope, who was about to say more and beat her to it. “I’ll take them skating in the park tomorrow morning. You could bring Simon and Tiffany, then let’s meet at Madam Truex’s at one?”

“The children would enjoy that.” Penelope’s smile couldn’t get any bigger. “And I’ll suggest a dinner party for next Sunday night. This is going to be fun,” and she pressed a kiss to Eleanor’s face as she left the room.

What’s going to be fun?” Harry and Lillian asked together.

“I expect Lady Penelope meant skating tomorrow in the park. We haven’t seen Simon or Tiffany for quite some time.” Penelope’s boy was two years older than Harry, but a nice boy. Tiffany was the same age, and she knew Lillian, too.

“That will be fun,” Lillian said as they walked beside her into the dining room. “They might be able to help us with our plan,” she whispered to Harry, who promptly shushed her to be quiet.

“What plan would that be?” Eleanor asked them both. Two sets of eyes, trying to look as innocent as they could but failing badly, stared back at her.

“We were thinking of a Christmas surprise for you, that’s all.”

She squeezed Harry’s hand. “Just having you at home for Christmas with me is all I need.” When Harry swung into her arms and hugged her tightly, it made everything all right with the world.

As Ambrose departed from Eleanor's company, the taste of brandy still lingering on his tongue, he thanked God that he’d had the courage to approach her all those years ago. He remembered the quiet, dignified woman from back then. Recently widowed, she had been stuck in a loveless marriage to a man as dull as dishwater. He rather thought her lucky that her husband had died before he’d killed her with boredom.

Still, to this day, he didn’t know why he’d placed his one-year-old daughter in her care. Maybe it was because her son was the same age and he’d learned what a wonderful mother she was from his staff. The houses, being across from each other, and he a duke and his neighbor a marquess, the staff gossiped between the households each trying to outdo the other. His butler, Mr. Simmons and her butler Joseph, were cousins.

He just knew he’d not have survived the first Christmas without Cassandra, unless he held a party to distract him and to chase away the pain of her desertion. So, he’d held this licentious house party, using drink and morally loose woman to keep him sane.

And it worked. He kept up the tradition for six long years, but now that he had his divorce, it was time to face his responsibilities and forget a woman who caused him nothing but pain, and forge happier memories, especially now Lillian was growing up.

He knew he needed to remarry and beget his heir. It sounded so simple. He was a handsome, wealthy duke, still in his prime. It should be easy to select a wife. There would be no shortage of women eager to be his duchess, even with the rumors that he had driven Cassandra to run. Which he hadn’t. He’d never loved a woman more and never had Cassandra been less worthy of such a love.

He would never allow a beautiful face and clever wit to fool him again. No. He would look for a demure young lady. The trouble was that he felt scared. Scared of being made a fool of again. Scared of having his heart crushed, too.

Not if he kept it safe and made a marriage of convenience.

His mind wandered to the two women who had unwittingly captured his thoughts—his faithless ex-wife, Cassandra and the dutiful Eleanor. Each represented a different facet of his tumultuous life, a stark contrast between past and present, love and betrayal.

Perhaps his choice might be closer to home than he expected. Eleanor, the woman who had shown him kindness and understanding in his grief, without censure. He saw in her a reflection of his pain. Loneliness and disappointment that life hadn’t turned out how they both expected.

Cassandra had been his muse, his confidante, his everything. And yet, her betrayal had left him wounded, adrift in a sea of uncertainty. Eleanor, on the other hand, offered him a sense of stability, a glimpse of hope amidst the wreckage of his shattered dreams. He wouldn’t have to risk his heart because, while he liked her, she didn’t evoke feelings of devotion or love. Eleanor was a sensible, dignified woman who would never have left her child behind. From the rumors circulating, and from what Mr. Simmons informed him, she put up with Redington for the love of her son. So very different from his wife.

And though he dared not speak the words aloud, he couldn't shake the feeling that Eleanor held the key to his salvation—a beacon of hope in his world of darkness. With her by his side, perhaps he could find the courage to face his demons, to confront the pain that had plagued him for so long and live out a happy, contented life.

Pain he found was better off buried, never to see the light of day again. His divorce helped him throw the last shovel of dirt on the coffin of his marriage. A flicker of hope ignited within him—Eleanor would be a sensible choice as his next wife. Lillian adored her and he liked Harry. They might help each other. He could shelter her from the obnoxious Redington and give Harry a father figure he obviously wanted.

For the first time in six years, he just wanted his annual ‘let’s forget Cassandra’ party over with.

The next day brought a cold, crisp morning filled with sunshine. Harry and Lillian dressed up warmly and with their skates in hand, the small party comprising two grooms, both nannies and Eleanor, descended on Hyde Park. The brief carriage ride saw them snuggle under warm blankets and Eleanor was pleased to have her muff to keep her gloved hands warm.

Surprisingly, quite a few carriages lined the road around the lake. The Serpentine had frozen over and many had the same idea, and were out enjoying the sunshine on the ice.

She could see Penelope and her children were already on the ice, and as Eleanor guided Harry and Lillian onto the frozen surface of the Serpentine, she couldn't help but marvel at the sight before her. The vast expanse of ice stretched out beneath the wintry sky, adorned with skaters of all ages gliding gracefully across its surface. Harry and Lillian, their faces flushed with excitement, eagerly joined the throng, their laughter ringing out like musical notes in the crisp air.

Observing the children's antics, Eleanor couldn't shake the feeling that they were up to something. There was a mischievous sparkle in their eyes, a secret shared between them she couldn't quite decipher. But she dismissed the notion, chalking it up to the thrill of the moment and the excitement of Christmas.

Perhaps they were thinking of presents. She already had Harry’s present. It was a small pony. It was being kept at Penelope’s stables and they would collect it on Christmas eve. A part of her wished she didn’t have to be the one to teach her son to ride, that his father should be here. But she wasn’t sure his father would have enjoyed the task. However, she wasn’t about to take Harry’s joy away by letting Redington do it. She would teach her son.

Or perhaps she could ask Ambrose. He owed her a favor. After all, she’d looked after his daughter.

As they circled the frozen lake, Eleanor's gaze wandered to the other skaters, lost in their own world of twirls and spins. She watched as couples glided hand in hand, their laughter mingling with the soft whispers of the winter breeze. It was a scene straight out of a storybook—a picture of idyllic happiness frozen in time.

Envy bit at her heart and she wished she had someone to hold her hand and guide her over the ice and through life. Being the person of responsibility was tiring, with no one to support her. Sometimes she wanted a shoulder to lean on. The Duke’s face flashed in her mind. A handsome, large, strong shoulder would be ideal. She shook the image away. Dreams got you nowhere. They simply led to heartache. She needed a realistic plan. A nice, uncomplicated man to marry.

But the only face that she dreamed of was Ambrose’s.

She thought about Penelope’s offer to hold a dinner so she could spend time with His Grace, and while it scared her, she had never looked forward to anything so much in her life.

Lost in her thoughts she didn’t see the large body skating her way and the next moment she found herself falling toward the ice until strong arms wrapped around her and twisted her in the air so that she landed on a firm, human body and not the cold, hard ice. The sound of a large exhale of breath saw her scramble to her feet.

She turned to look down at her savior. Or was it an attacker? It was Ambrose—unexpected and out of place amidst the cheerful chaos of the frozen Serpentine.

Her heart skipped a beat as he lay winded on the ice. “Are you hurt?” she asked as she went to her knees beside him. She pushed his fringe off his face.

He shook his head, still trying to gather his breath, obviously winded from the impact. A small crowd gathered and she felt the eyes upon her.

“I say. It’s the Duke of Hampton,” she heard a young lady exclaim.

The next minute, a little girl arrived. “Papa, are you hurt?” Lillian asked, fighting back the tears.

Slowly, he rose to his feet and reassured his daughter that there was nothing broken. He even helped Eleanor to stand. Conscious of the crowd, he merely politely told everyone he was fine and herded their party to where Lady Penelope and her children were looking on with concern.

“I’m sorry,” she spluttered. “I was lost in thought and wasn’t looking.”

“No damage done, except to my pride,” he replied, as he hugged his daughter to reassure her.

Lillian looked up at her father, beaming. “You came. I wanted to show you my skating,” and she took off, gliding over the ice like an angel in her hooded pink cape. “Look, Papa?”

“Very good, poppet. Don’t race Harry.” They stood watching the children for a minute before he turned to her and asked, “Are you sure you are unhurt?” he asked Eleanor.

“How could I be? You took the fall. I merely landed on your person. Thank you.”

“Always happy to rescue a damsel in distress,” and he winked before he skated off after his daughter.

She watched him go, her heart warm even though it was a chilly day. She couldn’t help stare at him as he skated.

He wasn’t at his bachelor party.

His presence commanded attention even amidst the throng of skaters. His rugged charm and magnetic aura seemed to envelop her. For a moment, Eleanor found herself rooted to the spot, unable to tear her gaze away from the man who had captured her thoughts. She watched father and daughter skate. She smiled as at one point he picked up Lillian and twirled as if in a dance before placing her back on skates on the ice. Harry followed in their wake, but let father and daughter have fun. Harry flashed a gaze toward her and she could read his face. He wanted a father, too. She should give that to him, but it had to be the right man.

“A very handsome sight, I must confess.” Penelope made her start. Her friend had caught her staring. “I’m surprised to see him here, considering he’s supposed to be holding his party.”

She also felt surprised. Ambrose returned to her side. His expression softened into a warm smile, melting her caution. His eyes, a mesmerizing shade of blue, twinkled with amusement as he greeted her with a nod.

“Eleanor,” he said, his voice a low, velvety rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. “I hope you don't mind the intrusion. Lillian sent me a note, insisting that I come and watch her skate. But I must admit, I find myself rather enjoying the idea of spending time with you as well.”

Eleanor's heart fluttered at his words, her cheeks flushing with a warmth that had nothing to do with the biting cold. She couldn't deny the thrill racing through her veins at the prospect of sharing this moment with Ambrose—the man who was occupying far too much of his thoughts lately.

“Come join me,” and linking her arm with his, he set off at a leisurely pace around the ice.

Eleanor fell into step beside him, her skates gliding effortlessly over the ice as they circled the frozen lake together. As they skated side by side, Eleanor couldn't help but marvel at the ease with which they moved together, as if they were two halves of a whole.

In that fleeting moment, as they carved graceful arcs across the ice, Eleanor felt a sense of peace settle over her—a feeling of belonging that she had never experienced before. Ambrose's hand brushed against hers, sending sparks flying in their wake. Was Penelope right? Could she gain this man’s interest?

As they continued to skate, lost in the moment's magic, Eleanor couldn't help wonder why this man had bothered to come skating at all, when he appeared more interested in her than his daughter.

Their audience must have had the same thought. It took mere moments to ascertain the interest they were generating. All eyes were upon the pair. Given his Grace’s divorce was becoming common knowledge.

“Are you not worried about your guests, Your Grace? Won’t they wonder where you are? Your presence here is creating quite the stir.”

“Ambrose, please. Why this sudden formality? I’ve always been Ambrose to you.” At her question, he shrugged as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “My daughter sent me a note via Joseph asking me to come. She’s never done that before when she’s been staying with you, so I assumed it was important. But she seems to be consumed with her friends and has forgotten all about me.”

She glanced at where the four children skated. Harry and Lillian seemed to laugh and were quite delighted about something. They were both stealing sly glances at the adults, then skating away, laughing. What were these two up to?

They skated for what seemed like hours but must have been mere minutes. Finally, he brought them to a halt beside Lady Penelope. “It was a pleasant interlude. Thank you, Eleanor. If you’ll excuse me, I have guests waiting at home and I shall speak to my daughter before I leave.”

And then he was gone and the sun seemed less warm.

“I don’t think you’ll have to work very hard to gain the man’s interest. He likes you.”

“He has to. I look after his daughter. I’m sure he finds me quite the respectable widow. He came because of Lillian.”

“But he didn’t stay because of Lillian. He skated with you and didn’t care who took notice.”

She couldn’t dispute Penelope’s words. He didn’t seem to care about the gossip their skate around the ice created.

His daughter's act of dragging him to the park for absolutely no reason should have annoyed him. His guests were wondering what he was about. He really didn’t care. This was his last party and his heart just wasn’t in it.

He’d thought he’d need this party more than the others because his divorce had been granted, but after six years, he was tired of feeling betrayed. The best thing to do to get Cassandra’s ghost gone from his life was to move on.

Lillian’s message had made it sound as if she’d fallen through the ice. It hadn’t been a message asking him to watch her skate as she’d suggested, but he didn’t let Eleanor know that.

But as soon as he’d arrived near the skating ice, he’d slowed his galloping steed upon spying his daughter laughing and skating as if she’d had not a care in the world.

He had an inkling of what this daughter was up to. She’d hinted a few times that she’d like a mother and that Lady Eleanor would be her choice. That made him suddenly take notice of his helpful neighbor.

He needed an heir, and the thought of another love match made him want to cast up his innards. His second marriage would be done like any sort of transaction—with a clear head, a list of pros and cons and finally the most important—a woman who would love his daughter.

It was no surprise that Lady Eleanor, a most sensible and obliging lady, was on top of his list. As a widower, she would likely be more sensible, as she understood what to expect in a marriage. Respect, friendship, children and society.

She wasn’t a stunning beauty, but then he was wary of that. She was pretty, refined and, above all else, kind. There wasn’t a malicious bone in her body. Her understanding of his need to submerge his pain each December was a testament to that. Although it was clear that she thought the parties had gone on too long and Eleanor was correct—Lillian was growing fast and soon would be of an age to ask questions he didn’t want to answer.

A smile lit his face on the ride home. He and his daughter were of the same mind. Now he just had to hope Eleanor saw the benefit of becoming his duchess. Lord Redington was the key to his persuasion. Redington would have no grounds for maintaining guardianship if Eleanor married him.

Yes, she would find his offer very advantageous.