The Hotelier's Bride (The Balfour Hotel Book 2) Read online

  Patience stared blankly at her second child, her mouth becoming a fine line of disapproval.

  “I suspect you know fully what this is about,” she hissed. “You will not embarrass me when she arrives.”

  “She?” Lise echoed. The matter was becoming stranger with each spoken word.

  “Yes. His mother.”

  Their eyes met, and a fusion of worry and relief flowed through Lise. She slowly moved toward the table where the duchess sat nonchalantly.

  She intends to see this through. All of our discussions on the matter were not as fruitless as I expected.

  Fear overcame all other emotions, and she turned her attention back to the duchess.

  “Who are they?” Lise asked quietly.

  “You will find out soon enough.”

  “Mother, please. I cannot go blindly into this—”

  “That is entirely the point, is it not?”

  Lise stifled a sigh.

  “I am not being contrary, Mother,” she murmured. “You cannot fault me for being curious.”

  “You will not be contrary,” the duchess replied, raising her eyes to meet Lise’s. “Not if you wish for this to work. You should be seen and not heard today.”

  Lise bristled.

  “I am hardly a child, Mother,” she countered. “I need not—”

  “Lise,” Patience interrupted crossly. “The matter is not for discussing. You will simply listen and not speak. It is important that she appreciate your beauty, if nothing else. She need not get a glimpse of your inquisitive nature, Lise. It will be our downfall.”

  Lise frowned, but she knew her mother was correct. Oh, how she wished she could portray herself as the coy women she saw at parties, batting their eyelashes and discussing nonsense, but it was not in her nature when her desire was to learn.

  Unfortunately, it was not a quality that men found desirable and, no matter how Lise tried to suppress the endless queries from spilling forth, her curiosity inevitably got the best of her.

  There is far too much at stake for me to upset the apple cart in this instance. I will be silent and permit Mother to do whatever it is she has planned.

  Gooseflesh prickled Lise’s skin, but there was nothing else to say as the door opened again and Bernadette hurried back into the conservatory with a pot of tea.

  “Your Grace,” the servant muttered nervously. “Your visitor has arrived. Shall I see her through here?”

  The duchess eyed Bernadette with scorn.

  “It is freezing in the conservatory!” she replied haughtily. “I could not see a guest in here. See her to the front parlor. We will be along in a moment.”

  Confusion colored Bernadette’s cheeks, and Lise realized then that her mother had only wished to forewarn her privately before the arrival of the lady. The servants’ ears were everywhere in a manor, and her mother had been wise to ensure their seclusion.

  “As you wish, Your Grace,” Bernadette muttered, perplexed, but she set the tray down and hurried back out the door.

  “Who is it, Mother?” Lise asked when she was certain Bernadette had escaped earshot. “What is her name?”

  “Mrs. Anne Balfour.”

  Lise’s brow furrowed as she tried to remember the name, but it seemed to tantalize the recesses of her mind somehow.

  “I cannot say I know her.”

  “She is the wife of a wealthy hotel proprietor in Luton, very much a recluse from what I understand.”

  “And her son?”

  Patience nodded, her clear blue eyes meeting Lise’s.

  “Xavier. Quite handsome from what I have learned.”

  Mother and daughter shared a long, silent stare, each thinking the same dark but hopeful thoughts.

  We must solidify this union if we wish to survive.

  “Duchess, Lady Elizabeth, may I present Mrs. Anne Balfour of Luton. Mrs. Balfour, Her Grace, Patience, Duchess of Holden, and her daughter, Lady Elizabeth Burnaby.”

  The frail, waxen-faced woman rose to curtsey before the mother and daughter, her head lowered respectfully. There were remnants of what had once been a stunningly lovely face beneath a hardened shell, which somehow contrasted the plaintive expression on her face.

  She seemed both breakable and invincible, hard and vulnerable.

  “Your Grace, Lady Elizabeth, I thank you for receiving me,” she murmured, and Lise glanced at her mother, wondering if the duchess heard what she had.

  She recalled her vow to hold her tongue but her mother refused to meet her gaze, making Lise’s promise so much more difficult.

  “Please, do sit,” Patience told her. Suter stood nearby, awaiting instructions, and the duchess nodded to him as Mrs. Balfour reclaimed her spot upon the velvet settee.

  “Suter, send for tea,” she instructed, and the butler nodded, vanishing into the vast manor house.

  “You have a lovely home, Your Grace,” Mrs. Balfour offered. “One of the finest I have seen.”

  “I understand your hotel caters to the upperclassmen,” Patience replied. “I am certain you are no stranger to luxury.”

  “Luxury, perhaps not. Opulence is quite another matter.”

  Lise’s eyes widened at the veiled insult, but to her surprise, Patience laughed.

  “I concur. The duke does tend to overfill a chamber with his golden trinkets. Some men will compensate for their own shortcomings in various ways, I imagine. Surely you can relate, Mrs. Balfour.”

  To add to Lise’s amazement, Mrs. Balfour also chuckled.

  “Indeed,” she agreed, as Suter shuffled back into the parlor with a shining silver tray in his hands.

  Silently, the butler poured the tea for the ladies, and they each eyed one another speculatively.

  “You do not say much, my lady,” Mrs. Balfour commented. “Are you shy? It would be a terrible shame if you had no wit to accompany that comely face.”

  Lise looked at her mother and swallowed the lump of nervousness in her windpipe.

  “I am not shy, Mrs. Balfour. Perhaps a tad anxious.”

  “That is to be expected in these situations, but I can assure you, Lady Elizabeth, my son is not a man to be feared. The ladies find him to be all the crack, and I am told he takes after me with his fairness and eyes.”

  Lise tried with all her might to envision a masculine form of the waif before her, but it did not form well in her imagination.

  She managed a small smile.

  “I am certain he is dashing, Mrs. Balfour.”

  Anne leaned forward, her emerald irises bloodshot and glazed.

  “I daresay you will make beautiful children,” she murmured, and Lise was shocked by her forwardness. She turned her head to look helplessly at her mother, but Patience had busied herself with her cup and saucer, leaving Lise’s face to flush crimson.

  “I did not mean to embarrass you, Lady Elizabeth,” Anne told her worriedly. “Forgive my frankness.”

  “No need to apologize, Mrs. Balfour,” Patience interjected before Lise could respond. “I am just as eager as you to hear the pitter-patter of small feet.”

  Once more, the women exchanged a smile, and Lise’s gut twisted into knots of concern as she watched the farce unfolding before her.

  “Shall we make arrangements to visit Luton?” Patience asked some time later, sensing that Anne Balfour was growing restless in the house.

  “Indeed!” Mrs. Balfour agreed, seeming relieved that they had taken to her. “If you inform me of when you intend to arrive, I will see to the arrangements.”

  “Perhaps we can come tomorrow?” the duchess suggested, and Lise’s mouth fell slightly apart.

  Before Father returns from London? Will he not be enraged that we are gone?

  “T-tomorrow?” Anne echoed.

  “Will that be a matter?”

  “No! Certainly not. I will ensure you have a suite on the fifth floor. Xavier will be beside himself with excitement to meet you, Lady Elizabeth.”

  “We, too, look forward to seeing your renowned
hotel, Mrs. Balfour.”

  “Shall we expect the duke?”

  “Unfortunately, matters in London detain him.”

  “Will he not wish to know if they choose to become engaged?” Anne insisted, and for the first time, Lise saw a glimmer of intelligence in her dull, green eyes.

  “Of course,” the duchess answered without missing one beat of the conversation. “But he extends his blessings through me, I assure you.”

  “Of course,” Anne muttered.

  “If it is the dowry that concerns you, Mrs. Balfour…”

  “Certainly not!” The woman seemed offended by the suggestion and met Patience’s stare evenly. “The Balfours want for nothing, Your Grace.”

  “If I thought that was the case, I would have never agreed to this match,” Patience replied, and there seemed to be an uneasy truce between the ladies—for the time being.

  Anne rose to her feet and curtsied quickly.

  “Until tomorrow then,” she said, her smile watery.

  “Indeed,” Patience agreed. “Good day, Mrs. Balfour. Thank you for your attendance.”

  Anne was shown from the parlor, and Lise whirled to look at her mother, the lace hem of her skirts swirling at her ankles.

  “She was drunk!” Lise choked. “Did you smell the spirits on her?”

  “She was a trifle disguised,” Patience agreed. “I thought to offer her sherry or port, but I feared she might never leave.”

  “Does that not trouble you? That my mother-in-law is a drunk?”

  Patience chuckled mirthlessly.

  “Oh, my sweet, naïve child,” she snickered. “You will understand the ways of women much better when you are wed.”

  “Mother—”

  Patience lost her bemused expression, her face hardening.

  “It is for the best,” she snapped, lowering her voice to a low hiss. “If she is drunk often, she will be far too consumed with herself to be fretting about you. I cannot tell you how trying it has been to find a match who is not closely related to the duchy yet who carries the means we require.”

  Reluctantly, Lise had to agree with her mother even though her doubts were growing as they spoke.

  She may not be a lady of sound mind, but Mrs. Balfour does not seem to be cruel. Will I be able to see this through?

  Queerly, she hoped that Xavier Balfour was a brute or somehow unworthy of her compassion.

  “Do you understand what I am saying, Lise?” the duchess insisted, and Lise sighed, bobbing her head.

  “Yes,” she murmured.

  The fewer eyes I have upon my actions, the less likely it is I will be caught when I am forced to betray them all.

  Chapter Two

  “Today, Mother? You cannot be sincere!”

  Xavier gazed at Anne in disbelief, but she seemed unperturbed by his outburst.

  “Why not today?” she asked, her words almost slurring as she brushed her flaxen hair in the vanity.

  “Who is she? Why did you not mention that you were already pursuing matches? Why, I only came to you with this information a week ago!”

  “When you did come, Xavier, I expected that you intended to marry. Have you changed your mind?”

  “I-no,” he sputtered, feeling quite drunk himself at that moment. “Of course, I have not changed my mind, Mother. I simply would have preferred to be consulted before you brought a duke and his daughter here for a betrothal.”

  “The duke will not be here,” Anne intoned. “It will be the Duchess of Holden and Lady Elizabeth.”

  “Why?” Xavier exploded. “What is the purpose if the duke is not present?”

  “Her Grace assures me that she has authority to accept the terms of a betrothal if you should find the lady becoming enough.”

  A thousand words of protest formed on Xavier’s lips but died there just as quickly when he realized that he should be grateful, not alarmed.

  It was merely so sudden. He had not expected an appointment so quickly.

  Alas, time is wasting while Elias eyes the hotel. What is it you await?

  “She is charming, in a quiet way,” Anne explained. “She will be a stunning contrast on your arm with her ebony locks, I daresay.”

  Anne turned and eyed him warily.

  “She is the daughter of a duke, Xavier.”

  “So you have said,” Xavier replied, his interest in Lady Elizabeth growing.

  “I do not think you understand, my dear,” Anne barked with unusual sharpness and Xavier could see that despite her constant state of inebriation, she still had her wits about her.

  “Enlighten me, Mother. What is it you are attempting to say?”

  “You must stop your whoremongering ways,” Anne told him bluntly. “I know you are on too-familiar terms with every abbess from here to Cambridge.”

  Xavier’s face blushed crimson.

  “That is categorically untrue!” Xavier lied, confounded as to how his reclusive mother could know of his lewd interests. Anne seemed unmoved by his protests, a fact that only inflamed his cheeks more.

  “Xavier, I have fashioned this match for you because you have asked. You will do no better than a lady of such high standing, but if you cannot control yourself—”

  “Mother!” he cut in sharply. “I will adhere to my wedding vows.”

  He wondered if she could hear the doubt in his own words, and he was filled with shame as he thought it.

  “We will see, I imagine,” Anne sighed, and Xavier knew he was fooling no one with his proclamations.

  Perhaps she will be the one who captures my heart, Xavier thought and snickered at the notion. He was not so naïve to believe that any union in which he found himself would be borne of emotion. It was merely a necessity, free of any sentiment.

  “I am pleased to see this amuses you so well,” Anne said curtly.

  “I am not amused, Mother,” he assured her. “I am happily anticipating the arrival of Lady Elizabeth.”

  Anne grunted and waved him away as though he was a gnat troubling her.

  “I should never have agreed to this. You will shame us all with your amorous intentions.”

  “I will do no such thing,” Xavier growled, resentful that his mother thought so poorly of him. “My loyalty has always been to the hotel and this family. I would never jeopardize our reputation.”

  Anne studied him silently for a long while and nodded slowly.

  “Perhaps,” she murmured. “Perhaps.”

  “When will they arrive? I must make myself presentable.”

  “I cannot say. They did not specify, but it is not a long journey from Holden.”

  “Then I will ensure I am there to greet them when they arrive. Shall I meet you in the lobby, Mother?”

  Anne looked at him in surprise.

  “I will not be there,” she replied, an air of confusion about her. “My duty in this matter is complete.”

  He balked and shook his head.

  “How will I know who they are?”

  Anne smiled faintly.

  “You will know,” she assured him in her strange, wise way.

  Matthew watched him covertly as Xavier paced through the lobby, barely unable to contain his growing excitement.

  He wished the concierge would not stare at him, but he was aware that he must be quite a sight, donned in a rather conspicuous wardrobe choice at such an early hour of the morning.

  Anne’s words echoed through his mind.

  I must make a decent impression if I wish to win the hand of a lady.

  His mother had given him little in the way of expectation, only that he would be pleased with her match.

  “Matthew,” Xavier asked impatiently. “Have you nothing better to do than gawk at the proprietor this morning?”

  Matthew balked and lowered his eyes guiltily.

  “Forgive me, Mr. Xavier. I-I was merely admiring your attire.”

  “Admire it whilst working,” Xavier retorted, but he was secretly flattered by the appreciation, if only by an employe
e.

  “Yes, sir.”

  He shifted his eyes downward, and Xavier’s attention moved toward the dining room where Samuel, the new maître d’, was overseeing the waiters.

  He is not new, Xavier corrected himself. He has been here for almost one year.

  It was hard to reconcile that Honor, the man in his previous position, was gone. Honor had been with the hotel since his birth, and a newcomer to the position was still a difficult matter for Xavier to accept.

  Yet another reason to fault Elias. As though I needed more cause to protest his presence.

  Antoinette appeared at Samuel’s side, and Xavier noted with mild interest that they seemed to be speaking very closely.

  He idly wondered if Samuel and the head of housekeeping were more than simple acquaintances.

  Antoinette seemed to feel his gaze upon her, and she looked toward him, a flash of shame appearing on her face.

  “Good morrow, Mr. Xavier,” Antoinette said, lowering her head nervously.

  “Good morrow, Antoinette, Samuel.”

  The maître d’ nodded curtly, respectfully and skilfully avoiding his eyes.

  “You look dashing, sir, if you do not mind me being so bold. May I ask the occasion?”

  Xavier flushed slightly but maintained his composure, shaking his blond head of hair.

  “He is meeting his wife,” Emmeline gushed from his side, and Xavier whirled in shock. He had not realized that his sister was nearby.

  “Mind yourself!” he barked with unexpected force. Emmeline’s smile faded, and she seemed perplexed by his reaction.

  “Is it not true?” she asked, tipping her fair face to the side. “I was told—”

  “By whom? What were you told?”

  Emmeline’s expression took on a look of discomfort.

  “Mother asked me to join you in meeting the duchess and Lady Elizabeth,” she replied, and it was only then that Xavier noticed how properly his sister was dressed also.

  “I-I do not need an escort, Emmy!” he hissed, looking toward Antoinette, who had the good sense to leave the siblings alone.

  “It is not a matter of escorting you, my dear brother,” Emmeline replied. “Consider it a form of support.”