The Cinder Earl's Christmas Deception

by Em Taylor

  “And is your half-brother like that? The one who will inherit the title?”

  “Gabriel? Oh no.”

  “Gabriel?”

  “Yes, that is his name.” He looked at her and then closed his eyes as he seemed to understand her confusion. “Gabriel is also my father’s first name. My mother wanted me called after him but because I’m a ba… I am illegitimate, he was not willing to call me after himself. My half-brother’s mother was more successful in that endeavour with his heir.”

  “I see. So that may be why your father dislikes you being called Gabriel.”

  “Yes, perhaps.”

  “Well, I believe you are correct that calling you Cedric is for the best at present, but perhaps we can revisit that once we are better acquainted. I want you to be happy and comfortable with me.”

  He looked down at her, a quizzical look in his gaze, then his frustration appeared to wane and his gaze softened as he smiled at her. “I believe I was correct when I spoke to the Dowager earlier. You are far too good for Cedric Onslow, my dear. Have a glass of champagne.” He stopped a passing footman and picked two glasses of champagne from the silver tray the man carried. He offered one to her and she accepted it with a little nod. The man seemed to speak in riddles, but he also sent warmth through her. Was this the desire she had read about in novels?

  ∞∞∞

  Gabriel could not believe his slip. What an idiot he had been to give her his own first name. Cedric might have some explaining to do at the altar when Kathleen found out his real middle name was Peregrine. That was not Gabriel’s problem, however. He had not asked to be part of this charade. As a servant, he merely did as he was told.

  But he felt bad for deceiving Kathleen. He liked the chit, as much as he had seen of her. She had made polite chit-chat through dinner, but she seemed to have picked up that he did not want to give much of himself away and had respected that. Women tended to be nosey, curious creature by nature and he was sure she was dying to find out more about her husband-to-be. But she was patiently biding her time.

  Kathleen was also beautiful. Something which made him uncomfortable as he led her onto the dance floor and slipped his hand around her slender waist. As he took her gloved hand in his, her breath hitched and her blue gaze met his. Despite two layers of silk between their palms, he was aware of the heat between them. He forced himself to maintain the appropriate distance between their bodies. It had been a long time since he had wanted a woman so much. Was it because she was the forbidden fruit—another thing denied to him by his cruel father? Was it because he felt that as the legitimate heir, she should be his? Of course, having been raised both above and below stairs, he did not have the same sense of entitlement that many ducal heirs possessed, and he did not view women as property.

  He smiled at her as he led her off into the waltz, twirling her down the line of dancers. She was graceful and elegant as all young ladies were taught to be, but not all achieved.

  “You dance divinely, Kathleen.”

  “As do you, Cedric.”

  “You flatter me. Do they waltz much in New Hampshire?”

  “Not much. In Boston, yes. Since I grew up, I spend more time there. That is where most of society is. Papa goes to New Hampshire because that is where his business interests are—his iron works.”

  “And London is to your taste?”

  “Oh yes. It is much warmer than Massachusetts and New Hampshire. The snow will be heavy there now.”

  “So you would have to wrap up warm.”

  “Oh yes. Carriage rides are out of the question. We use sleighs and ponies and just walk many places. That is why it is good to be in town. It is lonely in the country at this time of year.”

  “I would imagine it is.” He would not mind being snowed in with the delectable Miss Roberts though. In fact, as her tongue darted out to lick the bow of her lips, he had to tamp down his reaction to her.

  “Do you mind that your father found you a wife?” she asked without preamble. “I mean…” Her cheeks flushed a delightful shade of pink and she bit her lip for a moment as he supposed she must be reconsidering the propriety of her words.

  “Go on,” he urged.

  “Well, is it common among the ton to arrange marriages in such a manner? For us to be at our betrothal ball when we have only met once?”

  Now she bit her lip in earnest and looked over his shoulder, unable to meet his gaze.

  “Kathleen, I do not mind you asking. And no, it is not terribly common for us not to have met and at least got to know each other. Yes, many marriages are arranged, but usually the families encourage the couple to court and see if they suit. That said, most young ladies are schooled to be rather unremarkable so they would suit most men, I suppose.”

  “Rather unremarkable?”

  He frowned, not knowing how to explain it in such a way that would not sound so unkind. “Society expects young ladies to behave in such a manner that they are benign and inoffensive. Their dresses are demure, they all play the pianoforte or the harp or sing. They all do embroidery. They visit the subscription library and ride during the fashionable hour. But none must stand out. Those who stand out either find love matches or end up as spinsters, bluestockings or scandalous young misses. But mostly, one young lady is much like all the others. They are all rather like buckskin breeches. Give or take a couple of inches at the waist, they all fit a gentleman perfectly and look almost the same.”

  “Oh Mr Onslow, that is a terrible thing to say.” When he looked into her eyes, he could see she was rather scandalised.

  “Yes, it is rather. It is true, nonetheless. The waltz is finishing, and I must take you back to your Mama. I may not claim another dance with you until the supper dance. I shall write my name on your dance card, assuming that is acceptable. But, watch the young ladies, especially the ones in white and pastel shades. You will see exactly what I mean.”

  He led her over to the group of older ladies where Kathleen’s mother stood along with her young sister. The girl was not officially out yet and could not waltz, but she could do a country dance. He wrote his name on Kathleen’s dance card for the supper dance, then on Teresa’s for a country dance before just prior to the supper dance and a cotillion later in the evening. His duties done, he bowed elegantly to Mrs Roberts and her companions and set off in search of someone whom he might converse with and with whom he would not get into trouble.

  ∞∞∞

  “She thinks I’m a god-damned monster.” Gabriel moaned to his sister and his former friend.

  “Really!” hissed Christina, smiling beatifically at one of the grande dames who was scowling as she strolled by with one of her compatriots. “Polite society,” she emphasised with a gesture of her head to the now whispering ladies.

  Gabriel scowled and shook his own head. “They think I’m Cedric. Honestly Chrissie, surely that is the least offensive thing he says.”

  Christina rolled her eyes. “He does not take the Lord’s name in vain. He is just…” she waved her hand as if unsure how to express herself.

  “Ill-mannered, as subtle as a coach and four, as demure as Prinny?”

  “Something like that,” she conceded. “But he does not curse.”

  “He does now.”

  “Fine, so why does she think you are a monster?”

  He recounted the conversation on the dance floor.

  “Really, Gabe, how did we share the same space during our mother’s confinement without me throttling you?”

  “Christ, you two do not understand polite ballroom conversation, do you?” said Stalwood.

  “Says the man taking our saviour’s name in vain,” said Gabriel, a smile tugging at his lips.

  “Touché.”

  “I shall smooth things over with Miss Roberts. You two try to stay away from Cedric’s vile friends. I see Mr Lawrence Appleby heading this way. He shall try to encourage you to go to a gaming hell and a brothel after the ball if you are not careful,” said Christina.


  “What do you know of broth… oh never mind.” Gabriel did not have time to ask about his sister’s knowledge of the more nefarious activities of their elder half-brother and the seedier side of London’s nightlife. Lawrence Appleby was indeed bearing down on them, his inexpressibles giving the ladies in the ballroom quite a view. It seemed Lawrence was a little aroused. And now Gabriel had that vision in his head.

  “I believe Lady Stewart is calling us over,” he said to Stalwood, steering his friend in the opposite direction.

  “She is?”

  “She is,” he said, his voice a warning growl.

  ∞∞∞

  Kathleen looked around and saw Lady Christina heading her way. She smiled at the woman and closed her fan then curtseyed to her. Lady Christina curtseyed back.

  “Would you like to take a turn about the ballroom with me, Miss Roberts?”

  “Oh, thank you. I would. No one has solicited my hand for this dance.”

  They moved away from her sister and mama and once they were out of earshot Christina asked, “Are you enjoying the ball?”

  “I am. Very much so.”

  “And how do you find my brother?” Christina looked over towards a little nook and Kathleen’s gaze followed and sure enough, there was Cedric bowing over the hand of an elderly matron. The woman looked a little confused. Then she scowled.

  “Ah, yes, he is nice.”

  “I believe he is concerned that he has offended you.”

  “Oh?” She could not say any more. His comments about all young ladies being like men’s breeches was a little insulting.

  “He explained his comment about the breeches.” Christina rolled her eyes. “Honestly. I despair of Gabriel.”

  “You call him Gabriel.”

  “Uh… I...”

  “He told me your father does not approve. He told me that his mother wanted to call him Gabriel but your father wanted to reserve that name for his legitimate heir, so it is his middle name and Cedric became his first name. And your other brother’s name Gabriel.”

  “Yes, he is.”

  “He lives in the country does he not? I heard he is in poor health. Is that not so?”

  “Something like that.”

  Christina was watching Cedric again.

  “We were talking about Cedric comparing young ladies to breeches,” Kathleen prompted, deciding it was time to get the conversation back to the subject that Christina had come to discuss. “Yes. Well, all he meant was that in society, we are all taught the same things, we all learn the same manners and polite conversation is terribly uninteresting. I am not saying that no one has a personality. We do. But we can be moulded to fit almost any gentleman if necessary. That, sadly, is why so many young ladies end up married to men thirty years their senior.”

  “I see.”

  “He did not mean to be uncouth. He was just trying to explain the way of the ton albeit in a rather brutish manner.”

  “I understand.”

  “He worries he has offended you.”

  “He has not.”

  “Good, because here he is to claim you for the supper dance.”

  ∞∞∞

  “How was your waltz?” Stalwood asked Gabriel as they stood at the buffet choosing food and adding it to plates for the ladies and themselves. Kathleen and Christina were sitting at a table together talking animatedly. Gabriel cast a glance at his former dance partner.

  “Mostly it went well. I could relax and speak with her and flirt a little this time. Until she suggested we go out riding the day after tomorrow. In the park.”

  “Riding?”

  “Yes. On horses.”

  Stalwood barked out a laugh. “Yes Cindermaine, I am au fait with the general principle of riding.”

  “Perhaps, Stalwood, but when one has barely had two farthings to rub together for most of his adult life, where do you suppose one gets hold of decent horseflesh?”

  Stalwood halted, a slice of beef half way between the serving salver and the plate he was holding. “Oh, I see what you mean.” Gabriel nudged him back to his task. “What about the duke? Does he not have a horse you could borrow?”

  “He never rides when in town. Only in the country. He conveys his mistress about in a closed carriage—for the sake of propriety—if you can believe it. He acknowledges her bastard sons, everyone knows about them, but he uses a closed carriage for reasons that no one else can fathom. All the horses in his stable are carriage horses. Carriage horses are dreadful for riding, especially in a park full of people. They are used to harnesses, not someone on their back in a saddle. You are an excellent horseman. I need not tell you how different it would be. The last thing I want is to be thrown off a horse in front of Miss Roberts and land on my arse in the middle of the Serpentine. She already thinks I’m a dolt.”

  “I can understand. You can borrow Thunder.”

  “Thunder! You still have that stallion?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “He likes the ladies.”

  “So do I, but no one would put up with the kind of behaviour from me that your stallion exhibits.”

  “Actually, they would because you are a duke’s son.”

  Gabriel considered that.

  “Well possibly, but half the young ladies of the ton would have broken limbs and would be increasing to boot.”

  “You have missed your opportunity, old chap.”

  “Mayhap, but back to the horse. I will not ride that brute. It is a damned menace. If you had any sense, you would chop its ballocks off and calm it down.”

  “Here now, that is a bit harsh on the poor chap. What did he ever do to you?”

  “I could not sit down for a month after he threw me five years ago. I am sure he broke something in my backside.”

  “Ah, best not then. The chances of you ending up in the Serpentine are definitely increased if you take Thunder. Come, we had better get back to the ladies. They appear to be wilting for lack of nourishment.”

  They hurried over to the ladies who looked up, almost surprised to see their arrival.

  “Kathleen and I are arranging a visit to the modiste soon. We are also discussing which at homes we should attend, to which balls we should drag you and to what other entertainments for the rest of the Christmas season we can subject you,” stated Christina airily.

  “You forget, sister, that I am indisposed for the next week.”

  “No you are not. I promised Kathleen I would take her to Gunther’s for an ice.”

  “An ice, at this time of year?” asked Stalwood, taking the words right out of Gabriel’s mouth. “It’s freezing, in case you hadn’t noticed. If you order an ice, they’ll cart you off to Bedlam.”

  “Christina, I have that thing I must do.”

  “Father will understand now you are betrothed. Do not worry. I have the situation in hand.”

  Christina gave him one of her soothing looks and Gabriel was torn. He wanted to throttle his twin, but he wanted to trust her too. He glanced at Kathleen who had no idea what a tangled web was being spun around her and she sliced into her roast beef, looked up and bestowed a sunny smile upon him. Those rosy red lips were so innocent, so wet, so kissable. Could he find a secluded area to take her to? Should he? He knew this house like the back of his hand. Finding the perfect spot would not be an issue. The morality of doing it, however, was another matter.

  When supper was over and Christina had finished her incessant chattering about bonnets and frills and which modiste was the best, Stalwood held him back from the ladies as they re-entered the ballroom.

  “Meet me at Tattersall’s at midday tomorrow, old chap. We’ll get you a gelding. Wouldn’t want that pretty little arse of yours getting all wet and your other cheeks turning all red in front of the delectable Miss Roberts. Besides, Thunder needs someone to race.”

  “Oh no. You are not buying me a horse.”

  “Damned right I’m not. The duke will buy you a horse. I’m off to speak to him. I see yo
ur sister’s hand has been claimed. Keep an eye on her. I would hate any harm to come to her from some overly eager young buck. Your sister needs a proper gentleman who knows how to treat her properly.”

  “What, like you?” Gabriel chuckled. But the laugh died in his throat as he saw the way Stalwood’s gaze narrowed on the gentleman kissing Christina’s hand. “You want to court my sister, Stalwood.” It wasn’t a question.

  “She makes me smile,” he said simply.

  Gabriel nodded. Somehow such a simple reason made sense. “Miss Roberts, would you like to take a turn about the ballroom?” he asked, before his own young lady was accosted for a dance. The colour that rose in her cheeks was delightful and she fumbled with her fan. Was she really attracted to him? Damn! Would she be more or less attracted to him if she knew he was an earl? Titles always made women swoon. What a damn shame he could not use his title to impress her.

  “Thank you, Mr Onslow.” She placed her gloved hand on his sleeve and he stepped towards the edge of the room.

  “Your sister is lovely. Do you mind her inviting me out to visit the modiste with her?”

  “Why should I mind?”

  “Well, I had been led to believe that the two sides of the family did not get on.”

  “That has been the case in the past, but the family is changing. Perhaps one day I may even get on with my half-brother.”

  “He is the duke’s heir. Are you and he alike?”

  “Those who know my half-brother and me say that physically we are like two peas in a pod.”

  “Are you alike in temperament?”

  Gabriel hated where this conversation was heading. Cedric was an arse. He was sure he had some less than desirable qualities, but he was also certain that as a man he beat his half-brother hands down. But what could he say?

  “We have had very different upbringings. It shaped us into different types of gentlemen.”

  Kathleen frowned. “I see.” It was clear that she really did not see.

  It was better just to leave the conversation where it was though and not press things any further. His sire had created this ridiculous mess, and the Duke had to accept that he would make mistakes.