Unwrapping a Rogue: A Christmas Regency Boxset

by Samantha Holt

  It did not take Helena long to fill the rest of her dance card, but Maryanne was left with a glaring gap, just before the supper break. She tried not to let it worry her and in no time at all they were both being whirled around the ballroom by an array of eligible young men, all of whom bored Maryanne half to death. As the time for supper came, she was fagged to death and wished she could just go home and rest her aching feet. They had been trodden on more times than she cared to mention and she had no partner to accompany her into the supper room. She felt like a terrible failure.

  She made her way to the punch bowl and ladled herself a cup of the sweet fruity beverage. “Are you avoiding me?” a deep and unctuous voice asked her. She turned.

  “Your Grace,” she said, dipping a curtsey to Freddie Kerslake, the one man she had prayed she would avoid all evening.

  “Dear Lady Maryanne there is no need for such formality between old friends,” he said, his eyes roaming over her as though she were something delicious he’d like to eat.

  “We may have been friends, once, a very long time ago, but you are not the boy you once were and I am not sure I can find anything to admire in the man standing before me,” Maryanne said. She knew that her words sounded petty and ungracious, but she’d rather be anywhere other than standing beside him.

  “I’m sorry to have so disappointed you. Your high opinion of me has always been something I treasured,” he said in an arrogant drawl. It told Maryanne that he didn’t care one jot about what her opinion of him was.

  “I’m sure,” she said and tried to turn away from him. He grasped her wrist and forced her to turn back to him. It didn’t hurt, but it was not the kind of treatment Maryanne would ever have expected from a gentleman, much less the boy she had once known. She wrenched her hand away. “I think we have done and said enough,” she told him sharply and walked away from him. She did not care if doing so ruined her reputation forever. If her name became associated with his, then it most certainly would be ruined. Duke or not, Freddie was a dangerous man to know and all of the ton knew how badly he could behave.

  Chapter Two

  Bond Street was busy as Freddie emerged from his tailor’s. A large number of carriages and men on horseback moved swiftly along the road, ferrying people to appointments and assignations. Freddie dodged the phaetons and hansoms as they chased along the street, narrowly dodging a large puddle at the side of the road. He sauntered at a leisurely pace, glad that he was in no hurry unlike the crowds of people hurrying around him.

  Last night had provided a rather enjoyable surprise. He wasn’t usually too enamored of attending Almack’s, though his family’s standing ensured that he would never be without a voucher to do so. However, it did amuse him to see how the young ladies, urged on by their mothers, would crowd around him, so eager to seek his attention and gain his approval. They did this even despite the scandalized tones he knew he was spoken of in parlors all around London. He truly did think that it was time that society considered the happiness of its daughters and whether they might be well cared for, rather than used to further their parent’s ambitions.

  He paused outside Hampton’s, the cane makers, and considered stopping inside to purchase the particularly fine hunting stick they had in the window. With an exquisitely carved silver fox’s head upon the handle and its sleek haft, Freddie was more than tempted. As he looked at it, he found his thoughts turned to his encounter with Lady Maryanne Colbert the night before. Now, there was a vixen, if ever he had known one. She had certainly grown into a rather delectable young woman. Not that he was surprised; she had always been pretty underneath all the scrapes and the mud. He had very fond memories of how daring she had been and how excellent she had been at climbing trees.

  He most certainly did not wish to forget her flashing eyes as she had made it more than clear that she did not approve of him. Her feisty dismissal of him only intrigued Freddie more. He wasn’t ashamed in any way of his reputation. It was well-deserved. Freddie genuinely loved women, especially bored, married women as they were often keen for the kinds of fun that Freddie enjoyed most. But that didn’t mean that it was all he was. He doubted that Lady Maryanne would ever look beyond the façade, though. She had made it quite clear that she had no intention of even trying to do so.

  He jogged up the steps of his club and handed his top hat and gloves to the doorman. “Good day to you, Bowles. How does this splendid morning find you?” he asked cheerfully as the po-faced chap placed his hat and coat on the stand by the door in a most particular fashion.

  “Very well, Your Grace,” Bowles said, moving to help Freddie remove his overcoat. “I trust Your Grace is in good health.”

  “I am. I am. I spent an unusually pleasant evening at Almack’s, Bowles. I renewed an old acquaintance and thoroughly discomfited the Lady Patronesses as they feared my making untoward advances towards their innocent charges,” Freddie said wickedly. “Though, it seemed as though their fears were unfounded, as the dear girls’ mothers seemed more than happy for me to seduce their daughters in the hope they might snag my fortune.”

  Bowles continued to look as though Freddie had merely mentioned the weather in passing, without so much as a raised eyebrow. Freddie knew it was unfair of him to tease poor Bowles as he did, but he so desperately wanted to find out if there was anything he could say to the straight-faced doorman that might get a reaction. He longed to make him smile, grimace, or talk back to Freddie, giving him the stern telling off he was sure that Bowles longed to give him. He certainly deserved it, however, there was nobody to pass on their wisdom now that his papa had passed away and he had inherited the Duchy.

  “Very good, Your Grace,” Bowles said passively and indicated that Freddie should follow him into the main drawing room. “Lord Pilkington is awaiting your arrival.”

  As he crossed the room, Freddie was surprised to see Werner Callender sat at a table of city financiers. From the rumors around London, Callender was a successful man with no need to borrow capital. Callender looked a little discomfited by the conversation and even more so when he caught Freddie’s eye across the room. He quickly ducked his head away, turning back to the men he was with, who looked more than a little serious.

  Harry Pilkington sat in one of the large leather wingback chairs by the fire. Freddie sank into the one opposite him and eyed the decanter of port Harry had on the table by his side. “Any of that to spare?” he asked.

  Harry grinned. “I can always order another bottle if things are that bad.”

  “That doesn’t sound like it’s a terrible idea,” Freddie said as Harry poured him a glass and handed it over to him. Freddie took a mouthful of the rich, red liquid into his mouth and let it warm up a little before swallowing. He enjoyed savoring the taste of plums, spice, and oak, so he permitted himself the luxury of another mouthful. “That is a very fine port. White’s truly does have the finest cellar in London.”

  “It beats Almack’s every day of the week,” Harry joked. The assembly rooms were notorious for their dreadful food and their alcohol-free fruit punch, which was the only beverage available.

  “And twice on Sundays,” Freddie agreed, raising his glass and admiring the rich burgundy red of the perfectly aged port.

  Though Almack’s had appointed itself as the very denizen of London Society, it truly was nothing more than a marriage mart. Freddie rarely attended and when he did it was always to sow discord. Seeing all those protective mothers as they herded their little darlings, towards those with the grandest title or to those amongst the richest of the ton always amused him.

  Freddie had most carefully created a reputation for himself: that of a profligate dandy. His friendship with Prinny and Beau Brummel didn’t exactly help dispel any myths about his conduct either. However, that had not ever stopped any of those same society matrons from pushing their daughters at him. They may positively squirm when they saw Freddie approach their darlings but could do little about it. They might not approve of his behavior or his disdain fo
r the entire process, but Freddie was a very wealthy man and a duke to boot. Therefore he was the very pinnacle of most mother’s hopes for their daughters.

  “So how is Lady Katharine?” Harry asked, giving Freddie a sly look. Harry did not entirely approve of Freddie’s endless liaisons, but he never seemed to tire of hearing about them. His name had most recently been linked to that of Lady Katherine Catesby. She was a tall and elegant blonde who was married to an elderly, squat fool that thought he had the right to dictate her every move. Katherine, however, had very different ideas. She had been an eager acolyte and had shown a real skill for subterfuge and deception.

  “Lady Katherine in is Bern trying to persuade her husband that she loves him and only him,” Freddie said, a smile playing at his lips as he thought about how easily fooled so many men could be.

  “I doubt that will go well,” Harry said dryly.

  Freddie nodded and raised his glass slightly. “He’s besotted and will believe every word she says. He doesn’t want to believe any rumors he may have heard, so he will be more than happy for her to pull the wool over his eyes and keep him cuckolded in ignorance.”

  Harry shook his head and looked as though he was about to say something disparaging. Freddie spoke before he could. “I know I should feel a little guilty, but I can’t. Men that stupid deserve to have their wives cheat on them. For once, if anyone was seduced it was me. Katherine set her cap at me. I was just more than happy to help her scratch an itch.”

  “You poor thing, I simply don’t know how you bear such hardship so graciously,” Harry said, chuckling.

  “Being this devilishly handsome is quite a burden,” Freddie joked.

  “And that devilish,” Harry added. “You cannot forget that.”

  “Indeed I cannot,” Freddie admitted. “But, enough of me. Let us talk of good things. How are you? Is your new life all that you hoped it would be? Is the new Lady Pilkington as wonderful a wife as she was a bride?”

  “She is, though she thinks I should end our friendship. You are the only subject we disagree upon it seems. I do hope she will learn, in time, that you are the very loyalist of friends for all your rakish ways.”

  Freddie didn’t blame her for feeling that way. It must be hard to trust a man whose taste in friends you were entirely skeptical of. It reminded him of the way Maryanne had looked at him last night, as though there was nothing he could ever do to redeem himself in her eyes. It was a look that had amused him at the time, but now as he sat back in the comfortable chair, Freddie wasn’t sure that he was happy about it at all. For some peculiar reason, he found himself wanting to change her opinion of him, to make her see that, despite his obvious faults, his heart was still the one she had known all those years ago.

  Across the room, Freddie couldn’t help noticing the men Werner Callender had been speaking with stand up abruptly and storm out of the club. Callender had remained seated, his head in his hands. “Excuse me for a moment, Harry,” he said to his friend before he got up and walked over to the merchant’s table.

  “May I?” he asked.

  Callender looked up at him. “If you must.”

  “If I’m not wanted then I’ll go. You just looked like you might need a friend,” Freddie said.

  Callender stared at him, a venom in his eyes that Freddie couldn’t understand. “Chaps like you,” the merchant spat, “don’t know what it means to be friends with anyone like me. I know you all think I crawled into your world with the dirt already under my nails. I know you think that I’ll never be good enough.”

  “I can’t say I’ve ever thought about anyone that way, Callender,” Freddie said, thinking it might be better for everyone if he could keep the man calm. “I’ve always tended towards seeing the man in front of me rather than the one I think he might be.” He turned to leave and return to Harry. He’d tried. Callender had always seemed to be such a sensible sort. Freddie had always been impressed by how the man had changed his station in life. He doubted that if he’d been born into the lower classes whether he’d have had the tenacity and strength of spirit to make something of himself as Callender had.

  The son of a tanner, Callender had become one of the most respected furriers in London and he had a fleet of ships that brought the animal skins to his factories from all over the world. Once they had been worked and turned into elegant capes, coats, and hats, Callender sold them from one of the most fashionable stores in London. Freddie thought that was something to be proud of, rather than ashamed of. Yet, it seemed that Callender had not been able to let go of his own perceptions of his humble upbringing. He had a chip on his shoulder that threatened to run any happiness and pride the man could take from his achievements.

  Freddie was sure that something was bothering the man, something serious. He wondered if there was a way in which he could help, even if Callender was too proud to accept it directly from him. He said his goodbyes to Harry and then headed to his solicitor’s office. Hampton and Cooley were the best in town and there was little they didn’t know about what was happening anywhere in London. If Callender was in trouble then they would know why.

  He was surprised to see Lady Maryanne and her mother leaving the solicitor’s office as he arrived. “Good day to you ladies,” he said, doffing his top hat and sweeping a deep bow to them both.

  “And to you, Your Grace,” Lady Colbert said genuflecting in an exaggerated manner that clearly annoyed her daughter. Maryanne gave him a dark look but bobbed him a polite curtsey.

  “I do hope there is nothing the matter?” Freddie asked, nodding towards the office behind them.

  “Oh, because we were seeing dear Mr Cooley,” Lady Colbert said, gesturing at the solicitor’s door with a gloved hand. “No, nothing so dreadful. We were simply dropping off dear Cecil’s latest will before we go to the dressmakers. We must get new gowns made for court. Do you attend? I know you are friends with dear Prinny.”

  Maryanne was rolling her eyes behind her mother’s back and Freddie struggled not to laugh. From her extravagant curtsey to the affected tone of deference she had shown him, Lady Colbert was the very epitome of everything Freddie thought wrong with the ton. She was a dreadful snob and she loved to tell everyone of how well-connected she was, even if they were more so. She would have thrust Maryanne into his arms then and there, in the middle of the street, if she thought it might make the possibility of a marriage more likely.

  “I do. I would not wish to miss Prinny’s grand ball. It is quite the spectacle of the season,” Freddie told her. “All those fresh-faced young girls whose debut has not gone as well as their mothers hoped all desperate to try and find a husband before they are sent back to the country until next year? I wouldn’t miss it for all the wealth in the world.”

  “So, you can spot your next prey, no doubt?” Maryanne said drily, clearly not impressed by his answer. But, he had seen a flicker in her eyes. One he had thought long extinguished. Maryanne was jealous of those women that might gain his affections, of that he was certain. He had seen that look in a woman’s eye many times but to see it in hers was quite a revelation.

  He just winked, lifted his hat and bowed again as he opened the door to the solicitor’s and disappeared inside. The blinds were down, so Freddie took the liberty of waiting by the door to listen to Maryanne’s reaction. He was not let down. He grinned as he listened to her fuming.

  “That man has no manners. He’ll end up shot in a duel someday if he cannot learn to temper his behavior.”

  “Shh,” Lady Colbert said. “You were always so fond of him and he is dreadfully handsome. Why can you not fall in love with a man like that rather than that dreadful little furrier?”

  “Mama, Mr Callender is a hundred times better a man than Freddie will ever be. Just because he is a duke does not make him a paragon of virtue,” Maryanne insisted calmly as though she were trying to educate a recalcitrant child. Freddie smiled. He had often thought that Lady Colbert was more than a little naïve and that she was inclined to beli
eve what she wanted to about people, so long as their status in society was assured. It seemed that Maryanne agreed with him, whether she would be content to learn such a thing or not. The rules of society were wrong and just because someone had wealth and a title did not make them a good person. In fact, the opposite was also to be considered. That just because a man was born with nothing did not mean that he was nothing.

  “I’m sure you are right, but your father will never permit you to marry a man so far below you,” Lady Colbert said.

  “Papa will do as you tell him and you well know it,” Maryanne protested. “It is you that will not permit me to marry anyone who is anything less than an earl. Well, I don’t care about having a title. I don’t care about having a fortune or being Daddy’s heir. I don’t care about any of the nonsense that we live our lives by.”

  “Darling, you cannot just go around marrying for love. I know you think I say these things to hurt you, but it is because I wish to protect you that I try to remind you of how the world works. You can’t keep trying to flaunt the rules. Young women simply don’t have that freedom. I just want you to be happy.”

  “Then let me be,” Maryanne said, “trust that I can make that choice for myself.”

  Lady Colbert did not respond. All Freddie could hear was the sound of carriages rattling by and footsteps going past the door. But, the Colberts’ mention of Callender made Freddie even more determined to find out what was going on in the poor devil’s life. If he was the man Maryanne had her sights set upon, there was even more reason for Freddie to ensure he was the good man and successful merchant everyone around town believed him to be. If Callender truly was the person who would make his old friend happy then it was Freddie’s responsibility to make sure the man did not let her down.

  Chapter Three