A Christmas Match: A Regency Romance (Landon House Book 4)

by Rose Pearson

  A small frown chased some of the brightness from Lord Amundsen’s face away.

  “I do hope that you have not changed your mind, Lady Charity,” he said, as Charity hastily shook her head, casting an apologetic glance towards Miss Netherton. “I should be deeply despondent if that were the case.”

  “Of course I have not,” she replied, hastily, accepting his outstretched hand. “The cotillion, is it not?”

  He beamed at her and led her towards the floor, forcing Charity to leave Lady Hamilton and Miss Netherton behind. Her thoughts still remained on Lord Hosmer and Lady Hayward, however, to the point that she was not greatly enjoying the dance with Lord Amundsen.

  “Lady Charity, I do hope that you enjoyed my call upon you earlier,” Lord Amundsen said, as they progressed through the dance. “And the flowers that I sent to you?”

  Charity kept her attention focused on the steps of the dance as much as she could.

  “I did, of course, Lord Amundsen, thank you,” she said, carefully, fully aware that he appeared to be very eager indeed to impress himself upon her and yet, for whatever reason, she was finding herself less than inclined towards him. She ought to be flattered by his attentions, she knew, but there was something about his manner which did not encourage her at all. Perhaps it was that he appeared to be so very keen to further his acquaintance with her, when she had practically only just arrived in London! That did not make Charity think well of him, for surely he could not know anything about her character as yet, so why then should he show her such interest?

  “I should like to call upon you again, Lady Charity,” Lord Amundsen said, as they passed each other. “Or mayhap we might take a short drive through London? I know it is rather cold, but I promise you that I shall make my carriage as warm as it can be for you.”

  Charity glanced to her right and to her left, silently praying that those near to her would not have overheard Lord Amundsen’s declaration of interest in her. Surely, he could not be implying a closed carriage? That would be well beyond the bounds of propriety!

  “I – I should think it would be best to discuss such things with Lady Hayward first,” she said, stepping back into place. “Although you are very kind, Lord Amundsen.”

  Praying that this would be enough to satisfy him, Charity soon found herself disappointed with his reaction, seeing the grimace that crossed Lord Amundsen’s face. It was as though he had expected her to thank him at once, and to accept without question, as though his company were the most excellent of all gifts. And yet, Charity felt herself suddenly uneasy in his company, a little taken aback by the expression on his face at her response.

  Thankfully, the dance came to an end and Charity curtsied quickly, grateful beyond words that she would be able to return to Lady Hayward.

  “I shall speak to Lady Hayward,” Lord Amundsen said, taking Charity’s arm and settling it on his own as though she did not have the capacity to do so herself. “I am sure she will be very glad indeed to have me keep company with you.”

  Charity did not reply, hearing the arrogance spreading through Lord Amundsen’s voice and finding herself almost repulsed by it. How glad she was to see Lady Hayward watching her, with Lord Hosmer beside her. Next to him stood Lady Hamilton and Miss Netherton, although they spoke quietly to each other and did not pay her any attention.

  “Lady Hayward, your conversation is at an end,” Charity said, relieved beyond measure to be back with her companion. “I do hope that you did not mind me stepping out with Lord Amundsen. It was on my dance card.”

  Lady Hayward smiled but it did not reach her eyes.

  “But of course,” she said, looking to Lord Amundsen who was smiling genially. “Good evening, Lord Amundsen.”

  “Good evening,” he replied, sweeping into a bow. “I shall return for you, Lady Charity! The waltz awaits us!”

  With another flourish, he stepped away from them all, leaving Charity to look after him, feeling herself a little confused. For Lord Amundsen to go from a dark expression to an overly delighted one in a matter of minutes appeared, to her, to be a falsehood which covered Lord Amundsen’s true emotions – and that was something that displeased her greatly.

  “You danced very well, Lady Charity!” Miss Netherton gushed, as Charity turned to glance back at Lady Hayward, before allowing her gaze to rest on Lord Hosmer. His expression was one of grim discontent, just as she had seen so often before, but this time, his gaze was trained on the retreating figure of Lord Amundsen.

  “Thank you,” Charity replied, putting a smile on her face and forcing her attention back to the lady. “Now, it is the country dance next and I believe you are engaged for it?”

  Miss Netherton nodded, even as a gentleman appeared by her side.

  She did not want to discuss Lord Amundsen’s attentions to her, whilst they were dancing, with anyone at present, although she could tell from the sharp glint in Lady Hayward’s eyes that she was not particularly pleased about something. As Miss Netherton made some further remarks about the rest of her dances, Charity turned to Lady Hayward, suddenly realizing that Lord Hosmer had moved away, without explanation.

  “Lady Hayward?” she asked, as the lady looked back at her calmly. “Is there something the matter?”

  Lady Hayward’s eyes flared.

  “What do you mean?”

  Shame flushed Charity’s face. Mayhap Lord Hosmer had not wanted to speak to Lady Hayward about something to do with her at all, but rather about some other matter.

  “I thought Lord Hosmer wished to speak to you, and you were gone from here for some time,” she said, by way of explanation and wishing she did not sound so foolish. “Forgive me. I ought not to pry.”

  At this, Lady Hayward put a gentle hand on Charity’s arm.

  “There is something of importance that I must discuss with you, certainly,” she said, quietly. “I shall do so at once, for I fear that, otherwise, you will be unaware of the danger that Lord Amundsen presents.”

  A bolt of fear kicked into Charity’s heart.

  “Lord Hosmer came to speak to me about Lord Amundsen, for which I am very grateful indeed,” Lady Hayward continued, gently. “He is evidently aware – as I have been – that the gentleman has shown you a great deal of interest this last sennight.”

  “And I confess I have found him rather forward with such attentions,” Charity replied, truthfully. “Do you mean to say that he is not as he appears?”

  Lady Hayward held her gaze and then nodded.

  “Lord Amundsen, it seems, is eager only for the dowry that you would bring to him, my dear,” she said, gently. “The man is not wealthy and to pursue you in order to encourage matrimony, to gain that dowry is his only aim. It is not the first time that he has pursued a lady such as yourself, according to Lord Hosmer.”

  A little taken aback, it took Charity a few minutes to regain her composure.

  “I see,” she said, quietly. “Then I suppose I should be very grateful indeed to Lord Hosmer for his concern.”

  Lady Hayward nodded slowly.

  “I do hope that such news does not trouble you, my dear,” she said, carefully, but Charity quickly shook her head.

  “I have no interest in Lord Amundsen, I assure you,” she promised, as a look of relief crossed Lady Hayward’s face. “Indeed, he asked– only a few minutes ago – if he might call upon me again or even take me for a drive in his carriage, and when I reminded him that such a thing must be discussed with you first, he did not seem particularly pleased. It was as if he thought that I should be eager to consider such a thing, as though he expects me to fall at his feet in happy delight and accept his attentions without hesitation!”

  Lady Hayward nodded gravely, letting go of Charity’s arm.

  “If Lord Hosmer had not said something, then I believe that Lord and Lady Ramsbury would have spoken up also,” she said, softly. “We have made an excellent connection there.”

  “Indeed,” Charity agreed, quietly, her heart quickening just a li
ttle. “I confess I do not look forward to dancing with Lord Amundsen again.”

  “And it is the waltz also, is it not?” Lady Hayward asked, a little grimly. “Well, it is best to simply remain as quiet as possible and show no indication that you are glad of his company. In time, I am sure he will learn that you have no interest in him.”

  “I must hope so,” Charity replied, shaking her head. “And I will make certain to thank Lord Hosmer for his willingness to speak to you about this matter.”

  Something flickered in Lady Hayward’s eyes, although her expression remained entirely the same.

  “I am sure he would be very grateful for that,” she answered, softly. “Very grateful indeed.”

  Chapter Four

  Benedict looked at his friend with one lifted eyebrow, refusing to be drawn on the matter.

  “You will not say that you have any interest in Lady Charity, then?”

  “I have none,” Benedict replied, firmly. “It merely came to my notice that Lord Amundsen was seeking her out and, given that I am attempting to be nothing other than a gentleman, I thought it wise to inform Lady Hayward of the matter.”

  Lord Ramsbury looked back at him steadily for some minutes, before letting out a long sigh and shrugging his shoulders.

  “I am merely asking, that is all,” he said, as though there had been no other motive than sheer interest in asking such a thing. “Lady Charity is a very suitable young lady by all appearances, and I confess, I had thought that –”

  “You know very well how I feel about such a suggestion,” Benedict replied, sharply, his heart beginning to quicken as a faint trace of anger slammed into him. “I care nothing for the young ladies of the ton. I have no interest in acquainting myself with them, calling upon them, courting them and certainly not even a thought of engaging myself to one of them!” He threw his hands up in exasperation, as Lord Ramsbury held up both hands in a gesture of defense. “I thought you would have known better than to even think such a thing, Ramsbury.”

  Lord Ramsbury did not appear particularly perturbed by Benedict’s outburst, however. Instead, he simply dropped his hands and looked steadily back at Benedict, his expression quite calm. There was no hint of anger in his eyes, no sharp words ready to come from his mouth. Instead, there was that gentle understanding that Benedict knew very well to be a great part of his friend’s character.

  “Do you intend to remain in solitude for the rest of your days, Hosmer?” he asked, as Benedict frowned hard. “It has been some three years now, has it not?”

  Benedict’s lip curled.

  “Indeed,” he grated, hating the fact that he was even being reminded of such a thing. “And my intentions remain entirely the same.”

  “Then no heir?” Ramsbury challenged. “No son to continue on the family line?”

  There a sharp retort came to Benedict’s lips but he held it back with an effort. He did not want to argue with his friend but the questions he was asking irritated Benedict a great deal. It was not because they, in themselves, were frustrating but rather that they forced him to consider things beyond his current pain.

  “You have a younger brother, I know, but he has responsibilities of his own, does he not?” Ramsbury continued, quietly. “Or are you happy for he and his sons to take on the title of Marquess, should you pass away without a legitimate heir?”

  Benedict shook his head.

  “There is time for such things,” he said, a little thickly. “A match can be made easily enough, without any need for the entwining of emotions or the like. In time, I will select a lady for my wife and expect the arrangement to be made without difficulty.”

  He spoke with as much detachment as he could, fully aware that, until he could let go of his pain and his anger, there could be no such thing yet open to him. He would not subject any future wife to his cold melancholy, even though he had no intention of having any emotional entanglements with the lady whatsoever.

  “And why would you subject yourself to that?” Ramsbury asked, looking a little surprised. “There might very well be happiness for you with another, should you only pursue it. A happiness which would encompass your heart, even though, at present, you do not wish for such a thing.”

  “I dare not trust any lady,” Benedict replied, slicing the air with his hand. “From what I can see, they are all just as each other. They hide their true emotions and considerations from everyone, making certain that the gentleman whom they pull into their grasp is confounded and confused by their attentions and smiles, even though there is naught but falseness there. There is no true consideration for any gentleman of their acquaintance. All they seek is a good title and a decent amount of wealth – and should someone appear who might offer them a little more than what they have at present before them, there is not even the smallest chance that they will consider anything other than their own position and wealth.” With a slight curl of his lip, Benedict finished his diatribe. “When the time comes, I will find a lady who will be grateful to me for offering her my hand in marriage, who will not be able to find a better, more suitable match than I. That way, I will be quite certain that she will never turn away from me.”

  His speech now at an end, Benedict sat back in his chair, hearing the blood roar in his ears and feeling a strange sense of satisfaction that he had spoken so. It had felt rather pleasing to be able to speak as he had done, to explain to Ramsbury precisely how he felt. That way, he was sure, there would be no further questions as regarded Lady Charity, or any other young lady for that matter!

  “I do believe, Hosmer,” Ramsbury began, “that you have just greatly insulted my wife.”

  A cold wind seemed to sweep around Benedict as, startled, he looked at his friend to see a dark, heavy frown begin to sweep across Ramsbury’s brow.

  “I – I do not see how I have done so,” he began to murmur, only for Ramsbury to hold up his hand, silencing him.

  “You have just said that all ladies are just the same as each other,” Ramsbury continued, his voice dropping low. “You have said that they seek only fortune and title and that they hide the truth of their emotions from the gentlemen who court them whilst presenting an eager and excited demeanor to us. Does that mean, then, that you believe that everything my wife has ever said to me, everything that was shared between us whilst we were courting, was nothing more than a falsehood?” Benedict began to stutter, realizing that he had made something of a misstep. “That she must not truly care for me, as she states, even though we are wed and have made such a confession to each other on multiple occasions,” Ramsbury continued, his eyes a little narrowed as he looked back at Benedict. “That the words of love she speaks are naught but a pretense, said only so that she might please me in some way. Is that not so?”

  “Come now, Ramsbury, you know that I did not mean to insult you,” Benedict replied, his heart thumping rather painfully in his chest as the satisfaction he had only just begun to feel now began to slip away from him. “I certainly did not mean to include Lady Ramsbury in such a statement.”

  “But you said that all ladies are of the same ilk,” Ramsbury stated, using Benedict’s own words to fling confusion and misunderstanding back at him. “Either they are, or they are not. You cannot simply single out Lady Ramsbury as the exception.” Benedict opened his mouth to argue that yes, he could do so, but Ramsbury had not finished. “You say that Lady Ramsbury is not the sort of lady you are describing, that she is the exception to your description of the ladies of the ton, but I believe that you say so simply because you know her and are aware that she speaks the truth when she tells me of the emotions in her heart. You cannot bring yourself to believe that there is any deception within her, cannot accept that, despite your claim, Lady Ramsbury could possibly be lying to me in order to keep me contented and happy. You believe that the words she states are all quite true because you know her and trust her. Is that not so?”

  Lapsing into silence for fear that he might speak poorly again, Benedict gave his friend a j
erky nod.

  “Then why is it that you are so determined to believe that there could not be another exception or two?” Ramsbury asked, his tone now gentling as he shook his head. “Lady Ramsbury is not as you yourself have stated. She speaks honestly, loves openly and demands nothing from me. She will not turn away just because another might offer her something more, regardless of whether we are wed or not. Is it so truly difficult to believe that there might be another young lady with such qualities in London?”

  It felt as though he had walked into a trap of his own making. Lowering his head, Benedict swept one hand over his eyes and let out a small groan.

  “You do not like that I challenge you but I shall continue to do so,” Ramsbury said, calmly. “It is not fair of you to speak in such a manner and to taint all of the young ladies of London in the same fashion. I am aware that you were greatly injured by Lady Frederica’s actions but I do wish that you would not permit that injury to pull you away from any potential happiness that might simply be waiting for you, should you only be willing to seek it out.”

  Lifting his head, Benedict closed his eyes for a moment and then let out his breath slowly.

  “I can see what you are saying, Ramsbury and I must apologize to you profusely for my foolish words,” he admitted, feeling greatly uncomfortable that he had to now apologize and take back what he had just pronounced. “I did not mean to insult your dear wife. I know that there is a good deal of care and consideration between you both and –”

  “She loves me ardently, Hosmer,” Ramsbury interrupted, firmly, “and I love her also. There is such happiness and joy in my heart and in my home because of such a thing. I only wish that you would open your heart to finding such a thing also, instead of remaining so fixed in your pain.”

  Benedict frowned, wanting to argue that he was not wallowing in his suffering and that he was quite contented to simply wait until a time of his choosing to settle on a bride, but something in Ramsbury’s voice told him that there would be no good in doing so. A slight stab of guilt entered his heart. Was it true that he simply could not let go – or was choosing not to let go – of his anger and pain? Was it something that he was deliberately choosing, so that he would not have to let himself consider what it was he wanted, what he sought?