Year After Year (Hathaway/Wallflower Next Generation)
Yup, I'm just kind of going crazy today with posting old fic. As I've been getting excited for NaNoWriMo this year, I've been looking over some of what I wrote last year (enormous, sprawling Next Generation fic for Lisa Kleypas's Wallflower & Hathaway series), so I've decided to post some of it here. I'm not going to go nuts with editing or anything, and you must remember that it's NaNo, where wordcount is king, so it's a little adjective heavy. But even so, for the small handful of you who are into this universe...
Title: Year After Year
Characters: Brenna Merripen, Anna Rutledge, Harry Rutledge, Poppy Rutledge, Elizabeth Rutledge, Mirela Merripen, Tali Rohan, Rebecca Phelan, Caroline Rutledge, Adelaide Hathaway, Emmaline Hathaway, Cat Hathaway, Leo Hathaway, Amelia Rohan, Win Merripen, Beatrix Phelan, Russell Bowman, Cam Rohan, Sebastian St. Vincent, Rye Rohan, Jado Merripen, Edward Hathaway
Rating: pg
Word Count: 4,199
Summary: You put your arms around me and I'm home...
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Author's Note: Random cuts from my 2011 NaNo, Next Generation fic for Lisa Kleypas's Wallflower & Hathaway series. Not all will be posted, but if you have any certain character you would like to see, let me know and I will see what I have (or perhaps write something new in this universe). This is all set about 20 years after the Hathaway series.
Brenna twirled and whirled in two mismatched dancing slippers and a tossed-aside sash made of Belgian lace. She danced by Anna, imploring her adored older cousin to come play but Anna scowled. “I don’t know why I can’t go to the ball!” She wailed for the tenth time (or perhaps it was the twelfth).
“Soon enough, love, soon enough. In a few years,” Poppy answered from across the room, where she was reshaping one of Elizabeth’s curls with her fingers. She turned a smile back to her younger daughter. “There’s plenty of time yet for you, dear.”
Anna scowled some more. She turned to Mirela. “Don’t you wish you could go to the ball?”
“I don’t feel...no, I’m fine staying up here tonight,” Mirela answered quietly. Win glanced at her daughter, worried. She hadn’t been herself since they left Fairwall. Win had hoped that the excitement of the London season and being with her cousins would lift Mirela’s spirits but she’d been even more quiet and drawn into herself as the days passed. They would need to sit and have a serious discussion and soon. Win had her suspicions as to what might have been bothering her daughter, but she fervently hoped that she was wrong.
Tali, Rebecca, Caroline and Adelaide all danced around the room, young enough to not even dream of going to the ball but enjoying the luxury of playing with all of their older cousins’ beautiful things and watching their mammas dress.
At long last, with one or two final touches, Poppy pronounced Elizabeth and Emmaline ‘ready’. She had to hold back tears, looking at her daughter so much a lady, seemingly overnight.
Neither of the girls was wearing the customary white, both deeming it old-fashioned, and Poppy and Cat both agreed. Instead, Emmaline wore a satin gown in a creamy shade of butter yellow, with her dark hair piled on her head. It gave a slight exotic look with her tip-tilted green eyes.
And Elizabeth’s dress was silk, in the palest hue of rose, almost like a polished pearl. Her auburn curls were loosely gathered and pinned at the nape of her neck. It was an older, more romantic style, and Caroline stopped and stared at her older sister (the kinder, gentler sister, in many ways) in wonder.
“How is it that these girls are debuting? I only remember babies,” Amelia sighed, pulling her own daughter close for a hug.
“Please Amelia,” Cat was having a more difficult time holding her composure.
“Mama, don’t be sad,” Emmaline reached a hand to her mother, but tears still shone in Cat’s eyes.
At a knock at the door, Poppy gave everyone a onceover for decency before Beatrix rose to answer it.
Harry and Leo stood on the other side, in their white-tie formal wear, and both stopped still when they saw their daughters. Leo immediately reached for his wife, and even Adelaide seemed to notice that her parents were especially emotional.
Elizabeth approached her father. “Papa? What do you think?”
Harry had been increasingly gruff as preparations for this ball had gotten underway, attending to every last detail with his usual scrutiny and standard of perfection. But he smiled softly at his first, cherished daughter. “You look beautiful, love.” He brushed the back of his knuckles gently on her porcelain cheek. “I couldn’t be prouder.” Poppy slipped her hand into his on his other side and winked at her daughter over her husband’s shoulder.
Leo cleared his throat. “Girls, I have a little present for each of you, just a token.” He reached into his coat pocket and took out two small boxes, handing one each to Emmaline and Elizabeth.
Emmaline’s contained a set of silver combs in intricate swirled shapes, and Elizabeth’s was a teardrop pearl necklace.
Amelia gasped and Win placed her hand over her heart. “Leo,” Poppy breathed. “Are those...”
“Mother’s,” Leo answered for her. “I’ve been saving a few of Mother’s best trinkets for each of the girls.” He smiled at the little girls, crowded around their Auntie Beatrix. “When you’re older.”
Anna scowled again.
*
The room was finally quiet. Their parents and aunties had gone down to the ball (Elizabeth and Emmaline would be introduced later), and the younger children had been sent off to Auntie Amelia and Uncle Cam’s apartments. Anna wasn’t even satisfied with being left in charge, along with Mirela.
Elizabeth had pulled Mirela aside early yesterday she’d been so sad and withdrawn since they’d come back from Ireland, and it was so unlike her usually impish cousin. There was a marked change in her from Christmas, and although she’d grown no taller, nor had her figure filled out any, it seemed she’d gone from child to woman overnight. Finally breaking down in Elizabeth’s arms, Mirela had sobbed out the whole story of Cian Ryder, the boy she loved on her family’s estate, and how she was so desperately afraid he would leave and she would never see him again and she didn’t know why he was leaving her. Elizabeth kissed her brow and held her until her tears subsided, but she felt her own, private ache of jealousy.
Not of her pain but her fifteen-year-old cousin had more experience than she did. For Elizabeth, to never even to have been kissed and Mirela was ready to marry this boy.
Emmaline paced back and forth in front of the mirror, smoothing imaginary wrinkles in her lovely gown. “I can’t stop the butterflies in my stomach! When are they going to come back for us?” She smiled at Elizabeth in her reflection, and Elizabeth joined her, carefully laying her chin on her cousin’s shoulder. Emmaline was exactly two inches taller, and this was a perfect fit. They had shared so many secrets and laughs standing just this way with each other.
“Soon enough, Emmie, soon enough,” she grinned, repeating the words she heard her mother say to her sister Anna all too often. Emmaline laughed at her, and they both gasped when they heard a knock at the door. Emmaline sailed over to open it, as Elizabeth touched back her hair one last time before going downstairs with her father and uncle.
But it was not Papa and Uncle Leo at the door.
“Emmaline! I must speak with you before-”
“Russell!”
Emmaline stepped back in surprise and Elizabeth swiftly turned around. Russell Bowman stepped into the room, full of purpose and determination. “Emmaline, I had to see you before the ball. I just spoke to your father, and-”
Elizabeth cleared her throat and exchanged a furtive look with Emmaline. “I will just...I’ll go...” Her cousin nodded her head slightly, and she could practically hear Emmaline’s heart pounding out of her chest. It appeared that Russell Bowman was going to propose to Emmie, before they even debuted!
Elizabeth quickly made her way into the hallway, unable to stop herself from a wide grin. This was exactly the sort of reason that her family was always so whispered about -- she wasn’t a fool, she knew all of the gossip. Two of her aunts had married Romany Gypsies, and that just had not been forgiven in many circles, despite the fact that Uncle Kev was an earl and Uncle Cam was as rich as Croesus. Besides, Uncle Kev was an Irish earl, and that was hardly worth counting to many of the ton, Elizabeth knew.
Her Aunt Beatrix was involved in more causes than any proper woman of her station should ever concern herself with, and she had caused quite a stir with the National Society for Women’s Suffrage, speaking out in public and in general causing a scene all over London. Uncle Christopher was a decorated war hero and earl himself, but Elizabeth had walked by whispered conversations that amounted to speculation that he didn’t know how to ‘handle’ his wife. These conversations always made Elizabeth giggle. As if Auntie Beatrix could be ‘handled’ by anyone, least of all her loving husband.
Uncle Leo was Auntie Beatrix’s ally in Parliament, which led to his own mockery, and which Elizabeth believed amused him very much. She had never seen anyone who took so much delight in shocking and annoying the very stiffest of the upper crust of society. Aunt Cat had begun attending the Women’s Suffrage meetings with Aunt Beatrix and was growing ever more involved, along with the work she had done for years with orphans and the poor children of the city. It was a wonder that Emmaline and Edward were so well behaved and proper.
And then there was her own family. Her mother, still the most beautiful woman Elizabeth knew, had that rare gift for putting everyone she met right at ease, and everybody fell in love with her. Men, women, children -- Poppy Rutledge had the world at her fingertips. Her father was putty in Mama’s hands. And Papa, being as rich as he was, was always perfectly content at telling the world to go to hell if it didn’t care for what he said or did. He was American and he let his feelings on the British system of rewarding a man just for being born by the right sodding old fool be widely known.
They were her loud, funny, warm, loving, fiercely loyal family and she wouldn’t have them any other way, but it was easy to get lost sometimes, among all of her cousins and the shouting and the singing and all the opinions, opinions, opinions.
She heard a noise coming from down the hallway and darted around the corner -- it wouldn’t do for her to be seen alone in the hotel before the ball (especially if it were discovered that Emmaline and Mr. Bowman were alone in her suite), but this was Elizabeth’s home, where she had grown up and she had many hiding places. There was a closet on this floor that was exclusively for clean blankets and pillows and she had often read to her sisters there, fairy tales and exciting adventures of far off places. Many times when Caroline was very small, they would find her asleep there, curled up on an enormous goose feather pillow. A quick left and then a right and Elizabeth slipped through the door, letting it fall closed behind her.
“I wish you hadn’t done that.”
Elizabeth turned quickly. She was not alone. “Who’s there?” she whispered, squinting her eyes in the dark.
*
Harry tugged at his tie, flexing his fingers several times. Even after all his years with the hotel, and the million and one season events he’d attended with his wife and their family, he still was never quite comfortable in formal wear. He felt small, warm fingers slide in between his and squeeze tight. Poppy.
“Rest easy, my love,” she whispered to him. “Your world isn’t changing this very night -- it’s just a ball, like any other.”
He had to laugh he would not rest easy, but Poppy always had a calming effect on him. He brought their joined hands up to his mouth to press a kiss to the backs of her knuckles. She glanced from side to side and firmly grasped his lapels, pulling him back behind one of the large planters in the corners of the room. She kissed him in earnest, pressing her slim body flush against him and pulling him even closer with her slender arms. “Is that better?”
He laughed from his gut. Much, much better. He sure was one lucky bastard, to have made his life with a woman like Poppy. Which made this night even more difficult for him.
Harry gritted his teeth and did his best to put on a pleasant expression. He was supposed to be playing host, after all, and the whole point of this night was to honor his daughter and niece he wouldn’t do anything to spoil it for them, no matter how much he hated everything about this. It certainly was not a ball, like any other. He had destroyed two of his better sitting rooms, to construct an even larger ballroom to accommodate more guests than the Rutledge had ever seen. He had practically dominated every dressmaker on Bond Street for the past two months, to create not only Elizabeth and Emmaline’s costumes, but his wife and her sisters as well. He had personally commissioned a ship to sail over the Orchestre de la Societe des Concerts du Conservatoire from Paris, rather than using local musicians, purely to show off.
And at any other ball, Harry contented himself to dance with his wife, or pull her off for a few private moments, or even to skulk off for a game of chess with one of his brothers-in-law (Merripen detested these things even more than he did), but now he must play nice, make small talk with all of the ass-kissing lords and sons of lords and sons of whores who had come to ogle his precious Elizabeth. Harry scowled again.
Poppy laughed gently at his side. “I see exactly where Anna gets it.”
He turned back to his wife. “What’s this now?”
Poppy shrugged, with a hapless smile. “Our dear daughter she’s feeling quite left out with all the goings-on for Elizabeth. I was thinking that maybe you might take her for a ride in the country some time soon, just the two of you.”
Harry nodded. He could use some peace and quiet and fresh air himself.
Poppy cocked her head to one side. “But then again...it doesn’t do to spoil her when she’s been so surly lately.”
Harry sighed. “Well, which is it? Shall we make up for her loneliness or punish her then?” At Poppy’s raised eyebrow, he bowed his head in contrition. “I’m sorry.”
He was rewarded with his wife’s loving smile, his beacon of light and hope all these years. “Nothing to apologize for, after all these years. I know your heart, Harry Rutledge. We’ll just get through this night in one piece, then?”
Resting her hand in the crook of his elbow, she led him out into the main ballroom.
*
Rohan never made a trip into town without purpose. His old friend had grown quite lazy living out in the country with his pretty wife, and many months usually passed before they had an occasion to see one another. So Sebastian, Lord Kingston was quite surprised when his valet told him that Cam Rohan was waiting for him in his private billiards room. “It’s practically dawn,” Sebastian groaned, pulling a heavy velvet robe over his broad frame. “What time is it, anyway?”
“Half past eleven, my lord,” Dobbs answered placidly.
Sebastian groaned. Damn country mouse.
“Shall I send him away, sir?” Dobbs asked.
Sebastian rubbed his face vigorously. “No...Just tell him I’ll be a moment or two.”
An hour later, Sebastian met Cam downstairs. The second man was being served a rough lunch of ham and bread with cold ale sent up from a tavern in Fleet Ditch that he had loved dearly in his years in the city. “Your Grace! Good of you to join me,” He grinned around a mouthful of food.
“Now, now, none of that,” Sebastian answered, pouring himself a frosty mug of ale. He still was not quite used to being addressed as the Duke of Kingston, even though he’d held the title for nearly a decade. “What the hell do you want, Rohan?” Rohan grinned still, but Sebastian could sense his unease. “Spit it out, man.”
Cam wiped his hands and wrung them in his lap. “My Lord...Sebastian...I need a favor.”
Sebastian took a large swallow. This was very grave indeed. “I won’t have anyone killed.” He poured himself a second glass. “Well...that depends. Who is it that you want to have done in?”
Cam rolled his eyes. “I am quite capable of handling my own killing, I thank you very much. No, I need help...with my son.”
Sebastian raised his eyebrow. “The eldest, I assume? Do you need for him to...I mean, is it that he wants...”
“No, no, it’s nothing like that,” Cam squinted. “Actually, that might be it entirely. But I’m fairly certain that he’s taken care of that himself.”
“Well...” Sebastian took a seat, running a hand through his unruly hair, still mashed from sleep. “I don’t know what other expertise I can offer....though it’s been many years since I’ve made those kinds of rounds, I don’t know who I would recommend...of course Madame Bradshaw’s is always of highest quality, but-”
“St. Vincent!” Cam held out a hand to stop him. This was his child after all, even if he was a grown man. “I didn’t come here to discuss whores.” He sighed heavily. “I need you to give my son a job.”
“Is your estate doing so poorly that you must hire your children out?” Sebastian smiled so that Cam would know he only spoke in jest, but he scowled anyway.
“We’re fine, thank you for asking. No, it’s just that...Rye has been so restless lately.”
“It’s finally occurred to him to be bothered by you naming him Ronan Rohan?”
Rohan rolled his eyes. “I think some time in the city will do him good.”
Sebastian blinked. “You are, without a doubt, the first parent I’ve ever met who suggested that his child get himself into some good trouble to help him grow up.”
Cam grinned wryly. “A young man needs a little excitement, no?”
“And what better place for him?” Sebastian laughed, gesturing around them.
It was true, there was no better place for a healthy, virile young man with energy to expend. Jenner’s was a rite of passage for many young men in London. It was the place of many first spirits, first times at a gaming table (and consequently, the first time that many young men gained or lost their entire family’s fortune). Jenner’s had housed countless feuds, scandals and secrets. It was Sebastian’s home and his haven, and his second greatest strike of fortune after his beloved wife, Evangeline.
“I’m not saying to make him a pit boss or anything straight away,” Rohan began in again.
“Pit boss!” Sebastian threw back his head and laughed. “As if any of my men would stand for that anyway. No, he’ll start at the bottom, like everyone else.”
Rohan grinned. “I was hoping you’d say that. So, a runner then?”
Sebastian weighed it in his mind. “Can he handle himself in a dust-up?”
Rohan’s smile turned devilish. “He’s my son, isn’t he?”
“Fair point,” Sebastian nodded. “Anyway, you needn’t beg. I’ve had my solicitors draw up some amendments to the lease on Jenner’s. You are to own one quarter of the place. And you may do as you like with it.”
At this Cam was speechless. For once in his life. Sebastian was quite pleased with himself. “Yes, yes, it was Evie’s idea, really, and we were going to ask you if Rye had any interest in learning the business. It will be some time before Gabriel is to attend to all of this nonsense, never mind the complete and utter bollocks of being a duke. Phoebe and her husband are up in Scotland, doing whatever the hell they do up there, and Miranda’s ghastly husband is far too busy in his surgery and Claire...God, who knows who my youngest girl will bring home.” Sebastian sighed, and it was one of the rare times that Cam saw his friend be a bit more quiet, vulnerable. Though none of them liked to admit they were getting older, it seemed almost impossible with Sebastian St. Vincent, Duke of Kingston, and one time most notorious rake in England.
“I accept, phral,” Cam said, gravely. “With much appreciation.”
“Good,” Sebastian offered a small smile.
“Does this mean you’ll be sharing a quarter of the profits for the past twenty years?” And at that, Sebastian threw back his head and laughed from the pit of his still rock-hard belly.
*
The room had swelled with a somewhat pleasant hum of noise from the ballroom below. As Rye surveyed the crowd with his cousins Jado and Edward, he relished in the relative breeze he could feel from the balcony.
He was the very image of his father at twenty, but with his mother’s blue eyes (he looked very much like his cousin Jado, but the younger was the size of a small boat). Quite a pair they made next to proper and quiet Edward.
The ladies in their gowns swirled around the gentlemen in their severe black like lilies in a pond. These were the matrons, the young ladies of marriageable age would not be down until later. Those young ladies were of no interest to Rye. They paid him no mind, he was not suitable for them, even though his family was quite well off and three of his uncles were peers.
No, but to young matrons with their fat old husbands and stuffy, foppish peers, he was the very toast of the party...maybe even of the season. He’d been told by his father’s friend, the duke of Kingston, that business had doubled in the weeks since he’d started, even by the usual standards of the season. Older gentlemen shook his hand, recalling fond memories of his father’s days at Jenner’s, and he was popular around the younger crowd as well (just as his father had been at his age). Plus he had a sharp eye and a quick mind for catching cheaters, which pleased Lord Kingston immensely.
And now that his cousins were in town, things had gotten even more interesting. Jado, as always was game for staying late hours at the gaming hall, and whatever trouble they might find themselves in in the early hours of morning. Edward on the other hand was already taking his Parliament responsibilities quite seriously, and was always there to ensure that they didn’t cause any irreparable damage to the family reputation. (When he had said this, both Jado and Rye took a very long time to stop laughing.)
Jado sighed, leaning back from the balcony. “What do you say, fellows, shall we head down to the floor?”
“I didn’t know you were so excited for the quadrille, phral?” Rye grinned.
Jado rolled his eyes. “I have to make the appearance of putting in an effort anyways. I’ll need an heir at some point.”
Rye laughed, and waved his cousins off.
With nothing to inherit, he didn’t have to worry about giving anything away.
*
Emmaline’s heart pounded. This was not the first time she’d ever been alone with Russell but they had been quick, stolen moments when she was able to steal away from her proprietary mama and overprotective papa for a short while. And Russell had always respected her parents enough to never push for more. They had been given far more freedom in their courtship than was normally allowed anyway.
But to come to her private suite alone, just moments before her own debut ball? He’d never been so bold, and she couldn’t imagine what would be so important now, unless...
Color rose in Emmaline’s face, as it all began to become clear, what Russell’s intentions were.
He inhaled sharply and squared his shoulders. “Miss Hathaway, I...I find it incumbent to...To implore that...” Emmaline’s breath caught in her lungs. Russell was never this tongue-tied, and having known each other since they were children, there was always an ease and comfort between them. She reached for his hand, and he smiled, heaving a sigh of relief. “Emmaline. You must know how very much I love you. I always have, I always will.”
“And I you,” Emmaline answered back, though her eyes were beginning to fill with tears, but he pressed a finger to her mouth.
“No, no, my sweet. For this once, you must let me speak.” And Emmaline had to laugh -- she did have the very Hathaway habit of dominating a conversation.
Russell took a deep breath before he continued. “I’ve already spoken to your father, and...Oh hell’s bells, I’m no good at this! Emmaline, my darling, I know I’m a selfish bastard to pounce at you before your season’s even begun, but I’ve always known what I want. My father and my Uncle Matthew have accepted my business proposal for the new marketing campaign back in New York. I’m a full partner now at Bowman, and I couldn’t go without you. Will you do me the honor of being my wife?”
Emmaline’s heart stopped. Every fiber of her being had been screaming yes since the moment Russell had burst into the room, with his heartfelt enthusiasm. But just that last stopped her. Go to America?
While she had always known that she would one day be Mrs. Russell Bowman, it had never once entered her mind that she would ever leave her home, her family.
“Emmaline?” His face was so hopeful. Oh, she loved him so much. “My darling?”
I love you, she thought. I want you more than anything.
“No.”
<<<333
Title: Year After Year
Characters: Brenna Merripen, Anna Rutledge, Harry Rutledge, Poppy Rutledge, Elizabeth Rutledge, Mirela Merripen, Tali Rohan, Rebecca Phelan, Caroline Rutledge, Adelaide Hathaway, Emmaline Hathaway, Cat Hathaway, Leo Hathaway, Amelia Rohan, Win Merripen, Beatrix Phelan, Russell Bowman, Cam Rohan, Sebastian St. Vincent, Rye Rohan, Jado Merripen, Edward Hathaway
Rating: pg
Word Count: 4,199
Summary: You put your arms around me and I'm home...
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Author's Note: Random cuts from my 2011 NaNo, Next Generation fic for Lisa Kleypas's Wallflower & Hathaway series. Not all will be posted, but if you have any certain character you would like to see, let me know and I will see what I have (or perhaps write something new in this universe). This is all set about 20 years after the Hathaway series.
Brenna twirled and whirled in two mismatched dancing slippers and a tossed-aside sash made of Belgian lace. She danced by Anna, imploring her adored older cousin to come play but Anna scowled. “I don’t know why I can’t go to the ball!” She wailed for the tenth time (or perhaps it was the twelfth).
“Soon enough, love, soon enough. In a few years,” Poppy answered from across the room, where she was reshaping one of Elizabeth’s curls with her fingers. She turned a smile back to her younger daughter. “There’s plenty of time yet for you, dear.”
Anna scowled some more. She turned to Mirela. “Don’t you wish you could go to the ball?”
“I don’t feel...no, I’m fine staying up here tonight,” Mirela answered quietly. Win glanced at her daughter, worried. She hadn’t been herself since they left Fairwall. Win had hoped that the excitement of the London season and being with her cousins would lift Mirela’s spirits but she’d been even more quiet and drawn into herself as the days passed. They would need to sit and have a serious discussion and soon. Win had her suspicions as to what might have been bothering her daughter, but she fervently hoped that she was wrong.
Tali, Rebecca, Caroline and Adelaide all danced around the room, young enough to not even dream of going to the ball but enjoying the luxury of playing with all of their older cousins’ beautiful things and watching their mammas dress.
At long last, with one or two final touches, Poppy pronounced Elizabeth and Emmaline ‘ready’. She had to hold back tears, looking at her daughter so much a lady, seemingly overnight.
Neither of the girls was wearing the customary white, both deeming it old-fashioned, and Poppy and Cat both agreed. Instead, Emmaline wore a satin gown in a creamy shade of butter yellow, with her dark hair piled on her head. It gave a slight exotic look with her tip-tilted green eyes.
And Elizabeth’s dress was silk, in the palest hue of rose, almost like a polished pearl. Her auburn curls were loosely gathered and pinned at the nape of her neck. It was an older, more romantic style, and Caroline stopped and stared at her older sister (the kinder, gentler sister, in many ways) in wonder.
“How is it that these girls are debuting? I only remember babies,” Amelia sighed, pulling her own daughter close for a hug.
“Please Amelia,” Cat was having a more difficult time holding her composure.
“Mama, don’t be sad,” Emmaline reached a hand to her mother, but tears still shone in Cat’s eyes.
At a knock at the door, Poppy gave everyone a onceover for decency before Beatrix rose to answer it.
Harry and Leo stood on the other side, in their white-tie formal wear, and both stopped still when they saw their daughters. Leo immediately reached for his wife, and even Adelaide seemed to notice that her parents were especially emotional.
Elizabeth approached her father. “Papa? What do you think?”
Harry had been increasingly gruff as preparations for this ball had gotten underway, attending to every last detail with his usual scrutiny and standard of perfection. But he smiled softly at his first, cherished daughter. “You look beautiful, love.” He brushed the back of his knuckles gently on her porcelain cheek. “I couldn’t be prouder.” Poppy slipped her hand into his on his other side and winked at her daughter over her husband’s shoulder.
Leo cleared his throat. “Girls, I have a little present for each of you, just a token.” He reached into his coat pocket and took out two small boxes, handing one each to Emmaline and Elizabeth.
Emmaline’s contained a set of silver combs in intricate swirled shapes, and Elizabeth’s was a teardrop pearl necklace.
Amelia gasped and Win placed her hand over her heart. “Leo,” Poppy breathed. “Are those...”
“Mother’s,” Leo answered for her. “I’ve been saving a few of Mother’s best trinkets for each of the girls.” He smiled at the little girls, crowded around their Auntie Beatrix. “When you’re older.”
Anna scowled again.
*
The room was finally quiet. Their parents and aunties had gone down to the ball (Elizabeth and Emmaline would be introduced later), and the younger children had been sent off to Auntie Amelia and Uncle Cam’s apartments. Anna wasn’t even satisfied with being left in charge, along with Mirela.
Elizabeth had pulled Mirela aside early yesterday she’d been so sad and withdrawn since they’d come back from Ireland, and it was so unlike her usually impish cousin. There was a marked change in her from Christmas, and although she’d grown no taller, nor had her figure filled out any, it seemed she’d gone from child to woman overnight. Finally breaking down in Elizabeth’s arms, Mirela had sobbed out the whole story of Cian Ryder, the boy she loved on her family’s estate, and how she was so desperately afraid he would leave and she would never see him again and she didn’t know why he was leaving her. Elizabeth kissed her brow and held her until her tears subsided, but she felt her own, private ache of jealousy.
Not of her pain but her fifteen-year-old cousin had more experience than she did. For Elizabeth, to never even to have been kissed and Mirela was ready to marry this boy.
Emmaline paced back and forth in front of the mirror, smoothing imaginary wrinkles in her lovely gown. “I can’t stop the butterflies in my stomach! When are they going to come back for us?” She smiled at Elizabeth in her reflection, and Elizabeth joined her, carefully laying her chin on her cousin’s shoulder. Emmaline was exactly two inches taller, and this was a perfect fit. They had shared so many secrets and laughs standing just this way with each other.
“Soon enough, Emmie, soon enough,” she grinned, repeating the words she heard her mother say to her sister Anna all too often. Emmaline laughed at her, and they both gasped when they heard a knock at the door. Emmaline sailed over to open it, as Elizabeth touched back her hair one last time before going downstairs with her father and uncle.
But it was not Papa and Uncle Leo at the door.
“Emmaline! I must speak with you before-”
“Russell!”
Emmaline stepped back in surprise and Elizabeth swiftly turned around. Russell Bowman stepped into the room, full of purpose and determination. “Emmaline, I had to see you before the ball. I just spoke to your father, and-”
Elizabeth cleared her throat and exchanged a furtive look with Emmaline. “I will just...I’ll go...” Her cousin nodded her head slightly, and she could practically hear Emmaline’s heart pounding out of her chest. It appeared that Russell Bowman was going to propose to Emmie, before they even debuted!
Elizabeth quickly made her way into the hallway, unable to stop herself from a wide grin. This was exactly the sort of reason that her family was always so whispered about -- she wasn’t a fool, she knew all of the gossip. Two of her aunts had married Romany Gypsies, and that just had not been forgiven in many circles, despite the fact that Uncle Kev was an earl and Uncle Cam was as rich as Croesus. Besides, Uncle Kev was an Irish earl, and that was hardly worth counting to many of the ton, Elizabeth knew.
Her Aunt Beatrix was involved in more causes than any proper woman of her station should ever concern herself with, and she had caused quite a stir with the National Society for Women’s Suffrage, speaking out in public and in general causing a scene all over London. Uncle Christopher was a decorated war hero and earl himself, but Elizabeth had walked by whispered conversations that amounted to speculation that he didn’t know how to ‘handle’ his wife. These conversations always made Elizabeth giggle. As if Auntie Beatrix could be ‘handled’ by anyone, least of all her loving husband.
Uncle Leo was Auntie Beatrix’s ally in Parliament, which led to his own mockery, and which Elizabeth believed amused him very much. She had never seen anyone who took so much delight in shocking and annoying the very stiffest of the upper crust of society. Aunt Cat had begun attending the Women’s Suffrage meetings with Aunt Beatrix and was growing ever more involved, along with the work she had done for years with orphans and the poor children of the city. It was a wonder that Emmaline and Edward were so well behaved and proper.
And then there was her own family. Her mother, still the most beautiful woman Elizabeth knew, had that rare gift for putting everyone she met right at ease, and everybody fell in love with her. Men, women, children -- Poppy Rutledge had the world at her fingertips. Her father was putty in Mama’s hands. And Papa, being as rich as he was, was always perfectly content at telling the world to go to hell if it didn’t care for what he said or did. He was American and he let his feelings on the British system of rewarding a man just for being born by the right sodding old fool be widely known.
They were her loud, funny, warm, loving, fiercely loyal family and she wouldn’t have them any other way, but it was easy to get lost sometimes, among all of her cousins and the shouting and the singing and all the opinions, opinions, opinions.
She heard a noise coming from down the hallway and darted around the corner -- it wouldn’t do for her to be seen alone in the hotel before the ball (especially if it were discovered that Emmaline and Mr. Bowman were alone in her suite), but this was Elizabeth’s home, where she had grown up and she had many hiding places. There was a closet on this floor that was exclusively for clean blankets and pillows and she had often read to her sisters there, fairy tales and exciting adventures of far off places. Many times when Caroline was very small, they would find her asleep there, curled up on an enormous goose feather pillow. A quick left and then a right and Elizabeth slipped through the door, letting it fall closed behind her.
“I wish you hadn’t done that.”
Elizabeth turned quickly. She was not alone. “Who’s there?” she whispered, squinting her eyes in the dark.
*
Harry tugged at his tie, flexing his fingers several times. Even after all his years with the hotel, and the million and one season events he’d attended with his wife and their family, he still was never quite comfortable in formal wear. He felt small, warm fingers slide in between his and squeeze tight. Poppy.
“Rest easy, my love,” she whispered to him. “Your world isn’t changing this very night -- it’s just a ball, like any other.”
He had to laugh he would not rest easy, but Poppy always had a calming effect on him. He brought their joined hands up to his mouth to press a kiss to the backs of her knuckles. She glanced from side to side and firmly grasped his lapels, pulling him back behind one of the large planters in the corners of the room. She kissed him in earnest, pressing her slim body flush against him and pulling him even closer with her slender arms. “Is that better?”
He laughed from his gut. Much, much better. He sure was one lucky bastard, to have made his life with a woman like Poppy. Which made this night even more difficult for him.
Harry gritted his teeth and did his best to put on a pleasant expression. He was supposed to be playing host, after all, and the whole point of this night was to honor his daughter and niece he wouldn’t do anything to spoil it for them, no matter how much he hated everything about this. It certainly was not a ball, like any other. He had destroyed two of his better sitting rooms, to construct an even larger ballroom to accommodate more guests than the Rutledge had ever seen. He had practically dominated every dressmaker on Bond Street for the past two months, to create not only Elizabeth and Emmaline’s costumes, but his wife and her sisters as well. He had personally commissioned a ship to sail over the Orchestre de la Societe des Concerts du Conservatoire from Paris, rather than using local musicians, purely to show off.
And at any other ball, Harry contented himself to dance with his wife, or pull her off for a few private moments, or even to skulk off for a game of chess with one of his brothers-in-law (Merripen detested these things even more than he did), but now he must play nice, make small talk with all of the ass-kissing lords and sons of lords and sons of whores who had come to ogle his precious Elizabeth. Harry scowled again.
Poppy laughed gently at his side. “I see exactly where Anna gets it.”
He turned back to his wife. “What’s this now?”
Poppy shrugged, with a hapless smile. “Our dear daughter she’s feeling quite left out with all the goings-on for Elizabeth. I was thinking that maybe you might take her for a ride in the country some time soon, just the two of you.”
Harry nodded. He could use some peace and quiet and fresh air himself.
Poppy cocked her head to one side. “But then again...it doesn’t do to spoil her when she’s been so surly lately.”
Harry sighed. “Well, which is it? Shall we make up for her loneliness or punish her then?” At Poppy’s raised eyebrow, he bowed his head in contrition. “I’m sorry.”
He was rewarded with his wife’s loving smile, his beacon of light and hope all these years. “Nothing to apologize for, after all these years. I know your heart, Harry Rutledge. We’ll just get through this night in one piece, then?”
Resting her hand in the crook of his elbow, she led him out into the main ballroom.
*
Rohan never made a trip into town without purpose. His old friend had grown quite lazy living out in the country with his pretty wife, and many months usually passed before they had an occasion to see one another. So Sebastian, Lord Kingston was quite surprised when his valet told him that Cam Rohan was waiting for him in his private billiards room. “It’s practically dawn,” Sebastian groaned, pulling a heavy velvet robe over his broad frame. “What time is it, anyway?”
“Half past eleven, my lord,” Dobbs answered placidly.
Sebastian groaned. Damn country mouse.
“Shall I send him away, sir?” Dobbs asked.
Sebastian rubbed his face vigorously. “No...Just tell him I’ll be a moment or two.”
An hour later, Sebastian met Cam downstairs. The second man was being served a rough lunch of ham and bread with cold ale sent up from a tavern in Fleet Ditch that he had loved dearly in his years in the city. “Your Grace! Good of you to join me,” He grinned around a mouthful of food.
“Now, now, none of that,” Sebastian answered, pouring himself a frosty mug of ale. He still was not quite used to being addressed as the Duke of Kingston, even though he’d held the title for nearly a decade. “What the hell do you want, Rohan?” Rohan grinned still, but Sebastian could sense his unease. “Spit it out, man.”
Cam wiped his hands and wrung them in his lap. “My Lord...Sebastian...I need a favor.”
Sebastian took a large swallow. This was very grave indeed. “I won’t have anyone killed.” He poured himself a second glass. “Well...that depends. Who is it that you want to have done in?”
Cam rolled his eyes. “I am quite capable of handling my own killing, I thank you very much. No, I need help...with my son.”
Sebastian raised his eyebrow. “The eldest, I assume? Do you need for him to...I mean, is it that he wants...”
“No, no, it’s nothing like that,” Cam squinted. “Actually, that might be it entirely. But I’m fairly certain that he’s taken care of that himself.”
“Well...” Sebastian took a seat, running a hand through his unruly hair, still mashed from sleep. “I don’t know what other expertise I can offer....though it’s been many years since I’ve made those kinds of rounds, I don’t know who I would recommend...of course Madame Bradshaw’s is always of highest quality, but-”
“St. Vincent!” Cam held out a hand to stop him. This was his child after all, even if he was a grown man. “I didn’t come here to discuss whores.” He sighed heavily. “I need you to give my son a job.”
“Is your estate doing so poorly that you must hire your children out?” Sebastian smiled so that Cam would know he only spoke in jest, but he scowled anyway.
“We’re fine, thank you for asking. No, it’s just that...Rye has been so restless lately.”
“It’s finally occurred to him to be bothered by you naming him Ronan Rohan?”
Rohan rolled his eyes. “I think some time in the city will do him good.”
Sebastian blinked. “You are, without a doubt, the first parent I’ve ever met who suggested that his child get himself into some good trouble to help him grow up.”
Cam grinned wryly. “A young man needs a little excitement, no?”
“And what better place for him?” Sebastian laughed, gesturing around them.
It was true, there was no better place for a healthy, virile young man with energy to expend. Jenner’s was a rite of passage for many young men in London. It was the place of many first spirits, first times at a gaming table (and consequently, the first time that many young men gained or lost their entire family’s fortune). Jenner’s had housed countless feuds, scandals and secrets. It was Sebastian’s home and his haven, and his second greatest strike of fortune after his beloved wife, Evangeline.
“I’m not saying to make him a pit boss or anything straight away,” Rohan began in again.
“Pit boss!” Sebastian threw back his head and laughed. “As if any of my men would stand for that anyway. No, he’ll start at the bottom, like everyone else.”
Rohan grinned. “I was hoping you’d say that. So, a runner then?”
Sebastian weighed it in his mind. “Can he handle himself in a dust-up?”
Rohan’s smile turned devilish. “He’s my son, isn’t he?”
“Fair point,” Sebastian nodded. “Anyway, you needn’t beg. I’ve had my solicitors draw up some amendments to the lease on Jenner’s. You are to own one quarter of the place. And you may do as you like with it.”
At this Cam was speechless. For once in his life. Sebastian was quite pleased with himself. “Yes, yes, it was Evie’s idea, really, and we were going to ask you if Rye had any interest in learning the business. It will be some time before Gabriel is to attend to all of this nonsense, never mind the complete and utter bollocks of being a duke. Phoebe and her husband are up in Scotland, doing whatever the hell they do up there, and Miranda’s ghastly husband is far too busy in his surgery and Claire...God, who knows who my youngest girl will bring home.” Sebastian sighed, and it was one of the rare times that Cam saw his friend be a bit more quiet, vulnerable. Though none of them liked to admit they were getting older, it seemed almost impossible with Sebastian St. Vincent, Duke of Kingston, and one time most notorious rake in England.
“I accept, phral,” Cam said, gravely. “With much appreciation.”
“Good,” Sebastian offered a small smile.
“Does this mean you’ll be sharing a quarter of the profits for the past twenty years?” And at that, Sebastian threw back his head and laughed from the pit of his still rock-hard belly.
*
The room had swelled with a somewhat pleasant hum of noise from the ballroom below. As Rye surveyed the crowd with his cousins Jado and Edward, he relished in the relative breeze he could feel from the balcony.
He was the very image of his father at twenty, but with his mother’s blue eyes (he looked very much like his cousin Jado, but the younger was the size of a small boat). Quite a pair they made next to proper and quiet Edward.
The ladies in their gowns swirled around the gentlemen in their severe black like lilies in a pond. These were the matrons, the young ladies of marriageable age would not be down until later. Those young ladies were of no interest to Rye. They paid him no mind, he was not suitable for them, even though his family was quite well off and three of his uncles were peers.
No, but to young matrons with their fat old husbands and stuffy, foppish peers, he was the very toast of the party...maybe even of the season. He’d been told by his father’s friend, the duke of Kingston, that business had doubled in the weeks since he’d started, even by the usual standards of the season. Older gentlemen shook his hand, recalling fond memories of his father’s days at Jenner’s, and he was popular around the younger crowd as well (just as his father had been at his age). Plus he had a sharp eye and a quick mind for catching cheaters, which pleased Lord Kingston immensely.
And now that his cousins were in town, things had gotten even more interesting. Jado, as always was game for staying late hours at the gaming hall, and whatever trouble they might find themselves in in the early hours of morning. Edward on the other hand was already taking his Parliament responsibilities quite seriously, and was always there to ensure that they didn’t cause any irreparable damage to the family reputation. (When he had said this, both Jado and Rye took a very long time to stop laughing.)
Jado sighed, leaning back from the balcony. “What do you say, fellows, shall we head down to the floor?”
“I didn’t know you were so excited for the quadrille, phral?” Rye grinned.
Jado rolled his eyes. “I have to make the appearance of putting in an effort anyways. I’ll need an heir at some point.”
Rye laughed, and waved his cousins off.
With nothing to inherit, he didn’t have to worry about giving anything away.
*
Emmaline’s heart pounded. This was not the first time she’d ever been alone with Russell but they had been quick, stolen moments when she was able to steal away from her proprietary mama and overprotective papa for a short while. And Russell had always respected her parents enough to never push for more. They had been given far more freedom in their courtship than was normally allowed anyway.
But to come to her private suite alone, just moments before her own debut ball? He’d never been so bold, and she couldn’t imagine what would be so important now, unless...
Color rose in Emmaline’s face, as it all began to become clear, what Russell’s intentions were.
He inhaled sharply and squared his shoulders. “Miss Hathaway, I...I find it incumbent to...To implore that...” Emmaline’s breath caught in her lungs. Russell was never this tongue-tied, and having known each other since they were children, there was always an ease and comfort between them. She reached for his hand, and he smiled, heaving a sigh of relief. “Emmaline. You must know how very much I love you. I always have, I always will.”
“And I you,” Emmaline answered back, though her eyes were beginning to fill with tears, but he pressed a finger to her mouth.
“No, no, my sweet. For this once, you must let me speak.” And Emmaline had to laugh -- she did have the very Hathaway habit of dominating a conversation.
Russell took a deep breath before he continued. “I’ve already spoken to your father, and...Oh hell’s bells, I’m no good at this! Emmaline, my darling, I know I’m a selfish bastard to pounce at you before your season’s even begun, but I’ve always known what I want. My father and my Uncle Matthew have accepted my business proposal for the new marketing campaign back in New York. I’m a full partner now at Bowman, and I couldn’t go without you. Will you do me the honor of being my wife?”
Emmaline’s heart stopped. Every fiber of her being had been screaming yes since the moment Russell had burst into the room, with his heartfelt enthusiasm. But just that last stopped her. Go to America?
While she had always known that she would one day be Mrs. Russell Bowman, it had never once entered her mind that she would ever leave her home, her family.
“Emmaline?” His face was so hopeful. Oh, she loved him so much. “My darling?”
I love you, she thought. I want you more than anything.
“No.”
<<<333