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

by Patricia Haverton

  “Bad form, Ekhard. You will have a wonderful night. Do you see all these beautiful women looking our way? I should like to think it is my company they seek; however, I know well it is you they are after.”

  “Or rather, my ability to make them a Duchess with great wealth.”

  Eric laughed, “That too, old chum, that too. It's something you must get used to.”

  Jonathan sighed. On the dance floor the couples were engaged in the quadrille. He recognized several of his fellow lords and ladies, people he’d known since childhood, now all grown. He was well aware of the looks he was given by the crowd, especially the women.

  Once upon a time, he'd have been most pleased at the attention. He’d been a dandy before his departure and was aware that despite the changes in his person, his reputation as a dandy was still in everyone’s minds.

  “Ah! There is my Father and Isolde. Come, I know my Father is eager to see you again.”

  Jonathan followed to where he'd indicated. Lord Lincester was seated facing the dance floor. A lady was seated on either side of him. He recognized the older as Lady Conner, mother of his friend Thomas.

  The other had her face turned away from him, her gaze peeled to the dance floor. Something about her was familiar and the strange feeling in his belly intensified as they came closer to the table.

  “Papa, you may remember His Grace, the Duke of Ekhard?” Eric introduced him. Lord Lincester rose, blocking the view of the young woman beside him.

  “Your Grace!” He greeted him warmly. “It is so good to see you again. The last time I saw you, you were merely a lad, not even twenty years old. I remember the day you set off for...was it the Caribbean?”

  “Indeed, it was, Lord Lincester. It is good to see a familiar face!”

  The Lord’s eyes lit up. “Speaking of familiar faces, you must remember my daughter, Miss Isolde Gordon?”

  He turned around to the young woman who’d risen from her seat. Immediately, Jonathan felt his mouth drop open as he recognized her. Not as Isolde for she looked nothing like the little girl he’d once known. No. It was her. The young woman he’d assisted at the ball not two weeks prior.

  She too recognized him for her eyes grew wide as she saw him. They stood in silence across from one another, their eyes locked for what appeared to be an eternity until he recovered his composure.

  “Miss Gordon, of course. Such a pleasure to see you again,” he bowed down to her. Isolde curtsied; her countenance full of uncertainty.

  “Your Grace, how good of you to join us. I hope your return journey from India was pleasant.”

  He was unsure whether to mention their encounter while they were in company and decided to follow her lead.

  “My journey was long and laborious, but I have returned to England safe and sound. How have you been? Do you still ride as much as you used to?”

  Her eyes lit up. “I do! Father just bought a new stallion. He was one of the Regent’s own horses. He is too old now to serve and they would have put him down, but Father bought him for me and I will say, he is the most magnificent character.”

  Behind them, the music stopped and the quadrille ended. The Master of Ceremonies stepped forward and announced the next dance would be the English Country Dance. Jonathan saw his chance and addressed Miss Gordon.

  “Would you do me the honor of dancing with me? If you have not already promised the dance to another, that is?”

  For a moment, she stood there with her eyes wide, as if she could not believe he had even asked her. Then, slowly, she nodded.

  “Of course, Your Grace.”

  “I should warn you, I have two left feet quite by nature and I have not practiced my dancing in some time. Your feet may be in danger.”

  She glanced at him briefly before replying. “I have not danced in some time either, Your Grace, thus we are matched.”

  He wasn’t sure if she was joking or not for he could not imagine that she had not danced. As a young lady of the ton, certainly she had attended many dances during the season, which only ended a mere two months before.

  He walked her to the dance floor where other couples were gathering in line.

  “I cannot believe it is you, Miss Gordon. All this time I wondered who the young lady was that I met at the ball. I wondered if I would ever see her again and it was you, all along.”

  She looked him straight in the face, something he knew she had difficulty doing, due to her shy nature.

  “The same is true for me, Your Grace. I have thought back to that evening many times, wishing I knew who the kind stranger was so I could thank him,” she smiled. “Now that I know it was you, I shall thank you. And say I am sorry for I was a terrible mess that night.”

  He shook his head. “Please do not apologize. I am only sorry I did not come upon the supper room sooner for I would have interceded on your behalf. I have a strong dislike for behaviors such as this. In fact, had I known it was you, I would have sought out the young ladies and given them what for. I should have done so regardless.”

  He felt somewhat upset with himself for not doing so, but Isolde shook her head.

  “You did more than you know. I remembered the promise I gave you. To stand up for myself. I did so just earlier tonight, with the help of my friends, Olivia and Henrietta.”

  She indicated toward a blond lady, presently engaged in conversation with Eric, and a red-headed lady standing beside them.

  “I am glad to hear it.” From the corner of his eye, he saw the blond, Olivia, walking to the dance floor with a tall, dark-haired lord, while Eric proceeded to dance with the other lady.

  “That is our Cousin, Miss Henrietta Gordon,” Isolde explained when she saw him watching.

  “Etta? That is what you call her, yes? Eric writes about her. Quite the character.”

  The music started and they joined the other couples while never ceasing conversing with one another.

  “Eric does not care for Etta, they are rather similar in character, and perhaps that is why. One often does not get along with those who are the most like us.”

  “That may well be. For instance, I never did get along with my Sister Mary, although we were quite similar in character.”

  Isolde raised her eyebrows. “I remember Mary. I saw her last Twelfth Night, at your Father’s… I mean at your estate. She is rather interested in horses. She called on me at Roselawn and I showed her our stables. She was eager to ride the estate.”

  Jonathan was surprised to hear it. He did not keep regular contact with his sisters for they were spread throughout the country. Mary had been living in Scotland for more than ten years, having settled in their mother’s native country after becoming betrothed to a wealthy laird.

  “You are a keen rider still, I see. I must say, it pleases me to hear it. You were quite the natural when I finally coaxed you into letting me teach you.”

  The musicians began to gather their instruments and they got into position to begin the dance.

  “That is not at all how I recall it! I asked you to teach me for I knew you were an accomplished rider.”

  They touched hands as the music began and they followed the steps.

  “Miss Gordon, you are mistaken. I vividly recall you hiding behind your brother’s legs and me having to entice you to come out so I could teach you.”

  She giggled, exposing a row of white teeth.

  “Your Grace’s memory must be hazy from all the time spent aboard ship. I was four when we first met. And it was my Mother’s legs I was hiding behind, not my brother’s. I was eight when you taught me to ride. You and Eric went riding every day and I recall being most envious and wanting to also learn. That is when I asked you to teach me.”

  Jonathan was impressed that she could remember everything in so much detail. He had trouble remembering events from the previous week.

  “If you tell me that is how it happened, then that is how it happened. Miss Gordon.”

  They took their turn, briefly separated, and then reu
nited as the steps of the dance lead them back together.

  “It has been a great many years, Your Grace. You must have so many wonderful tales of your travels. Pray, how long were you away from home? Ten years?”

  He had to think back. “Near enough, yes. I was in India for the past few years, and in Scotland before that. The first three years I spent in the Caribbean.”

  Her face brightened. “Faith, I have wanted to visit there for many years. I love the winter in England, but I would not mind experiencing a true summer. I hear it is beautiful there. Which country did you visit? Saint Domingue, I believe?”

  “Indeed. My grandfather had a rather large investment in a sugar plantation there and my Father wished to extract himself from it.”

  Her face darkened for a moment as she nodded with a knowing expression on her face.

  “I understand. A great many English businessmen are extracting themselves from the area. The slave trade is a ghastly business. All the suffering these poor souls endure, only so we may sweeten our teas and cakes. And all of it even though we can have sugar from India that is made without the use of slaves. I am only glad to know your family is no longer involved in it.”

  Jonathan raised his eyebrows. She appeared much more aware of social circumstance than most young ladies he’d met. Not just since his return either. Many English ladies he met in India were similarly uninterested in current affairs and more concerned with obtaining gowns for the next ball or engagement. Isolde, on the other hand, appeared knowledgeable.

  “Is this why you went to India? For the sugar trade?”

  He was not used to young ladies being so inquisitive, but he liked that she appeared genuinely interested in his time abroad. Thus far, no one had really asked him too many questions about it. People, including his friends, appeared more interested in bringing him up to date on the current gossip and state of affairs in England, rather than asking about his adventures.

  “It was initially and the reason why I was there for the first two years. My Father then abandoned the idea. To be honest, I simply loved India, thus I remained. It suited me, to be honest. It was a way to avoid returning home to the quandaries and entanglements my family was involved in at the time.”

  It was strange, with her he felt the ease he had hoped to feel with Eric and Thomas, but he had not. They had changed over the years. Or perhaps it was he who had changed. In any case, he hadn’t felt the familiarity with them that he experienced now, dancing and talking with Isolde. Even though she’d been a mere child when they last saw one another.

  “The truth is, Miss Gordon, I did not set off to travel for the joy of it. I discovered the joy of it later, but it was entirely serious business that led me to the Caribbean. I hope I do not bore you with my tales.”

  Isolde looked up at him as they danced.

  “Certainly not, Your Grace. I much enjoy the conversations. It makes a lovely change from the usual banter with Lady Conner and Lady Buxby. Their only topics are stitching patterns and possible matches for their daughters. I should consider a career in matchmaking for I know the income, social status, and favorite pastime of every eligible lord in the realm. Simply from sitting at the same table. I may as well make use of all the information I gather!”

  “A fine career choice, I declare!” Jonathan joked. “The conversation must be riveting. Especially the stitching.”

  “Indeed! Mesmerizing!”

  Jonathan laughed, drawing some stares from their fellow dancers. He did not care. They continued their conversation for some time, until the final steps of the dance were upon them.

  He felt a sadness at having to leave the conversation and return to his social duties. He would much rather continue dancing and talking to Isolde. The music stopped and she thanked him for the dance; he knew she expected to return to her table. As she curtsied to him before taking her leave, he stopped her.

  “Miss Gordon, allow me to ask. Which other dances are still to be danced tonight?”

  She seemed taken aback for a moment but recovered herself.

  “The cotillion, Your Grace as well as the boulanger, and the polonaise.”

  He shook his head. “I do not know the steps to the polonaise, but I request the honor of dancing the cotillion with you, if you please. And perhaps the boulanger at the end of the night, if we are both still here?”

  Isolde nodded swiftly and curtsied.

  “Of course, Your Grace, I shall look forward to it.”

  With that, she quickly departed, leaving Jonathan to stand at the edge of the dance floor, watching after her with the strangest warm feeling that surged through his entire body. Suddenly, he could not wait to return to the dance floor.

  Just as he was about to return to his table, he noticed Isolde, rather excitedly, motion to the blond lady, who evidently was Thomas’ sister, Olivia. Quite a capable lip-reader, he was amused to see her mouth ‘It is him’ toward her friend, who looked at him wide eyed. He waved at the both of them, unable to hide his grin.

  Chapter 9

  When Isolde returned to her table, she could hardly contain her elation! Not only had she found out who her mysterious stranger was, but he had turned out to be none other than the Duke of Ekhard. She’d looked at the handkerchief he’d left her with many times over the last fortnight, always wondering what the E stood for. Now she knew.

  It was mortifying to know it was he who saw me in such distress. Yet, he made me feel comfortable almost at once. By the time we began to dance I hardly even thought of that night at all. I cannot believe I found him, danced with him, and will dance with him again! I shall have to find Olivia to tell her.

  She sighed and smiled to herself. Despite his warning regarding his lack of dancing skills she’d felt as though she was floating upon a cloud the entire time they danced together. It had felt so effortless.

  On the rare occasion that she did get to dance at a ball it was usually with a friend of her brother’s who’d taken pity on her, such as Mr. Brown. Or worse still, her father. She always felt self-conscious then, aware of the looks of pity she received from the assorted crowd. Poor, plain Isolde Gordon, can’t get anyone to dance with her of their own volition.

  To be asked to dance, and to be asked for another dance by a lord as charming as Lord Ekhard was entirely delightful! For once, the stares from the other guests had not bothered her, for they were not of pity, but envy or surprise. She’d caught glance of Hester York while on the dance floor and her face had been a picture of jealousy.

  I shan’t care what they think, let them be jealous for once. I shall simply enjoy myself for certainly, after tonight such an event may not occur again!

  She had just sat down at the table, when her father and Lady Conner began to interrogate her about the Duke. Fortunately for her, she was rescued from the inquisition by her friends.

  “Izzy!” Henrietta said, thoroughly excited, “Who was he? What a handsome young man! The hair, Faith, the glorious hair!”

  “Was it Lord Ekhard?” Olivia asked. “Thomas told me he returned some weeks ago. He called on him earlier in the week for they had not seen one another since he left for India. I had forgotten what he even looks like.”

  “Lord Ekhard? You mean the new Duke of Ekhard?” Henrietta fanned herself with her hand at the revelation.

  “Izzy?” Olivia’s voice pulled Isolde out of the dream state she’d found herself in. Before she could answer, her father stepped in.

  “Yes, indeed, it was Lord Ekhard. Now if you could perhaps tame your excitement somewhat. It is not the first time that a lord has asked a lady to dance.”

  “It is the first time a Duke has asked me, Father. And he has asked to dance again.”

  Her Father’s eyes grew wild. “He has?”

  “Yes, the cotillion.”

  “That is my most favorite dance and I promised it to Mr. Brown,” Henrietta said. “We shall both dance the cotillion! How fortunate we are, Isolde!”

  Lady Conner spoke up and addressed her
daughter. “And you, who have you promised the cotillion to?”

  Olivia, who was dressed in a pale-yellow ball gown with elaborate embellishments around the sleeves and bottom, shook her head.

  “No one, Mama. I have not been asked.”

  Isolde noted the expression on Lady Conner’s face. It was as though she had been escorted directly to the guillotine.

  “If only Lord Canterbury returned, then we would not need to fret about such things,” Lady Conner said.

  “It is quite all right, Mama. I am rather tired anyhow. And famished!” She turned to Isolde. “Accompany me to the supper room? I must have a piece of cake… I mean bread and butter, otherwise I shall simple faint.”