His Christmas Angel (A Regency Holiday Romance Book 8)

by Mathews, Marly

  “Don’t you tell me what to do, young pup. You are nothing. You are barely out of your skeleton suit. You will step aside, and let me talk to Ann.”

  “I should go in there and help, Clarence. He cannot deal with a man like my father alone. I need to go in there and be with him.”

  Ginny sighed, and Val and Lady Knightwick adamantly shook their heads. “You shall do no such thing,” Ginny murmured. “That is why we are here to keep you from doing something so foolish. You stay here and allow Clarence to handle Lord Broadway. Should he need any assistance, he has plenty just waiting to help.”

  “Aye, Papa will be there as will Henry and Gideon,” Val said.

  “And you can bet that Freddie is doing all he can to restrain himself,” Lady Knightwick said. “He has really learned how to control his impulses since we married. I am ever so proud of him. The old Freddie would have been keen to knock your father’s block off—the new Freddie is still keen, but he now knows there is a time and a place—and this is certainly not the place. So you needn’t worry, Clarence isn’t in short supply of friends just waiting to give him their assistance.”

  “We can probably say the same thing about Grandmamma, Granny Ma and Grumps. He is in no short supply of allies, Ann. He is surrounded by family and friends. Your father was a bloody nincompoop for doing such an idiotic thing on your wedding day,” Ginny said, sighing.

  “My father sounds quite desperate,” Ann mused.

  “He might just be trying to lure you out,” Ginny said. “You don’t owe him a thing, Ann. You mustn’t let him affect you so. You look positively frightful.”

  “Thank you, Ginny,” she said softly, sipping at her champagne.

  “Oh, Ginny, that isn’t something a bride wants to hear on her wedding day,” Val sighed.

  “Ann knew what I meant. Didn’t you, dearest?”

  “Aye.”

  “Ann, you will come and face me. Becoming this little brat’s wife doesn’t cause you to cease being my daughter. You owe me. I have clothed, fed, and paid for everything you have ever had in your life, and this is how you recompense me? You little ungrateful chit. How dare you! After he has me killed, he will go after your Mama. Do you want that to happen? Do you? You can still save us. You can annul this dreadful match, and do your duty by Sir Wilfrid. He probably wouldn’t even care if he took you while you were still married to this young popinjay that is how much he wants to possess you. His desire for you will be my utter and complete ruination.”

  She sighed. Her father had his own way of wording things. He also had a routine he seemed to follow whenever it came to giving her a dosage of good daughterly guilt.

  “What could have possessed him to collude with such a blackguard?” Ginny muttered. “And why would he bloody well think that you would forsake Clarence? The man is a bloody twit—what a gormless fool.”

  “He has always fallen prey to confidence schemes and gambling—I think Sir Wilfrid operates in both of those shady worlds,” Ann muttered.

  “Hmm…yes. Henry said…” Val sighed, wincing. “Henry said that Sir Wilfrid was a silent partner with Lady Ambleside, and that after she fled London, he picked up where Lady Ambleside left off.”

  “Bit of bad business, then,” Ginny said, her eyes sparking with rage. “I want you to stay clear of that, Ann. Nothing good can come from it. Val and I can attest to that. You let Clarence take care of you, the way he wants to do. The men shall soon sort your father out.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about Sir Wilfrid,” Val said softly. “Henry has him in his line of sight ever since he found out that he was in league with Lady Ambleside. He rather paints him with the same brush you see, and well, he wants to see Lady Ambleside pay for what happened to me.”

  “And well he should,” Ginny said, wrapping her arm around Val. “Now…why don’t we turn away from this dreadful spectacle, and talk about what married life means to all of us old married women.”

  “We are hardly old married women. Julia is still on her honeymoon,” Val mused.

  Lady Knightwick laughed. “I think I shall still feel like that after ten years of marriage to Freddie. He invigorates me so. I feel like I am in heaven whenever he is around.”

  “Wait until you make him a father. Then, you shall really see him shine,” Val said, sighing dreamily.

  “You need to leave now, sir. I shan’t ask you again,” Clarence’s voice was steady, and Ann’s heart raced listening to him. He didn’t know what he was dealing with. Her father would never let it go until he received what he came for. She had to get it over with. She had to put her father’s dramatics to an end. Before anyone could detain her, she rushed forward, back into the house.

  “Father, go home now. Before you make more of a spectacle of yourself,” Ann hissed. She had summoned all of her courage to confront her father, and she knew that once all was said and done, she would be completely spent.

  “Ah, you finally come to see me. Ann, my daughter, you…you have to help me. You must clear up my debts with Sir Wilfrid.”

  “No one shall be doing that. Go. Now,” Ann said, her voice wavering. “Go home to Mother, and try to atone for your deplorable actions against us.”

  “Your mother has locked me out of her life. She has forbidden me from entering her bedchamber, and she shan’t even look at me. I shouldn’t care—but I do. I care because once that varlet deals with me, he shall systematically go after members of my family.”

  “You are only trying to save your own hide. Don’t try to mask it as anything else. Pray, Father…leave.”

  “I won’t depart until I get some compensation for losing you. You were my only hope, Ann. You would have satisfied Sir Wilfrid. You would have gotten him off my bloody back. But no…no, you had to bloody well run to this little indulged brat and marry him to get out of doing your duty. Your duty to me!” he yelled, his face turning a bright purple red. The rage on his face made her sick inside.

  The hushed murmurings around her, told her that they would all be gossiped about come the morrow. She was so mortified. Her cheeks were so hot she knew she was flaming red, and she was starting to feel quite weakened.

  “I…” she sputtered, her mind whirled. What could she do to make her father stop?

  She saw Lords Prescott and Spaulding step forth. “You need to go now, mate. You’ve worn out your welcome. And we are here to piss on your pity parade. I have a wee violin I’m playing for you.” They each grabbed a hold of him, and pulled him rather forcefully out of the ballroom.

  “Our blood shall be on your hands! Do you hear me?” he screamed, sounding as if he had gone to Bedlam, as they dragged him away, “My death, and your mother’s and my blessed James’s death, shall all be on your head! You will be a murderer, Ann. Do you hear me? You will be a murderess. It as good as signing our death warrants!”

  Once he was out of the house, Lord Spaulding and Lord Prescott returned with grim faces. The silence was invaded with louder voices, as everyone started talking. It sounded like the buzzing of thousands of bees. She couldn’t take it, especially not when they all directed their gazes at her. She ran from the room, and dashed up the steps to find sanctuary. Her day had just gone right down into a dark, deep and dank hole, and she wanted to disappear, and never face the light of day again.

  *****

  “We’re sorry mate,” Freddie said. “It looks as if the party is well and truly over.”

  “Why don’t you go up and comfort Ann,” his mother suggested. “We shall take care of the guests, and we will see what we can do about having them leave a little earlier than expected.”

  “Thank you, Mama,” he said softly.

  “And…” his father started, “I think you and Ann should repair to the Country immediately. It is time to rusticate. If Lords Prescott and Spaulding would go with you that would seem best, given Sir Wilfrid’s reputation.”

  “Bit of a thug, ain’t he?” Felix said, sighing. “Not to worry, we’ve dealt with his sort in the past.” />
  “He is a thug masquerading as a dandified lord. He never should have inherited his baronetcy. He was too far removed from the previous baronet,” his father said.

  “Maybe he took it upon himself to work it so he would inherit,” Felix suggested. “Blokes like him are used to getting what they want—and they shall do whatever it takes to get it. They far more ruthless than anyone I grew up with.”

  “Well, he shan’t get what he wants this time around,” Clarence declared.

  “Righto about that one, mate. We’ll see to that. You have us watching your back. Fear not,” Lucky said.

  “That’s right, you’ve got the lucky one, and the charming one on your side,” Felix said proudly.

  “I seem to be lost. If Gil is the lucky one, and Clarence is the charming one—what does that make you?” Freddie asked glibly, earning a death stare from Felix.

  “If you weren’t such a good mate, Mouse, I would plant a ruddy facer on you.”

  “Try it. The last time you hit me you almost broke your fist. It was bruised for weeks.”

  “Well, your hand didn’t fare any better the last time you hit me,” Tiny countered.

  “That’s because I punched through a door to reach you,” Freddie grunted.

  Clarence laughed, despite himself. “You didn’t, did you, Freddie?”

  “I did,” he admitted ruefully. “I’m awfully ashamed of myself,” he said with a wide grin. “We were both a little bosky. Fine, we were as drunk as wheelbarrows, and well, Felix, here, bet me I couldn’t hit him past this line. He pointed to the space between rooms, and then, he shut the bloody door, so I smashed through it. It worked for me.”

  “Not for me. You knocked me out cold, you bloody bastard.”

  “I know. You did ask for it, Tiny. You know I never lose a bet. It was rather fun.”

  “It was, wasn’t it? Ah, those were the days, Mouse. I miss them.”

  “I don’t. You just need to find the woman who will steal you away from that kind of mischief—and you shall find out that being on the cut and being a bloody scapegrace, isn’t nearly as much fun as having the love of your life beside you.”

  “Not going to happen,” Felix said adamantly. “I shall die as I am. Without a woman to henpeck me.”

  Clarence shook his head. Felix and Freddie never failed to lighten his spirits. They were the dynamic duo.

  “Thank you, everyone. I do appreciate it. But I mustn’t tarry any longer.” He nodded at all of them, pulled down his waistcoat, and left the ballroom. He trudged up the steps, and sighed upon reaching the top.

  How could he comfort Ann? Her father was the lowest of the lows. He was a blackguard of the highest order. He knew that he would have to be dealt with somehow—and he didn’t know how to manage it.

  Lord Broadway was like a bad penny. He would inevitably show up at the worse possible moment. Unless of course, Sir Wilfrid dispatched of him—and if Sir Wilfrid went to that extreme—it would haunt Ann for the rest of her life.

  He would have to do whatever he could to settle that matter between Sir Wilfrid and her father, if only to protect Lady Broadway from Sir Wilfrid’s wrath.

  If it was money the bloody bastard wanted—he would give it to him.

  Chapter Ten

  Clarence stopped, and walked briskly back down the steps.

  “Fetch Lords Knightwick, Prescott and Spaulding for me,” he said, to a footman. “And tell them to meet me in my Library.”

  “Yes, my lord,” the footman said, dashing off.

  He had hoped to have a rather different ending to the night, but he wouldn’t rest easy, and he knew that Ann wouldn’t have a moment of peace until she knew that her mother would be safe from Sir Wilfrid’s hired muscle.

  He strode to the library, and waited. Walking over to his tantalus, he opened it up and pulled out a few firing glasses, and some whisky. He heard a great many footsteps and realized before he turned that more than just Freddie, Felix and Gil had come.

  He sighed. All of the Angels of Death had gathered along with his father, his brother, his Uncle Edward, Henry and his grandfather. So much for keeping this quiet. “Well, my lords, let us make one last toast to my wife and then, then, I think we should discuss the matter of her toad of a father.”

  “Bit of a troublemaker that one,” Gideon said, sighing, as they came to stand by Clarence, where he stood next to the liquor box.

  Carefully, Clarence poured out the whisky into the firing glasses.

  Freddie sighed, “You do realize that once the guests hear us put these down, they will…”

  “They will hasten to leave the premises. Thinking someone fired off a bloody musket,” Lucky said, chuckling.

  Clarence handed out the bucket bowl, plain stemmed firing glasses, and then, lifted his own. “To my beloved wife. May she have a long and happy life.”

  “And to my son…the best man I know,” Valentine said.

  “Cheers,” They all murmured. Clinking glasses, they drank down the whisky and then slammed the firing glasses down on the table nearest to them. The resulting cacophony surprised even Clarence. He had never heard that many firing glasses being slammed down before.

  “Ah,” Felix sighed, “Music to my bloody ears.”

  “I have to settle things between Sir Wilfrid and Lord Broadway,” Clarence said. The men surrounding him looked at him as if he had sprouted fairy wings.

  “Come again?” Gideon said.

  “He wants money…so, I shall give it to him. It is that simple.”

  “Nothing is ever that simple, Clarence,” his father said, sighing.

  “I think you misunderstand what motivates Sir Wilfrid, Clarence,” Henry said. “He collects things. He prizes his possessions, above all else. He puts out scads of blunt collecting priceless artifacts, art, and works of literature. He has a Country house devoted to storing all of these priceless items. He…he views Lady Evesham as one of those coveted pieces, and he shall be damned sorry to see her slip out of his grasp.”

  “He cannot have her,” Clarence said angrily.

  “You have made that plain enough, Son,” Valentine said. “Plain enough to most—but not I reckon, plain enough to Sir Wilfrid. He is going to be a lot of trouble. He won’t go quietly. Bastards like him do not give up. He won’t be deterred, Clarence. You must be prepared for that. He will still attempt to come for Ann. She has caught his eye. She has sparked that flame of obsession he carries for all of the objects he collects. She has for whatever reason—and it is a mystery to me, captivated him, so much so, that he decided to ruin her father so she would be used to pay back her father’s debts. Make no mistake, Sir Wilfrid knew exactly what he was doing when he preyed upon Lord Broadway’s weaknesses. He preyed upon his weakness for the drink, the gaming houses, and of course, women. It was all premeditated. Once he amassed enough debt, he told her father that the only way to settle it was to give him Ann—or else.”

  “That’s all supposition, Pop,” he said tiredly, raking his hands through his hair. He felt bone weary. He suddenly felt older than his years.

  “No, Clarence,” Henry said sadly. “It is the God’s honest truth. I did some digging around. We all did some digging around using our vast combined resources, and that is what we found.”

  “I am in the process of ruining Sir Wilfrid…” This time it was Edward Lovett that spoke. “But it will take some time to make that happen. In a few months, I should have everything that he owns. Everything that is so dear to him. Including his vast collections contained within his little country retreat. Take it as my wedding gift to you and Lady Evesham—but like I said before, it shall take time to implement. I want to catch the bastard off guard. I want to see him sweat. I want to see him squirm, and then, panic, as he realizes that everything is being torn away from him, and there is absolutely nothing he can do to stem the tide of destruction washing over him.”

  Clarence’s mouth dropped. Almost onto the floor. He never thought that Edward was so—ruthless. H
is easygoing demeanor obviously belied the cutthroat man he could be, and it was a little impressive—scary, but impressive.

  “I asked Edward for his help,” Valentine said. “I knew that I didn’t have the resources. Much as I hate to admit it. I didn’t have the contacts. I didn’t have the reach or clout that Edward has, even with my dukedom behind me. His work during the Napoleonic Wars, well, many in our circles whisper about it. I asked him about it the day after Ann came to you for your protection. Edward confirmed what I suspected—and well, I can’t think to do what he did in his heyday. Edward here has been offered so much by the Crown, and he has had the tenacity to turn it all down. Titles, and glory—and the man said no to it all. I do not think I could have done that. I would have been weak. I would have wanted everything they cared to give me.”

  Edward tugged at his neckcloth, as he coloured up. “My King and Country needed me,” he said. “I couldn’t say no. However…I didn’t want anything in return, and I made that quite clear to His Royal Majesty. He has wanted to ennoble me for quite some time now, but I have managed to put it off for quite a while. I never speak of my service, and only a few people within the family even know about it. My wife, is of course, one of them. I keep no secrets from her, I never have.”

  Clarence wanted to ask him what his ‘uncle’ did, but somehow, he suspected he wasn’t supposed to. With his towering intellect, he could think of a great many ways that Edward could have done in service to the Crown. He rather reminded him of Cyril now that he considered it. He also wondered if Edward was the reason why so many of the Angels of Death had been ennobled.

  If he had the ear of the King…

  “Let us just say,” Gideon said, clearing his throat…”We Angels of Death are not the only ones who served some much needed damage to Boney’s forces.”

  From what they danced around, he supposed that Edward worked covertly during the Wars. Whether he was a spy, or a spymaster…or what—he didn’t know, and he didn’t know if he wanted to know. It seemed much safer being ignorant, like most of the family was, and would continue to be.