His Christmas Angel (A Regency Holiday Romance Book 8)

by Mathews, Marly

  “I…I didn’t do it to cause any offense to you, Your Grace,” she said hurriedly. “The frock you gave me was lovely—and given the time of the year, it called to me. I couldn’t resist looking like a Christmas Bride.”

  Marietta waved her hand dismissively. “I am not that petty, Ann. I do not care one way or the other about what dress you wore to marry Clarence. This one is quite lovely, and I would hazard a guess that it came from Ginny.”

  “It did, Your Grace,” she said softly.

  Marietta smiled. “Ginny has always had such good taste. She most rightly thought this colour would suit this time of the year, and you did look every bit the part of the Christmas Bride. I have never seen Clarence so happy before. I…I hope that the two of you have a life filled with happiness and much blessings.” She stood up, and Ann followed suit. “And now, dear, I think we should return to the rest of the party. I know that Clarence is probably imagining all sorts of terrible things. He probably thinks I am raking you over a bed of hot coals right now.”

  “Clarence can be a little…”

  “Overprotective?” Marietta suggested. “Aye. He is much like his father in that regard. When we were first married, Valentine worried about me being left alone with Mother Francesca. I don’t know what he thought his mother would do to me, and while she can be quite formidable, and sometimes I wished I was someplace else whenever she is around, I wouldn’t trade her for any other mother-in-law because while she can be severe, she loves her family deeply. Though she can at times be a big thorn in my side, she has been there for me when I have needed her, and if anyone attempts to bad mouth me, she will attack that person with animated vigor, and I hope I can be there for you whenever you need me. In short, as a family, we might quibble with each other at times, but we shall defend each other against any outside assault. Since you are now family—you shall enjoy the same courtesy.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace. If I should ever have need of you I shan’t hesitate to ask you for help.”

  Marietta smiled. “There. We have decided to be friends, haven’t we?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Now, I can tell Ginny that she doesn’t have anything to worry about. She won’t have to needle me about accepting you anymore. I could tell the same thing to Clarence, but it won’t keep him from worrying. He can be a real worrywart sometimes, and heaven knows he frets needlessly.”

  “I shall assuage his concern as soon as we have a moment alone.”

  “Splendid,” Marietta smiled. “I am so happy we cleared all of that up. Now let us go back to the Dining Room, eat the good food that awaits us, and well, eat, drink and be merry,” she laughed.

  Ann could only pray that tomorrow she wouldn’t die—she would much rather think that from here on in, she could take life easy, for she had a man who loved her by her side.

  Marietta walked ahead of her, and she dragged her feet. She was dilly-dallying. She didn’t want to go into that room, filled with people, most of them, the family she had married into—some of whom she barely knew. Balls and the like had always been difficult for her to cope with. In the past, she had always put on a brave face and regarded them as something she had to do out of daughterly duty. Now…now, she had wifely duties to perform. She couldn’t do anything to please herself from here on in. But really, had she ever done anything to please herself? She sighed, instantly realizing the answer to that. No…no, she had never done anything for herself. The only person in her family that encouraged independent thought was her mother.

  “Your Ladyship,” a footman said, coming up to her with a tray that contained a missive. “This was just delivered by a footman from another house. It is addressed to you.”

  She looked at it. Slithering dread enveloped her, as she recognized the handwriting. It was her father’s penmanship.

  Carefully, as if it might burn her, she reached her hand out for the missive. It was light in her hands, but to her it made her feel as if she suddenly had the weight of the world on her shoulders.

  “I don’t have the time to read it now. Pray, have it taken up to my bedchamber,” she said, placing it back on the tray, and with a rustling of her skirts, she moved away from the footman, and hurried toward the Dining Room. As she entered the room, all eyes feasted on her. She bit her lip in her self-conscious manner, and nervously smoothed down the fabric on her gown. Clarence’s eyes lit up like a thousand candles, as they clapped on her, and he stood up and hastened to her side. He brought her around to sit beside, him and she focused on the merry chatter they were all taking part in, and tried to lose herself in this new world she had married into.

  The Pratts all looked at her, and smiled. Clarence’s Grumps was nothing but smiles today, and his Granny Ma keenly resembled Marietta Deville. There was only a small assembly of Pratts, and compared to the Lovetts they looked like a small branch of the family indeed.

  She studied the Lovett relatives. Lady Knightwick reminded her of Ginny. They might not be close relations but the Lovett blood wasn’t too diluted in the Deville line, at least not yet. Her husband, Lord Knightwick, was even larger than Lord Spaulding, and he cast quite an intimidating figure, even sitting down!

  The rest of The Angels of Death had made the trip to London as well, as they had all married into the Lovett family. She wondered if Lords Prescott and Spaulding would follow suit and find themselves a Lovett maiden to marry. It seemed as if Mrs. Lovett had done her duty by her husband—and then some, as they had a larger brood than her family or Clarence’s. They looked more in love than Clarence’s own parents. Their love enveloped the room, casting a warm glow about the Dining Room.

  “Ah, the happy couple arrives,” Valentine said, standing up. “To start off this evening’s festivities that are planned to celebrate your marriage to my eldest son, I would like to make a toast. I wish you and Clarence all of the happiness in the world, and I want to officially welcome you to the family. To yours and Clarence’s good health!” he said, raising his coupe.

  She noticed that instead of wine, he held a coupe of champagne in his hand. If they were having champagne with their dinner, it certainly was one expensive meal!

  “Cheers,” everyone said, clinking glasses.

  “Well said, darling,” Marietta gushed, as Valentine sat back down.

  “Thank you, Pop,” Clarence said.

  “Thank you,” Ann said softly. Clarence reached down, and grasped the hand that she had sitting in her lap. She almost pulled away. Overt forms of affection like this wasn’t something she was accustomed to. Somehow, she would have to get used to it all. She hoped it wouldn’t take her too long to acclimate herself to her new way of life now that she was the Countess of Evesham.

  “Are you looking forward to your time in the Country, Lady Evesham?” Lady Knightwick asked.

  Ann felt as if she was caught in a trap. She had to reply, so she meekly said, “Yes.” She had always loved the Cotswolds, and spending Christmas there was certainly a dream come true.

  “You shan’t be far from where we reside in Wiltshire, so do feel free to come and pay us a visit. Christmas in the Country is ever so much fun. It is so lovely, especially if we are granted some nice big snowflakes falling from the sky on Christmas Day,” Lady Knightwick said, sighing deliciously. “I had bandied about the idea of staying here in Town, but Freddie isn’t too keen on it. He isn’t very fond of Town life, are you, dear? His father is still attempting to convince us to away to Scotland for Christmastide. He thought he would spend the Season here in Town, but he misses Scotland. He is back at his townhouse, as we speak, no doubt concocting another way to convince us to return to the Highlands with him. He says that we haven’t experienced Christmas until we spend it in the Highlands. I do not think I could abide the cold. They have rather harsh winters—or so I am told.”

  “He will go where we go, Julia,” Lord Knightwick said.

  “Indeed,” Lady Knightwick said, her merry blue eyes dimming for a moment, before they danced once more. “I
wonder…maybe we need to play the part of matchmaker for His Grace. It shouldn’t be too hard to find an eligible young lady—or older lady here in Town.”

  “Julia, dear,” Marietta said. “Have you introduced him to Lady Christopher?”

  Lady Christopher sat up straighter in her seat when her name was mentioned. Francesca muttered something that sounded indelicate under her breath. “Marietta, dear, I do not believe that Lady Christopher is in the market for a new husband. Some women are not eager to rush to the altar again.”

  “Oh, indeed, not. My Christopher was enough for me,” she said softly, with her eyes fixed on her soup. “I do not think there is another man out there that is his equal.”

  “I can agree with you on that,” Gideon said, looking fondly at his stepmother. “My father was in a class of his own.”

  “There, you see, Marietta. When one is married to a man as saintly as Christopher was—well, she would be hard pressed to find someone that could even come into the realm of being so fine,” Francesca said triumphantly. “I do not see why with all of the ladies in London, we should offer up Lady Christopher for the taking. No. If you are that intent upon matching him up with someone, Lady Knightwick, you come and call upon me tomorrow, and I shall give you a few suggestions. I know just which of the widows in our set are looking to marry again.”

  “I don’t think my father wants someone quite as old you…” Lord Knightwick said, his face blooming with redness, he swallowed thickly. His eyes filled with desperation. He looked like he wanted to crawl his hulking form under the table, and stay there for the rest of the day.

  “Oh, bloody hell, he just sunk his own ship. Grandmamma is going to crucify him,” Clarence muttered beneath his breath.

  “Did I say that out loud?” Lord Knightwick swallowed thickly, and looked back down at his soup in the same way that Lady Christopher kept her gaze focused on the white substance.

  “Yes, you did, dearest,” Lady Knightwick said. “You have a terrible habit of acting thus. Your mouth sometimes has a mind of its own, it can be a blessing and a curse.”

  “Well, if it has a mind of its own, it’s bloody well daft,” Lord Knightwick muttered. “I do apologize, Your Grace. I have erred, and I am quite sorry for it.”

  Ann tried not to laugh. Lord and Lady Knightwick were quite entertaining. Lords Spaulding and Prescott were also fighting back a laugh.

  “Well, lad, don’t fret. I like your candor, I always have. From the first time we met, I liked you. You are right. I am a bit stricken in years, and as I see it, your father is probably a fair bit younger than me. I am not ashamed of my years, mind, I see them as a badge of honour. They show that I have weathered many a storm, and lived to fight another day.”

  “Quite right, Mama,” Valentine said.

  “Indeed, Madam,” Lord Knightwick said. “With the foolery that exists in my family, I will be fortunate to live as long as you. I hope I shall.”

  “Ah, yes. The curse of the Hamilton Harlequins. I think you have already lived through enough trials and tribulations to safely say that you shall not fall victim to that particular family malediction. Besides, you have all of your rather unfortunate accidents by way of your mouth, so you are quite safe, sir.”

  Clarence almost choked on his soup. He gathered his senses, and sighed. “Ah, Grandmamma, as ever, you wield the spoken word like a sharp rapier.”

  Francesca smiled at him, and lifted her spoon to her mouth. Once she had swallowed, she wiped at her mouth daintily, and then spoke again, “You should call upon me tomorrow, Lord Knightwick, and bring your father along. You can accompany Lady Christopher and me to the Opera.”

  “Yes, Madam. That is a fitting punishment for my slip of the tongue,” Lord Knightwick smiled broadly at her, and Francesca returned his smile.

  Ann couldn’t help but smile herself. If this was her family, they would have been at each other’s throats, bickering loudly, not caring if they had guests, and then, afterward, they would all be regaled with their father’s or brother’s famous silent treatment until someone threw themselves on their sword, and apologized, even if they were not the one to blame.

  “I have had time to contemplate this, Clarence, and Lady Christopher and I might just visit you and Ann at Evesham Hall,” Francesca said.

  Clarence made a weird gurgling noise in the back of his throat. “I…uh, that would be lovely, Grandmamma.” Ann had to admire his ability to recover so quickly. She wasn’t that quick thinking.

  “And here I was thinking you would visit us at Kenilworth Park, Grandmamma,” Ginny lamented. “I do believe we should host a ball on Christmas Eve, don’t you, dear?” she asked, turning her attention to Gideon.

  “Whatever you like, Ginny,” he said. “You know I do not interfere with anything like that.”

  “Yes, you are a perfect husband,” Ginny said lovingly, “It might be rather short notice for those of our friends here in Town, so I daresay I shall keep the invites restricted to family, and those who are local. That should give us a different set of pace, and allow some of the locals who rarely visit Town to have a grand old time.”

  “My mother and I usually hold a Ball on Christmas Eve,” Lady Knightwick said, “But if you are up for the company, it might be diverting to have it at a different venue this year. Mama might be a bit vexed. I was surprised when she declined to accompany us to Town.”

  “She is happy with your brother at Castleton Court,” Mr. Lovett said.

  “Oh, indeed. I do think she will be disappointed after she hears what fun we had here in Town. She always laments about it after the fact. She does like to shop, and that is usually what she misses the most.”

  “Perhaps, I should entreat Beatrice to attend Ginny’s Christmas Eve Ball,” Mr. Lovett said. “She does want to see Richard married off, and there might be an eligible young miss at Ginny’s soiree that might be suitable.”

  “Oh, you never know. Our vicar has a few young daughters that might catch Richard’s eye,” Ginny observed.

  Lady Knightwick giggled. “Oh, he shall be absolutely thrilled, Ginny. Now that I am married, Mama has been able to lavish Richard with attention—and she has had all of the time in the world to think of lovely young ladies he could court.”

  “Oh, aye, she has too much time on her hands,” Mr. Lovett bemoaned. “Richard has been joining me on my daily constitutionals, and every time I go fishing, he is there, rod in hand, and ready to spend some time with me. I think he’s putting more effort in staying away from his mother than he would if he found a woman to become his next countess. He wanted to come to London to attend to my business interests but I told him that he couldn’t possibly leave Beatrice behind.”

  “How did he take that, Uncle Edward?” Lady Knightwick asked.

  “Not too well, I am afraid. He looked quite desperate. I think that when I decide to return to Castleton, he shall decide to away to Town.”

  “I sympathize a little with his plight,” Lady Knightwick said.

  “Why should you?” Lord Knightwick grunted. “He never sympathized with your plight. I rather think he thought it grand that Lady Tisbury kept herself occupied with your affairs, it kept her nose out of his.”

  “He has had plenty of opportunities to find a possible bride. He just won’t act upon his feelings. He might have had Ruby if he had been a little more attentive.”

  Ann could barely follow the conversation. She wasn’t aware of who Ruby was, and she barely knew of Lady Knightwick’s brother, Lord Tisbury.

  As if Clarence guessed her thoughts, he said, “The Ruby Lady Knightwick refers to, is the former Miss Massey. She has recently wed The Duke of Camblesforth.”

  “Aye, little Ruby is now a Duchess,” Mrs. Lovett said proudly. “I can scarcely believe it. My Papa is over the moon. He hasn’t returned from Cornwall yet, although I do believe he shall come back in time for Christmas, and Ruby’s mother is champing at the bit to visit them out there. Alas, I do not think she is very welcome. The poor de
ar caused her own grief with her daughter. If only she hadn’t been so hard on Ruby.”

  “I wouldn’t exactly call Honoria a poor dear, darling,” Mr. Lovett said. “She can be quite bristly at times.”

  “That is one way of expressing it, Uncle Edward,” Lady Knightwick said, smiling broadly. “I wouldn’t be as kind as you if I picked a word to describe Mrs. Massey.”

  “Ruby desired a small intimate wedding and she was granted it,” Mr. Lovett said. “No one let Honoria know Ruby was getting married until she was the Duchess, and Honoria couldn’t cause any mischief.”

  “Ah, yes. Mrs. Massey. The former Miss Honoria Somersby…the girl who flaunted the wealth that was never hers,” Francesca said grimly. “The woman is rather like a plague. You suffer through her presence, hope you don’t die from her constant prattling and once it is all over and she’s gone, you’re bloody thankful to have survived it all, relatively none the worse for wear.”

  Everyone chuckled politely, except for Lord Spaulding and Lord Knightwick who had descended into a fit of laughter. Their laughter echoed around them.

  Ann felt a little swell of panic. If the formidable Dowager Duchess was bemoaning having to deal with Mrs. Massey, she must be a real dragon, and she hoped that she would never run across her.

  “Here we are talking endlessly about people that poor Lady Evesham has never met,” Lady Knightwick said. “She probably thinks we are all a little addled.”

  “Not at all,” Ann confessed. “I find it distracts me from everything going on in my life right now.”

  The Duke of Daventry chuckled. “Ann, you have married into a family that shall never bore you. The ladies run around fighting duels, and getting into all sorts of trouble.”

  “Julia tried to fence with a gypsy once,” Lord Knightwick said, having recovered himself, though he still wore an ear to ear grin. Julia gasped, and punched him lightly on the arm.