“It was fortunate that, before I made closer encounter with said pitchfork, a stable boy came upon the scene and informed the groom of who I was. I will say, I have not seen a weaponized tool dropped with quite as much speed as this one. And the groom–I near felt sorry for him, for he grew so pale.”
She shook her head and chuckled with amusement.
“I assured him that no harm was done, save for my unrestful nights from here on out, and that I would not share the tale of the encounter if he agreed not to. Thus, we shook hands and let the matter rest.”
“It has been an eventful few hours for the both of us,” Isolde set her cup down. “I am sorry to have kept you from your business this morning.”
Jonathan shook his head. “It is quite all right. Hastings was accompanying me to town to attend to some business, and I had hoped to engage him in assistance in finding trinkets to pass out to the staff for St. Stephan’s Day.”
The young woman frowned at the statement.
“Hastings? I do not know that a man of Mister Hastings age would be the most suitable to advise you on items to purchase for your staff, most of whom are much younger.”
He tilted his head from side to side.
“You might be correct, Isolde. But I have no idea myself. When last I was in England for Saint Stephan’s Day, my Father would task my Sister-In-Law with taking care of the matter.”
Jonathan knew the moment he locked eyes with her that she had the same thought as he.
“I suppose at Roselawn Manor it is you who is in charge of the boxes for the day?”
With a grin, she nodded. “Indeed. My brother and me. And you are more than welcome to accompany us. We will be going into town two days from now.”
“I would quite gladly join the two of you! I will bring the matter up with Eric, and let him believe it was his idea to invite me along. It is perhaps best for all of us.”
She smiled and nodded, “Indeed.”
* * *
Later on that day, Jonathan found himself pacing once more, this time in his study.
The matter of Isolde’s impending betrothal to Mister Downey bothered him greatly.
If only he had returned home sooner. If only he had discovered his feelings for her sooner. Then he could have gone to the Viscount and asked to court her first. Indeed, if he had only gone to ask for official permission to get to know her better after the ball, all of this could have been avoided. Why did he wait?
It was not as though he was ever uncertain. His feelings for her had been evident almost from the beginning.
Why had he waited? And how was he to undo the whole courtship between her and Downey? She was right, if her Father simply ended the courtship, it would be disastrous for his business.
Given that Jonathan outranked the Viscount considerably both in peerage and wealth, he could simple pressure him to allow a courtship between him and Isolde, but what kind of beginning to a union would that be?
And if Lord Lincester’s business was truly damaged, would it not overshadow any future family relations? No, using his power to end the betrothal simply would not do. The Viscount would have to come to the decision to end the union on his own accord. Or rather, he would have to believe he reached the conclusion on his own accord.
Perhaps if I can find some information about Mister Downey. Some deep dark secret that Lord Lincester does not know of. Yes! If there is something in the man’s past, then certainly Lord Lincester would change his mind, would he not?
Jonathan snapped his fingers, pleased with his idea. Now he simply had to set the plan in motion. He walked across the hallway to the office occupied by Hastings. He knocked and entered when the man called out for him to do so. It briefly occurred to Jonathan that it was probably unnecessary to knock, given that the house belonged to him and Hastings was his employee.
In fact, given the confused expression on Hastings’ face when he entered, it was most unusual for him to visit his Estate Steward’s office at all.
“Your Grace! I was not expecting you. Did you summon me, and I did not hear you?”
Jonathan shook his head. “No, no, Hastings. No need to be alarmed. I simply have a favor to ask of you and I’d rather no one else knew of the matter. May I?”
He indicated toward the chair. Again, Hastings appeared flustered at the request and Jonathan realized he ought to have just sat down.
“Certainly, Your Grace. Whatever Your Grace needs. How may I be of assistance?”
Jonathan cleared his throat and spoke with his voice lowered.
“Hastings, my Father put his trust entirely in you and I will follow his lead. This matter is one of deepest sensitivity and must remain between you and I. No one can know. Not even your wife.”
Hastings leaned forward and replied in the same hushed tone Jonathan had employed.
“Of course, Your Grace. It is my deepest hope that you would confide in me as your Father did. I know we did not start off on the best footing, given the problems with the tenants but I assure you …”
Jonathan waved his hand.
“It is quite all right Hastings. That matter is in the past. Going forward, I want you to know that I do trust you implicitly. I desire to learn all there is to know about a Mister Downey.”
Hastings eyes lit up with recognition at the name. “I know of him. He is in business with Lord Lincester regarding the coffee-house chain.”
“Indeed. I require as much information as you can find on the man. Particularly his financial standing, has he made his fortune through hard work or through some other, unsavory methods? What is his standing in society, is he well respected, feared by his peers? Disliked even? What of his family, where do they hail from and, if possible, I would like to discover what fate befell his wife, for I know she passed away.”
Hastings twirled his mustache. “That can be arranged Your Grace. May I ask why?”
Jonathan shook his head “I am not at liberty to discuss the reasons for my request at this time. Just know that it is a matter of the upmost importance. You could say my future happiness depends upon it.”
Hastings said nothing, his face remained stoic and without emotion. After a moment’s consideration he took a pen and paper and made a note to himself. Then, placing the feather down, he looked at Jonathan.
“Certainly, Your Grace. If that is the case, then do not fret. I shall start my inquiries at once. It might be necessary to travel to Bath, for I believe that is where the gentleman is from.”
Jonathan rose, “By all means, Hastings. Take any of my carriages and do not spare any expense.” After a moment’s hesitation he added, “What of your wife? Will she be quite all right with you being gone for a few days?”
Hastings nodded. “She is much better. I will have one of the neighbors stay with her for company, but her health has much improved, thank you for asking after her.”
“Perhaps once you return it would be prudent to take her on a trip. Brighton is lovely in winter and the sea air might be good for her. Stay in a nice inn, if you like. I shall cover any expense.”
Hastings rose when Jonathan did and bowed.
“That is very generous, Your Grace.”
“Take is as a Saint Nicholas Day gift, Hastings.”
Jonathan nodded and made for the door. Once there, he turned around and faced the old man again.
“Hastings, this matter is rather pressing.”
“Say no more, Your Grace. I shall gather my belongings and we will be on our way tonight. You shall have my report, post haste.”
“Thank you, I much appreciate your haste in the matter.”
Jonathan closed the door behind him, letting his head fall against the heavy door. All he could do was wait on Hastings’ report and hope that there was something, anything there that would help him convince the Viscount to change his mind about Downey.
Chapter 17
“I cannot believe your Father would ever dream of forcing you to wed that man. He’s stricken enough in years t
o be fitted for Waterloo teeth soon enough!” Olivia shook her head in disbelief.
It had been two days since Isolde had learned the news from her father and the idea did not appeal to her any more now than it had then. The opposite was true. The more she thought about the prospect of becoming Mister Downey’s wife, the more despair she felt.
“Faith, Olivia, do not make me feel worse about it than I already do!”
Olivia’s eyes widened. “I am ever so sorry, my dearest friend. I spoke in jest as we always do. Oh la, what a dreadful Christmastide we are having, indeed. At least there is hope yet that the Duke will be able to find a solution. I do wonder what he is planning.”
“As do I. I have not had opportunity to ask him, perhaps this afternoon I shall.”
Isolde and Olivia had arrived in town by way of the Conner’s carriage a little while ago and taken a turn down Main Street. They were to meet with Eric, Thomas, and Jonathan in a quarter of an hour in order to commence their shopping for Saint Stephan’s Day. The men had taken a detour to Rover’s to take breakfast together before meeting them. Isolde had taken the opportunity to fill her friend in on the events of the past couple of days.
“Has he given no indication what he planned to do?”
Isolde shook her head as they pressed on. “He has not, and I did not ask. The shock was too deep. It still is. I do take comfort in knowing he appeared as upset by the news as I. I had feared he would take the news in stride.”
Her friend stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and turned to her, hands pressed on her hips and her eyes narrowed.
“Of course he was as upset as you. He clearly feels the same burning love for you as you for him. Oh, Izzy. Why would you ever be surprised at his reaction?”
Isolde shrugged. “Olivia, I do not know. I still cannot believe a man as handsome as he would ever be interested in someone as plain and unexciting as me. And to try to break me free from my unfortunate circumstance in order to….”
“To court you himself. To wed you himself, Isolde. What more does it take for you to believe yourself worthy? Here.” Olivia took her by the shoulder and turned her around so the two of them could view their reflection in a shop window.
“Look!” Olivia ordered when Isolde attempted to avoid viewing herself by glancing at the ground instead. At her friend’s insistence, she lifted her head. There, in the shop window, she saw the reflections of both herself and Olivia. Naturally, her first instinct was to compare herself to her friend.
Olivia was taller than her by a couple of inches, although that was nearly impossible to see today, given they each wore a high bonnet. Olivia wore a peach-colored bombazine robe with long sleeves, due to the cold weather. Her mantle covered most of the dress but the detailed trim around the bottom, which matched the trim around the bosom and sleeves, was peeking out. The mantle itself was of a grayish color, lined and trimmed with ermine. Despite the dark color, it was beautiful against her friend’s pale skin and blond locks.
Isolde on the other hand was dressed rather more vividly in a carmine-red velvet pelisse. It too was trimmed with ermine. It covered her dress, a long-sleeved white muslin dress, almost entirely. Her father had bought this particular pelisse for her, on advice of her aunt, Baroness Balwick, almost two years past but she’d been too shy to wear something so vivid.
Especially since it came with a matching hussar cap, gloves, and muff. It was all rather striking for someone as timid as herself. She had to admit, however, that she liked her reflection. It was more due to the outfit than anything else.
“I see the smile upon your face, Isolde. Perhaps at last you see what I see, what the Duke sees, when we look at you.”
Immediately, Isolde shook her head. “I see only a plain lady in a pretty pelisse, with the right accessories. Beneath it all, I am still only the old me.”
Olivia sighed heavily. “But it is not the same old you.” She linked her arm with Isolde’s as they continued down Worcester Road. “The old you would have never dreamt to sneak off to the stable with a Duke! And in the middle of the night! And to kiss! You have become quite the brazen young lady, I declare!”
“Shhh, do not declare it quite so loudly that all of Worcester Road can hear you!”
“Faith! Perhaps if all of Worcester Road heard, Mister Downey might be quite alarmed at the prospect of a betrothal with this new Isolde and call the whole thing off!” Olivia giggled. Despite herself, Isolde joined her friend.
“It would be ideal. But it shan’t happen.” Suddenly, Isolde saw her brother and his friends arrive in a carriage across the way and she stopped, causing Olivia to briefly stumble at the sudden change of pace.
“What is it? What has vexed you now?”
“It is nothing, only…” she paused briefly, her eyes peeled to where her brother, Jonathan, and Thomas Brown exited the carriage and waved to them, “I have not told my brother that the Duke is attempting to stop the betrothal. He does not know of our encounter in the stables. I have told no one but you. And I trust neither has he.”
“You’ve not even told Etta?”
Isolde shook her head as the group of three gentlemen crossed the road toward them.
“I have only assured her that it is not she who is to wed Mister Downey, to ease her mind. I have not told her anything about what occurred between me and the Duke, nor about my Father’s plans for Mister Downey and me. I would rather not spread the news before there is a resolution found, and you know Etta. She has a kind heart but …”
“She is quite the gabbler. I agree. Let us keep the news between just us. And your paramour, of course. Oh la, there he is now!”
Isolde gave her friend a nudge to the ribs which only caused her to laugh out loud.
“And yours too!” Isolde replied when her brother approached and made directly for Olivia.
“Miss Brown!” He bowed before her. “What a pleasure. I was rather pleased when your brother informed me you were to join us for our expedition. Nothing better than the keen eye of a woman to select the best of gifts for our tenants and servants!”
“I am quite certain your Sister has a keen eye for delightful and delectable gifts, but it never hurts to have a second set of keen eyes,” Jonathan chimed in, eyes focused on Isolde, who blushed and curtsied, followed by Olivia.
“Your Grace is rather kind,” Isolde said.
“His Grace is oozing all the charm, I must say,” Thomas said and jammed his elbow into the Duke’s side in jest. “Now, lovely ladies, honorable gents, where shall we begin?”
* * *
Jonathan stood on the street and studied a list, while a servant was busy carrying the latest shopping back to the carriage.
“I must find a gift for Hastings, my estate Stewart. He is the last on my list, along with his wife.”
They had spent the better part of the morning traveling from one shop to another. Isolde and Olivia had started out advising the men on sweets and trinkets to get for their various servants and tenants together but somehow, Isolde had found herself alone with Jonathan more often than not.
She was certain this was the work of her friend, who often just happened to come upon an item that was simply perfect for one of their staff, thus calling for her brother’s attention. Given that Eric was naturally attached to Olivia whenever the opportunity arose and hardly ever left her side, this meant plenty of time for Jonathan and Isolde to keep company.
“A cravat perhaps? Silk? And a matching shawl for his wife. I know Missus Hastings from church. She likes evening primrose, perhaps something in that color for them both.”
He smiled at her in a way that gave his eyes a soft look of tenderness.
“You astound me, dear Isolde. I know better than anyone what strain you are presently under, yet you did not once talk of your own sorrows today, but only thought of others. I had envisioned a morning spent selecting a large number of items only to be divided among the staff in a random fashion. You helped me ensure every item my servants and tenants r
eceive is special to them.”
Isolde glanced at the ground, not accustomed to any sort of compliments.
“It is the only day in the year we can express proper thanks to our servants. It is only right they receive something they may cherish. I know that is why Olivia has taken over the Saint Stephan’s Day duties and is in charge of making the boxes.”
He glanced at the lady, engaged in vivid conversation with her brother and Eric over a handkerchief, and nodded.
“Lady Conner is fond of giving old clothing and unwanted food items as gifts?”
“You are right. I believe her giving heart is not Olivia’s only reason for joining us.”
A Mistletoe Match For The White Duchess (Historical Regency Romance) Page 15
