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

by Rose Pearson

  “Did you see me standing alone and think to come and encourage me in some way?” he asked, a little more tightly. “I assure you, Lady Charity, there is no need. I am quite contented in my own company.”

  “You have spoken of being so contented before,” she reminded him, as gently as she could. “And perhaps this time, I am the one who does not believe your words.”

  Steeling herself, she looked into his face and held his angry gaze, feeling as though such anger was being directed solely towards her, without any true understanding as to why that should be.

  “Perhaps I do not wish for company.”

  His words were stinging and Charity felt herself recoil inwardly, only to draw in a long breath and force herself to speak with both determination and courage.

  “Then why did you attend the soiree?” she asked, as he narrowed his eyes just a little. “If you were very contented in your own company, if you were glad to be standing alone, then for what purpose did you attend this evening? Surely you knew that there would be others present, others who might wish to converse and the like?”

  Lord Hosmer’s jaw worked for a few moments until, finally, he dropped his head and she heard a heavy sigh escape from him.

  “You are quite correct, Lady Charity,” he told her, much to her surprise. “It was foolish to attend when I was quite happy with my own company. However, perhaps a part of me hoped to find good conversation and perhaps a game of cards where I might forget all my troubles.” He grimaced, lifting his head as he did so. “As yet, the card game has not started but I can assure you that I will be in attendance the moment it begins.”

  “I see,” Charity murmured, feeling now a little embarrassed. It was clear that Lord Hosmer did not appreciate nor want her company. The only thing he sought was, it seemed, a game of cards where he might remain entirely silent and concentrate only on the matter at hand. “Then if you are so contented and do not wish me to remain, I shall return to Lady Hayward. Forgive me for attempting to do as I have promised.”

  To her astonishment, Lord Hosmer’s hand shot out and grasped her wrist, preventing her from turning away from him and making her way back to Lady Hayward. It was gone from her in a moment but the pressure of his fingers on her wrist seemed to remain.

  “Forgive me, Lady Charity,” Lord Hosmer said, more gently now. “I have been rather rude, have I not?”

  “Yes,” she stated, without hesitation. “Yes, Lord Hosmer, you have.”

  “And you are only doing what I know to be a kind attempt at removing this darkness from my expression and my soul,” he continued, as Charity looked back at him steadily. “As I have said, Lady Charity, I fear that you will not succeed in this and that, time and again, I shall disappoint you.”

  Charity shook her head, looking at him and finding his open expression, his evident willingness to now speak to her, to be one that did not push her away but did, in fact, encourage her somewhat.

  “You have not disappointed me, Lord Hosmer,” she told him, firmly. “In fact, I should say that my attempts have been successful, given that there is now no longer the anger in your eyes, the hardness in your expression nor the irritation in your voice.” She smiled at him and, much to her astonishment, there came an easy smile back from him in return. “I shall count myself quite effective, in fact.”

  Lord Hosmer said nothing for a moment or two, his eyes searching hers as he looked into her face. It was as though he was thinking hard about what she had said, about what she had suggested, and now was deciding whether or not to agree with her.

  “You have distracted me, certainly,” he said, slowly. “That, I suppose, is a good thing.”

  Charity lifted one eyebrow.

  “Distracted you, Lord Hosmer?”

  He sighed again and ran one hand over his eyes.

  “There is a matter, Lady Charity, that has not left my heart nor my soul these last few years,” he told her, making Charity’s heart quicken as she realized just how openly he was speaking to her. “It was at this very time of year, just before Christmas, that all that I believed, all that I hoped for, was taken from me in an instant. And, at times, I am unfortunately in the same room as someone who was present at that time.” Closing his eyes, Lord Hosmer shook his head and Charity saw his jaw working hard for a few moments, as though he were attempting to keep his expression calm but struggling very hard to do so. “I should be able to forget it all, of course. I should be able to simply greet them and then continue on regardless, but it is not so. The pain is still present, Lady Charity. The anger still burns in my heart. And thus, I do not feel as though you shall ever succeed, for my own heart will not let me be at ease.”

  Charity stared back at him as he lifted his head and opened his eyes, and she felt as though he had taken a great burden from his back, swung it down to the floor between them and had then revealed it to her. There were no particular details, of course, but finally, she had been told precisely why Lord Hosmer appeared to be so disillusioned with everything here in London. It was because he still carried a weight with him, a weight that burdened his very soul and brought him low. It was not something she could understand fully but, at the very least, there was the awareness now that he was not simply melancholy for the sake of it. Finally, she knew why he struggled so – and her heart opened towards him with both sympathy and compassion.

  “Is that not all the more reason for me to be willing to encourage you, Lord Hosmer?” she asked, eventually. “You speak of pain and distress and an inability to free yourself from it – but what if you simply have not had the aid that you need to do so? What if I am able to encourage you in such a way that this darkness departs from you?”

  Lord Hosmer’s lips twisted in a sad smile.

  “But Lady Charity, you must consider the fact that mayhap I myself am not willing to allow such things to pass from my heart and mind,” he told her, making her frown. “I am perhaps not as willing nor as eager as you to forget about such things.”

  “But why would you not wish to?” she asked, as Lord Hosmer held up one hand and shook his head.

  “I have no wish to discuss matters,” he said, in such a firm tone that Charity knew at once that she would have no opportunity to speak to him further on the subject. “I do hope that you will not take offence, Lady Charity, but there is the truth. I have shared with you something of my burden – but it is a burden that is not yet ready to leave my shoulders.” His eyes searched hers, a gentler expression now drifting across his features. “I only hope that you can understand.”

  “I will not give up,” she said, determinedly. “I –”

  Her attention was suddenly caught by something in the window, which, to her surprise, still had the drapes pulled back from it. Something moved again and Charity caught her breath, a bright smile pulling at her lips as she realized what it was.

  “Come, Lord Hosmer,” she said, reaching out to catch his arm and turning him, bodily, towards the window which was only a few steps away. “Come and I will show you a little happiness. A little joy.” Lord Hosmer grunted but came willingly, allowing Charity to lead him towards the window, her hand still on his sleeve. She glanced back at Lady Hayward, making certain that her chaperone could still see her, relieved when the lady nodded and smiled. She turned her attention back to the window. “Look, Lord Hosmer,” she said, softly. “Even with your struggle and your burden, do you not find even the slightest bit of joy in seeing the snow fall?” Charity watched it for some minutes, finding herself transfixed by the scene before her. There was something so beautiful about the snow gently falling on the streets of London; the white flakes gently caught by the lantern light. Without realizing she was still holding Lord Hosmer’s arm, Charity let out a long, contented breath and pressed her free hand to her heart. “It always makes me very glad to see it.”

  Lord Hosmer cleared his throat and shattered the quietness of the moment, making Charity look up at him sharply, her attention suddenly returned to him rather than to the snow.


  “I am afraid that even the snow will not permit me to loosen my burden at all, Lady Charity,” he said, gruffly. “It is not something that I find any enjoyment in.”

  “But how can that be?” Charity asked, rather taken aback at the remark. “There is such a gentle beauty in the snow falling that surely it must touch your heart!”

  “It does not,” came the hard reply, with Lord Hosmer frowning so heavily that Charity caught her breath. “Rather it reminds me of the cruel way that the happiness I had thought would be mine for the rest of my days was taken from me.” His eyes glinted as he looked directly back into her eyes. “The snow was falling then too, Lady Charity. Every year, it reminds me of that moment.”

  Charity drew in a steadying breath, lifting her chin and refusing to be cowed by Lord Hosmer’s dark depression.

  “Then might I recommend, Lord Hosmer, that you find a new memory to cover over that particular one?” she suggested, placing both hands on her hips. “If you seek out the sorrowful memories, then you will, of course, become trapped in misery.”

  “I do not seek them out,” he stated, his eyes a little narrowed as he appeared to glare at her. “They are already there, waiting for me.”

  Refusing to give in to his anger, to bow to his clear irritation, Charity took a small step closer to him and immediately saw his expression shift. His eyes widened – as though he had not expected her to move so close to him, had not thought that she would challenge him in such a way – and the anger quickly faded from his expression.

  “Then do not permit it entry, Lord Hosmer,” she said quietly, knowing that to speak with gentleness and understanding was of great importance at present. “You must choose to set it from you, must choose to force it to depart. Instead, find something a little happier to consider so that you might look out at the snow and find a contentment there. Else I fear that you shall never see the beauty that is before you.”

  Quite how long they stood there together, Charity did not know. She had nothing more to say and so had simply looked up into his face and held his gaze quite steadily, astonished when he had done the same. There was no frustration in his expression, no upset nor anger. Instead, there was a slight frown dancing across his brow and questions in his eyes that she dared not even consider answering.

  His hand suddenly touched hers and Charity’s breath hitched as she looked down, realizing that, through this entire conversation, she had not once let go of his sleeve. Now his free hand was atop her own and she let go of his sleeve at once, only to find his hand lingering on hers.

  “Mayhap you are right, Lady Charity,” he said, his tone no longer gruff or irritated. “I – I had not considered such a thing.” His frown deepened. “Mayhap I have been so caught up in my memories that I have become quite used to them. Perhaps I now expect them to arrive, to spoil whatever else is occurring around me.” Shaking his head, he let out a long breath and finally released her hand. Charity pulled it back at once, all too aware of the creeping warmth that ran up her hand and into her arm. “You have given me something to think on, Lady Charity.”

  “I – I am glad,” she replied, noting the quaver in her voice and finding herself a little embarrassed by it. “I do truly want to be of aid to you, Lord Hosmer.”

  His smile was a little twisted.

  “You are, Lady Charity, as loath as I am to admit it,” he replied, making her smile back at him – albeit a little tentatively. “Now, I believe Lady Hayward is beckoning you towards her. I have evidently kept you here too long.”

  Charity glanced towards her chaperone and saw the gentle expression on the lady’s face, as well as the way that she tilted her head just a little, in order to pull Charity back towards her.

  “You did not keep me here, Lord Hosmer,” she answered, stepping back from him and bobbing a quick curtsey. “I chose to come and speak to you.”

  “Then I am grateful to you for your company and your willingness, Lady Charity,” came the reply. “Thank you. I have something more to consider, I think.”

  She smiled at him and then turned away without a word. But when she glanced over her shoulder at him, she saw that Lord Hosmer was standing a little closer to the window, gazing out at the snow.

  Chapter Eight

  As much as Benedict did not want to admit it, much of what Lady Charity had said to him last evening made sense. He had found himself considering what she had said for many hours, to the point that he had returned home from the soiree and been entirely unable to retire to bed. Instead, he had sat in front of the fire in his study and, with a glass of whisky in his hand, had considered many things carefully.

  Lady Charity had told him that, if his mind was filled with memories which made him blue-devilled, then instead of allowing them to come to him heedlessly, allowing them to fill him entirely, he ought to attempt to find something better with which to replace such thoughts.

  Benedict grimaced as he sat back in his chair, finding himself still thinking about Lady Charity, even though it was now the following afternoon. The snow had become a little more relentless, falling all through the night so that there was now a blanket of white everywhere. Rising from his chair, Benedict made his way to the window and looked out, trying to suppress the dark memories which came flooding back.

  Sighing heavily, he ran one hand across his forehead and tried to push them away, but still they continued to plague him. Lady Frederica had not permitted him to join her in the drawing room but, rather, had come to stand at the front door of the townhouse whilst he stood, confused and uncertain, in the snow outside.

  It was then she had told him that she was no longer interested in their courtship. Their engagement, which had taken place only a day or so before, and had thankfully not been announced to the world yet, was now at an end. There was nothing between them any longer.

  Benedict had not understood. Having been filled with such great happiness, such overwhelming joy, he had found himself crashing into despondency and sorrow as Lady Frederica had told him that there was to be no longer any connection between them. He had stood there in the snow, seeing the flakes falling between them and tried desperately to understand all that she had meant. Of course, it had taken a few days for him to realize that she truly was no longer eager to be courted by him but had, instead, decided to accept the attentions of another – one who had a little more wealth and a little more property than he.

  And he had thought that she held a deep affection for him! The thought was practically laughable now, for she had never said such words to him and had never expressed any emotions akin to that. He had merely assumed that simply because he felt that way, she did also.

  How wrong he had been.

  “But I do not need to continually remember her now,” he told himself aloud, recalling what Lady Charity had said. “To find something new, something beautiful and pleasing will aid me in forgetting such dark times.”

  Tilting his head, Benedict closed his eyes and tried to think on what he might consider instead.

  In an instant, Lady Charity came to mind. The way she had looked up into his face last evening, the determination in her gaze and the slight lift of her chin that had told him she was not about to give up in the face of his anger all came back to him in an instant. The snow had been falling outside then and he had felt his heart soften at the expression on her face as she had watched it. It had been clear that she found a great joy and delight in watching the snow fall and he had found himself momentarily transfixed, taking her in and seeing the smile that spread so lightly across her face.

  She was quite lovely, was she not?

  Benedict sighed and opened his eyes. Yes, Lady Charity had been quite lovely in that moment and, were he honest with himself, he would have to state that he considered her to be more than a little beautiful. And yet it was the determination she had to remain dedicated to her cause in the face of his obvious irritation and upset, which impressed him most. A tirade of questions about why he had been so despondent
had not followed the revelation he had given her about the reasons for his melancholy and, despite his frustration and clear dislike of their conversation, she had spoken to him with kindness, her sweet nature revealed to him once more. He had not told her that Lady Frederica’s mother, Lady Dewsbury, had joined the soiree – something he had not at all expected. Nor had he stated the many sharp and painful emotions that had poured into his heart as he had watched the lady, remembering the times he had shared with Lady Frederica all over again.

  Benedict shook his head to himself and ran one hand over his eyes. He did not want to think of the lady, did not want to have to feel the very same pain over and over again. Perhaps he would have to recall Lady Charity instead of Lady Frederica whenever he looked out at the falling snow.

  “My Lord?”

  Benedict turned around to see his butler standing in the doorway, an apologetic expression on his face.

  “I do not think you heard my knock, Lord Hosmer,” the butler continued, coming closer as Benedict beckoned him in. “You have a letter.”

  “Thank you,” Benedict replied, not at all irritated by his servant’s actions. “I was deep in thought.”

  He took the letter from the butler and then dismissed him, stating that, should he need to reply, he would simply ring the bell. The butler left the room and Benedict opened the letter at once, snapping the wax seal in half as he did so.

  “‘Lord Hosmer’,” he read aloud, his brows furrowing. “’I do hope that you are neither frustrated nor angry with me for the words I spoke last evening. On reflection, I fear that some of my words may have been a little brash and inconsiderate and for that, I can only apologize. I do hope that we might speak again very soon.’”

  A small smile crept across Benedict’s face as he read Lady Charity’s letter. Obviously, she too had been doing a great deal of thinking and now feared that she had spoken out of turn in some way. The urge to inform her that it was not so and that he was more than contented with all that had passed between them began to grow quickly within his heart. Another glance out of the window told him that it was a little foolish to step outside but, with a small shrug, Benedict turned towards the door and made his way towards it. He would call upon Lady Charity and make certain that she knew there was no upset there. He wanted to reassure her, to thank her and, perhaps, to tell her that she had been quite correct in her suggestions. That he would find a way to remove these painful memories from the forefront of his mind. With a smile beginning to spread across his face, Benedict made his way back to his bedchamber and rang the bell for his valet.