Yuletide Happily Ever Afters; A Merry Little Set Of Regency Romances

by Jenna Jaxon

  Mr. Ayles gently grasped her face and tilted it up to his mouth. His lips were soft as he eagerly pressed them against hers, their firmness pleasant though somehow not as stirring as she’d expected the kiss to be. She’d been kissed briefly before, under the mistletoe, but had never discovered what the fuss was all about. She still didn’t know, but was willing to try a bit longer in hopes it improved with time. Her eyes closed, she pressed back, trying to summon a spark of some sort in her heart.

  Abruptly, Mr. Ayles’s lips were gone. Her eyes snapped open to find her mistletoe partner clear across the room, and herself now facing a furious William. He glowered at her, his brows nearly touching his nose, his lips stretched in a thin line, his jaw set like granite. Her eyes widened, and she tried to back away from the anger in that face.

  Grasping her shoulders, William pulled her toward him until she bumped against his chest. “If anyone is going to test out the mistletoe, it’s me.”

  Marianne squeaked as his head descended, and he sank his lips down onto hers.

  Heat roared through her body like a living thing. Conscious only of his mouth on hers, she marveled at the firmness of his lips, the subtle taste of him, like a fine wine to be savored. Small movements, changes of pressure sent a fire sizzling through her veins to lodge in the pit of her stomach, and lower. This was the sweetest, most delicious thing ever to happen to her.

  “Take your hands off her.”

  And then William was gone, and she opened her eyes to a scene from the lunatic asylum at Bedlam.

  Mr. Ayles, Jonathan, had pulled William away from her and was attempting to pummel him. William fought back and the two crashed into the table holding the holly. Leaves and berries flew everywhere.

  “Stop! Stop!” Marianne scurried out of their way as the two shoved past her. “You’re going to bring the whole party here and then I’ll be ruined.”

  “You told me when you asked me to come that I was to meet Miss Covington with an eye toward matrimony.” Jonathan landed a blow to William’s jaw, staggering him backward.

  “That was not an invitation to assault her.” William landed his own jab, connecting with his opponent’s chin.

  Jonathan’s head flew back and he windmilled his arms, trying to stay on his feet.

  “He did not assault me, William.” She darted out, grabbing his arm as he cocked it back for another blow. “It was just a kiss.”

  “Just a kiss?” He snapped his head around to stare at her. “Do you go about giving kisses so freely, Marianne?”

  “Of course I don’t, jingle brains. We were just trying out the mistletoe. Everyone kisses under the mistletoe.” Why was William so incensed at an innocent kiss?

  “Well, you shouldn’t be doing it.” William’s voice had deepened to a bellow.

  “If you didn’t want me to court her, Stanley, why in blue blazes did you invite me here?” Gingerly, Jonathan touched his chin. “You want to court her yourself? Is that it? You could have saved me a damned long trip from Norfolk.”

  “Watch your language in front of a lady, Ayles,” William growled, edging toward Jonathan. “And no, I didn’t say I wanted to court her. I invited you here to do that.”

  “Somehow, I’m beginning to doubt that’s what you really want.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Narrowing his eyes, William straightened to his full six-foot-two height.

  “It means you’re in love with Miss Covington.”

  All the blood fled Marianne’s face and the world wavered into gray. Was this truly happening?

  “Just, for some unknown reason, you won’t admit it.” With a cool eye, Jonathan stood back, looking his friend up and down, a sneer on his lips.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Shifting his gaze from his friend to Marianne, William shook his head vehemently. “Don’t listen to him, Mari.”

  She opened her mouth to protest that she jolly well would listen, but nothing came out. Words stuck in her throat like a bone.

  “Perhaps she should listen to your mother, then.”

  William frowned. “What does my mother have to do with anything?”

  Jonathan stepped closer to William, until their noses almost touched. “She told me she suspected you were introducing Miss Covington to unsuitable men on purpose, so that you could marry her yourself.”

  Marianne’s mouth dried like she’d swallowed dust.

  “She warned me to be wary if I began to have feelings for Miss Covington because you might find something objectionable about me to disqualify me as well.”

  “William!” She found her voice and darted toward him, yearning to deliver a stinging slap to his face. “Is that true?”

  “Of course it’s not true,” he bellowed. “I swear to you I knew nothing about either Tamworth or Sherston.” He paced away from her. “Sherston wasn’t even my candidate. Mother suggested him.”

  “Are you blaming your mother for your boorish behavior?” Marianne followed right behind him. She would get to the bottom of his unseemly conduct once and for all.

  “To what particular behavior are you referring?” He halted and rounded on her.

  She barely stopped herself from running into his chest once more. That would’ve been an unmitigated disaster. She took herself in hand, tilted her head back so she could see those dark blue eyes, and faced him down. “To kissing me just now.”

  That seemed to take him aback. He set his jaw and fired back, “No, that would’ve been my own idea. And a disastrous one at that.”

  The world stopped for Marianne. She continued to breathe, her chest heaving up and down as though it were a bellows at a raging fire. This fire, however, burned cold in her heart. So cold she might never feel anything warm again. His sentiments were as plain as paper. He held no affection for her. Deemed kissing her a disaster. If she’d wanted the proof that he did not want to marry her, she’d had it handed to her on a silver platter.

  One stricken look at Jonathan, who’d witnessed her humiliation. Now that avenue had been closed to her as well. She could never endure a courtship with him after he’d heard William’s pronouncement. She’d rather remain a spinster forever than take someone’s pity, no matter how kind they were about it. Fighting back tears that fell anyway, she turned and fled.

  * * * *

  Pelting up the polished front staircase, Marianne hitched in breath after breath. The tears streaming down her cheeks burned like molten lead and her chest hurt with a crushing weight she’d never experienced before in her life. How could William have said those things to Jonathan? Or to her after that kiss? Had he truly not felt a thing while she’d been in alt?

  She wanted to die. More than anything, she wanted her own room, her own bed, and simply to die and not have to face William ever again. Jonathan—no, Mr. Ayles—would be easy to avoid. After this party, she’d likely never see him. If she happened to, at Almack’s, for instance—although she’d rather be horsewhipped than attend next Season now—she believed him gentleman enough to politely evade her.

  William’s company, however, she would, no doubt, be forced to endure at a variety of events, like Julia’s wedding, or parties like this one. Their families had been close for years; they’d not eschew that friendship just because William had broken her heart. Of course, if she had anything to say about it, neither Mama nor Papa would ever know anything about her unfortunate tendre for him.

  Unfortunate, indeed. If she could go back in time, she’d return to that day in November when Will had invited her for a drive and they’d come up with that wretched wager. Their friendship had been fine…uncomplicated, until then. But as soon as she’d asked Will to help her, he’d led her into one disaster after the other, the ultimate one being the performance in the entry hall tonight. Thank the Lord no one else had been there to see it. She wished with all her heard she’d not been there either.

  Hurriedly, Marianne sped into her room, shut the door and for once, turned the key in the lock. She simply could no
t speak to anyone at the moment. When Cole came to dress her for dinner, she would plead a headache and refuse to go down. Call her a coward, but she could not, would not face William nor the pitying gaze of Mr. Ayles. The very thought sickened her. She would remain in her chamber tonight and ask Mama to accompany her home first thing tomorrow. If she hoped to stop any hint of scandal or gossip, she’d need to remove herself from the proximity of either party and pray Mr. Ayles would keep his mouth shut. Anyone with a grain of sense would know she would not wish to speak of that wretched encounter this evening.

  Unfortunately, that might not include William Stanley.

  The mere thought of him brought tears flowing again. How had this happened? Marianne fetched her reticule and sought her handkerchief. Plopping herself down on the chair in front of the dressing table, she dabbed her eyes with the little scrap of linen until it was a sodden mess. They’d been good friends. Why had her heart demanded more of him? More than he obviously wished to give. It was so unfair. She hoped with every ounce of wretchedness now abiding within her that when he did find a lady he loved, she would scorn him and break his heart. Even though she might never know, it would serve him right.

  A knock at the door startled her and she staggered up. “Just a moment, Cole. It’s locked.”

  “It’s Mama, darling. Why have you locked the door?”

  Marianne clutched the back of the chair. Why must it be her mother, of all people? If anyone could get the truth out of her, it was her. “I’m not feeling well, Mama. Would you send Cole to me, please?”

  “Open the door, my dear. Let me see if I can help you.”

  Wishing she could simply melt into the floor, Marianne instead trudged to the door, turned the key then pulled the door ajar. “Come in.”

  Mama entered, already dressed for dinner in fashionable cream silk and lace. She stopped, her gaze immediately taking in her daughter’s disheveled appearance, watery eyes, and crumpled handkerchief. “Marianne, what is the matter, my dear?”

  Blinking back tears, she paced over to the window where the sun had long since set on the snowy landscape, reducing the glittery fairyland to nothingness. “I have a headache is all, Mama. Will you make my excuses to Lady Cannock? I fear I cannot go down this evening.”

  Soft steps behind her told Marianne her mother would not simply accept that excuse. Why did Mama have to intrude so? A neglectful parent would be far preferable at the moment.

  “A headache does not usually bring one to tears, dearest.” A firm hand on her shoulder turned her inexorably. “What has happened?”

  “Oh, Mama.” Marianne threw herself into her mother’s arms. “He kissed me.”

  “Mr. Ayles, dear?”

  She nodded then choked out, “And William.”

  “I see. Sarah told me there was a slight altercation downstairs.”

  Marianne pulled back. “How did she know?” Dear Lord, did anyone else?

  Mama patted her arm. “A good hostess knows everything that takes place beneath her roof, dear. You will discover that when you are mistress of your own house.”

  “That’s not likely to happen, Mama. Ever.” She shook off her mother’s hand to rummage in her trunk for another handkerchief.

  “Why not, dear?”

  “Because I plan never to marry.” Marianne grasped the handkerchief and held it to her streaming eyes.

  “Nonsense.” Lips pursed, brows lowered over stern eyes, Mama suddenly looked alarming.

  “It’s not nonsense.” Marianne flounced over to the chair and sat. “If I cannot have the man I want, I do not wish to marry.”

  “And who it is that you want? Mr. Ayles? You might indeed suit well together.” Mama came to stand beside her, her blue eyes blazing. “Or do you wish for William? You have never been so unsettled in your wooing until he began to help you.”

  Oh, but she hated Mama’s self-satisfied smirk. “I certainly do not want William Stanley. He’s been acting like an oaf these past few weeks.”

  “Like an oaf, or like a man in love?” Mama’s smug little laugh made Marianne want to strangle her. “Surely you have not missed the fact that William has been in love with you for years?”

  Marianne’s mouth dropped into an “O” out of which nothing came. How could Mama bait her so mercilessly when her heart was breaking? “You have seen no such thing because it is not true. William loves me about as much as…” She’d been about to say, ‘As much as I love him,’ but that no longer held true. “As he does mince pie.”

  “’Doth the appetite not alter? A man cannot endure the meat in his youth that he loves in his age.’”

  “You have that backward, Mama. The Bard will be spinning in his grave.”

  “That’s as may be,” her mother said, sauntering to the bed and easing up onto the mattress. Settling in for a lengthy session, no doubt, in which she would extoll the many charms of William Stanley.

  Well, Marianne would simply refuse to listen to anything about the wretched man.

  “Despite what you’ve chosen to ignore these past years, William is deeply in love with you. I can see it every time he looks at you across a ballroom or the dinner table.”

  The devil flew up and perched on Marianne’s shoulder. “Perhaps you need to avail yourself of the use of your lorgnette more often, Mama.”

  Mama peered at her, chin lowered almost to her ample bosom. “You are not too old yet, Marianne, for me to take a birch rod to you. I will brook no more insolence from you, young lady.”

  “Yes, Mama.” Best say nothing and perhaps Mama would eventually leave the room. With great effort, she smiled.

  “If you do not believe it, take a look at the men he’s been introducing you to since the end of November. Not one would be suitable for you.”

  “Except for Mr. Ayles.” She had to admit, William had done splendidly in his last choice for her future husband. That match might’ve worked, had Jonathan not been party to that shameful debacle downstairs.

  “True. However, I suspect William suggested Mr. Ayles because he believes you deserve to marry someone better than him.”

  “How ridiculous. No one would be a better husband than…” Biting her tongue to keep from blurting out her true feelings, Marianne shook with fury.

  “Than?” Mama cocked her head, appearing patient enough to sit there until the house fell down around them if she didn’t answer the question.

  “Than William.” Marianne hung her head. Confession was not good for the soul or she’d have been dancing a jig this moment. As it was, she was completely wretched because… “He does not love me, Mama. He made that abundantly clear downstairs when he said kissing me had been a disastrous idea.”

  “Spoken by the man who’d just planted his best friend a facer several times in public. Please, Marianne.” Mama stared at her, as though to say, ‘How much of a jingle brains can you possibly be?’ “For William Stanley to be any more obvious about it, he would have to take out an advertisement in the Times proclaiming his love for you.”

  The tears had dried, leaving Marianne’s chest heaving with the effects of the recent emotional outburst. A flicker of hope struck a spark in the darkness. “Do you truly think so, Mama? You think he might like me?”

  Shaking her head, Mama rose. “You young people are so fond of making wagers. Here’s one I will back wholeheartedly. William will marry you, if not by Christmas Day then by the new year.”

  “But he’s never said a word to me about it.” The plaintive wail filled the room.

  “Of course not, Marianne. A man must do things in his own time.”

  “But I don’t want to wait for the time to be right.”

  “Marianne, it would’ve been much easier on us all had you been a boy as well as your brothers. Ah, yes, well, my burden to bear.” Mama rose. “Have you asked William, Marianne? Have you stood before him, toe to toe, and asked him if he likes you? I suspect if you wait much longer you will not need to ask it of him.”

  “No.” In all the my
riad questions she’d pondered in the past few days, the one she’d never thought to ask was ‘Do you like me?’ Gathering her courage, she slowly stood. Perhaps it was finally time to do so.

  CHAPTER 8

  “Mother, what must I do?” William held boughs of holly and fir as his mother tied them to sconces around the ballroom as decoration for the Christmas ball. The past two days had been spent in preparation for the event. He’d expected to have to devote time to avoiding contact with Marianne. Not the easiest thing when they were under the same roof. However, instead of appearing inconveniently at mealtimes and after dinner entertainments, she’d pleaded a headache and remained in her room instead. Her absence, rather than being a relief, had instead fostered a melancholy in him he wouldn’t have believed himself capable of. By removing herself from the company, she’d somehow managed to make herself more prevalent in William’s mind. He thought of her constantly. Not a good thing at all.

  Ayles had gone, their friendship strained almost to the breaking point. William regretted his actions in the entryway greatly. He’d no idea what had come over him. The lofty plan to match Marianne with his friend had seemed to be working well. The two had found much in common to talk about while they were out in the woods, as he’d known they would. And secretly hoped they wouldn’t.

  Repressing a shudder of guilt, he followed his mother to a new sconce and obediently held the boughs in place as she tied them on with twine. Why she didn’t have the servants do this sort of work was beyond him.

  “You must do exactly what you are currently doing, my dear. Once all the sconces are decorated with the holly, I’ll have you go back through and tie them with the red ribbons I’ve prepared.” She cut her eyes at him. “Such a shame you could not persuade Marianne to assist you with this. You seemed to enjoy her company so much last year.”

  Stiffening at the mention of the name, William grasped the holly more firmly, refusing to say a word even when the pointy waxen leaves stabbed his fingers. “That is not at all what I meant, Mother, and you know it. What must I do about Marianne?”