Chapter Eight
Later that afternoon
While Anne’s husband was out meeting with his solicitor somewhere in Mayfair, she met with members of the staff, introducing herself to the ones she hadn’t seen yet, and talked with the cook regarding menus going forward as well as to discover what plans were for Christmas dinner.
Apparently, only one maid and one footman lived in.
The rest of the servants had rooms or residences elsewhere, for Broderick’s house wasn’t large enough to support full-time work.
How interesting.
When she came into the morning room to meet with Mrs. Dirkfield and Mr. Peterson, the first thing her gaze fell on was the arrangement of holly branches.
The fact that her husband had thought about her during his morning ride put a dent in her need for avenging her brother’s death.
She’d had a few hours to ponder what he’d said during breakfast; perhaps it was time to put aside differences and learn how to work together.
It was also Christmastide, and she wanted to usher in that season, despite her own reservations about this time of year. Which was why she asked the housekeeper and butler to meet with her in this room. By the time she sat down, the two members of the staff joined her.
“I’d like to specifically ask you about Christmastide in this house,” she started, and then frowned when both seemed surprised.
“What do you mean, Mrs. Cunningham?” the housekeeper inquired.
“Well, it is the holiday season and five days until Christmas besides. Where are the decorations? Could one of you bring them out for me?”
Mr. Peterson glanced at Mrs. Dirkfield. Then he trained his attention on Anne. “There are no decorations.”
“No decorations?” How was that possible? “Hasn’t Mr. Cunningham lived in Town for the past handful of years?”
The housekeeper nodded. “Yes, of course, but Mr. Cunningham has never celebrated. Keeps to himself. Sits in the darkness on the day or else he goes to his club.”
“Oh.” Anne bounced her gaze between the two.
“Well, that is unacceptable.” Even if she didn’t like remembering the day and how memories of her mother made her sad, no one should spend it alone.
“If he doesn’t wish to mark the day, the house should at least be decorated in the event of guests, and for the staff. ”
The housekeeper slowly shook her head. “You needn’t go to the trouble for us.”
Mr. Peterson cleared his throat. “It would be a lovely thing to have some evergreen boughs set out around the house to make things feel festive.”
Anne smiled. “There, you see? A few decorations wouldn’t hurt.”
“I don’t think Mr. Cunningham would like it,” Mrs. Dirkfield said with a frown.
“You leave him to me.” Anne rose to her feet.
“Mr. Peterson, please order the carriage brought around. I need to do some shopping. Also, have a couple of the footmen collect fir boughs, and have them bring in a ladder so we can hang the greenery. Put everything in the drawing room for me when I return.”
The housekeeper and butler exchanged uneasy glances.
“Are you certain this is wise, Mrs. Cunningham?” the housekeeper asked.
“Not at all. My husband has a temper, I think, but somehow, I’ll manage to persuade him that this is the right thing.” Then she frowned, for how she would make that happen, she had no idea. “It might be just the thing we all need to draw closer.”
Was that what she wanted? There was no easy answer.
The butler nodded. “I’ll have the carriage brought around, Mrs. Cunningham.”
“Thank you.”
A couple of hours later
When Anne came into the drawing room with a footman trailing behind who carried her many parcels and packages, she breathed in the pungent scents of pine and freshly cut wood.
“Oh, these evergreen trimmings will make the room quite lovely.” Paired with the handful of tin bells, glass balls, red velvet ribbon, candles, and a few porcelain birds, the room would be transformed into a holiday wonderland.
“Perhaps tomorrow Mr. Cunningham will go out and fetch mistletoe or even a small tree.”
“If he asks, I’ll go with him, Mrs. Cunningham,” the footman assured her. “It was an easy task to fetch the evergreen cuttings.”
“Thank you, Thomas.” She sent a glance to the fireplace. “Should we go ahead and start? I can ring for one of the maids.”
The young man nodded as a ruddy flush came up his neck. “Ask for Millie. She’s the most agreeable.”
“All right.” With a tug of her hand, Anne yanked on the bellpull with a slight grin. “Do you fancy her?”
“I, uh… No, of course not,” he stammered then proceeded to the wooden ladder and brought it over to the fireplace.
How sweet his embarrassment was. “Well, I hope you work up the courage enough to do something about it.” Would she have done the same if she hadn’t been forced into marriage with Broderick? Was there another man out there that she should have married instead?
There was no way to tell, and no sense in pondering. After all, there had been no prospects before she’d met the Duke of Udolpho.
Once Millie came into the room, Anne directed them on where to place a few items, and when swags were placed over the two windows, she stood back to admire the handiwork thus far.
“Lovely beginnings.”
“What’s all this, then?” Broderick asked as he came into the room. While looking about, he frowned with his hands planted on his hips. “Are you… decorating?”
“Yes, a bit. I told the housekeeper and the butler the house was too forlorn without being dressed for the Christmastide season.”
Annoyance flashed in his eyes. “Take it down.” He gestured at the wreath hanging over the fireplace with its cheerful red velvet bow. “I didn’t give you permission to do any of this.”
“I don’t need your permission to do anything.
” Crossing her arms beneath her breasts, she narrowed her gaze on him.
“It reminds me of home, even if I detest the Christmastide season.” When he said nothing, she rushed to fill the silence while Thomas and Millie gawked at them.
“We should at least have some semblance of tradition in this house. If not for us then for the servants.”
“Bah. What have need of we for anything related to the Christmastide season?” He frowned at the swags above the windows. “I don’t wish to be reminded of things once dreamed,” he admitted in a softer voice.
“Perhaps, but it is good to be reminded that we can all prove better.”
“No!” He chopped the air with a hand. “Take it down!” Then he caught the servants in his gaze. “Get out.”
Of course he would have to show himself for an arse.
Anne waited until the footman and maid had fled.
“Since we were forced to wed, this is my home too. I want to bring life into it, and besides, Christmastide reminds me of my brother…” Her voice faltered as she spoke of him. “My brother, who you killed.”
“God, not this again.”
“Yes, again. We need to clear the air regarding this obstacle between us, and now is as good a time as any.”
“Fine.” So saying, he strode to the door, then gave the one that was opened a good slam. When he drifted over to her location, he met her gaze, but anger roiled within his. “Speak.”
“Is that treating me with respect as you said you would do this morning?” she asked as one of her eyebrows rose in challenge.
“No.” There was a decided slump to his shoulders. “I apologize. Again.”
Anne nodded. “My brother’s name was Alan; he was my twin.”
“Aw, damn. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” After swallowing hard to encourage moisture into her throat, she sighed. “From what the Regent’s people told Mama and Papa, he’d been killed in a tiny village somewhere in France. What he was doing there, we didn’t know because he wasn’t part of the military. Or so we thought.”
“Alan Courtney. Shit, it’s the eyes. How could I not have seen it before? It’s your eyes that sometimes haunt my dreams. One pair of many.” For a few seconds, his face lost all color as he stared at her. “Christ, Anne, I think I do remember him.”
“Oh?” Her eyes filled with tears. “Then you did kill him.” It wasn’t a question.
The look on his face told her everything she needed to know. “That was a bad time in my life.”
“It seems all times are bad with you.” Part of her didn’t want to hear the story while the other part of her did, merely to gain closure on her brother’s death.
He narrowed his gaze. “I was in the village to gain intelligence on a woman… the woman your brother and I fought over.”
“You wanted her.”
“No. Not in the ways you think.”
“How, then?”
“She was a spy for the French.” He shrugged.
“Your brother was deep in his cups, which meant he was in the bluster stage where he was loud and brash. I was on a clandestine assignment for information. When Alan came into the tavern, he immediately went into showing possession for the woman, kept making an issue out of things.”
“But why was he there to begin with? That’s what I don’t understand.”
“I’m sorry no one ever told your family the truth.
” His expression softened. “Your brother worked for the Home Office, and he probably told the woman exactly that during another time when he was drunk. The French spy no doubt wanted him to talk, and bedding men for information was how she usually gained said intelligence.”
Shock slammed into her chest. “The Home Office? What did he do there?”
“I don’t know.” Once more, he shrugged. “But he wasn’t a spy. I’m wondering if he was on a different sort of mission for the Regent, and since it was all hush hush, it must have been important. I wasn’t privy to it, but England has always had its fingers in many pies.”
Anne shook her head. “I don’t know what to say. Why would Alan lie to us?”
“Who could say? Those last few years of the war were convoluted and messy. Fortunes were won and lost. There was much going on.”
“Fair enough.” She met his gaze. “Tell me how Alan died.”
“Are you certain you wish to know?”
“Yes. No matter what, I need to know. Even if it’s horrid.”