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

by Patricia Haverton

  Oh, how I wish I had news for her. How I wish that I had already uncovered Downey’s deepest, darkest secrets so I could convince her father to call off the betrothal. I wish there was something I could say to her to take away the fear.

  Before he could think of anything to say, Eric slowed his horse and turned to him. “Say Ekhard, what are your plans Saturday next?”

  Jonathan chewed his bottom lip as he thought of his schedule. “I do not believe I have any plans. Indeed, I believe I am quite free until after Twelfth Night. Why do you ask, Gordon?”

  “My Father is planning quite the elaborate dinner with his business partner Mister Downey and his children. It is indeed my Father’s intention that Isolde is to be wed to Mister Downey. Should she so choose.”

  “It is not as though I have a choice, Eric.” Isolde said with a distinct chip in her voice.

  Ignoring his sister, Eric continued to address Jonathan. “My Father is rather keen on the match. It would ensure our families’ financial security for the future. To that end, he would like my Sister to get to know the man better.”

  “Is that so?” Jonathan was not quite sure how to react. He knew his friend was aware of his infatuation with Isolde. But he had not told him anything further of their involvement. He was, after all, Isolde’s older brother and as such his first priority had to be to ensure his sister’s reputation remained intact. Going on clandestine meetings in the middle of the night, and kissing in the stables certainly did not count as proper activities for a young lady.

  Thus, he’d kept these events from his friend. Still. Eric had to know that news of Mister Downey’s intentions toward Isolde were bound to upset Jonathan.

  “Yes, indeed it is quite the advantageous match. Although I wish my Father might have discussed the matter with me before moving forward. I do hope a dinner party will prove beneficial for Isolde in getting to know the man at least. What do you say, Sister? It may help you make up your mind.”

  “My mind is already quite made up. But it is not up to me, no matter how much Father claims it is. Truly, I am brought to point non plus. Unless Father changes his mind, I shall have to go to the dinner, and I shall have to wed Downey.”

  This time she looked directly at Jonathan and so, for that matter, did Eric.

  There was something in the way Eric looked at him, intense and demanding. Did his friend mean for him to intercede in the matter? Jonathan found himself utterly at a loss for words. Fortunately, he was not required to say anything else, for Eric spoke up once more.

  “In any case, why don’t you join us for the dinner, Ekhard? I will also ask Thomas and his Sister to join us. I shall have to ask Henrietta as well, lest she has a fit for being excluded. “

  “Eric! Must you invite everyone? It will only be a repeat of St. Nicholas Day.”

  “Do not fret, Sister. I shall not invite our uncle, nor anyone else. I simply want to ensure there are people at the dinner who have your best interest at heart. Trust me Sister, it is all for your benefit.”

  Isolde huffed, a state Jonathan had not previously seen her in. He had to admit, despite the seriousness of the situation, she looked rather precious when irritated.

  “I hope you have not already told Thomas of the betrothal. I do not wish for everyone to know. Father agreed to keep it between the families only, not even Etta knows.” She paused and turned to Jonathan. “And of course, now the Duke.”

  “Do not tell me you have not told Olivia. She is but an extension of yourself,” Eric replied and followed that with a heavy sigh. “All right, Isolde. I shall not tell another soul nor invite anyone else. You will need to explain to our Cousin why she was not invited, should she hear about it, for I do not wish to get involved in that particular circus.”

  “Thank you, Eric. I am quite tired of discussing the entire affair.”

  “It is quite easy to tell, Isolde. I have only one thing to add. And that is that whatever decision you make regarding the wedding, I will back you up. No matter what our Father wants. I want you to be happy. That is all that matters to me. At least one of us should end up married to somebody they actually like.”

  A moment of silence fell between them. Jonathan felt quite uncertain what the conclusion of the whole discussion had been. Was he to attend the dinner or not? And, rather more importantly, did he want to? Seeing Isolde being ogled at and questioned by the man she was intended to wed would be tortuous. But then, if he truly loved her, should he not be there to support her? Fortunately, he did not have to wonder for long.

  “Since His Grace already knows of the matter now, it would be rude to rescind the invitation, of course.” Isolde spoke without facing either her brother or Jonathan. She rode with her head held high, her back straight and her gaze focused ahead.

  “Of course, Sister. You are right. Ekhard, I trust you will join us?”

  “Certainly.”

  Jonathan looked at Isolde, who was now a couple of horse lengths ahead of them. She rolled her shoulder back and tilted her head from side to side, no doubt loosening the muscles in her neck. It was evident that the entire situation was causing her discomfort in more ways than one. Done with her stretching, she brought her horse around and waited for them to catch up to her.

  “I thought we were meant to go for a ride, not to indulge in lengthy conversation. I have had enough conversations about Father, Olivia, and Etta. I would much rather enjoy the fine weather, and our beautiful horses. What do you say we all race? Perhaps to the Three Lots Chapel? Do you remember it? It lies on the edge of your property, Your Grace.”

  Jonathan did indeed remember the old chapel. Built during the Tudor reign, it straddled three properties. Once upon a time, the entire area had been ruled by one powerful man, the Duke of Castlerea, who’d eventually fallen from grace and lost his head, courtesy of King Henry the Eighth.

  Upon the Duke’s demise, his lands had been re-assigned to their present owners, but the little chapel had ended up orphaned. Jonathan’s father had a claim to it, as did Lord Balwick and Lord Conner. Yet, none ever used it.

  As a young boy Jonathan had enjoyed visiting it for the peace and quiet it provided. It had fallen into a state of disrepair when Jonathan had last seen it, but he was keen to see it again regardless.

  “I do remember it well. And I agree, let us race! It shall be jolly good fun!”

  “As you wish, Your Grace,” Eric said. “It would not be a proper race without a prize at the end! So, what shall our prize be?”

  Isolde grinned “I know. The winner shall receive one pastry each from the losers. The pastries shall come from Missus Barker’s Bakery.”

  Eric laughed. “You are the only one who enjoys the pastries from Missus Barker’s. I do not care for them, and the Duke has never tasted them. You must be quite certain that you will win!”

  “I am certain, brother. Thus far, I have won every single race I have against you, have I not?”

  Eric grunted and shrugged. “Because you cheat, that is why!”

  Isolde laughed, which made Jonathan’s heart happy. The prospect of a proper race, and sweets at the end, clearly had restored Isolde’s spirits.

  “It is settled then! Let the race commence!”

  Isolde turned her horse around and broke into a thundering gallop before either Eric or Jonathan could protest.

  They spurned their horses forward, catching up with her. Briefly the three horses were at equal length, but Isolde soon broke free again, her old mare surprisingly fast.

  Jonathan found himself impressed by her posture once more. She rode like a true equestrian. So far, they had only ever ridden together in a slow trot, not a racing gallop. Due to the melting snow, the hooves of their horses sent globs of mud into the air.

  They reached the small stream which led to the chapel. Up ahead, Isolde and her horse jumped over a low hedge, speeding further into the distance. He guided Jora to follow, though behind him, Eric took the long way around, causing him to fall behind.

  Iso
lde remained several horse lengths ahead of him, until the small chapel came into view. Jonathan found himself shocked at the sight of it. While it had been in a state of disrepair when he left, it was little more than a ruin now.

  He was momentarily overtaken by a sense of melancholy when a horrific scream sounded out. He turned just in time to see Isolde and her horse in the middle of a jump over yet another hedge. Isolde had grabbed on to the horse’s mane in an effort to keep herself from being flung off of her horse, for the saddle appeared to have shifted beneath her.

  “Isolde!” Jonathan called out and spurned Jora further ahead.

  In front of him, Isolde lost her grip on her horse and he saw her being flung into the air. The girl appeared light as a feather and to his utter horror, he saw her twirling through the air. The force of the horse’s speed had catapulted her so fast she was little more than a flurry of white as her petticoats wavered in the wind. The thud with which she landed on the muddy ground drove cold shivers through Jonathan’s bones and he jumped off of Jorah.

  “Isolde!” He raced through the muddy ground toward her, followed in short succession by Eric, who had arrived just in time to see his sister on the ground.

  Jonathan reached her first and knelt beside her, the mud staining his cream-colored pantaloons a dark brown.

  His heart nearly stopped when he saw her, for she was unconscious, her eyes closed and her face covered in scrapes.

  “Isolde?” He cupped her face and felt tears well up in his eyes. From the corner of his eyes he saw Eric run to them and fall into the mud beside them. He knew he should remove his hand from her face, for it was not proper for him to be so tender with her, but he did not care. He did not care, for the woman he loved lay unconscious before him, not moving or reacting to his voice.

  He feared with every fiber of his being that he was about to lose her when he’d just found her. The thought froze him in place. Life could not be so cruel, could it?

  Chapter 19

  “Marigold?”

  The words came out slow and sluggish as if she were waking from a dream. She had yet to find the strength to open her eyes.

  “It’s the name of her horse,” her brother said from somewhere far, far away.

  “Isolde? How do you feel?” The Duke’s warm, deep voice drifted to her ears and she knew he was close by. Soon she became aware of the touch of his hand upon her cheek and his other hand on her wrist. She forced her eyes open, the light of the bright winter day hit her like a bolt of lightning. She blinked and then looked into the Duke’s blue eyes, which were heavy with worry.

  “Your Grace? What happened?”

  He and Eric assisted her in sitting up, her brother fawning over her with great worry.

  “You fell off the horse. What happened?”

  “I do not know,” she said and raised her hand to the back of her head. “Where is Marigold?”

  “I saw her rush over yonder as you fell. Do not fret, we shall find her in no time,” her brother assured her. Both Eric and Jonathan surveyed the area briefly for her mare while Isolde attempted to shake the shock off of her.

  “I felt myself suddenly slipping off Marigold’s back as we made the final jump. I do not know how it happened.”

  It was such a strange sensation. The world was entirely upside down, the tree tops pointing south for one moment and then I remember only darkness. Darkness until his voice called out for me and brought me back here, and then worry for Marigold, and then, once more, his voice. He reached for me in the dark and brought me back.

  “Do not worry yourself with how and why. Worry yourself only over your own health. Can you stand?” Jonathan asked her, his deep voice soft.

  Isolde was oddly reminded of the first time she had met him, only a few weeks ago when she was in similarly-perilous situation. How different her life was now compared to then. It felt like years had passed, yet it was only weeks.

  “I believe I can stand. Perhaps if you help me up, I should be able to stand under my own power.”

  “Let us lift her up together,” Eric said and wrapped his arm around Isolde’s waist. Together, Jonathan and Eric lifted her until she stood.

  Alas, it was not meant to be, for a sharp pain shot all the way up her leg, from her ankle to her waist.

  “Ow!” she howled and grimaced, leaning on Eric to keep from falling.

  “Sit her back down.” Jonathan said and the two men carefully assisted her to a nearby log. She sat and grabbed her right leg with her hands.

  “May I?” Jonathan asked as he pointed to her leg. She nodded and let him examine her leg. Bending it gently one way and then the other. It ached her tremendously, though he appeared relieved.

  “It is not broken, which is a great relief, perhaps it is sprained. Certainly, you will require rest. Eric, we must return her back to Roselawn with haste and then call a physician.”

  “Indeed, we must.” Eric rose, but Isolde grabbed him by the arm.

  “We cannot leave without finding Marigold. Please Eric, do not leave her behind. It was my fault entirely that we fell. I must have guided her through too slippery an area, for I suddenly felt myself sliding off, as though she slipped and tipped me off quite by mistake. It was my fault and she should not be made to suffer for my error.”

  Eric stroked the back of her head as he had done when they were children.

  “We shall find her.”

  Eric looked around once more and rubbed his chin. Then, evidently seeing something in the distance, he got up and walked away toward their left. Isolde followed him with her eyes but could not see what he was looking at, for he bent down to survey something.

  Beside her, Jonathan sighed. “I am so relieved that you are not seriously hurt. Aside from the leg, of course. For one horrible moment, I thought you were dead. You did not move, nor did you respond to anything I said. I feared the worst.”

  She clasped her hand around his.

  “I heard your voice. It guided me back, at least I think it did.”

  He smiled and looked at her with such tenderness it made her heart swell.

  “I am sorry our afternoon ended in such a fashion, although I will say I am grateful for every moment we spend together, Isolde.”

  Isolde did not know what to say, for his openness with his feelings overwhelmed her so. Especially in light of the possibility that she would soon have to wed Mister Downey. If that were the case, she would never see Jonathan again, for she’d have to move to Bath. She chose not to fret over the matter as the pain in her leg drown out all other feelings.

  Eric returned in short order and rejoined them. There was something in the expression on his face that gave Isolde pause.

  “What is it Eric?”

  He shook his head. “I thought I saw your horse off in the distance. It was not her but a stag. You were right, there is a deep muddy puddle. Perhaps Marigold slipped and that is how you fell. In any case, we must return you home at once.”

  “Not without Marigold!” Isolde protested. She would not leave here without her horse. It would soon be dark and bitterly cold. “Look at the sky! It is certain to snow again soon and she shall not be left here by herself. She is not used to being out in the elements, for she’s spent her entire life living in the comforts of our stables. I shall search for her myself!” She attempted to get up but the pain shot up her leg once more.

  “Miss Gordon, please, do not attempt to get up. I shall look for your mare while you return to Roselawn with Eric. Believe me. I shall find the horse.”

  Isolde sighed. He spoke with such conviction that there was nothing she could say in protest. Together, Eric and Jonathan carried her to Horatio, Eric’s stallion, and placed her upon the horse. She was forced to sit astride, the way men rode, for she could not bear the pressure on her leg when she sat the way she usually did. It felt odd and unladylike. She felt embarrassed to be sitting in such an awkward position in front of Jonathan, but he seemed unbothered.

  Eric swung himself on the hors
e behind her and took the reins.

  “Ekhard, I am grateful for your assistance. I shall see you later today, I am in good hopes it will be with the horse.”

  “It will be. Now, ensure the physician is called for the leg. I have spent some time with a physician in the Caribbean to be able to tell the leg may be sprained and thus will need attention at once.”

  Isolde forced a smile on her face which he returned with a nod. Then, Eric moved the horse forward. Isolde turned back one more time to see the Duke standing and looking in the same direction Eric had come from. She twisted her head to see better, but could not make out what he was looking at. Confused, she leaned back against her brother, her head heavy. The pain from her leg dulled her sense of curiosity. She longed for her bed.