Aunt Gertrude's Red Hot Christmas Beau: Christmas Belles Read online

  “My darling, you are lovely and I want you as you are!”

  “Everything I have is faded, Harlow.”

  “Not your humor…or your sass.”

  “Not just faded…but…but falling! My chin!” She put her hands beneath her jaw and pushed upward.

  He groaned. “You can still smile and turn my world to sunshine.“

  “You are not listening. What about my knees?” She hoisted the hem of her chemise to show him.

  He chuckled. “You can still spread them and make my day complete.”

  She shrieked and ran a hand through her hair. She would have run from him but he grasped her arm.

  “My love, listen to me—” He moved closer to her and cupped her heavy breasts. She sighed, her eyes falling closed as he rubbed her marvelous large nipples. “I love these.“

  “Oh, Harlow.” Her own knees gave way and he caught her to him.

  “Darling,” he said as he vowed never to let her out of bed tonight or tomorrow, “I think it’s time, now that your nipples are hardening at my caress, that you call me by my first name.”

  “What? What?” She looked dazed. And beautifully craven. “Your name?”

  “George,” he crooned and bent to take her muslin-covered nipple in his mouth. My god, she was warm heaven.

  “George, George.” Her nails dug into his coat. “You are—”

  “So lovely, my sweet. Your breasts—”

  “Are balloons!”

  He caught a laugh. “Pillows, clouds of delight, I love your balloons.”

  “Oh, Harlow. I mean…George. They have lost their bounce!”

  “I don’t need to toss coins on them, my dear. I want them as they are, hard and pleading for more of my lips.”

  She swooned, her face aflame. “You are so very, very perfect. Did you know?”

  “For you? I am anything you wish of me, Trudy.”

  “But I’m not young any longer.”

  “Nor am I. And for me, you are just right. Look at me. I am six years older than you. On me, the only thing that isn’t falling is the iron rod between my legs.”

  She broke apart laughing with him.

  He loved that they could find such joy together. He couldn’t let that slip away because she thought she must look like a twenty-year-old for him. “Oh, Trudy. My darling woman. Can I not enjoy your balloons? Your knees? Your thighs? After all, if you will please come to bed now, I will be very happy to prove to you that love is possible between us and that it can be strong and wild and true.”

  Gertrude heard the hall clock chime two as George let her go and she slipped to her side of the bed.

  She’d thrilled to his every movement, just as she welcomed his attentions. But soon he’d leave. Return north. And when would she see him again? In Margate if they happened there by chance again? She loathed that idea. A summer rendezvous seemed so casual, too carefree. And what she felt for him—respect and honor and desire—was no young woman’s infatuation. It was more. So much more. But he would not want it. Why would he? He was a duke. His wife had been the daughter of one. She herself was a countess and a widow and a woman of good social standing, but she was not of his ilk. He was far above her touch and she must take this for what it was. Had been. Could be no other than. A brief escapade.

  A little affair.

  He rose on one elbow to look down at her, then combed strands of her hair from her cheek. “What do you think of us, eh?”

  “Astonishing,” she said with very wide eyes, pretending her thoughts were not sad but gay and lively. “I had no idea I could still do that. Twice in a row, too.”

  He guffawed. “Your two to my one.”

  She winked at him. “I’ll let you even the score.”

  He pinched her hip. “You damn well better. I have a hunger for you now.”

  “Ohhhh.” She threaded her fingers through the silver hair at his temple, then let her hand wander to that part of him she’d so enjoyed. She was acting so risqué but she loved him and she wanted to be natural with him. And free. “Well, I must say that I have a new appreciation for the strength of the duchy of Harlow.”

  He choked on his laughter.

  She puckered her lips, a coy look a girl decades younger would use to tease a lover. “I’d say the duchy possesses commendable length and breadth, Your Grace.”

  “Keep your hand there, my lady, and I will be ready to demonstrate it once again.”

  “Yes, please do,” she whispered, eager for him in a shockingly delightful way.

  Breathless, they came together, surged, sighed and clung.

  The hall clock struck the half hour.

  George rose on his elbow once more, said, “Look at me, please. Trudy, why not make this joy permanent? Become my duchess, my darling.”

  Chapter 9

  George stood beside her in the small church in the Lanes as the vicar delivered the final words of the wedding ceremony of her niece, Delphine to Neville Vaughan, Viscount Bromley. Delphine was the third and last of her nieces to marry in as many days and Gertrude was gratified that all of her house guests and many of her neighbors attended all three weddings. Del’s sisters, Marjorie and Belinda stood as witnesses for their youngest sibling. Their husbands stood as witnesses for their friend Bromley.

  The six of them at the altar turned for the happy regards of the congregation.

  George leaned close to whisper his approval. “They make for you a very large and handsome family.”

  Smiling in agreement, she caught his gaze. He was a sweet and gentle man beneath the shell of his hauteur. No finer proof of that was his acceptance of her words in response to his proposal of marriage.

  “George, I’m honored and hardly know what to say.” Shock had rolled through her that morning.

  “Say you will marry me, my dear. I love you.”

  Her love, at her age, was not that raw madness of youth but the gentler admiration mixed with a passion that surprised her. “I love you, too. But can you be sure?”

  “I don’t jump into this lightly. But my visit here has shown me you are the woman I would like to have beside me as we march into our dotage.”

  “Romantic words,” she said and rolled her eyes.

  “Fitting to our age, I’d say. But I do love your verve, Gertrude. Your devotion to your family. Your fondness for your friends.”

  “My magpie friends?”

  At once, he demurred, then said, “I think you use your knowledge to the good.”

  “I try.”

  “Excellent.” He had laughed. “What is your answer?”

  “Let me think on it, will you, for the next few days? I wish to wish to close this house party with good wishes to my guests. To pay proper thanks to my servants who worked throughout the holiday. And I want to reflect on how I might make such a transition.”

  He had agreed with a broad smile.

  As they filed out of the church after the wedding into the snow-covered yard, she had to grin at the goings-on amid her household. This was the last day of the party and it had been an affair to remember. Not only had her nieces found loving spouses, but George had come to her for the party and had now proposed. His son Theo, as she had come to think of him, had rekindled the relationship with the one woman he’d loved in his youth. She and George had no word from Theo or Lady Goddard about the resolution of their meeting, but they hoped the two would come to an understanding. If that were not enough, wedding fever had become contagious. One maid in Gertrude’s service had asked to leave to marry, though she said not to whom. Gertrude also suspected that her own butler, Simms, was about to announce his own tendre for someone—dare she speculate?—among her house guests! What his affections meant for his future, she had no idea. But the prospect of so many romances having culminated at her own Christmas party filled her with joy and brought a smile to her lips.

  As they climbed into George’s traveling coach for the ride back to her house, she predicted he would ask her for her answer. She had one. She ho
ped he’d accept it. And she clasped her fingers together inside her fur muff in dread that a man like the Duke of Harlow might not find her decision acceptable.

  He followed her into her small parlor, his nerves as raw as if he were twenty again and in pursuit of his first love. Waiting until Simms had closed the door upon them, he clasped his hands behind his back and peered out the window to the broad street. Few pedestrians or vehicles passed. The snow, only a few inches thick, impeded heavy traffic. Plus so many stayed at home, celebrating the holidays in the comfort of warm fires.

  Trudy took to pouring tea. “I’ve added one sugar, George. As you like it.”

  He thanked her but did not move to sit beside her. “Do you think Theo and Lady Goddard are still at that inn?”

  “I hope so. I’d hate to learn they ventured onward separately without some agreement between them.”

  “I hope that he’s successful with her and when he announces they will marry that you and I have the opportunity to attend. I enjoyed these three weddings. Immensely.”

  “I’m glad. Come join me here, won’t you?”

  He strolled over and sat beside her on the settee. He had to tell her his newest ideas. “I’ve decided that over the next year I will make a few changes to my life.”

  She handed him his cup and saucer and concern flickered in her gaze. “Such as?”

  “I’d like more time to myself.”

  “Oh.” She stared down at her tea table. “A fine idea.”

  If she was worried he’d withdraw his proposal she was wrong. He hurried to explain. “For over four decades, I’ve worked diligently on our lands and frankly, I’d like a respite. I’ve a fondness for art of the sixteenth century, discovered its richness on my Grand Tour and I wish to create a collection of the best paintings. Sculpture, perhaps as well. In the interest of that, I thought that I might hand over portions of the management to Theo. Bit by bit, nothing too daunting at once. After all, he has his own estate to manage.”

  She nodded. “This way, he’ll become acquainted with the challenges in a measured way. A sound idea, George.”

  “And now that we have peace in Europe, travel for pleasure is possible. I’d like to return to Venice. A lovely city so different from our northern climes.”

  “So I’ve heard,” she said and offered up a plate of tiny pastries.

  He waved them off. “Would you like to go?” Say yes.

  She gave him a whole-hearted grin. “I would.”

  “With me?”

  “Oh, yes,” she told him with fervor in her words and in her lovely sea blue eyes.

  “As my wife, I do hope?”

  She made a funny face at him. “Not as anyone less than that.”

  “Are you agreeing to become my duchess?” He could hardly believe it. After three days of her indecision, he’d been reduced to the dreadful worries of a young swain.

  She put her tea down and faced him fully. “I am. If you will allow me a few stipulations.”

  He sat back, relieved and ready for her requirements. He had to laugh that she would be so bold as to want things from him. “A new hat or two?” he joked.

  “One to go with my wedding gown.”

  “Consider it done. What else?”

  “I’d like to have some time to come to terms with the fact that I would leave here.”

  “I see,” he said with compassion. “This has been your home for most of your life.”

  “This and our London house, yes. I’ve known no others so wonderful.”

  His confidence flagged. And it must have shown on his face because she covered his hand with her own.

  “Griff is married now,” she said, “and this is his rightful home, as well as the Marsden house in London. Even though he is assigned to Wellington with the Occupation Forces, he will return with Marjorie one day soon and they deserve to establish their own household as they wish.”

  “I do agree.”

  “I would hope you’d give me time to say goodbye, if you will, to my life here. I have friends. I belong to a church group I like, a book club whose members I am fond of, and a card group to which I have lost quite a handsome sum over the years.”

  He threw her a questioning look. “You’d like to win your money back?”

  She laughed. “No, no, no. I could wish it! But one thing you must know about me is that I am a terrible gambler. I hardly ever win a penny!”

  “Good you’ve told me. I shall never let you near a game room.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You needn’t bother to restrain me. I won’t try.”

  “What if,” he asked with a great glee and an inspiration, “I bought a house along the beach? Or built one on the Marine Parade? We could come in the summer months and stroll the promenade. Eat fresh fish and ices. Listen to the bands play on the stand. You could lose more money to your card club.”

  She drew back and considered him with surprise and pride. “You would do that? For me?”

  “Why not? That way you needn’t forget your friends and your happy days here. We could visit Griff and Marjorie when and as we wished.”

  She put a hand to his cheek. “I do love you, George. I’m astonished that I am the lucky woman who’s captured you.”

  He dropped a kiss into her palm. “Well, then, my dear lucky woman, only one question remains.”

  “June,” she said with conviction. “In London. At St. George’s, I’d say. With a wedding breakfast afterward.”

  “As if we were young again?”

  “As though we are the lights of London society.”

  “And York,” he added.

  “And Brighton.” She kissed him on the lips.

  “And afterward, I will sweep you away to Venice.”

  “And Rome.”

  He nodded. “Paris.”

  “And home again,” she whispered and kissed him more deeply this time.

  Epilogue

  September 15, 1817

  Venice

  “Tell me what Theo writes,” she begged of George. “If Penn has had that baby and we are not there, I will have broken my promise to her.”

  Her husband removed his spectacles and gazed at her with amusement. “Do not fret. She has not delivered yet. She is very well and writes that she still expects the due date is December. We will be home by then.”

  “Another Christmas baby for our family,” she said at the joyous probability. They’d had so many births to celebrate last year that the two of them had not embarked on this wedding trip until they’d seen the babies safely born. Their combined family was large and growing and the two of them often remarked how fortunate they were.

  “I hate to leave. I know you wanted to stay another month.” Gertrude walked to the wide glass doors to their veranda overlooking the Grand Canal and sighed over the beauty of the city. “But I do want to go home, George. You’ve purchased more works by Canaletto than any Englishman has ever heard of. We’ll have to build another house just to have enough walls to hang them on! And buying Andrea Palladio’s first edition of his architecture book is enough to make you famous.” She turned to face him and let her eyes dance. “How can I persuade you?”

  He put down his letter from his son and strode to her to take her in his arms. “My darling duchess, I know a few things you might do to insist we leave immediately.”

  She closed one eye in jest. “I know what those are, too.”

  “You object?” He feigned dismay because he knew, the rascal, that she would not refuse the invitation to embrace him and make them both quite happy.

  “Never.” She let him lead her to their spacious bedroom where the breezes off the Canal wafted in on the fragrance of sea air and the spicy aromas from the market place.

  In May, they’d left Dover and sailed to Calais. After two weeks in Paris, they’d traveled the Seine south to the Loire to visit with Del and Bromley in their ancient chateau. From there, they’d traveled on the Rhone down to Avignon to Marseille, boarded a ship to Rome and after a week
there, on to Venice. With good wine and marvelous cuisine, they’d celebrated George’s latest birthday, just the two of them.

  But they’d marveled not merely at their good health and their age, but also their large and loving family. Last year in October, Belinda had given birth to one child, a girl. Her sister, Delphine, brought a boy into the world on New Year’s Day. Marjorie and Griff’s first child, a boy and heir to the Marsden earldom, arrived on a snowy day in late March.

  Much to everyone’s surprise, Penn had given birth to Theo’s son and heir in September. Their fears that she might not ever have a child were long since proven false. Now for the second time in her life, the new Marquess of Tain expected a child, due in December.

  “You have distinguished yourself, my dear, for the most successful Christmas house party ever given by any lady now or in the future. By my count,” George said as he ticked off the numbers on his fingers, “we have five new babies in the family from five weddings.”

  “Plus Simms’s marriage to Lady Eliza and their son.” Her butler had shocked them all last year when he announced he would marry the Earl of Leith’s daughter, Lady Eliza. The two of them had set sail for Boston two weeks later. Gertrude’s house on the North Steyne emptied out quickly. By last June when she wed George, her staff had dwindled to three. Those few stayed on to maintain the house until Griff and Marjorie returned from Paris to take over the running of the Hall. “And let’s not forget that one of my maids married Bromley’s valet.”

  He hooted. “A feast worthy of a comedy by Sheridan. He’d title it, ‘Party for Scandal’.”

  She could not suppress her chuckle. “We hear no more of smuggling, either.”

  “Those two rogues faded into oblivion, didn’t they? What were their names?”

  “Hallerton and Carlson.” Smuggling, rampant when the wars against France were waging, was now not so prevalent a crime. The two lords who’d been carted off to jail to account for their actions had been tried by their peers and stripped of their titles and lands. How they survived, if they did, Gertrude had no knowledge. Odd, that. She used to know everything about everyone. Now she had so much to do, she had less time to learn about her neighbors latest news.