A Mistletoe Match For The White Duchess (Historical Regency Romance)

by Patricia Haverton

  Jonathan was so deep in thought that he hardly noticed the carriages and curricles that passed him until one came to a sudden stop behind him. He glanced back wondering why they had stopped in the middle of the road, when the door swung open and a man jumped out.

  “Is it you?” a voice asked. He turned Jora around and rode toward the man who now rushed his way.

  It couldn’t be! Or could it?

  “Gordon? Is that you, old chum?”

  “Of course, it is! Who else would be driving in my Father’s carriage?”

  Jonathan jumped off his horse and ran toward his friend. He’d hardly recognized him. It had been four years since they last laid eyes on each other.

  “Eric Gordon!” The two embraced and slapped each other on the back in greeting. Jonathan marveled at the changes in his friend. While he still had that youthful twinkle in his eyes, Eric Gordon had certainly grown up. There were a few faint laugh lines around his eyes and he was dressed rather dashingly.

  “I knew it was you, old chum…” his friend stopped himself, “I mean, Your Grace.”

  Jonathan grunted. “Please, do not call me Your Grace. You are my oldest friend. Call me by the name you’ve always called me.”

  “I hardly think it’s appropriate to call the Duke of Ekhard ‘ye ole ninny’.”

  Jonathan mock punched his friend in the shoulder.

  “Zooks! There it is again. ‘Your Grace’. If you feel rather more comfortable, perhaps Ekhard will do?”

  “Certainly. I could get used to that. Now, what are you doing here, riding in the middle of the road with your nose up in the air? Fancied a ride?”

  Jonathan sighed heavily. “I had unpleasant business to attend to with my tenants. And then I paid a visit to Roselawn Manor to leave a message for you.”

  Eric’s brown eyes grew wide. “What good fortune we ran into one another!”

  “Indeed! I had a mind to surprise you and Thomas at yesterday’s ball at Curtstone Hall, but my surprise was spoiled as neither of you attended!”

  “What a wonderful surprise it would have been! I have just returned from Bath. My Father had an important meeting with one of his business partners and I was required to attend. As you know, my Father is not the youngest and sooner or later I shall inherit the Viscountship, as well as his business ventures.”

  Jonathan shook his head. “Business ventures. Things have changed. When I left it was still near unthinkable for a noble to be involved in trade. Trade! Can you imagine? Our grandfathers would turn in their graves.”

  Eric laughed and nodded, “And yet, I recall a certain young Earl claiming that nobles becoming involved in business was the way of the future. And you were right.”

  Jonathan nodded. He had indeed said so. He felt his merry mood at being reunited with his best friend sour however, at the mention of his former title. He had indeed been Earl of Rotham for most of his life, one of his father’s secondary titles. He’d expected to remain so until his older brother, Charles, took over the Dukedom. Of course, things had turned out differently than he’d imagined. Always perceptive, his friend placed an arm around his shoulder.

  “You are rather Friday-faced all of a sudden. Let us not talk of the past. What do you say we meet tonight at Rover’s for a proper drink and welcome? You will have to make do with me, for Thomas is on a visit to London to meet with a matchmaker. He’s grown rather serious about finding a wife.”

  Jonathan felt a smile return to his face. “TomTom? A married man? Things truly have changed. And he doesn’t wish to rely on Lady Conner to find the perfect woman for him? How rather perplexing.”

  “Indeed! It is not as though Lady Conner has a brash, pushy nature about her. No! The very essence of patience and good taste she is.”

  The two laughed together, as they had both had unpleasant encounters with Lady Conner, who was known to be opinionated and unyielding.

  “Ah well, we shall reunite with him when he returns from London. In the meantime, I would quite enjoy a good wine with you. Oh, and perhaps a game of whist?”

  “We shall! Now, I must excuse myself. I have to return home and refresh myself and then immediately depart once more. I am due to collect, or rather rescue, my Sister from Lady Conner’s supervision and return her to Roselawn with me.”

  “Isolde? How is she? I have not seen her since she was a child.”

  Eric shrugged, “She is well. Well, she was when I left her in Lady Conner’s care a week ago. In fact, she was at the ball last night, along with Lady Conner and Miss Brown and my Cousin...”

  Jonathan raised his eyebrows.

  “She was? I saw Lady Conner conversing with an older lady, but I did not see your Sister, nor the other ladies.”

  Eric shrugged, “Perhaps they were dancing. Or, knowing Isolde, she stole away to see the stables! You know how she loves the horses.”

  “Indeed!” He smiled at the notion of little Miss Isolde Gordon. She’d been such a darling and gentle little girl. Shy and terrified to speak to him–but pleasant and sharp witted, if he remembered correctly. He’d taught her to ride many years ago.

  “I shall collect you this night and we will properly celebrate your return! I cannot wait to show you my new phaeton! We shall get to Rover’s in but a blink of the eye! You shall see!”

  With that, his friend departed. Jonathan felt his spirits greatly lifted. Having finally found his good friend made him almost forget the events of last night. And while he had vowed to not attend any more balls for the near future, a visit to a gentleman’s club promised to be quite enjoyable.

  When he arrived at the crossroad which led to Chesterton Court, a carriage turned to pass him. The Coat of Arms on the side was faded and in need of attention. He narrowed his eyes to see if he could make out whose carriage it was when suddenly his gaze was drawn to the window. A young woman’s face was visible, though she appeared to be sleeping. Jonathan felt his mouth drop open. Her bonnet slightly obscured her face but he felt almost certain that he knew her.

  By Jove! It is her! The young lady from the ball. It must be. I did not have hopes of seeing her again, and yet here she is.

  He turned his head as the carriage passed him and drove away. Should he follow to inquire her name? Or would it be considered inappropriate? Certainly, chasing down a carriage in the middle of the road in order to obtain an occupant’s name might be scandalous. Yet, if he had hopes of seeing her again, he had no choice. Yes! He would do exactly that.

  Jonathan turned Jora around after the carriage which was already quite a way away. He was about to spurn his horse into a gallop to follow the carriage when a curricle raced around the corner and the horses, going at top speed, nearly collided with Jora, causing her to buck. Jonathan, whose attention had been focused entirely on the departing carriage, was taken by such surprise that he lost his grip and felt himself catapulted into the air. He recalled the ground coming toward him at rapid speed when everything turned black as he fell to the ground.

  Chapter 3

  “Stop the carriage! Stop!” Olivia’s panicked voice drew Isolde out of a deep slumber. When she opened her eyes, she was momentarily disoriented but then remembered where she was. That morning, she and her cousin, Miss Henrietta Gordon, had convinced their chaperone, Lady Conner, to allow them return to Roselawn Manor via carriage, rather than wait for Eric to collect them.

  Lady Conner had been rather perturbed by the incident at the ball. Additionally, Isolde’s cousin, Henrietta, who’d been a guest of Lady Conner as well, spent most of the week in floods of tears, owing to a broken courtship. She’d been so distraught that she even missed the ball. The two circumstances led Lady Conner to quickly agree to the suggestion and allowed her charges to depart her supervision by way of their old carriage.

  Tired from the ordeal that had been the ball, Isolde had promptly fallen asleep once in the carriage. Now, she found herself awakened in the most unpleasant of manners.

  “What is the matter, Olivia? Why the shouting?”
She realized that both Olivia and Henrietta were looking out the window on their side of the carriage, mesmerized by something up ahead. Isolde decided to look out her window, but found the view obstructed.

  “An accident, Izzy! A rider collided with a curricle and was thrown from his horse into a bush.”

  “Faith! How awful!” Isolde had taken several tumbles off her horses over the years, but had been fortunate to never be seriously harmed. She scooted over closer to Henrietta and glanced out the window. The incident had occurred at the fork of the road, quite a way behind them and it was difficult to see.

  The curricle was parked on the side and a great many people attended to the man. The man sat on the ground with a beautiful black mare beside him. He appeared unharmed, though required the help of several bystanders to stand. Once upright, he dusted off his trousers and attended to his horse.

  “He appears unhurt.” Henrietta commented as the man was helped to his feet. “A relief!”

  “A lucky man he is!” Olivia nodded as she leaned back in her seat. “We may press on!” She called out to the driver and the carriage was set in motion once again.

  Isolde leaned back, still a little flustered at the sudden excitement. She was looking forward to spending the next few days at home, in solitude. She did not wish to socialize any further, for the previous night had shaken her more than she wanted to admit.

  “Are you quite all right, Cousin? How is your ankle feeling?” Henrietta asked when Isolde sighed. Henrietta’s eyes were puffed and red from having spent much of the past week in tears.

  “I am rather fatigued. But, I am fine. My ankle aches me some, but I shall soldier on.” She smiled at her cousin, the way she always did when covering up the truth. She was more than fatigued. She was disillusioned with the ton and her role in it, and wanted nothing more than to withdraw from it all. Except, the thought of the young man who’d helped her kept rushing back. She’d thought of him often since they parted. If only she’d discovered his name.

  “We have all had a dreadful few days,” Olivia sighed as the carriage made another turn.

  “All? I understand Isolde’s predicament and I am of course utterly ruined, but you? What has befallen you? Too many dashing suitors?”

  Isolde grinned at her cousin’s remark, for she really did not understand why Olivia felt she was in as miserable a position as them. Olivia glared at Henrietta.

  “Oh Etta, must you be so snide? It doesn’t suit you. And yes, indeed it is a suitor that’s causing me a headache.”

  “Is it that dashing Lord Canterbury? I overheard your Mother and Lady Buxby fawn over him this morning. Has he asked to court you?”

  “He danced with her twice, Etta. I am certain he would have asked to dance again, had it not been for my unfortunate interruption of the night.”

  “I just escaped my Mother’s inquisition regarding the good Lord, now I must face it from the both of you?”

  “Naturally, he was clearly enamored of you. He could not tear his eyes away from you for one moment. I was certain he would dance right into a pillar, he was so taken by you.” Isolde was grateful for the change in subject.

  “Zooks! I should not have agreed to dance the quadrille with him after the cotillion. I have had quite enough. He is rather in love with himself. He spoke of nothing but his many accomplishments on the battlefield against Napoleon’s forces at Waterloo.”

  “Isn’t it interesting how many of our young Lords claim to have fought at Waterloo? And each and every one a hero. They would have you believe they are the Duke of Wellington himself.”

  “Indeed! And I just happen to know that Lord Canterbury never once served a day in the armed forces at all!” Olivia shook her head in dismay.

  “What a shame. He seemed like such an interesting and handsome fellow,” Isolde shook her head while Henrietta looked from one to the other, mesmerized by the conversation and no doubt upset at herself for missing it all.

  Olivia groaned, “He certainly thinks he is both the most interesting man and the fairest! Though in reality he has two left feet and bad breath!”

  This made Isolde laugh, which was rather unexpected given her mood. Even Henrietta felt herself moved to chuckle. Olivia, however, did not join in the merry mood. When she spoke again, it was in a grave tone.

  “He has declared his intention to court me. Mother informed me this morning. He has asked to speak to my Father about it at the earliest convenience.”’

  “Has he? How very fortunate.” Henrietta sounded quite excited at the prospect, oblivious to Olivia’s clear distress.

  “It is not, for I do not wish to be courted by him.”

  Henrietta furrowed her eyebrows. “At least you have a Lord wishing to court you. What of me? I shall become an old maid.” Her lips quivered as she prepared to shed tears once more.

  “Faith, dearest Cousin, do not begin this again. It is not the end of the world. At least you have a chance to go to the next ball and find another suitor,” Isolde said. Her cousin glanced at her, her eyes already glimmering with tears.

  “No. I shan’t go out in public ever again.”

  “I’m afraid you shall have to eventually show your face in public, lest people think we’ve done away with you! Imagine the scandal then!” Olivia giggled, but Henrietta did not see the fun in it at all.

  “You see! Even my dear friend laughs at me! Everyone will be pointing and talking behind my back. I’m ruined! Utterly ruined!” She broke into sobs so severe that her entire body shook.

  “Etta, I did not mean to upset you. I spoke in jest to make you smile. Usually you enjoy my humor.”

  “Today is not a usual day. In fact, I do not know when there will ever be a usual day again!” She dabbed her eyes carefully as not to smudge the powder she’d applied so carefully this morning. Isolde didn’t quite know why she’d bothered, for she was bound to cry and make a mess of it anyhow.

  Isolde retrieved a handkerchief from her reticule and handed it to her cousin. Beside her, Olivia sighed and shook her head at their friend’s tragic display.

  “It is not as terrible as you make it out to be. Other courtships have failed. Yours is not the first, nor will it be the last. Do not fret.”

  Henrietta glared at Olivia. “How do you know? You don’t even want to be courted.”

  Olivia shook her head and looked out the window.

  “Etta, do you not believe that it is rather a blessing in disguise that it happened before you were wed? Imagine if Lord Hancock had run away with the other woman after you were married. Or after you had children. That would have been a true scandal. As such, it is only a minor complication. Another wonderful match will be found in no time.”

  Her cousin’s rapid breathing slowed somewhat.

  “You are right, Isolde, it would have been worse. In that event I would have been Lady Hancock, Marchioness of Hancock with a large estate in Kent, a house in London, staff to wait on me, and enough money to never worry again.”

  “And with the stain of a husband who left you for a merchant’s daughter,” Olivia pointed out. The carriage was about to turn onto the sandy road that led to the main house.

  “A merchant’s daughter! Can you imagine! Not only have I lost the chance to wed a Marquess, I lost him to a lowly merchant’s daughter. The embarrassment!”

  Isolde cleared her throat. She did not want to contribute to her cousin’s misery, but she also did not want to see her continue on in such a state. She was utterly at sixes and sevens.

  “A merchant’s daughter she might be, but she is from money. People will talk about that. If nothing else, your loss will contribute to the ongoing discussion over nobles going into trade.”

  Henrietta rumpled her nose at the mere notion. “My Father always says nobles shouldn’t sully their hands with trade. Neither should they sully their beds with merchant daughters,” she crossed her arms in front of her chest and stared out the window. She did not see the look of contempt Isolde shot her way.

&n
bsp; She loved her cousin, she was one of only three people in the world she truly trusted and depended upon, aside from Olivia and her older brother, Eric. There were days, however, when she truly got on her last nerve. She often had an attitude befitting a Duke’s daughter the way she carried on. In her rant about nobles in trade she’d clearly forgotten that her own uncle was in business with merchants.

  Just because Henrietta’s father, Baron Balwick, chose not to dirty his hands with work, did not mean that it was not beneficial. Isolde was not a cruel person so she would never tell her cousin this, but the mere fact that her father was not as wealthy was part of why it had been so difficult for Henrietta to find a good match. There were simply other, higher-born daughters that came with a better dowry.