This was only the beginning of a long process of repair. An ancient home like the Friar’s House would always need some sort of work. A body would have to be vigilant and caring with it.
It was almost, Eliza thought, symbolic.
Mrs. Clotworthy and Georgie welcomed the newly wed pair to the breakfast table with knowing smiles that made Eliza blush furiously.
“Since it’s your birthday today, Eliza dear, I want to knit something special for you,” offered Mrs. Clotworthy as she spread jam over toast. “Something for your trousseau, maybe. You can’t have had time to get all the pretty things you need, marrying quickly as you did.”
“No! I insist you finish my trousseau first, Mrs. Clotworthy,” Georgie blurted. When that lady was distracted, she mouthed broadly at Eliza, You’re welcome.
“I can get pretty things at the harvest festival later today,” Eliza excused, hiding a smile. “Surely there will be ribbon sellers, and lace, and the milliner will have a booth of fashionable nonsense. And I must see the—”
“Gourds.” Bertie sighed. “There will be gourds, that I know, for I’m judging them at three o’clock. Only say the word, Eliza, and I shall buy one for you as a birthday gift.”
“Er—that is not necessary.” She grinned. “You’ve already given me the gift of your hand and a home to share forever. Adding a gourd to such good fortune would be asking too much.”
“You now have a sister, too,” Georgie added. “That’s the best part, so you mustn’t forget to mention that. It’s even better than having a gourd.”
As they all laughed, Eliza realized that though she had grown up in ease and comfort, this was the moment she had everything she’d ever wanted.
The End
About Theresa Romain
* * *
Theresa Romain is the bestselling author of historical romances, including the Matchmaker trilogy, the Holiday Pleasures series, the Royal Reward series, and the Romance of the Turf trilogy. Praised as “one of the rising stars of Regency historical romance” (Booklist), her highly acclaimed novels have been chosen for the Smart Bitches Trashy Books Sizzling Book Club, featured in the DABWAHA tournament, and deemed “Desert Isle Keepers” by All About Romance. A member of Romance Writers of America and its Regency specialty chapter The Beau Monde, Theresa is hard at work on her next novel from her home in the Midwest.
To keep up with all the news about Theresa’s upcoming books, sign up for her newsletter here.
Visit Theresa on the web at http://theresaromain.com *Facebook * Twitter * Pinterest
Books by Theresa Romain
* * *
Romance of the Turf
The Sport of Baronets (novella)
A Gentleman’s Game
Royal Reward
Fortune Favors the Wicked
The Matchmaker Trilogy
It Takes Two to Tangle
To Charm a Naughty Countess
Secrets of a Scandalous Heiress
Holiday Pleasures
Season for Temptation
Season for Surrender
Season for Scandal
Season for Desire
* * *
THE SEASON FOR LOVING
VANESSA KELLY
* * *
The Season for Loving
* * *
Tis the season to make merry…
After recovering from a life-threatening illness, Miss Georgie Gage tries to convince her family that she’s healthy and ready to enjoy life again. Instead, they treat her like a delicate invalid who must be protected from, well, everything! Georgie has kept herself entertained by promoting love matches among her friends, but she longs for a happily ever after of her own.
And find love under the mistletoe…
Highlander Fergus Haddon has worked himself to the bone to make up for the horrible scandal that almost destroyed his loved ones. But when his family insists he take a holiday in the south of England, Fergus can’t think of a drearier way to celebrate Christmas. Even worse, they want him to find an English wife! Fergus is dead set against it—until he meets pretty Georgie Gage. Suddenly, he can think of nothing but catching Georgie under the mistletoe, but how will the Gages react when they learn of his scandalous past?
Acknowledgments
* * *
My grateful thanks to Kate, Shana, and Theresa—you ladies are so awesome and talented, and it’s a huge privilege to work with you!
Grateful thanks to Jess, Carrie, and Gayle for your help.
Finally, all my love and thanks to my wonderful husband—fellow writer, critique partner, beta reader, and all-around good guy.
Chapter One
* * *
On the road, somewhere in Kent
December 1817
To say that he was never the life of the party was an epic understatement, as Fergus Haddon well knew. Lady Reese seemed determined to hammer the point home with ruthless efficiency.
“You simply must try harder.” The viscountess wagged a finger at him from the opposite side of the carriage. “Hiding behind ballroom columns, mumbling to yourself, will hardly endear you to young ladies.”
“I wasn’t mumbling to myself,” he said. “I was merely whistling under my breath.”
He’d done that for as long as he could remember, whenever he was bored or irritated. And at most of the ton parties Lady Reese had dragged him to since his arrival in London a few weeks ago, he was one or the other. Often both.
“A most unfortunate habit,” Lady Reese said. “And not one that will aid in your efforts to find a wife, especially an English one.”
“But I don’t want a wife,” Fergus protested. “Especially an English one.”
Any other woman might have been offended by his blunt reply, but not Lady Reese. She was made of sterner stuff. “Nonsense. Any gentleman with a brain in his head wishes to get married. Is that not so, William?”
Captain Will Endicott, Lady Reese’s son-in-law, had long ago given up trying to look interested in their conversation. In fact, he’d all but dozed off in the opposite corner of the carriage. But he snapped to attention when addressed by the imperious viscountess. Any man—or woman, for that matter—ignored her at his peril.
“Ah, yes, of course,” Will said, struggling to appear as if he’d been following their absurd conversation. “I’m sure you’re absolutely right. No doubt about it.”
Lady Reese gave Fergus a triumphant nod. “You see, William agrees with me. And he should know. After all, he is now a high-ranking British diplomat in Vienna.”
Evelyn Endicott, who was seated next to Fergus, let out a lady-like snort. “Will has no idea what you’re talking about, Mamma. He’s been asleep off and on for the last hour.”
Lady Reese shifted in her seat and gazed at her son-in-law with narrowed eyes. “Surely that is not the case.”
“Certainly not,” Will protested. “I’ve heard every word.”
“Really?” Evelyn said. “Then please tell us what have we been talking about.”
Will gave her a sheepish grin. “Well, maybe I did miss a word, here and there. You know I didn’t get much sleep last night.” When he winked at his wife, she blushed a deep shade of pink.
Lady Reese gave a disapproving cluck, although it wasn’t clear if she was more offended by Will’s mildly risqué jest or his failure to hang on her every word.
“We’ve been talking about my utter ineptitude when it comes to socializing,” Fergus said, coming to his rescue. “Something I sadly cannot dispute.”
“You’re not inept,” Evelyn said in a bracing tone. “You’re simply a little…”
“Hopeless?” he filled in sardonically.
It was the simple truth—not that he cared about not knowing how to gossip or prattle on like, well, a prat. He had better things to do than drone on about cards, cravats, and the latest play. Or, at least he’d had better things to do before his uncle, the Earl of Riddick, had sent him south to recuperate, as he’d put it.
“Perhaps a tad shy,” Evelyn said.
“And if I thought you were hopeless,” Lady Reese added, “I would never have offered to sponsor you in the first place.”
She had most definitely not offered to sponsor him. In fact, her ladyship had been dragooned into hosting him for the winter by her other daughter, Edie, who was married to Alec Gilbride, Lord Riddick’s grandson and heir. That made him Fergus’ well-meaning but interfering cousin. Originally, it had been Edie’s idea to send Fergus south to London after his illness. She’d decided that leaving the fresh, healthy air of the Highlands to spend the winter in London, with its dirt, chaos, and noise, would be just the thing to restore his health and set him to rights.
It was another one of Edie’s madcap notions, and Fergus had told her so in rather forceful terms. Unfortunately, like everyone else in her blasted family, Edie never backed down. She’d managed to convince not only her husband but also Lord Riddick. And since Lord Riddick was his laird and employer, Fergus had found himself at the end of November in one of the earl’s luxurious travelling coaches, making the dreary journey to the London townhouse of Lord and Lady Reese.
With every passing mile away from Scotland, Fergus had sunk further into gloom. He hadn’t exactly been capering with joy before that, given all the family troubles of the last few years. The only thing that gave him any satisfaction these days was his job as the estate steward for his uncle. Riddick lands and the people who worked them meant everything to Fergus. Like clan and family, they were what truly mattered.
Edie’s absurd plan to restore him to health was made infinitely more hideous by her mother’s determination to find him an English wife. As if any pampered society miss would wish to marry a Highlander who worked for a living and had only a modest estate and a small manor house in an isolated valley to call his own. The latest scheme involved hauling him off to various house parties to meet eligible young ladies in what Lady Reese called a more comfortable and intimate setting. Fergus had told her that it wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference what the setting was, but the blasted woman simply wouldn’t listen.
“Give it up, old man,” Will said in a sympathetic tone. “When the ladies decide you have to do something, you’d best just get on with it.”
“If that doesn’t take the cake,” Evelyn said indignantly. “Will Endicott, you are always ordering me about.”
“I do no such thing,” he said. “Besides, you generally ignore what I say anyway.”
Lady Reese gave an approving nod. “My daughters are no fools. I raised them to think for themselves.”
“Thank you, Mamma,” Evelyn said, giving her husband a triumphant grin.
“Now, Fergus,” Lady Reese said, again pinning him with her hawk-like gaze. “I have made allowances for the fact that London might have been a tad overwhelming for a man of your sensitive nature.”
“Good God, I’m not the least bit sensitive,” he said. “I’m rude and opinionated, which you’ve pointed out more than once. And I’m not overwhelmed by London. I simply don’t like it.”
“Nonsense. Everyone likes London. And certainly you are sensitive. I used to think that all Scotsmen were ill mannered, but now I realize they’re often simply melancholic. And who can blame them, living as they do at the back of beyond.”
“But you love Scotland, Mamma,” Evelyn said. “You always have a grand time when you visit Edie and Alec.”
Especially when Lady Reese got into his uncle’s finest whisky, Fergus had noticed.
“Scotland is quite charming in small doses, although certainly not in winter,” her mother replied. “Fergus, unfortunately, has lived there his entire life, which accounts for his brooding nature.”
“That is just ridiculous,” he said. And embarrassing. If the carriage weren’t going so fast, he’d be tempted to throw himself out.
“Please do not interrupt,” Lady Reese said. “I now consider you quite like one of my own children, Fergus. As such, I have only your best interests at heart.”
Evelyn wrinkled her nose with sympathy at that appalling pronouncement, although Will was obviously stifling laughter. He was probably thrilled that Lady Reese had another hapless victim to manage, since it meant less of his mother-in-law’s notice on him.
“That’s very sweet of you, but I’m sure Fergus is capable of taking care of himself,” Evelyn said.
“Clearly he is not, given that he fell ill after working himself so hard,” Lady Reese said. “Lord Riddick was quite clear with me that Fergus was in need of a rest. And he expressly asked me to help find the dear boy a suitable wife. As you know, I’m very good at that.”
“I truly doubt that my uncle asked you to marry me off,” Fergus said, starting to feel a tad desperate. “Especially to a Sassenach.”
“You must learn to put your irrational prejudice against English ladies aside,” Lady Reese said in a severe tone. “While Lord Riddick might not have directly asked me to find you a wife, I was able to deduce his intentions with no difficulty.”
“That really doesn’t sound much like his lordship, Mamma,” Evelyn said.
“Of course it doesn’t sound like him,” Fergus said. If his uncle was so hell bent on marrying him off, he’d want Fergus to find a sturdy Scottish lass and not a pampered English beauty. “Not that it matters, since I have no intention of getting married. Besides, it’s no longer necessary.”
Not since Edie Gilbride was now with child. Though Fergus was technically still in the line of succession to the Riddick title, after Alec, the pressure for him to get married and produce an heir was moot.
“I’m thrilled, of course, that my daughter is enceinte,” Lady Reese said. “But that hardly means you need to adopt the life of a monk. A wife would be just the thing to cheer you up.”
Fergus finally indulged in a bit of temper, scowling at his tormenter. “I do not wish to get married.”
“Nonsense. Everyone wants to get married.”
“Well, I don’t. It’s a bloody awful idea, and we all know why.”
After an awkward silence, Lady Reese spoke first. “Because of your mother?” she asked in a surprisingly sympathetic tone. “I for one have never held with the view that madness is hereditary, and Lord Riddick assures me that no one else in your family has ever displayed an inclination to lunatic behavior. True, I will admit that your sister is rather odd, but she’s not the sort to go raving about and trying to murder people.”
“I should hope not,” said Will, “since Donella is now in the process of becoming a nun.”
“You never know, William,” Lady Reese said mysteriously. “I’ve read accounts about convents and monasteries that would make your hair stand on end.”
Her daughter choked out a laugh. “You’re talking about The Monk again, aren’t you? That’s a work of fiction, and you know it. I very much doubt that Miss Haddon or any of the pious women at the Convent of the Holy Cross are engaging in lurid activities.”
“I have already made the point that Miss Haddon is an entirely respectable young woman,” her mother replied.
“Thank you for that,” Fergus said in a dry voice.
“You’re welcome. And your sister did have the very good sense to step aside when Alasdair wished to marry my daughter. She behaved in a very mature fashion.”
She had, but their mother had almost ruined everything by trying to murder Alec when he and Donella broke their engagement. Glenna Haddon had schemed for years to marry Donella to the Earl of Riddick’s heir, and her rage when those plans were thwarted had driven her to desperate, insane measures. Only by the greatest good fortune had tragedy been averted. Fergus’ mother now resided under the care of a physician in Edinburgh, and while he visited her as often as he could, it made him sick at heart to see her slipping further into madness each time.
When he maintained his silence, Lady Reese shook her head. “Fergus, you were not to blame for those unfortunate events. It’s time you accepted that.”
He stared at her, incred
ulous. “That’s not what you said back then. In fact, you once called my entire family a houseful of lunatics.”
“Mamma, you didn’t,” Evelyn said with a groan.
“I was speaking figuratively,” her mother said. “I didn’t know at the time that his mother truly was insane. After all, everyone was so excessively dramatic that Mrs. Haddon’s behavior hardly stood out. Only I acted with any degree of sense whatsoever.” Lady Reese flicked a scowl in her son-in-law’s direction. “Did you say something, William?”
“No, ma’am. I simply coughed,” Will said in a bland voice.
“I do hope you’re not coming down with something. Fergus is barely over his illness, and we don’t need him to relapse.”
“I’m fine,” Fergus said through gritted teeth. “It’s been two months, and it was just a bad cold.”
“It was rather more than that,” Evelyn said with concern. “Edie was very worried about you.”
“Edie worries too much.” Still, he wouldn’t deny that the nasty infection had taken weeks to shake.
“You work too hard,” said Lady Reese, “because you’re trying to expiate your guilt and atone for your mother’s behavior.”
A Gentleman For All Seasons Page 26
