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

by Patricia Haverton

  “Perhaps Miss Gordon would consider accompanying me back to Roselawn?”

  At once, her mood brightened. “Of course, Your Grace. It will be my pleasure.” Riding with a man you are not related to without the safety of a chaperone was quite scandalous, of course. Although, given their accidental meeting, it might be permissible. In any case, Isolde’s desire to spend time with the Duke was greater than her fear of potential damage to her reputation.

  “And perhaps while we are there, I could get a chance to see the infamous stallion?”

  Isolde loved that he appeared genuinely interested in the horse her father had acquired for her.

  “I would gladly show you the stallion. I have tried to teach him to accept a rider, for he spent his entire life as a carriage dragger. Thus far, I have not had success.”

  “Perhaps I might be of help? I have spent some time in India training with some of the most magnificent Arabian stallions.”

  Isolde’s eyes grew large. “Yes, indeed. Thank you, Your Grace. I promised Father that I would turn Princely into a proper riding horse and make the purchase worth his while. I should not like to disappoint him.”

  The Duke gave her a nod of agreement and then continued riding toward Roselawn. He rode a few feet head of her, holding back branches so they would not scratch her face. He was such a gentleman and the way he treated her made her feel special. Something she’d never thought possible. When she rode out with Eric and Thomas, they would not bother keeping branches out of her way. They treated her as though she were one of them, one of the boys.

  The Duke treated her as though she was equal to the other ladies, not less than, not inferiors. Equal.

  “The snow is glorious, is it not, Miss Gordon?” he said as they went. “I greatly missed it when I was in India. It has been many years since last I rode through the snow.”

  “Is this your first snow in ten years?”

  He shook his head back and forth, “I have indeed been gone that long from England, but I spent a period of time in Scotland to help my Mother settle there. In fact, I spent two winters there. Your Brother came to see me once.”

  Isolde nodded. She’d forgotten her brother’s trip to Scotland, for she’d spent that winter with her mother’s family in Bath.

  “It was Christmastide when Eric came to see you, I believe. In Aberdeen, yes?”

  The Duke nodded. “Yes, Aberdeen is where my Mother’s family is from. I installed her in Dunbar Castle. It is glorious. If you ever get the chance to go to Scotland, you must simply visit. It is atop a cliff, overlooking the ocean. Reaching it is quite perilous, which concerned me. But these days, my Mother does not venture out much.”

  “It sounds beautiful, Your Grace.”

  He sighed heavily, “It is. I often think of it. I had considered settling there one day, before my brother passed. But we do not always get everything we want in life.”

  She kept her eyes at the snowy ground, purposely not looking at his face, for she was sure the sorrow of losing those nearest and dearest to him in such a short time would be etched all over his face. It would simply break her heart.

  “I am sorry for your loss, Your Grace. I know what it is to lose one so close to your heart.” She felt him looking at her without turning her head.

  “Yes, you of all people would understand.” When he spoke again, it was in a somber tone. “May I ask you, as you understand so well the turmoil through which I currently pass, does it get easier? The loss?”

  Isolde carefully carved the words before allowing them out of her mouth, for she wanted to find a balance between the truth and comfort.

  “I cannot speak for you, Your Grace. For while we both experienced the loss of a parent, it is quite different as I have little memories of my Mother. I will say that she is never far from my mind. In many things I do I wish she were with me to advise me, to experience joys, and even sorrows with me. I find comfort in knowing that wherever she is, she is part of me; that she’s watching me but now free from sorrows and pain of her own. And that one day I’ll see her again.”

  The Duke thought for a moment. “I did not realize you do not have many memories of her. But, you were just a small child when she passed. It may well be that I have more memories of her than you, for she and my Mother were close friends.”

  Isolde frowned. “I did not know. I knew she and Lady Conner did not much care for one another, but I did not know she was friends with the Duchess.”

  Jonathan rode on ahead as the snow began to fall again.

  “I imagine it is difficult for your Father to speak of her. Perhaps that is why he never mentioned her friendship with my Mother. It might be prudent of you to write to my Mother some time. I am certain she would be happy to share her memories of your Mother.”

  Isolde had always hoped to find a way to remember her mother better, or at least get to know the person she was. The Duke’s idea warmed her heart.

  “That is a wonderful idea, Your Grace. Thank you.”

  He gave a nod. “I shall write ahead and let her know you will be corresponding with her. I will give you the address this evening, after dinner.”

  Isolde tilted her head back and let the snowflakes land on her face. It was a lovely feeling, soft and cold against her already-cold skin. She glanced at the Duke and found he had been watching her, a glistening in his eyes.

  Why does he look at me so? It is almost as if…no. He does not see me as anything other than a friend. I know this to be true. There is no way someone as handsome and accomplished, interesting and well-traveled would be interested in someone like me, unless it was for the purpose of friendship.

  And yet, he continued to steal glances at her and even appeared shy at times when she caught him.

  “You look rather content in the snow, I must say,” he said as they pressed on.

  “It is my favorite season, winter. I was delighted when it snowed this morning, and for Saint Nicholas Day no less. I am pleased you are joining us for the feast tonight.” She grew quiet and frowned. “I hope it will be a tranquil and quiet night, but I cannot promise it. Things have been strained between my cousin and Miss Brown in the last few days.”

  The Duke cleared his throat and pulled his coat closer against him due to the cold.

  “Quarrels between friends are never easy. What is the matter, if you do not mind my asking?”

  “I do not mind. It was a silly misunderstanding. Etta felt Olivia cut her at the ball over a … matter. And then Etta was upset because…”

  She stopped speaking as she did not want to tell him that one of the reasons Etta had been back to her miserable state was because she’d expected to be asked to dance by the Duke. But he had already figured it out for himself.

  “I noticed her glaring at me when you left the ball the other night. She expected to be asked to dance, did she not?”

  Isolde nodded. “She was courted by a Marquess, quite plump in the pocket too. He ended the courtship abruptly by way of marrying another in Gretna Green. Since then, the littlest thing will make her upset. She found herself even more upset, for this morning she was told that the matchmaker has no further matches for her at the time.”

  The Duke exhaled with relief. “That is a shame, I will say. I hope my failure to ask her to reserve a dance for tonight hasn’t added to her grief.”

  Isolde shook head. “Oh no, Your Grace, certainly not. I hope the festive spirit will get a hold of her and restore her spirits. And Olivia too.” She sighed. “She is rather in a sulk herself, for Lord Canterbury is returning and will ask to court her.”

  The Duke nodded, “I heard she is not keen on him. Neither is Thomas. Nor her Father.”

  “It does not matter. For we all know the only opinion at Vilene Manor that matters is that of Lady Conner.”

  He broke into laughter which made her giggle. It was true, Lady Conner may have been a lady of the house, but she was by and far the head of the family. No decision was made without her say so. She always got her w
ay.

  “I do feel badly for Olivia. She has no shortage of suitors, but they are all either too old, or too vain or too …”

  “Too unlike Eric?” the Duke said, causing Isolde to snap her mouth shut and twist her head around in his direction.

  “Your Grace has also noticed. Yes, indeed. I believe that is the real reason. Not that she would ever admit it out loud.”

  They came to a clearing and Roselawn Manner was visible in the distance, distorted by a curtain of fine snow.

  “I am rather certain your brother is enamored of her as well. It was quite clear at the ball. Why has he not asked to court her?”

  Isolde narrowed her eyes at him. Was he being factious, or had he simply forgotten the way courtships worked in their society? Seeing that his face was earnest and the question had not been asked in jest, she cleared her throat.

  “Lady Conner is quite obsessed with finding Olivia a titled husband with great wealth. My brother will only ever be a Viscount. In addition, Lady Conner despises nobles who deal in trade almost as much as my uncle does. No, Eric would never be able to court Olivia, unless somehow he stumbled upon the title of Earl or better yet, Marquess.”

  “My time away has affected my ability to navigate the ins and outs of our class, I see. I take it the matter of status is also why it has been difficult for your cousin? Being a Baron’s daughter?”

  Isolde nodded and stirred her horse toward the stables.

  “Not only a Baron’s daughter, but one who does not have any wealth to speak of. Their estate is small with few tenants. The Marquess would have ensured Henrietta’s future and that of the entire branch of the family. I expect them to all be most sullen when they join us for Christmas Eve.” She turned to him once more. “Are you joining us as well, Your Grace?”

  “For Christmas Eve? I had not considered it. I would like it very much, if Miss Gordon cares to ask me.”

  She broke into a wide smile.

  “There you go, forgetting proper procedure. My Father or Brother will have to invite you, for I cannot. But do not fret. My Brother would love nothing more than to have you join us.”

  “And I would like nothing more than to be a part of the festivities. Perhaps we may sit next to one another, if protocol allows.”

  Isolde’s eyes grew wide and she felt herself flush. Against her better judgement she had to admit, the Duke spoke and acted as if he had a true interest in her. And not only because she was his best friend’s little sister. Every fiber of her being told her to be careful, to not let herself be drawn in. And yet, she could not help herself. She was falling for him.

  When they arrived at the stables, Isolde readied herself to jump off her horse as she always did when the Duke rushed around and stopped beside her horse.

  “Allow me,” he said and reached his hands up toward her.

  Does he mean to help me off the horse? No man has ever done so! Surely, he doesn’t! But, indeed–he does!

  He stepped closer, his blue eyes wide and full of tenderness. She couldn’t help but break into a wide smile as she slid off the horse and into his arms.

  Much too soon, her feet had landed softly on the ground. The clasp of his hands around her waist sent a shock wave up her spine and down her legs, for she had not been touched in such a manner before. Certainly not by someone so handsome, so intelligent, and so very charming. She felt herself shake with nerves as they stood, mere inches from one another.

  She found herself gathering all her courage and lifted her chin until her brown eyes were locked on his. She lifted her arms and placed her hands on his forearms so they stood as though ready to dance. His lips parted as she felt his grip on her tighten. She couldn’t help herself. She closed her eyes and let her head drift closer toward his, the anticipation almost too much to bear.

  Chapter 12

  Roselawn Manor was bustling with activity in every room. Carriages were arriving outside in rapid succession. Eric observed the parade of carriages with a keen eye from the drawing room where Jonathan had joined him for a game of cards. He knew just whose carriage his best friend was waiting for. Miss Brown was to attend the dinner tonight along with her brother and parents.

  “Gordon! It is your turn once more. Would you rather switch seats so you may keep an eye on the cards as well as the carriages?”

  His friend turned to him and shook his head. “I am not looking for the…I mean, I am. I must keep an eye on who is arriving, after all. So I may know who I am likely to run into. Besides, I am not the only one distracted tonight.”

  Jonathan shook his head and pointed at the cards.

  “Let us engage in more playing and less talking, what do you say?”

  “Whatever Your Grace wishes.”

  Only one second passed before the sound of another carriage arriving that roused Eric’s attention again. With mock exasperation, Jonathan tossed his cards on the table.

  “Let us take a turn outside. Then, when Miss Brown arrives, you will be on hand to greet her at once.”

  Eric shook his head.

  “I do not wait for Miss Brown. I wait for Thomas who will just so happen to arrive in the same carriage as his sister and parents. I am rather anxious to exchange our gifts.” Jonathan tilted his head to one side and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

  “That is what has you turning every few moments? Your anticipation to exchange a pair of cravats with TomTom? I shall think not.”

  A grin appeared on Eric’s face and he mimicked Jonathan’s pose.

  “And I imagine your continuous observation of the clock on the wall is not due to your anticipation of seeing my sister again, once the dinner begins.”

  Jonathan wetted his lips and felt himself blush. Eric had come upon him and Isolde in a rather compromising position, earlier in the day. He had to admit, had Eric not appeared at the stables, in search of his sister, he would have kissed Isolde. There was no doubt about it. He had felt the desire to feel her lips on his with every fiber of his being. And he’d seen the anticipation on her face.

  He had feared that she might be too timid, too shy to allow the closeness he so desired. But when she closed her eyes, her chin lifted toward him so her lips were mere inches from his, he’d known she felt the same.

  Of course, Eric had interrupted the whole scene when he’d called out for his sister.

  It is fortunate he did call out and did not simply come upon us, for it might have been too late then. The way it occurred, Miss Gordon and I at least had a chance to separate ourselves from one another a little before he found us. Yet, it was compromising nonetheless.

  They’d both looked guilty enough to rouse Eric’s suspicions. But Eric was not the only one who could act innocent and coy.

  “I know not of what you speak, old chum.”

  “Bad form, Ekhard. You know very well. Have you serious intentions toward my Sister?”

  Jonathan dropped his head. “I do not know what my intentions are, Gordon. I care for her a great deal. When I am near her, I feel certain about what I want, but when I am away, I think of what little I have to offer a lady.”

  Eric snorted. “Other than a title, great wealth, and some of the largest lands in all of England? Other than that, you mean?”

  “Do not jest, for it is not a comical matter.”

  Eric collected the cards that laid spread out on the table, the game clearly over.

  “It is not, you are correct. My Sister’s happiness is no comical matter by any means.”

  “I care for Isolde a great deal more than I ever have for any lady. I know I want to get to know her more, spend time with her. I…”

  They were interrupted by North who came to announce the arrival of Viscount Conner and his family. The two men rose, but before they made their way to the parlor to greet their latest arrivals, Eric took ahold of Jonathan’s arm.

  “You are my dearest friend, but I will only state this once, do not give my Sister false hopes, do not encourage her unless you are certain of what i
s in your heart. For you may be my oldest friend, but blood is blood.”

  He let go and walked past him into the parlor. Jonathan turned, his hand over his arm where his friend had squeezed him.

  “Viscount! What a great pleasure. Welcome to Roselawn once again!” Eric greeted the assorted guests while Jonathan joined him. It took only a moment before footsteps on the stairs drew his attention. He turned and at once, felt his heart give a leap. Isolde walked down the stairs in a white dress, her hair in a pretty up-do. The dress flowed about her with such lightness it gave her an ethereal look, almost like an angel.

  He could hardly tear his eyes away from her, but when Eric shot him a glance so serious, it made his stomach turn.