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

by Patricia Haverton

  “By the time I received the news, Charles had been dead for months. It was the start of monsoon season when the seas are rough. Service between India and England is spotty at best during that season. The East India Company had one ship leaving and I could have boarded it. But I chose to wait until the end of monsoon season. I thought that since I was already in India, I may as well complete our business there before returning. I had already booked passage on a ship and was packing my bags when I received a letter to say my Father had died.”

  “I’m ever so sorry, Roth...Ekhard. I know what it’s like to have a parent pass away suddenly.”

  Jonathan glanced at his friend, “I know you do, dear friend.” A moment of silence passed between them as they remembered the parents they’d lost.

  “Did you go to the funeral?” Jonathan asked at last. They were now on the main road and headed toward town.

  “I did, it was beautifully done.”

  “I thank you for going, as I could not. Now, let us not talk about the past which we cannot change. Let us instead talk about the present. Tell me about this gentlemen's club you are taking me to!”

  Eric’s eyes grew wide. “By Jove, it is rather The Establishment. It is not unlike Brook’s in London, only smaller. They have excellent ale and fine wines, and you can always find a lord or gentleman willing to make a wager. It is glorious! You will love it!”

  Jonathan grinned. Eric was always the life of the party. He loved a good wager and a drink, as did Jonathan. But he had to be honest. In all his travels, he’d never found anyone who was as dedicated to having a good time as Eric Gordon.

  “Gordon! Did you not promise me a wild ride on this curricle of yours? As of now, we are moving at the speed of two clergymen on the way to Sunday Service.”

  “Oh, Your Grace wishes to go faster?”

  “Indeed, Gordon! Show me why we took your curricle in this freezing weather, instead of my much warmer landau.”

  “I shall. Be certain to hold on to your hat, for fast we shall go!”

  With that, he turned the curricle into a true racing carriage. The horses broke into a powerful gallop, and the two men were thrown against the back of their seats as the animals sped up. They rushed down the street, the hooves causing thunderous commotion which drew the looks of several passersby.

  Jonathan found himself reaching for his hat. Holding it in the air, he whooped and hollered in delight as they went, ignoring the pain in his side from the fall. This was what he’d ached for, fun with his friends without worry.

  * * *

  Rover’s was everything he’d been promised and more. There was a card room where multiple games were being played, another room for billiards, a favorite of Jonathan’s, and of course many an opportunity to take a drink.

  Jonathan felt a little out of place, for he did not know many of the men in attendance. Some, he recognized from long ago. But even with them, he felt a stranger in his own town. He engaged in a few games of whist, lost and then won back a small fortune, and indulged in the fine wine his friend had promised. Still, somehow, he did not experience the joy he’d hoped for at being reunited with his friend, and in an establishment, he should have been comfortable in.

  “You don’t seem as though you are enjoying yourself, Ekhard.”

  “I am having a marvelous time, Gordon. Although, I do feel out of sorts. I simply do not know anybody here, and it is awkward making introductions.”

  His friend waved his arm. “Do not fret, you simply need to come out more and meet people. You’ve never had difficulty making friends. You shall be just fine. In fact, I have just the thing for you. Another ball!”

  Jonathan’s eyes grew wide and he grunted, “A ball? You recall I had a dreadful time at the ball yesterday and I’d rather not attend one again.”

  “You sound like my Sister! I had a terrible encounter with her earlier. As you know, she was at the ball yesterday herself and did not enjoy herself, owing to Lady Conner and her friend, Lady Buxby. She made me promise to convince Father not to force her to any more balls for some time…”

  “Go on! What happened, Gordon?”

  His friend sighed dramatically.

  “I had scarcely promise her I would ensure she does not have to attend another ball unless she wishes to when I received a letter from my Father. It was to inform me that his business partner’s daughter, Miss Eliza Downey, was to have a coming-out ball in a fortnight. Both Isolde’s and my attendance at the ball is mandatory, no discussion. For the good of the business, of course. Thus, I had to break the news to Isolde. She did not take it well.”

  “I do not judge her one bit. It seems as though a great number of people had a terrible time at last night’s ball. I came upon a young lady who had been mercilessly tormented by a group of young ladies and required comfort for it was distressing to witness, let alone experience.”

  Eric raised his eyebrows. “Indeed? Who was the young lady? Perhaps Isolde or I know her. I am certain my Sister would be inclined to call on the young lady to provide comfort as she is often the target of teasing herself.”

  “I do not know. I did not ask her name before departing, a foolish error. In fact, I thought I saw her passing me in a carriage earlier which is what led to my distraction and accident. Although, come to think of it, it may not have been her at all but rather my conscience playing tricks on me. I feel rather guilty for not asking her name to check on her later.”

  “I understand, but do not fret! If she is a lady of the ton, she is bound to attend the coming-out ball. Join us and you may see her again. If you do not, you will still have a marvelous evening with closest friends for Thomas shall be back also.”

  Jonathan shook his head, “I much appreciate your invitation but I would rather not. I doubt she will be there as I’m sure the events of the evening would have put her off balls forever. And I would rather spend my evenings with my friends at establishments such as this.”

  “Bad form! Do not be such a bore, Your Grace. It will be good for you to be seen out and about. You will have to forge relationships with the other lords in the area now you are to be in Parliament. And soon you will be going to London for the new session in The House of Lords. It will only be beneficial for you to know some of these lords before you share a bench with them. And what better way to get to know them than by attending gentlemen clubs and balls? I'll tell you what! Let us make a wager!”

  “A wager?” Jonathan laughed and took a big swig of ale. He loved his friend’s eagerness, it was catching. “All right then Gordon, what is your wager?”

  Eric stood up, one hand in the air and his index finger pointing at Jonathan. He was swaying slightly as he stood.

  “I wager that I will be able to beat you at billiards three games in a row. If I am right, and I do beat you, you will attend the ball. If you win just one out of three games, I shall never talk about the ball again. This ball. I cannot promise anything about future balls. What say you, Jonathan Allen, Duke of Ekhard?”

  Jonathan broke into laughter, for it was a ridiculous wager. He had always been brilliant at billiards. True he had not been able to play during his time in India, but he knew that he still had the skills. It was not something you ever forgot. And his friend was already quite lush. He could barely stand up straight. There was no way he would win even one game of billiards, let alone three. Jonathan rose and faced his friend.

  “Very well, I agree to the wager. Let us go ahead and get started, what say you?”

  “I say you had better have your valet unpack your dancing shoes!”

  Jonathan rose and followed Eric when suddenly, a pain shot through the right side of his body. He winced and stopped for a moment to steady himself on a table. His right side had taken the brunt of the fall and had ached increasingly, although not as bad as this. He pressed his lips together and forced himself to go on.

  He would have to win this game for if he did not, he would have to keep his word and the last thing he was interested in was anot
her ball. No, he would press on and beat Eric. No matter how much his body fought him. As he walked on a voice in his head taunted him and he felt his confidence waning. He’d win. Wouldn’t he?

  Chapter 5

  “Hold still, Miss, we don’t want smudges,” Isolde’s maid, Molly, said as Isolde sat on her chair, stiff as a board. Molly stood in front of her, eyes narrowed in concentration. She applied a layer of white powder, made of crushed pearls, to Isolde’s face with great care. Once she’d covered every inch of Isolde’s face and neck she stepped back, a broad smile on her round face.

  “Lovely, Miss Gordon. Now, just a little rouge and lip pomade. It’ll look nice with the hair the way we have it.” She stepped to the dresser and rummaged through the assorted pots and jars while Isolde touched her head. Molly had arranged her hair in a braided up-do that she had not previously tried out. Her hair was so thin and fine it was difficult to find any kind of styling that worked and held together.

  “I don’t know Molly, must we bother? No amount of color can turn me from plain Isolde Gordon into Princess Charlotte.”

  The maid sighed, “You are a pretty girl, Miss Gordon, and you just need to trust me on that if you won’t believe it yourself.”

  I cannot believe I shall have to go to another ball. Eric promised he would help me avoid it and not even ten minutes later, he took it all back and informed me Father would insist upon this ball. Naturally, the next ball had to be a coming-out ball for his business associate’s daughter.

  She had been miserable since the afternoon Eric had so gravely announced that their father had all but ordered them to attend the ball for Miss Eliza Downey. At least this time she would not be alone. In addition to Eric, Olivia and Henrietta were also going, and so was her father. She only hoped Hester and Frances would not be there, but in all likelihood they would be. The thought alone turned her stomach.

  By now, her father had found out what occurred at the ball, although she had been able to keep Eric from finding out. He would be crushed on her behalf and would vow revenge, no doubt.

  Molly returned with the rouge for her cheeks and applied it carefully, after which Isolde reddened her lips with the lip pomade. Once they were finished, Molly stepped back to observe the result.

  “A vision you are, Miss Gordon. Now, which pelisse would you like me to fetch for you?”

  Isolde bit her newly-reddened lips and looked down at her dress. She had selected a primrose-colored round robe of satin which she wore over a white slip. It was modestly ornamented with puckered white satin around the neck and sleeves. As usual, she was unsure what would look appropriate with it. She glanced at Molly who smiled and went to retrieve a heavy, fur-lined pelisse in a rose color which would look lovely over the dress.

  “There we are. Now you shall be warm and dashing at the same time! You look a vision, Miss Gordon,” Molly said as she stepped back to take in the ensemble. “I declare you shall have no trouble finding a nice young lord to dance with tonight.”

  Isolde smiled. She felt comfortable in the outfit. It was light, yet modest. She would never admit it out loud, but the only silver lining that made the thought of going to the ball tolerable was the chance to see the young lord again. It was also the reason she’d allowed Molly to do her up in a way she didn’t usually allow.

  “Let us go downstairs to the drawing room,” she said and left the room, followed by Molly who was carrying the pelisse.

  * * *

  Isolde stood in front of the large mirror, which hung on the wall in the drawing room. It had been a gift from her father, in honor of her twentieth birthday. Since mirrors were outrageously expensive, not many families owned one. It had made her a very popular young woman for some time. All the young ladies in the area had wanted a chance to see themselves in all their glory.

  Isolde knew of course that this had been part of the reason why her father had given her such an extravagant gift. He always did what he could to help her make friends and increase her social circle. While it had worked for some time–with one young lady or another calling on her almost every day for a number of weeks, she’d known the sudden interest had been superficial.

  Indeed, as soon as Hester York had acquired a mirror of her own, the visits of Isolde’s new friends stopped. It had not really bothered her, for she had little in common with these girls and she knew well they found her timid nature odd. She was quite content to share her mirror only with the two girls she knew truly loved and cared for her, Olivia and Henrietta.

  “Are you pleased, Miss Gordon?” Molly asked with a hint of uncertainty in her voice as Isolde examined herself.

  “I am pleased, Molly. Thank you.” And she was. She was far from comparable to the other ladies of the ton, for she would never be glamorous or dainty as they were, but she found her reflection not as off-putting as usual. The dress flattered her and the makeup made her face look paler than usual, as was the style. She could see herself talking and dancing with the kind young lord, should he be at the ball.

  Just then, a carriage arrived outside. North rushed for the door to greet the arriving guests.

  When she got to the door, she recognized the carriage as her father’s. He’d been on his way to collect Henrietta for the ball. Isolde reached for the pelisse and was about to collect her muff and tippet when she saw her cousin step out of the carriage. Instantly, her shoulder fell forward and the smile she’d carried upon her face faded. Henrietta looked like a princess.

  Her cousin rushed up the stairs, leaving Isolde’s father in the carriage. She busted through the front door, giddy and excited.

  “Izzy! Let me take a look into your mirror before we go. I so adore my new gown; I couldn’t wait to see it for myself!”

  She took off her pelisse and handed it to Molly, before rushing past Isolde into the drawing room. Isolde and her maid followed and found her cousin prancing, examining herself from all sides.

  She’s a diamond of the first water. Next to her, I fade.

  Henrietta was dressed in a striking gown consisting of a sky-blue satin slip and a long robe made of white silk which was knotted in elaborate beading and tied at the front with more rows of beads. Her red hair was parted in the middle and confined in a style that made her look like a Grecian goddess. A matching Grecian scarf was draped around her shoulders. She was a vision.

  Isolde felt small and plain, despite her best efforts. She caught Molly’s gaze and found her maid looking at her with pity. She could tell that the glimmer of confidence Isolde had experienced had been extinguished by her cousin’s radiance.

  “You look very pretty, Miss Gordon,” Molly said to Henrietta, who still examined her reflection.

  “Why, thank you Molly. I appreciate it.”

  “Both the Gordon girls are utterly darling!” Molly said, finally drawing Henrietta’s attention from the mirror to her cousin.

  “Oh la! You are lovely, Izzy. Did Molly help you with your makeup?” Henrietta rushed to her cousin’s side. “We shall both find a dashing lord tonight, I declare!”

  “Oh Etta, I am so pleased you have recovered. I was racked with worry.”

  Her cousin smiled, “I have decided there is no use crying over a Marquess when there are so many other eligible gentlemen out there. Let him be happy with his commoner wife. I shall do better.”

  Isolde nodded. She wasn’t quite sure how her cousin intended to do better than a Marquess, especially given that her father’s wealth paled in comparison to Isolde’s father. Still, she was not about to make her cousin feel bad. After all, her cousin was a great beauty and sometimes, that was all it took.

  “Let us go to the ball, for I am in the mood for dancing!” Henrietta twirled once around herself in the great parlor and then took her fur-lined pelisse and muff back from Molly.

  * * *

  “You both look smashing,” Lord Lincester said as they traveled to the ball. Henrietta sat across from Isolde, who found herself in a rather sullen mood.

  Her father’s k
ind words cheered her some, but he never tired of telling her that he thought she was beautiful. She was also highly uncomfortable with compliments of any kind. Especially since she did not quite believe them. Still, as soon as her cousin had appeared, she immediately felt bad about herself again.

  It was almost as though she could only feel happy with the way she looked as long as she did not compare herself to others. Her cousin, and best friend Olivia especially. For next to them, she always felt like a gray mouse. Like tonight, she felt quite happy with her new hairstyle as well as the lovely dress she wore, but compared to Henrietta she felt as though she was destined to fade into the background again.

  “Thank you, Uncle. I am rather excited to attend this ball. Thank you so much for arranging an invitation for me.”