Christmas Spirits
(Spirited Storms #1)
(The Spirited Storms)
(A Novella)
FREE - 11/25/16 - 11/29/16
Mary Soares was supposed to spend Christmas, nice and warm on her
family’s estate in Falkirk, Scotland, tending to their whisky business.
However, the English have made smuggling almost impossible, and so order after
order is waiting at the distillery until it’s safe enough to continue
shipments. Most customers understand this. Most customers are reasonable. The
Duke of Danby is not most customers. After a number of demands from His
Grace, insisting upon his order, Mary decides to deliver the whisky herself.
Benjamin Storm, Earl of Kenley, breathes a sigh of relief when his
summons from the Duke of Danby has nothing to do with matrimony or a stack of
special licenses. Instead, his uncle just needs Benjamin to travel to Scotland
and procure his missing whisky shipment in time for his holiday festivities.
The chore sounds easy enough, at least until he encounters a most unusual
smuggler on her way to Danby Castle. Benjamin’s life may never be the same.
Benjamin,
I am very
much aware that you have been avoiding me since the wedding of Mr. Jonathan
Bridges and Miss. Genviève Mirabelle nearly a year and a half ago. Your excuses
in the past have been flimsy at best, and I will accept no more. You will
attend me in Yorkshire, with your equally absent siblings and remain at the
castle through December 26th. If you wish to stay longer, I have no
objections. However, you must present yourself to me no later than December 17th.
If you fail to do so, the retribution will be harsh and long in duration.
Danby
ONE
Danby Castle, Yorkshire ~
December 17, 1816
Benjamin
Storm, Earl of Kenley, eyed his great-uncle, the Duke of Danby, with
trepidation. For the past year and a half he’d been able to avoid His Grace,
but no longer. The threat in the missive was non-specific, but Benjamin was not
about to take any chances. While he wasn’t exactly certain what His Grace could
actually do to him, the gentleman was
the Duke of Danby and held almost as much power as Prinny or the Prime
Minister.
“Where
are your siblings?” His Grace demanded. “I was very specific that you bring
them with you.”
Benjamin
resisted the urge to pull at his cravat and sat straighter in the chair before
His Grace’s massive desk. “I have no idea where Nathaniel is, though last I
heard, he was in India.” That was months ago. His brother could be anywhere
right now and if he ever bothered to write, Ben would know where that was.
His
Grace frowned.
“As
you are well aware, Abigail gave birth to a son a few weeks ago and cannot
travel.”
“Your
sister is not my concern,” Danby
ground out.
Of
course not. Abigail was married and just delivered her fourth child, which only
solidified Benjamin’s suspicions of why he’d been ordered to the castle.
“What
of Samuel?”
His
other wayward brother, and Nate’s twin. “Barbados.”
“Still?”
Danby demanded incredulously. “He’s been there five years!”
Benjamin
simply stared at his great-uncle and wished to be done with this unnecessary
conversation. Danby knew exactly where his brother was. In fact, he likely knew
where each of his siblings were at this very moment and what they had for
supper a week ago. “Yes. He has.”
“He
needs to come home.” His Grace thumped his cane against the floorboards. That’s
probably why there was no carpet or rugs in this room. One could not have the
desired effect of a thumping cane if it were muffled by tightly woven wool.
“I
believe he rather likes it there,” Benjamin answered dryly.
“Bah!”
Danby narrowed his eyes on him. “Is he still with that Easton fellow?”
The
Duke didn’t like Easton, never had. As younger sons, it had been Easton who
decided to travel to Barbados and take over his uncle’s plantation. Samuel
thought it a grand idea and went along and soon after purchased his own land.
Neither had returned to England and saw no reason to do so. “Yes, he is. Both
have been very successful in their endeavors and have become very wealthy
gentlemen.” So successful that if the crops didn’t improve next year, Benjamin
would be seeking financial assistance from his younger brother to help save the
estate. It was far more palatable than marrying a dowry.
“I
assume there is an excuse for each of them for not being here?” His Grace
grumbled.
“Peter
remained home with Mother, as did my younger sisters,” Benjamin answered
honestly. “Mother has not been feeling her best and they are concerned, as am
I.” He sat forward. “So, if we can bring this interview to an end, I’d like to
return home.”
Danby
narrowed his eyes. “Your mother is no more ill than I am. She twisted an ankle,
which would not prevent her from entering a carriage and traveling.”
“Besides
the discomfort, of course,” Benjamin answered wryly.
“She
injured it a fortnight ago.” Danby thumped his cane again. “There is no reason
she could not travel. If it still pains her, you need a new physician. I’ll
send mine if she doesn’t recover before the ball.”
Benjamin
didn’t bother to argue. He knew as well as His Grace that his mother had
latched onto the excuse so she didn’t have to endure a holiday at Danby Castle.
It wasn’t the castle she objected to as much as the current owner. Further, he
wouldn’t put it past the woman to have intentionally caused the injury. “Do as
you see fit.” He’d let his mother deal with His Grace because Benjamin wasn’t
about to become embroiled in the middle of any dispute that may arise.
“Very
well then,” Danby announced as he stood. “Let’s discuss the reason why I
summoned you.”
Benjamin
already had a fairly good idea, but held his tongue. Instead, he watched as his
great-uncle strode to the sideboard and poured two glasses of a golden
liquid. Benjamin followed him to the
sitting area, hoping he didn’t have to return to his seat before the desk. It
was too reminiscent of sitting before the chancellor and waiting to be
disciplined. That was many years ago, of course, but that sick feeling he
always got in the pit of his stomach returned with a vengeance in these
situations. Besides, he was a gentleman of nine and twenty and did not need to
be disciplined by his great-uncle like a wayward school boy. They could discuss
His Grace’s concerns in the comfort of the chairs or the blue and gold settee
arranged before the fireplace.
Danby
turned and handed him a glass before taking a drink of his own and sinking into
the well-worn dark leather chair.
Benjamin
sipped slowly and let the liquid roll over his tongue to burn a trail down his
throat. No hint of poison could be detected. Not that he expected His Grace to
try and kill him, but he wouldn’t put it past the old man to somehow put
something in his drink that would render Benjamin unconscious only to wake and
find himself married to a lady of the duke’s choice.
The
whisky was excellent, however. Superb in comparison to the others he’d enjoyed
over the years, and he took another sip. If anything, His Grace had excellent
taste in whisky.
His
great-uncle gestured to the settee and Ben settled into the comfort of the soft
cushion.
“Why
haven’t you married?”
Benjamin
practically choked on the whisky. He knew the question was coming but would
have preferred if it hadn’t been asked mid-drink or without a more pleasant
lead in to the topic.
“I
have not found the right lady.”
“Have
you looked?” Danby demanded.
“Diligently!”
he defended. “For the past five seasons, if you must know.” Benjamin knew he
owed a duty to the title. He was an earl and was expected to produce an heir
and a spare before his death. As much as he’d like to think he could rely on at
least one of his brothers to fill the role should something happen to him,
Benjamin did not have the confidence they would. Nathaniel, the spare, was
never in England long enough to even discuss the matter, and half the time,
Benjamin had no idea where to even find him. Should something happen, he
wouldn’t be surprised if Nate faked his own death to get out of those duties,
thus foisting them onto his twin, younger by five minutes, Samuel, who had no
intention of ever leaving the Caribbean. Sam wouldn’t go so far as Nate to
avoid the responsibility. He’d just ignore it as if it didn’t exist and go
about planting sugar as if nothing had changed.
Danby
snorted. “You couldn’t find a bride in five years? Where were you looking? The
brothels?”
Benjamin
looked his great-uncle in the eye and in all seriousness answered, “In truth, I
found many candidates that would suit at Madame Delight’s. Unfortunately,
society would frown on a soiled dove becoming my countess.”
The
corner of Danby’s mouth quirked slightly then he frowned again. Had Benjamin
not been watching, he would have missed the reaction completely.
“What’s
wrong with the suitable young ladies?”
“That
depends on which lady you are inquiring about.” He had met a number of them,
and though none would suit, the reasons varied.
Danby
pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolded it.
“Good
God, is that list of ladies?”
“You
should have anticipated that I’d be prepared.”
Benjamin
suffered a sigh and stood. He was not going to be allowed to leave until his
great-uncle was satisfied, so he poured more whisky into his glass. If he must
endure the interrogation, there was no reason why he could not partake of the
excellent whisky in the process.
As
His Grace began listing names of the current crop of debutantes and those who
had been out for a few years, Benjamin in turn provided one word answers of why
he would not consider them, such as: pretentious, unkind, antagonistic,
condemnatory, insipid, anxious, conceited, feather-brained, bluestocking and
silly.
Danby
folded the list and Benjamin hoped this meeting was concluded.
“I
noticed you used silly several times.”
“In
truth, Your Grace, I do believe those being presented get sillier each and
every year.” Ben sat back down, relaxed against the upholstery and crossed his
legs, feeling much more at ease. He wasn’t sure if it was because the
interrogation was turning into a conversation between gentlemen or the whisky
or both, but Ben was glad to no longer be on edge.
“Yes,
I can see where you’d believe so.” He stood and refilled his glass. “A few of your
relations fall into that category.” He returned to his chair and took a sip.
“Three come to mind immediately,” he grumbled.
“Three?”
Benjamin was not sure which of his relations Danby referred to. There were so
many first, second and third removed…unless he referred to the triplets. One of
them had caused quite a scene last season.
“It
does not matter,” Danby dismissed. “I’ll deal with them, and their mother.”
By
the austerity in His Grace’s eyes, Benjamin was thankful he was not part of
that family, whoever they were.
“So,
you don’t want a silly chit.” He nodded and took a drink. “What of physical
characteristics. Are they not pleasant to look upon either?”
Benjamin
chuckled and shook his head. “They are all pretty, some beautiful, but that
means little when contemplating a future.”
Danby
frowned at him.
Ben
blew out a sigh. “Of course I wish for an attractive wife, but beauty often
diminishes over time. I’d rather have someone I enjoy spending time with,
conversing with, than simply looking at.”
His
Grace settled back, studying Ben with shrewd eyes.
“God
willing, I’ll be spending many years with my bride and I’d prefer to like her,
even love her, as opposed to a beautiful lady with little substance.”
For
the longest time His Grace said nothing and Ben’s nerves began to resurface.
Not for one moment had he forgotten what Danby had done to his own
grandchildren to see them married off, and he wasn’t fooling himself by
thinking His Grace didn’t have the same plan for him. All he could do was wait
for the pronouncement. An order to go find a bride and be quick about it,
ignoring what Ben may wish.
As
the silence continued, Ben finished his drink and poured another. He would
remain at the castle tonight regardless of how much he wished to be gone, and
if Danby was going to issue a dictate that would see his life miserable, he
might as well get properly foxed. He stared down into the glass. He was going
to be miserable enough on the morrow, perhaps he shouldn’t add a headache and
sickness to his misery. Besides, he shouldn’t lose his head now. Not while
sitting with Danby. His Grace wouldn’t hesitate to take advantage of the
situation and secure an agreement from Benjamin that he would regret for the
rest of his life.
“Very
well,” His Grace finally said.
“Very
well, what?”
“You
know what you want. I’m certain you shall find it.”
Ben
eyed him suspiciously. That was too easy.
“I
can see you’ve given this a good deal of thought and am confident you will make
the right choice when the time comes.” He finished his drink, set the glass on
the table. “Now that the discussion of your future is concluded, I have a
request before you return to your mother.”
Ben
set his glass aside, no longer wishing to drink. Apparently His Grace was going
to let him plan his own life, much to his relief.
“I’ve
been waiting on a delivery and it hasn’t arrived.”
“What
type of delivery?” He couldn’t imagine anyone would have the daring not to
fulfill a request by the Duke of Danby. Well, unless they were dead.
Danby
nodded to the decanter. “The finest whisky ever produced.”
“Whisky?
That’s what you’re waiting on?” Yes, it was a fine whisky, but Ben was just as
certain bottles could be procured from other sources if necessary.
“Two
cases of the spirits. I need it before Christmas.”
“I’m
not sure how I can be of assistance.”
“Dear
boy, I wish for you to go and retrieve them.”
“Spirits
for Christmas?” He couldn’t believe this was what was being asked of him, but
it was far preferable to a strange bride.
“Exactly!
Christmas Spirits.”
Falkirk, Scotland
“Are
ya certain Lachlan is no’ goin’ to return for Christmas?” Mary Soares asked her
mother, hoping for a different answer this time.
“Ye
ken his wife just had a bairn. They canna travel.”
“I
doona know why she couldn’t have had the babe here like the first one,” Mary
grumbled. Had her brother and Madeline just come north for the birthing then
she would not be in this predicament.
“Yer
brother had it difficult enough this summer with all the rain, getting’ stuck
on the road, the poor barley crop, and bleak skies. He dinna wish to add to his
troubles by takin’ his family away from Grosmont for fear they’d get stuck or
encounter ice covered roads.”
“Aye,
but the babe was born a month ago. Surely he could come now.”
“And
not make it back in time for Christmas?” her mother scolded. “That would be
unfair to Maddie and the children.”
Mary
blew out a breath. Of course her mother was right, but it didn’t help their
circumstances at the moment. With a sigh she settled at the scarred table in
her work room. Her brother, Lachlan Grant, Marquess of Brachton, was to have
seen to the delivery of the mounting orders for whisky. Her sister’s husband,
Magnus, was to have helped, but he’d fallen from a ladder nearly a month ago
and still couldn’t stand up straight without severe pain.
“I
wish Ian would come home.” Ian was the next oldest, and in charge of the
distilling, but he also helped with deliveries on occasion. However, he’d been
in Edinburgh for the last fortnight waiting on the ship to take whisky to
London. For years Jonathan Bridges had shipped her brother’s whisky to his
London warehouse and the ship was to have been here by now, but had been
delayed by the weather. At least that was what they all assumed. But, until the
ship did dock, Ian had to remain because they trusted nobody else to see to the
cargo.
There
were several men and lads who helped with the distilling, but never on the
deliveries. It was far too dangerous. She’d never forgive herself if they were
caught by the excisemen who were currently in the area looking for smugglers.
She’d seen the lights when they appeared on the hillside as soon as the sun set
yesterday. A warning to all of them not to take the whisky from hiding until
the gougers were gone.
At
the moment, Mary had few options available to her. They could pay the taxes,
which were so high that it was impossible to make a profit. Wait until the
excisemen were gone. Or, risk moving the whisky. If caught, the whisky would be
confiscated. Or worse, someone could be killed. It wasn’t unusual,
unfortunately, for fighting to break out between the gougers and the smugglers,
especially along the border, often ending with someone’s death. Tensions were
high as it was. Crops failed this last year because of the unusually cold
weather, and food was scarce in many places. Not only did smugglers need to
worry about the excisemen, but thieves as well.
In
the past, only Lachlan or Magnus drove the wagon to the docks in Edinburgh or
over the border into England but as neither of them were available, the task
would now fall to her.
She
rifled through the orders, setting aside those who would receive a note
explaining the delay and held back the most demanding requests. Three letters
and all from His Grace, the Duke of Danby.
If
she thought him reasonable, she’d write to him as well and explain the current
set of circumstances they found themselves in, but nothing about the Duke of
Danby struck her as reasonable. Demanding – yes. Reasonable – no.
He’d
been to her home twice, when once would have been more than enough, to call on
her brother. Why His Grace hadn’t called on Lachlan at his estate in Grosmont
was beyond Mary’s comprehension. Grosmont was in Yorkshire, Danby Castle was in
Yorkshire, so it stood to reason that estate was much more convenient for His
Grace than traveling to Falkirk, Scotland.
He
was also their most important customer and one they did not wish anger. Lachlan
had reminded her time and time again that whenever His Grace requested a
shipment, it was to be sent immediately. Which was all fine and good, until
there was no one to make the delivery.
She
needed to find a way to get the whisky to Danby Castle and the rest would just
have to wait. Except she had no idea how to go about it.
Lifting
the lamp from the desk, Mary made her way to the stables. She could use the
traveling coach, with the Brachton coat of arms, as her brother often did, with
the bottles wrapped in wool and hidden in the seats and floor. But, that would
require a driver and a maid to accompany her, thus putting three people at risk
if they were caught.
Beside
the coach was the wagon Magnus used for deliveries, and above it on wide
shelves, the means in which he used to hide the whisky. A smile pulled at her
lips. “Of course!” She had driven many wagons in the past and was quite
comfortable doing so. Happy with her plan, Mary made her way to the distillery
and gave instructions to have the wagon prepared so that she could leave at
first light and hope the excisemen were gone. She couldn’t delay longer or His
Grace wouldn’t have his whisky in time for Christmas. She wouldn’t be home by
Christmas, but at least His Grace would be happy, and that was really all that
mattered.
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