A Very Matchmaker Christmas

by Christi Caldwell

  “Lord Athmore?” Jane said softly.

  “Yes?” Nick felt her tremble.

  “Now.”

  To stop in the middle of a dance was a shocking maneuver and normally unthinkable, but he didn’t really care. On the brink of losing Jane, Nick had the realization that he had nothing left to lose. He stopped, still smiling, and escorted her through the moving couples, disrupting the pattern of their steps and setting off ripples of speculative whispers in the room.

  Stephen sighed to his dance partner who was already twisting her head to see the couple’s departure. “Ah, it looks as if your brother is going to propose! He confided in me that he would do it tonight and from the happy look on their faces, I’d say it is a certain fact that we shall soon be related, dear lady.”

  Constance’s displeasure was unmistakable. She growled in her throat, her lips pressed together so tightly that they disappeared. “He is causing a scene.”

  “You…don’t approve?” Stephen asked innocently. “Jane is very—”

  Constance halted in her tracks, nearly causing Stephen to stumble over her.

  “Pardon me!” he offered but she walked away from him, rudely abandoning her partner in the middle of the dance floor to stalk out after her brother and Lady Jane.

  The music faltered as several dancers also stopped in confusion at the commotion in their midst. The Countess of Weston immediately waved the musicians on, signaling them to continue but she also stood and followed the odd parade with the righteous march of a chaperoning mother who had simply been pushed too far.

  Stephen did his best to make a graceful exit of his own. “No worries, friends. I’m sure it’s much ado about nothing.”

  The music continued and the other matrons immediately added their calming voices to encourage the dancers to enjoy the rest of the reel and disregard the unusual turn of events.

  Constance found the couple at the foot of the grand staircase, apparently enrapt in an intimate whispered conversation. A conversation that did not look like the end of a courtship but rather a tender continuation of it. “Arthur Nicodemus Phineas Chesterfield! Have you lost all sense of honor?”

  Nick released Jane but his expression was not contrite. “I have not.”

  “Yet you would risk this? Risk her reputation? You think I was playing?” Constance hissed. “My brother is not interested in marrying a woman like you. I forbid this. Do you hear me?”

  “A woman like me?” Jane asked. “Whatever do you mean by that?”

  “You may look the sweet innocent creature but I have confirmation of your true nature. If Nick had been man enough to do the right thing and ended it when I ordered him to do so, it may not have come to this.”

  Jane held her ground. “The punch is very potent. Perhaps you’ve oversampled it?”

  “What is the meaning of this?” Lady Weston joined the fray. “May I suggest we take this very loud conversation somewhere quiet where we can speak privately?”

  Constance lifted her skirts. “I know the perfect place to talk.” She pushed past Nick, deliberately moving between the couple to part them and then sailed up the stairs. Halfway up the risers when she realized that no one was following, she turned back to address them all. “Unless you prefer I wait to make your daughter’s damaged and fallen state known when I return to London?”

  Agatha’s gasp of horror was a rattling and tangible thing. They all solemnly and silently followed Constance up the stairs, some with more rage in their stride than others.

  “Mother,” Jane said softly. “I pray you don’t—”

  “Say nothing!” Lady Weston cut her off. “I want whatever this is settled above stairs and I will not have it until then.”

  Jane kept her eyes down, her grip on Nick’s arm as tight as a vise. Everything hung in the balance of the next few minutes. Her future, her reputation and even her heart, but Jane didn’t care. They’d gone too far to turn back now.

  Constance retreated to her bedroom and everyone in the miserable little band had no choice but to follow her inside. Stephen closed the door behind him as he caught up to them all.

  “Did I miss the fireworks?” he asked.

  “Mind your manners!” Constance barked.

  “Enough.” Agatha held up one hand, a woman taking charge. “You’ve led us up here like schoolchildren, so let’s have the lesson, Lady Constance. What is going on?”

  “My brother is, as I mentioned, desperate for a wife, Lady Weston. I fear that desperation has led him to make an unsavory choice in your daughter, Jane. It is a choice I cannot abide. I am sorry but I was trying to spare Nick the heartache of it. You understand that when it comes to family, there is nothing we cannot do.”

  “An unsavory choice?” Lady Weston was furious. “How dare you!”

  “Constance. Stop this.” Nick spoke up but his words were lost in the storm. His hands clenched at his sides as he helplessly watched his worst nightmare unfold. It was ruin served up by his sister’s claws and dripping with venom.

  “I will not. Men think themselves the masters of all, but when it comes to love you are blind and stupid. I cannot allow you to make such a mistake—with her!”

  “You will mind your manners, Lady Constance. You are skating dangerously close to the edge with this slander!” Lady Weston stepped in front of both Jane and Nick, as fierce as a Pomeranian but just as impossible to ignore. “Jane is one of the finest young ladies to draw breath and my daughter’s virtue is intact! If you have something contrary to say, I urge you to have proof beyond any doubt or I will sue you for this slander, madam!”

  Constance cackled mirthlessly. “Oh, I have proof! You see, I discovered that Jane had been in my brother’s bedroom and I believe, in his bed. She left a token for him, a lover’s remembrance that I stumbled over when I came to his rooms to talk to him after I arrived. He wasn’t in but the trinket caught my eye. A certain amethyst and silver hair comb?”

  Lady Weston gasped. “What?”

  “A hair comb,” Constance repeated casually. “I knew it belonged to one of the ladies in your party but as I’ve watched them together, I saw no need to look further than your daughter. It was hers, am I right?”

  “My God,” Agatha sat on the padded bench at the foot of the bed, shock overtaking her. “Her hair comb…”

  Jane put a hand on her mother’s shoulder. “I do not believe that you found it where you said—or that you even have it! I lost it innocently and—”

  Constance walked over to the vanity table with a theatrical flourish of her skirts. “I have it. Here!” She yanked open the drawer then blinked in surprise. “It’s…”

  Stephen moved quickly to see what the drawer revealed, his expression transformed to shock. “What in God’s name is all of this?”

  “What? No!” Constance closed the drawer quickly and shifted to block the table. “There’s been a mistake. None of that is—”

  Stephen swept her aside, ignored her frantic protests and removed the entire drawer to upend it onto the bed. A cascade of jewelry tumbled out onto the embroidered satin quilting as everyone stared at the glittering pool of jewels, now topped with Jane’s lost hair comb.

  Lady Weston stood slowly. “Is that… Is that my tiara there? And those are my pearls…and Lady Portland’s ruby broach! I should recognize these things anywhere! These are jewels from not only my bedroom, but from all the ladies in the party!”

  Jane’s eyes widened in horror. “My God! How could you, Lady Constance!”

  Constance shook her head, faster and faster in denial. “No! I—never…what is this?”

  Nick’s confusion was so genuine that there was no question of his complicity with his sister’s crimes. “You said you liked to secretly break into my rooms but I didn’t realize you were…truly a burglar, sister.”

  Agatha held up one hand, a familiar gesture of a general used to authority. “You do indeed have my great grandmother’s hair comb, Lady Constance, but the only thing that it proves is that you a
re the worst sort of person and will not be welcome in any civilized home.” Lady Weston calmly picked up the wooden drawer and removed her shawl to cover the offending evidence as if it were a dead animal that disgusted her.

  Constance wasn’t yielding without a fight. “This is ridiculous! Why would I bring you all up here and open that drawer if I’d filled it with stolen jewelry! It makes no sense!”

  “Perhaps you forgot yourself in your misguided attacks on my child,” Lady Weston countered, a woman unmoved. “But what do you propose? That every woman with a piece of jewelry here was also in your brother’s bed? Do you insinuate that I—that I am also a whore in this scenario, Lady Constance?”

  Constance’s face drained of color as her situation finally landed. “I…this is…wrong.”

  “You will leave this house, Lady Constance and never darken my doors or the doors of anyone in my acquaintance so long as I draw breath. If you seek to do so, or to retaliate against my daughter or your poor brother, I shall publicly proclaim you a thief and involve the law to see that you are hauled off to Newgate. Do I make myself clear?”

  “I am not a thief! My brother has had a hand in this! He must have done this!”

  Stephen spoke up, the natural warmth in his voice frozen in loathing. “When? No one noted anything missing before your arrival, Lady Constance. And I think only a woman could enter the bedrooms of the female guests without being stopped, don’t you?” Stephen crossed his arms. “I wonder if a woman reluctant to lose her place if her brother marries would think to create a nest egg to cushion her landing when she is tossed out?”

  “N-no one is tossing me out and he is not getting married!” Constance was nearly hysterical as tears began to flow. “I didn’t—steal—I found that comb in—” She pointed a finger at Nick. “You won’t get away with this! I will end you for this, Nicodemus.”

  Jane touched his arm, instinctively protective. “Lady Constance, there is no need for threats.”

  Constance’s attention narrowed to Jane—and to Jane alone. “You! You arranged all of this! My brother must have whined to you about—”

  Agatha had heard enough. She yanked the bell pull and was instantly rewarded as Mr. Teller came through the doorway. It was obvious to all of them that he’d been outside in the hall the entire time, drawn by the commotion. “Lady Constance is leaving the house immediately. Mr. Teller, see to it. With force if it becomes necessary, Teller.”

  “Yes, your ladyship.”

  Constance lunged forward, her fingers arched like claws, but Nick caught her wrists and forced her into a chair by the windows. “It’s not fair! I didn’t steal anything!”

  Mr. Teller’s eyebrows lifted and Nick sighed. “Constance, if you don’t wish this infamy to end, keep screeching. Please. Spare yourself what dignity you can.”

  At last, the tears came and he let go of her.

  “I-I-I…hate all of you!” Constance blubbered like a child but no one expressed any sympathy.

  “Come, Jane. She is unhinged.” Lady Weston guided her daughter out quickly, giving the pair no chance to talk. Stephen pulled Nick aside to allow the women to retreat.

  In the corridor, the sounds of the party downstairs could be heard but Lady Weston was no longer in a holiday mood.

  “Mother, I’m so sorry if—”

  “Jane. Now is not the time. We will talk about this in the morning. Good evening, Lord Athmore. Stephen, oversee Mr. Teller’s efforts and please ensure that the party is not disturbed by this matter any further.”

  She took Jane by the arm and retreated to their rooms. Jane looked back but was instantly reprimanded by her mother, and Nick was forced to watch her go.

  Again.

  God! Again? Really? Am I eternally doomed to watching the woman I love walk away?

  “Come, Athmore. You look like a man in need of a brandy.”

  Nick shook his head, his gaze still following Jane’s path. “I don’t drink.”

  Stephen laughed. “Of course you don’t but, if ever you were going to take a run at it, tonight is the night.”

  “Stephen, what just happened?”

  Stephen clapped a hand around Nick’s shoulders. “Only time will tell. Now let’s have that brandy and I promise, I’ll do most of the talking. No worries.”

  It was all Nick could do to nod.

  I may need a drink after all.

  Chapter Nine

  Christmas morning was a lively affair. Most of the guests had decided for an outdoor adventure, sledding and frolicking in the wintery landscape after a late night of revelries. Nick was awake, having never gone to bed, but had no intentions of joining the others. He had supervised the last of his sister’s preparations to leave, grimly wishing that he’d found the courage to manage it at Hawkings Manor. He loathed the notion that his family’s internal strife had marred Jane’s Christmas holiday. Constance had packed and readied to go, trying tears and rages in turns to ward off the inevitable. He had personally seen her to her carriage and weathered every barbed insult and poisonous threat. But her words were hollow.

  Lady Weston was not one to posture and even Constance knew when she was beaten. She’d spit and moaned as she alighted into the carriage in the darkness. “If only you’d died in the crib…”

  Nick closed the door and sent her off.

  Without speaking a word to her.

  I won’t manage a syllable to her until the day I die. The laughter and squeals of playful terror from the sledding party drifted through the trees and Nick listened with a touch of envy. As much as he hoped to see Jane, he wasn’t up for the party and he was wary of questions he couldn’t answer about his sister’s sudden departure or the strange turns of the night. He returned to his rooms to pace and think about the twists of fate and the brilliance of his thieving benefactor until one of the footmen came up to knock on the door in search of him.

  “Your lordship, you are wanted in the library.”

  “Of course.”

  Lady Weston has had the night to consider and I’ll need to have my wits about me. I have to convince her that Jane had nothing to do with all the trouble.

  But when he came to the library, it was not Lady Weston sitting by the fireplace waiting for him.

  It was Jane, her cheeks flushed from the exertion of sledding and snowball fights.

  “Jane. I’m…so relieved to see you.”

  She stood nervously, shifting her hands over her dark green velvet dress. “Are you? I left the others outside. I knew with everyone…so occupied, we might have a chance to talk. I admit I was half-convinced that you would be furious with me after…everything that happened last night.”

  “Furious?”

  “Constance was—so cruel. I know it must seem as if I acted only to protect myself but I couldn’t bear the thought of you suffering…of her holding the reins and punishing you…”

  He smiled. “You are my guardian angel, Jane.”

  “I don’t feel very angelic.”

  “I’m in awe of you.” Nick took her hands and led her over to the sofa where they could sit together. “I knew you were a person with many facets to your spirit and personality, but I never thought you’d possess a hidden talent for stealing jewels—and such brilliant courage.”

  She smiled. “I am very stubborn and may have instigated a few things but I cannot bask in praise I don’t deserve. You have my brother to thank for…repositioning a few items into that drawer.”

  “Stephen?”

  “He does enjoy good theatre, remember?”

  “I like him more and more. I take it that he completely approves of us then?”

  “He does.” Jane sighed with happiness. “Even with my bad luck, he has been my one consolation for I am very fortunate to have him for a protector and friend.”

  “Jane…”

  “Wait. I know earlier it felt as if you needed to leave to spare my reputation or that you might be forced with the threat of scandal to marry me and I—I am very grateful for the s
acrifice you would have made to save me.” Jane took a deep breath and then pushed on. “But there is no threat of scandal now. Well, not for us. Your sister may hold a different opinion of things.”

  “I no longer care about Constance’s opinions.”

  “I am glad then.” Jane reached for his hands, the innocent contact instantly sending shimmering heat through his frame. “Lord Athmore. You don’t have to marry me.”

  “Pardon?”

  “The way your sister spoke, I began to wonder if any of this was your idea. You don’t have to marry me if you don’t want to. Wobbles or no, Mother is sure to forgive me and there’s no scandal. Not really. No one knows about the…way we met and you deserve a woman of your choice. Not one who was thrust upon you by silly circumstances and broken doorknobs.”

  “Jane, please.” He squeezed her hands with his, a gentle show of possession. “I—we are not—that is to say…” Nick sighed in frustration. “Damn it.”

  Jane gasped, anxious at his distress, but also revealing her own worries, her eyes filling with tears. “You can always say what you wish to me.”

  “No. No, I can’t.” Nick let go of her to reach into his inside jacket pocket, retrieving a folded note he’d hidden there. He held it out to her. “Jane, this is for you.”

  Jane took it from him, unfolding it to read with nervous fingers.

  Dearest Beautiful Lady Jane,

  A man who claims to be wise once advised me that when it came to winning a woman’s heart, words wouldn’t be needed. He said that deeds and actions were what counted.

  It is a dilemma.

  Because my actions have been very strange. I’ve tucked you in trunks and embarrassed you at dinner tables. I’ve hidden behind trees and kissed you without reserve. When threatened, I acted to sacrifice myself to protect you but I should have fought for you. And when I consider it, I am at a loss to claim that I’ve done much to impress and far more to convince you that I’m a fool.

  But here are the words that I can conjure—if only on paper.

  I love you.

  I love you for the kind sweetness of your nature and the generosity of your soul.