Page 8 of Mistletoe and Kisses
With Mary now on board the travel coach, and Hugh’s missing book safely in his hands, they set out across country to meet the Great North Road and continue their journey to Scotland.
While Adelaide and Mary were making polite conversation about the baby and how well he was doing, Hugh was lost in his own thoughts, most of which consisted of him raging at himself. By the time they made their final stop for the day at the Bell Inn in Stilton, he had worked himself into such a foul mood that he cried off supper and went for a long walk instead.
With his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his greatcoat, he trudged through the snow-covered streets of the town. There were only so many ways a man could be angry with himself, but Hugh Radley was determined to work his way through the list. He passed several taverns on the road and was tempted to go inside and have a pint, but he knew he would need more than alcohol to take the edge off his self-loathing.
The walk finally began to have its desired effect and his mood lifted. As he turned and started to head back to the inn, his thoughts returned to Mary. It was a relief to know that she would not be spending Christmas on her own, that she was coming to Scotland with him. He had much to atone for when it came to her.
Mary had not only been dealing with grief over the death of her father, but the impending loss of her home. He, meanwhile, had been so preoccupied with his final exams and career progression that he had failed to see what was happening under his very nose. He had not been there for her when she needed a friend.
“And to top it all off, you forgot to get her a Christmas present. Hugh Radley you are a selfish blackguard,” he muttered.
Back at the inn, he found Charles rugged up in a greatcoat and seated in front of an open fire outside in the rear mews, his back against the wall of the stables. His head was buried in a newspaper. He didn’t look up until Hugh sat down beside him.
Hugh glanced at the newspaper. It was theL’Ami du Peuple;a radical popular newspaper from Paris. With the French king in custody, and the whole of France in turmoil, émigrés such as Charles were constantly in search of news from their homeland.
“What is happening in France?” asked Hugh.
Charles folded the paper up and sat it on his lap. While his hands remained steady, his boot was tapping hard on the stone ground. He sighed. “They have given all French citizens who are living abroad a deadline to return home or forfeit any land that they hold in France. I shall have to sell everything I own within the next twelve months or lose it all. I tell you, Hugh, France is going to hell.”
For the second time that day, Hugh was sharply reminded that the world did not revolve around his studies or himself. Charles had been an open supporter of King Louis, but with the king and his family now under arrest, Charles dared not return home. His brother-in-law was trapped in exile in England.
Charles pulled two cheroots from his pocket and lit them using a lighted taper from the fire. He handed one to Hugh.
“I’m sorry, Charles. It must be so hard to be this close to home but know that you cannot risk going back.”
“If it was only me, I might chance it, but I have a wife and a child to consider now. I would never put Adelaide through that sort of worry, knowing that I might never return. People have started disappearing in France, and I have a feeling that we are only just at the beginning of something terrible,” he said.
Hugh drew back deeply on his cheroot, then held the smoke in his mouth for a moment before pushing it out with his tongue. A pale gray smoke ring formed and hung in the still night air. Charles snorted his appreciation of the trick.
“Astuce,” he said.
Hugh settled back against the stone wall of the stables. It was good to be headed home to Scotland. He had missed Christmas the previous year, being too busy with exams and preparation for his last year at university, and he had spent the last twelve months regretting it.
“I hope you didn’t mind Adelaide and I inviting Mary to come with us. We both got a little riled up over her having to find a new home after all those years living at the university,” he said.
Charles was a decent man, his calm nature a balm to his wife’s sometime skittish behavior. His sister had chosen her partner in life wisely.
“Is that what you are telling yourself? That the only reason you raced after Mary in the middle of Cambridge was out of some sense of righting an injustice? Please, let me know when you actually start to believe thatcoq et taureaustory,” replied Charles.
Hugh didn’t answer. He could proclaim his actions were all in aid of a young woman unfairly treated, but they both knew there was more to it than that. He and Adelaide could have gone to speak with the dean before leaving Cambridge; matters could have been resolved. But that would have left Mary still in Cambridge, and he on the road to Scotland.
He drew back once more on the cheroot, silently grateful when Charles opened his newspaper once more and went back to reading.
Today had been a day of unexpected revelations. He’d experienced genuine fear when he discovered that Mary had been evicted from her home. Of greater concern was the fact that she had not confided in him. That she had decided her own overwhelming problems were too insignificant to share.
That she somehow thought he didn’t care.
“How long are you planning to stay at Strathmore Castle?” asked Charles.
“Christmas, then Hogmanay, finally finishing up on Handsel Monday.” Hugh counted the days out on his fingers. If they arrived on the twenty-third of December, then stayed to Handsel Monday on the seventeenth, he would have just under a month in Scotland.
He wanted to get back to England earlier, but knew his older brother, Ewan, would insist he stayed for the annual handing over of gifts to all the castle staff on Handsel Monday.
“I will be leaving early on the eighteenth of January,” he replied.
Charles nodded. “Well, dear brother, you may think you have plenty of time in which to sort out the Mary Gray situation on your own. But I would counsel you to make haste if you want the decision to be yours alone.”
Hugh understood the underlying meaning of his brother-in-law’s words. The previous year, the dowager duchess, Lady Alison, and Great Aunt Maude had shamelessly played cupid. On Christmas Day, the Duke of Strathmore had made Lady Caroline Hastings his wife.
