Mistletoe and Kisses Page 4

  “Since you cannot choose between the forest green one and the chocolate brown one, I think we should take both,” he said. He was so close to her that she caught the hint of musk and jasmine. Hugh was wearing the cologne she had given to him.

  She pretended not to look at the price tag of the hat, having already been gently scolded for wincing when she looked at the price of the coat Hugh had chosen for her earlier. He was determined to spoil her, and she knew nothing that she said would have the slightest effect on him completing his mission.

  When they returned to the inn later that afternoon, Mary’s faint hopes of hearing Adelaide censure her brother over his prodigality were immediately dashed.

  “Oh my, aren’t you the kick!” exclaimed Adelaide, her gaze moving up from Mary’s green coat to her matching hat.

  Mary was tempted to pinch Hugh when she saw the sly smile which sat on his lips. He seemed so very pleased with himself. Happiness made him even more handsome.

  “It took the combined efforts of myself and an enthusiastic shop assistant at Butlers to win the day, but I think we all did well. Including Mary,” he said.

  “Yes, you did, and Mary, you look wonderful. I must confess I was going to go through the tall cupboards at the castle and see what spare winter clothes we had so that you would not freeze. It is hard to eat supper when your teeth are continually chattering,” said Adelaide.

  Charles appeared in the room, carrying a smiling Will. Adelaide hurriedly scooped her son up into her arms. “Did your papa rescue you from a long sleep?” she cooed.

  “Actually, we both had a very long sleep. I put him down and went to have a five-minute sieste on the bed; the next thing I knew, it was three hours later,” replied Charles.

  Charles looked at Mary and her new attire, then looked back to his wife. Mary caught the slight raise of an eyebrow as he and Adelaide exchanged a knowing look.

  “Well, that is good. It means you will be able to get up to him in the middle of the night and I might get some sleep,” replied Adelaide.

  Hugh cleared his throat. “Speaking of sleep, I thought we might like to have an early supper this evening so we can be on the road at first light. I have reserved a private dining room.”

  If his efforts at shopping earlier in the day had been a surprise, the fact that Hugh had made arrangements of any sort was a revelation to Mary. He was forever forgetting to eat, so much so that she suspected the toast she regularly made for him in the evenings was the only meal he ate some days.

  The Hugh Radley who now stood beside her was revealing himself to be a different man to the one she had thought she knew over the last two or so years. There was something in his manner that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. It intrigued her.

  She had developed a habit of chancing a look in his direction every so often, continuing her ongoing private study of him. But over the past few days, there had been several occasions when she had turned to Hugh, intent on sneaking a glance, only to find him looking at her.

  Just as he was doing this very moment.

  She forced herself to look away, fearful that if she continued to hold his gaze that he may finally see what she was certain was written all over her face.

  She was hopelessly and irretrievably in love with him.

  Chapter Eight

  Mary had lived a sheltered life. Her knowledge of the world, and even England for that matter, came mostly from books. With her father devoting his time to the university, there had been little opportunity for them to travel outside Cambridge. She had been to London once, but that had been for a series of lectures given by her father, and apart from a short visit to Westminster Abbey, she had seen nothing of the great city.

  The trip to Scotland was proving an eye-opening experience. Edinburgh, with its cobbled streets and imposing castle, had captured her imagination. She made a promise to herself that if she was able to make her work as a tutor a success, she would set aside a little money each week so that at least once a year she could afford to travel outside of Cambridge. She longed to see more of the world.

  She looked around the travel coach. Adelaide and Charles were busy with William. Charles softly singing a French lullaby to his son, while his wife held Will in her arms and stared lovingly at her husband. Mary felt her heart swell as she watched the devoted couple and their baby. From the happy gurgles of Will, it was obvious he enjoyed hearing his father’s dulcet tones.

  Hugh sat beside Mary on the bench. For once he did not have his nose in a book. He was staring out the window, the hint of a smile on his face.

  The coach had turned off the main road not far from Falkirk several hours earlier, and as they made their way along the narrow side road which led to Strathmore Mountain, Mary could see the landscape changing. The wooded Lowlands gave way to sweeping snow-covered meadows framed by towering mountains. The peaks of the mountains were hidden from view by low gray clouds.

  Adelaide handed Will to his father and both she and Hugh pressed their faces to the window of the coach. At one point, they exchanged an excited giggle. Mary sat bemused at the sight, while Charles simply smiled.

  “Walls!” cried Adelaide.

  Hugh snorted. “No! Where?”

  His sister held her finger to the glass. “Between the tallest of those trees. There it is again. I win.”

  Adelaide sat back in her seat and grinned at Hugh. “When will you ever learn? I know the exact point on the road.”

  A less-than-impressed-looking Hugh shook his head. “Alright, you win. Again.”

  He turned his gaze from his sister and looked blankly at Mary. He blinked, and the vague expression on his face changed. He had registered her presence.

  “Come, look,” he said.

  He got up and after Mary had shuffled along the bench and taken a position at the window, Hugh sat down on the other side of her. He pointed to two tall trees which stood in the middle of a nearby wood.

  “There. Can you see the gray walls? Keep watching; it will come into full view any moment now,” he said.

  Mary peered out and she caught sight of a solid patch of gray between the trees. As the coach turned, the wood was left behind. She then got a clear view of what Adelaide and Hugh had been searching for.

  Across the distance of a mile or so, beyond a small village loomed a towering Norman era stronghold. Strathmore Castle, home of the Duke of Strathmore and the Radley family.

  Her mouth dropped open.

  Hugh chuckled, and Adelaide clapped her hands. “Over five hundred years, never been taken,” they chorused.

  She had seen pictures of castles in books, and there were several real ones in the area around Cambridge, but none of them were anything like what Mary now saw. There were no ornate towers or flying buttresses. This was a stone behemoth built to withstand attack from bloodthirsty invaders.

  “That is Strathmore village. Most of the castle servants live in the village and walk up the hill each morning to come to work,” explained Hugh, pointing to the small collection of buildings in front of the castle.

  Mighty though the imposing structure was, Mary’s gaze was now drawn to the mountain beyond the castle. It dominated all that lay before it. Strathmore Mountain rose high into the sky. Its snow-capped shoulders were visible, but its peak was shrouded in thick, menacing cloud.

  Mary shivered, imagining how bitterly cold it would be up on the mountain. She looked back at Hugh. “I now understand why you were so insistent on buying me that fur-lined hat.”

  Hugh’s generous gift of winter clothing would be put to good use during her stay at Strathmore Castle.

  After passing through the village, where the coach slowed down to make way for the local inhabitants on foot, and where Hugh waved out the window to everyone, they crossed over the castle’s heavy wooden drawbridge and through the gateway.

  Adelaide fussed with her hair as the coach entered the courtyard and drew to a halt in front of the main steps of the keep. “How do I look?”

 
Her husband leaned over and placed a kiss on her cheek. “Enchanteur comme toujours,” he murmured.

  Mary felt close to tears. Charles thought his wife enchanting. With such sweet endearments, it was little wonder that a minor nobleman from France had managed to capture the heart of a duke’s daughter.

  The door of the coach was opened by a heavily set gentleman with a long white and gray beard, who poked his head inside. Mary sat back in alarm; he must have been close to seven feet tall. A giant of a man.

  “Wylcome. Well then, who would we be a havin’ here?” he asked.

  Hugh leaned forward. “A son and daughter of the house. Family and friend.”

  The gentleman looked around the carriage and stood for a moment, scratching his beard. “Hmm. I canna sae I know you. The only other son of the house was lost long ago,” he replied.

  Mary cast her gaze from the gentleman to Hugh and back again. She suspected there was some sort of byplay happening, but everyone was keeping a straight face.

  Hugh broke first. “One Christmas. I missed one Christmas—am I never to be forgiven?”

  He launched himself out of the carriage and into the embrace of the huge man, who wrapped him in a bear hug.

  “Lord Hugh? Why, I didn’t recognize ya. The prodigal son has returned!” he cried.

  Charles climbed out next and then helped Adelaide down. She held Will in her arms. At the sight of her, the man-mountain set Hugh aside and bowed low.

  “Wylcome home, Lady Adelaide,” he said.

  Adelaide immediately handed her firstborn over to him. As Will’s eyes settled on the hulking stranger who held him, Mary gripped the door of the carriage. Any moment now she expected the infant to be registering his protest. Instead, he softly gurgled and wrapped his hand as best as he could around one of the man’s thick fingers.

  “So, this is William. He is a fine bairn. He is as hairy as a wild mountain boar!”

  Mary laughed, but her mirth quickly died when the man mountain caught her eye. With Will still safely held in the crook of his arm, he reached out a hand to her. A blushing Mary took it and stepped down into the castle courtyard.

  A murmur rippled through the other castle servants who had gathered over the past minute or so. Mary caught a whispered, “Who is that?”

  It only took a sideways glance from him in the direction of the gathered servants, and they all fell silent.

  “Wylcome to Strathmore Castle,” he said.

  Hugh hurried to Mary’s side. “Master Crowdie, may I present my guest, Miss Mary Gray of Cambridge.”

  Having never met many lords or ladies, Mary was not completely au fait with the rules of noble society, but she knew enough to understand that if Hugh was addressing Master Crowdie in such a manner, then he must be an important man.

  “Mary, Master Crowdie is the steward of Strathmore Castle. Nothing happens within the walls of the castle and the village without his say so,” explained Hugh.

  “Really? And here was I thinking I was in charge.” A tall fair-haired man stepped up to Hugh and slapped him hard on the back.

  Hugh embraced the interloper. “Brother.”

  Ewan Radley, Duke of Strathmore, was dressed exactly how Mary had imagined a Scottish lord would be, right down to the tartan kilt and thick black coat. She recognized the black, gray, and blue of the Strathmore plaid from the scarf which Hugh regularly wore.

  “And you brought a surprise for me—excellent,” said Ewan.

  Mary dipped into her best curtsey as the duke caught her gaze. Her left knee wavered as she rose, and Ewan stepped forward to stop her from toppling over. He held her gaze as well as her arm, and she immediately noticed the similarity between him and Hugh. There was no mistaking that they were brothers.

  “Your grace,” she said.

  “So, you are Miss Gray. I have heard a lot about you over the past few years. May I offer my condolences on the passing of your father.”

  She accepted his kind words with a smile. “Thank you.”

  Ewan then looked to Adelaide. “Unless you have a duke and duchess hidden in your luggage, I take it that Anne and Mowbray will not be joining us for Christmas?”

  Adelaide shook her head. “Don’t get me started on the pair of them. With their constant rows, I am glad that Mowbray threw a tantrum and refused to come. I am certain I would have murdered the pair of them within an hour of us leaving London if they had graced us with their company.”

  Hugh offered Mary his arm and the travel party followed Ewan over to the steps of the keep. Assembled on the steps was a trio of women. All three wore Strathmore tartan sashes over blue woolen gowns.

  The youngest of the women, who Mary guessed was Caroline, the Duchess of Strathmore, was holding a wriggling toddler in her arms. As the arrivals approached, she handed the child over to a nursemaid and headed down the stairs. She greeted her family members with hugs and kisses before fussing over baby Will who had been safely retrieved by his father.

  “It is so good to see you all. I hope the journey north wasn’t too taxing on you,” she said. Her eyes were fixed on Will as she spoke the words.

  “He slept most of the way, for which I am eternally grateful,” replied Adelaide.

  “Wait until he is a toddler. David has almost inexhaustible energy,” replied Caroline.

  When Caroline turned to Hugh, he stepped forward with Mary. At that moment, the other women made their way down to them.

  “Your graces, Lady Maude, may I present Miss Mary Gray of Cambridge. Mary is joining us for Christmas and Hogmanay,” he said.

  The matching smiles which appeared on their faces had Mary suddenly feeling like she was the cream and they were a pounce of cats.

  “Mary. A pleasure to meet you. I am Caroline, Duchess of Strathmore. This is Lady Alison, the Dowager Duchess of Strathmore, and Lady Maude, her sister-in-law.”

  Mary looked down at Caroline’s offered hand. She had never met a duchess before, let alone two. She dipped into another deep curtesy, holding tightly onto Hugh’s hand, and prayed that her legs would not fail her this time.

  “Hugh, you made it,” said Lady Alison.

  Hugh placed a dutiful kiss on his mother’s cheek. “Mama.”

  She snorted. “A whole year away from home and all I get is a peck on the cheek. Unhand your lady friend and give your mother a proper greeting.”

  Mary caught the blush on Hugh’s cheeks as he released her hand and embraced his mother. Lady Maude then stepped up for her hug, followed by Caroline. If he had thought he was going to make an understated return home, the womenfolk of the castle clearly had other ideas.

  Her own soft chortle ended as soon as she saw Lady Alison’s arms held out in greeting to her. “Come now. If you are a friend of my son, you shall also be greeted properly.”

  With no choice but to accept the welcome hugs from Hugh’s female relatives, Mary submitted. Lady Alison’s embrace was a little longer than the others, and the smile which sat on the dowager duchess’s face when they finally parted was enough to give Mary pause.

  Her unwed son had brought a young woman home for Christmas, and Lady Alison had drawn an obvious conclusion.

  As Mary took Hugh’s offered arm once more, and they followed the rest of the Radley family into the castle keep, Mary pondered the prudency of having come to Strathmore Castle. Hugh might be blind to her love for him, but having now met his mother, she doubted that Lady Alison was cursed with the same affliction.

  As Lady Alison glanced back over her shoulder at her son and then to her, Mary wondered how long it would be before the dowager duchess took her aside and began to ask probing questions. From the glint in Lady Alison’s eyes, she deduced it would not be long.

  Chapter Nine

  Mary’s first encounter with having her own maid was a touch awkward. Having gone back to the coach to retrieve her travel bag, she was politely informed that all her things had been brought inside and were waiting for her in her room.

  Her room within the
castle, it transpired, was more of a small apartment than a simple bedroom. It had a separate sitting room as well as two bedrooms. The walls were decorated with wallpaper in the Strathmore tartan. Mary was grateful that the imposing theme did not carry to the plush blue carpet on the floor.

  A maid was busy unwrapping the parcels of clothes that Hugh had bought for Mary in Edinburgh. As soon as she saw the maid untying the string which held the parcels together, Mary hurried over.

  “Oh, please, let me do that. You don’t need to,” she said.

  The maid frowned. “It’s nae bother, miss; this is ma job. I won’t take long. I will hang your things up in the wardrobe and then be leavin’. If you need anything else after that, either pull on the bell here or find a footman. There is always someone about the castle who can help.”

  Mary’s hopes to unwrap the new clothes herself and spend time admiring them were scuttled by her unexpected social status of being an honored guest of the house.

  Making short work of unpacking Mary’s things, the maid hung everything in the oversized oak wardrobe, she then gave a quick bob of a curtsey before leaving.

  With the maid finally gone, a slightly frazzled Mary sat down on the well-appointed sofa which graced her sitting room. The furnishings of the room spoke of an opulent lifestyle she could only imagine living. After pulling off her gloves, she let her fingers touch the soft black leather. With her fingertips barely skimming the surface of the sofa, she lay back and closed her eyes.

  “This is bliss,” she whispered to herself

  A soft tap on the door roused her some time later. Blinking, and wiping sleep from her eyes, she opened it. Hugh was standing on the threshold.

  “Do you have everything you need? Has your maid been in to attend to your garments?” he asked.

  “Yes, I have everything, thank you. But I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do with the maid, do I pay her?” she replied. Her greatest fear was that she would somehow put a foot wrong and have the castle staff think her rude. Was she supposed to tip the staff like porters at a hotel? She had heard that was the proper thing to do. She would leave a coin for the maid next time just to be sure.