“So they did fight.”
“Not yet.”
“What do you mean?”
“They’re going to fight at dawn tomorrow. John Claud challenged Fitz to a duel.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!”
“It’s true. John Claud asked me to be his second.”
“You may be an expert with a rifle, but you don’t know anything about pistols.”
“It’s to be rapiers,” he explained.
“Sword fights went out in the last century, you dolt.”
“No, they didn’t, Anne. The three of us attend fencing classes together. Tempers get pretty hot sometimes. John Claud and Fitz have been sparring over you all summer. They are going to fight it out at dawn.”
“Where?” she demanded.
“The Round Pond in Kensington Gardens.”
“Idiot boys! They must be stopped.”
“I tried to talk sense into John Claud, but it’s gone too far. Neither of them will back down.”
“I shall go to Kensington Gardens and stop the fools,” she said decisively.
“Your presence would make it worse. It would be like throwing oil on flames. If you were there to watch, their rivalry would intensify and their pride of manhood would demand satisfaction.”
“Well, someone must stop them. I shall go to John Claud’s father.”
“You can’t tell Abercorn. Think of the shame it would bring to John Claud to be forbidden by his father. It would make him feel like a child!”
“Think of the guilt that I’ll feel if either of them wounds the other. You’d better get over to Hampden House and talk some sense into him.”
“I’ll try, Anne. That’s all I can promise.”
She walked to the top of the stairs with him and watched him descend, but the moment he closed the front door, she knew that her brother would fail to deter the dominant John Claud. I’ll go and tell Lady Lu what her son is up to. She will soon put a stop to his nonsense!
Anne hurried to her mother’s sitting room. “Montagu and I are going round to the Hamiltons’.”
“Have a lovely evening, darling. Say hello to Her Grace for me.”
The minute Anne stepped out onto the pavement of Grosvenor Square, her steps faltered. Telling John Claud’s mother would be worse than telling his father. It would reduce him to a naughty little boy.
She thought of James and knew immediately that if anyone could dissuade John Claud from his recklessness, it was his older brother. Frances said he was going to Brussels. Instinctively, she shied away from an encounter with James. He’s not going until September. It’s only the end of August—he won’t have sailed yet.
Anne knew it would take courage to go to Lord Hamilton’s town house in White Horse Street and ask him to intervene. Her reticence had nothing to do with the impropriety of visiting a bachelor alone, at night. She didn’t give a fig for proper rules of behavior. It was the thought of going to him as a supplicant that was distasteful.
Since the shame of being a coward was far worse than swallowing her pride, Anne stiffened her backbone and walked briskly toward Hanover Square, where she knew there was a hansom cab stand.
• • •
Anne’s pulse began to race when the cab turned off Piccadilly onto White Horse Street, and stopped in front of the Georgian house on the corner. She stepped out and spoke to the driver. “Would you be good enough to wait for me?”
The cabman touched his cap and Anne walked up to the door and lifted the brass knocker. After three taps the door was opened by a male servant.
“I’m here to see Lord Hamilton,” she said breathlessly.
He opened the door wide. “May I tell his lordship who’s calling, mistress?”
The servant, who had an Irish accent, gave her a knowing glance, and she was suddenly reluctant to give him her name. “I . . . I’d rather tell him myself.”
He rolled his eyes. “Have a seat, while I see if himself is free.”
James was in the library. He looked up from his desk. “Who is it, Grady?”
“Mrs. Currant Bread with a toffee on her head.”
James laughed and stood up. “You irreverent sod. I take it it’s a lady.”
“Do ye know any ladies, m’lord?”
“Very few, thank God! You may show her up and make yourself scarce.”
“Don’t I always, m’lord?”
James followed Grady from the library, and went into the drawing room to await his visitor. When he saw who his guest was, his eyes widened with surprised pleasure. “Anne! You finally came. My precious beauty, I am absolutely delighted.” He strode to the doorway where she stood tentatively and ushered her into the room.
Her mouth was dry and her heart was beating wildly at the sight of him. She licked her lips. “My lord . . . James . . . you won’t be delighted when you know why I came.”
She looked so forlorn he wanted to enfold her in his arms. He resisted the impulse, took her hands, and searched her face. “Something’s wrong. Tell me.” He could feel her hands quiver. “Come and sit down.”
He led her to a comfortable sofa and moved across the room to pour her a glass of claret. He handed it to her and sat in a leather chair facing her. “Drink up.”
Anne had two good swallows, then took a deep breath. “This will sound utterly preposterous. I want you to stop a duel.”
“A duel?”
“John Claud has challenged Fitz . . . Henry Fitzmaurice to a sword fight at dawn tomorrow. Montagu said they are meeting at the Round Pond in Kensington Gardens.
“I sent my brother to Hampden House to talk some sense into him, but John Claud is far too dominant and determined to listen to Montagu.”
James felt a pang of resentment that the two young men obviously fancied themselves in love with Anne. Yet he was the one she had come to for help.
“How did it start? Were you there when they quarreled?”
“After church, your sister and I were riding in the park when John Claud and Montagu arrived. Next thing I knew Fitz Kerry rode up and their rivalry started immediately. Your brother suggested a race, and when Kerry won, John Claud was furious. After I left, Montagu told me that John Claud informed Fitz that he was wasting his time, because he was the man I was going to marry. When Kerry laughed at him, that’s when John Claud challenged him to a duel.”
“You fear that John Claud will be wounded?”
“I would be guilt-ridden if either of them were wounded! I came to you, because I believe you are the only one who can overrule John Claud.”
“You did the right thing, Anne.” His dark eyes caressed her face. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Thank you so much, James. I was afraid you wouldn’t take me seriously.”
He smiled. “John Claud’s a Hamilton. There’s a bit of a mad streak that runs through all of us.” Suddenly, James couldn’t bear to see her leave. “I’ll take you home.”
“I have a hansom cab waiting.” She flushed slightly. “I have no money to pay him.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
They went downstairs and James opened the cab door and helped her inside. He told the driver to take them to Grosvenor Square, then climbed in and took the seat across from Anne.
In the enclosed cab, his compelling presence was overwhelming. They sat in silence until the driver turned off Piccadilly onto Park Lane; then James spoke. “Will you marry John Claud?”
I don’t want to marry him. I want to marry you. “He often talks about marriage, though he has never formally proposed to me. He simply takes it for granted that I will be his wife.”
“And will you be his wife?”
“I don’t know. My parents totally approve of John Claud, but I refuse to let their choice influence my decision. He’s a good friend, and I feel great affection for him, but h
is proprietary attitude exasperates me. Most likely that’s because I have always vowed that I will choose my own husband.”
In the darkness, his mouth curved. “You are a free spirit. You don’t want the man to do the choosing. Yet it’s a man’s world, and most accept that it’s a man’s choice.”
“It certainly was in my father’s case. Mother had no say in the matter, but I intend to have a say. My husband will be my choice.”
When the carriage stopped, James jumped out and held the door open while she alighted. “Good night, Anne. You mustn’t worry, I really will take care of the matter.”
“Thank you, James.”
• • •
When Fitz Kerry left his house in Berkeley Square an hour before dawn, James Hamilton was waiting for him. “Good morning, Lord Kerry. I’m here to save you the trouble of meeting my brother at the Round Pond.”
Kerry’s brows drew together. “Lord Hamilton—did John Claud send you?”
“On behalf of my brother, I offer his apologies. The duel has been called off.”
“Perhaps by you, my lord, but not John Claud. He will be there, and so will I.”
“Do you not realize that if a duel were fought during the mourning period the queen has declared for her beloved Albert, it would bring the wrath of the monarchy down upon your head?”
Kerry raised his chin. “I’m willing to take the risk.”
Fitzmaurice had played his card and James had no option but to trump it. “Lord Kerry, it is considered bad form to accept a challenge from a man of lesser rank. Need I remind you that you are an earl of the realm?”
“Damn and blast!” The wind went out of Kerry’s sails.
James nodded his thanks. “Good day, my lord.”
• • •
Dawn had just begun to lighten the sky when James Hamilton arrived at the Round Pond in Kensington Gardens. He saw his brother was there before him. He watched him remove his jacket and hand it to his friend Montagu. Then James stepped from the shadows. “Good morning.”
“What the devil are you doing here?” John Claud demanded.
“I came to tell you that Fitz Kerry won’t be meeting you.”
“Damned coward!” He lowered the tip of his rapier to the ground. “Too bad the duel has to be called off. I was in the mood for a sword fight.”
“The duel hasn’t been called off. You’ll be fighting me.” James took off his coat, dropped it to the ground, and unsheathed his small sword.
“I’m not going to fight my brother.”
James’s eyes narrowed. “You owe me, John Claud.” He brought the blade to his nose in the traditional salute. “First blood.” He advanced one step. “En garde!”
Both brothers were tall and had a long reach, but James had a skill and quickness that John Claud lacked. As James began to thrust aggressively, his sibling was forced to parry. The blades slid against each other with a slithering, metallic sound, and John Claud retreated a step. He recovered, extended, and lunged. James caught his brother’s blade and knocked it wide. Strong legs moved the men back and forth with agile speed. Then James began to advance, and a panting John Claud faltered for one split second. In a flash, James saw his opening and slid the tip of his rapier across his brother’s forearm. He disengaged immediately as the sleeve of his brother’s shirt turned red with blood.
“Are you satisfied?” John Claud demanded.
“I’ll claim satisfaction when you stop bandying Lady Anne’s name about.” James sheathed his sword, picked up his coat, and departed without a backward glance.
John Claud turned to Montagu. “I never thought Kerry would go sniveling to James.”
Montagu wasn’t sure it was Kerry, but he decided not to confess to his friend that he’d told Anne about the duel. “Why on earth would James take Fitz Kerry’s place?”
John Claud held his wounded arm and winced. “It was an old score my brother decided to settle. I had it coming. But I hope I can trust you to keep your mouth shut about this.”
Chapter Ten
Grosvenor Square
December 1862
L ady Anne stood at the window of her bedchamber watching the snowflakes pile up on her windowsill. She was in a pensive mood as she drew the drapes, then sat down at her desk and opened her journal. She turned the pages back to September and reread her entries for the last four months. She had only briefly mentioned the quarrel between her rivals, and that she had gone to James Hamilton to prevent John Claud from dueling, but she remembered every moment of her visit to White Horse Street. He had seemed so delighted to see her that she had hoped James’s attraction would be rekindled, but her hopes had been dashed. She had not seen or heard from him since that night.
She saw that John Claud’s name was on almost every page. She admitted that though she hadn’t encouraged him to court her, she hadn’t discouraged him either. Because of her friendship with Frances and John Claud, she spent a considerable amount of time at Hampden House. So much, in fact, that the Hamiltons now spoke freely in front of her, as if she were one of the family. Anne sighed. Unfortunately, John Claud takes it for granted that I will be one of the family.
Anne dipped her pen in the inkwell and wrote: Because of the imposed mourning for the late prince consort, there has been no winter Season, nor will there be a glittering, festive Christmas to look forward to. There is to be a dull family Christmas dinner that I dread because Emily will make disparaging comments about everything from my mother’s social skills to my choice of gown.
Anne scribbled one dreary sentence after another, and when she reread her words she suddenly began to laugh. “Hell’s teeth, I’m filling the pages with gloom and doom!” Her mood lightened. “At the Christmas dinner I shall give Emily something to gnash her teeth about. I shall wear my white velvet gown with the brilliant crystal beads on the bodice. She will be wearing some dreadful funereal color that Queen Victoria insists upon. When she sees me, I hope it makes her swallow her bloody tongue!”
Anne redipped her pen and wrote: There is a pent-up feeling of anticipation building. Everyone is so sick and tired of this dreary year of mourning. Once the year is over and 1863 is ushered in, Society will go mad and kick over the traces. There will be so many balls, entertainments, and weddings to celebrate that there won’t be enough nights in the week to accommodate them all. The restaurants and theaters will be packed, and the fashions will change overnight.
The most exciting thing of all is that London will celebrate the nuptials of the Prince and Princess of Wales. Nothing has been announced yet, but Frances told me in confidence that when James returned from Brussels, he assured the family that Prince Teddy was formally betrothed to Princess Alexandra and she will be brought to England for a wedding in the spring. After they are married, they will take up residence at Marlborough House. Frances and I speculate that the newlyweds will eclipse Queen Victoria’s influence, and they will become the leaders of fashionable Society. Hallelujah, I cannot wait!
Anne turned out her lamp and got into bed. About an hour after she drifted into sleep, she began to dream.
She was standing at the entrance to St. George’s Chapel at Windsor Castle. She was wearing her white velvet dress, whose bodice was encrusted with glittering crystals, but the gown now boasted a long train. On her head Anne was wearing a magnificent jeweled crown, and she suddenly realized she was a princess.
Her father took her arm and began to lead her down the aisle. Her bridegroom, who was wearing a kilt, awaited her at the altar, and her heart lifted with joy when she saw that it was His Royal Highness Prince James.
The archbishop of Canterbury said, “Princess Anne, your gown is most elegant.”
She smiled. “Thank you. I designed it myself.”
The archbishop performed the royal nuptials, and the prince and princess exchanged their wedding vows.
“I now pr
onounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Prince James lifted her veil and smiled into her eyes. “That’s better. Now I can see your beautiful face and your glorious hair.”
He drew her close, and as he bent his head toward her, she closed her eyes and opened her lips in invitation. When his mouth touched hers, her eyelashes fluttered, and she whispered his name with longing. “James.”
Anne raised her lashes and gazed into a pair of fierce eyes. “You’re not James!”
“Indeed I am not. I am your husband, John Claud Hamilton.”
“But I married James!” she protested.
“James is not the marrying kind. First sons are notorious rakehells. James is profligate.”
Anne felt as if her heart were being crushed inside her breast. Then her sorrow turned to red-hot anger. She raised her hand and slapped John Claud’s face; then she turned to the archbishop of Canterbury and slapped him too. “The marriage isn’t legal. I was only masquerading as a Russian princess!”
• • •
The hour was late when James Hamilton arrived at his town house in White Horse Street. He had spent Christmas Eve with his family at Hampden House. It had been a madhouse of overexcited children, not only his three young brothers, but his sister Harry’s three boys, and his sister Beatrix’s twins, plus her three other male offspring.
When his sisters had told him in no uncertain terms that it was time he married and produced an heir of his own, he had jested that spending the day with ten hooligans, all under the age of nine, had put him off siring children for a lifetime.
“Don’t hold your breath waiting for James to take a wife. I shall be the next one married,” John Claud had announced to the entire family.
As James lit his bedside lamp, he cursed Fate that both he and his brother desired Lady Anne Howe. He picked up the glass snow globe he had bought in Belgium, and turned it upside down to make it snow. Inside the globe was a horse-drawn sleigh that held a female figure wearing a fur hat and coat. When James had seen it in the shop in Brussels, he knew he had to have it.
He sat gazing into the tiny winter scene as the snowflakes settled about the lady in the sleigh, and suddenly he wanted Anne to have it. Impulsively, he searched for the globe’s original box and found it in a desk drawer. He wrapped it up and wrote on the package: Happy Christmas, Lady Anne. Then he summoned Grady, asked him to deliver it to Grosvenor Square in the morning, and gave him a generous Christmas bonus.