Mistletoe Magic: A Regency Romance (Home for Christmas Book 2)

by Rose Pearson

  The eager expression on his face and the warmth in his eyes made the last of Georgiana’s reserve fall away. There was no need for her to further her acquaintance with Mr. Lowell, but it appeared that everything he had done, he had done entirely by mistake, and it was all entirely well-meant. He was an amiable gentleman, she decided, and she was glad that Lady Allerton had managed to make his acquaintance, for Georgiana was sure it would be good for them both.

  “I can tell you of the many, many times I have made a mistake amongst the ton,” Lady Allerton said with a wince. “Lord Allerton did not want to correct me at first and so chose instead to keep his distance—but we found a way through our difficulties in the end.” She laughed at Mr. Lowell’s almost mournful expression. “And you shall do so too. I am quite sure.”

  He shook his head, looking a little abashed. “I must hope so,” he said, turning his gaze back to Georgiana and looking at her with such curiosity in his eyes, she felt her stomach tighten unexpectedly. “I believe, Lady Georgiana, that I must be introduced to your brother before I am allowed to ask if you can dance with me this evening.”

  Her breath caught, but she could not explain why. Was it because she did not want to dance with him, did not want the ton to be watching her as he led her around the floor?

  “Oh, tosh!” Lady Allerton exclaimed, using a phrase that Georgiana knew came from her brother. “You need not worry, Mr. Lowell. You have become acquainted with me, and that, I am sure, will suffice. Please.” She gestured towards Georgiana, who, given she could not now refuse nor shoot her sister-in-law a sharp look, had no other recourse but to look up at Mr. Lowell as he bowed his head, clearly trying his best to get everything just so.

  “That is very kind of you, Lady Allerton, but I would prefer to—”

  “Please,” Georgiana interrupted, wanting Mr. Lowell to feel quite at his ease. “I would be glad to accept your invitation.” She held out her dance card, looking at him with a warm smile. Mr. Lowell hesitated for a moment, then reached for it, looking at each of the dances with an inscrutable expression.

  Georgiana’s heart quickened as Mr. Lowell glanced up at her, a slightly wry smile on his face.

  “I think I may very well embarrass you if I am not careful to choose a dance that I know very well indeed,” he said awkwardly. “The country dance I am not familiar with, but the cotillion I believe I know very well.”

  She nodded, thinking the cotillion would be quite suitable. “Then the cotillion would suit me very well, Mr. Lowell.” It would also mean she might garner a little less scrutiny than if he had chosen the waltz, which was, to her, something of a relief. “I thank you.”

  Mr. Lowell bit his lip, wrote his name down on the card, and then let the card slip from his fingers, so it dangled from her wrist again.

  “I look forward to our dances, Lady Georgiana,” he said, giving her a small bow and then turning his smile to Lady Allerton. “Lady Allerton, I hope that we will be able to talk at length another time. There is a lot more I’d like to ask.”

  “And it can be difficult to converse properly when one is surrounded by conversation and music,” Lady Allerton agreed, making Mr. Lowell smile. “You must visit, you and your cousin, if you wish it.”

  “Then might I make the introductions?” Mr. Lowell asked, gesturing to his left and putting out his arm towards Lady Allerton. “That is the correct thing to do, isn’t it?”

  Lady Allerton laughed and accepted his arm, making Mr. Lowell’s smile grow all the more. “It is,” she told him, throwing a quick glance back towards Georgiana. “I would be very glad to be introduced to your cousin, Mr. Lowell.”

  Georgiana watched as Mr. Lowell and her sister-in-law stepped out together, allowing them to move away from her before she looked down at her dance card. There had been something very strange indeed about Mr. Lowell’s remarks, for he had not said he was looking forward to their dance, but rather to their dances, which implied he had written his name down for more than one.

  Her breath caught in her chest as she saw his name written for not one but two dances, with the second being the waltz. The waltz was the one she had hoped to avoid with him, for fear that being seen dancing in his arms would bring more questions and a flood of interest from the beau monde. What would her brother say?

  Shaking her head to herself, Georgiana lifted her chin and tried to set her resolve. She would have to remove herself from the room during the waltz, perhaps stepping out into the gardens with Lady Allerton for a time. Or finding a quiet alcove where she might enjoy a refreshing glass of champagne. It might appear a little rude, but it would be better than having to step out onto the floor with him. He was not at all suitable for her and Georgiana knew very well that her brother would not take kindly to seeing her dancing the most intimate of dances with Mr. Lowell! Lady Allerton might not think there was much to it, but then again, she was still learning the ways of the ton and all the expectations that came with it.

  Sighing to herself, Georgiana moved quickly away from Mr. Lowell and Lady Allerton, choosing to make her way back across the ballroom to find her brother and praying the intolerable Lord Tolliver was no longer present. It was obvious to them all, she hoped, that Lord Tolliver was not at all suitable and that, just as it had been with Lord Pembrokeshire, she could not possibly consider marriage to someone so unsuitable. She had to pray that her brother’s considerations would improve, or that a gentleman within the ton would step forward and, for the first time in her life, ask if he might court her. Her heart warmed with that same familiar sense of longing, but Georgiana dashed it away. It had not occurred as yet, and she was not about to hope it would happen now just because she was back in London. Her brother’s reputation and the awareness that he had been forced to marry a rich lady from America was still well known throughout the beau monde, and they did not forget easily, whether or not the marriage had become one of affection rather than requirement.

  “Where is Lady Allerton?”

  Georgiana looked up at her brother, taking in his heightened color. “She is speaking to Mr. Lowell,” she said quietly, putting one hand on her brother’s arm and seeing how he barely glanced at her. “There is nothing to concern yourself with, brother.”

  Lord Allerton closed his eyes and blew out his breath in evident frustration. “Is she still very angry with me?”

  Georgiana hid a smile. “I fear she may well be,” she answered, honestly, “but she is glad to have met Mr. Lowell and that, I think, will lift her spirits for a while.”

  “In that case, I suppose I should be grateful to this Mr. Lowell,” Lord Allerton muttered, finally looking down at Georgiana. “He is the American, yes? The one who sent you three books?”

  Again, Georgiana kept her smile hidden away. “Yes, that is he,” she answered honestly. “But that was a mistake, brother. You know very well how difficult it was for Lady Allerton when she first arrived in London. Do not hold anything against Mr. Lowell.”

  “I will not,” Lord Allerton answered firmly, his eyes determined. “Just so long as you are aware whilst such a match was suitable for me, it is not so for you.”

  Georgiana sighed inwardly, wishing that her brother would not immediately think she was drawn to Mr. Lowell. “I am well aware you married to Alice for her wealth and came from a situation where the ladies of the ton would not even look at you when it came to their daughters,” she said pointedly as her brother dropped his head in embarrassment. “I am well aware I am expected to marry a well-titled gentleman of England, and I am more than contented to do so.” She looked fixedly at her brother and prayed he would stop harping on about Mr. Lowell. “I am waiting, however, for you to find someone suitable rather than bringing gentlemen to me that are so entirely without merit.”

  Lord Allerton sighed heavily. “That is quite understandable,” he admitted, spreading his hands. “Lady Allerton will help me also, I am sure.”

  “I must hope so,” Georgiana muttered with a wryness in her eyes that her brot
her did not see, given his gaze turned back towards his wife.

  “I should introduce myself to Mr. Lowell,” Lord Allerton finished, with a long breath. “Unless…oh!”

  Georgiana blinked in surprise, turning to see what it was that had caught her brother’s attention, only to see Mr. Lowell coming towards her, his gaze fixed upon her. Her heart began to quicken, a flush of embarrassment climbing up her neck and into her cheeks as she saw the way other guests turned to look at him. He was not very well known in the ton as yet, and thus, they would be interested in knowing who he was.

  “Lady Georgiana.” Mr. Lowell bowed deeply in front of her as Georgiana bobbed a quick curtsy. “I believe this is our first dance of the evening.” He extended a hand, a hopeful look in his eyes. “Shall we?”

  Georgiana resisted the urge to pull up her dance card to look at it, realizing with horror that this was the waltz, the waltz she had intended to hide from. Having not realized it was to come upon her so quickly, she had made no attempt to move to the corner of the ballroom or to step outside and now was forced to accept his hand and to allow him to lead her out onto the floor. She avoided her brother’s gaze as she walked beside Mr. Lowell, her face burning as she saw one or two people glancing at her and then turning to whisper to someone beside them.

  “You don’t think I will step on your toes, I hope?” Mr. Lowell asked with a broad smile as the first few notes began to play. “I know how to waltz, Lady Georgiana. I can waltz very well indeed.”

  Her smile was fixed as she stepped into his arms, looking pointedly over his shoulder rather than up into his face. “I can assure you that I have no such fears,” she answered as he chuckled quietly. “Although you would not be the first gentleman to do so!”

  He said nothing more but began to sweep her around the room, his grip firm and his steps sure. The tension that Georgiana had initially felt began to fade away, as did her fears as to what the beau monde might now be saying of her. Her hand loosened on Mr. Lowell’s shoulder, thinking to herself he had told the truth when he had said he knew how to waltz and she had no concerns whatsoever he might trip nor stamp on her toes or any such thing. He was an excellent dancer, and Georgiana found herself relaxing into the dance and allowing herself to enjoy it.

  “I thank you, Mr. Lowell,” she murmured as the orchestra brought the waltz to a close. “You dance very well indeed.”

  “Perhaps it will make up for the rest of my flaws in the eyes of English society,” he said, a wry smile twisting his mouth as he bowed. “Thank you for being willing to step out onto the floor with me, Lady Georgiana. I enjoyed it very much indeed.”

  “As did I,” Georgiana answered as he led her from the floor, surprised to realize she truly meant it. She had enjoyed her waltz with Mr. Lowell and had found him to be an excellent dancer. Should he ask her again, at another ball, then she would have very little hesitation in accepting. “I enjoyed it very much, Mr. Lowell.” Her eyes caught his, and she smiled at him. “Thank you.”

  Chapter Four

  The following afternoon found Oliver sitting quietly by the fire, reading a letter from his father that had arrived earlier that day. It spoke of how well things were going in Oliver’s absence, which Oliver was grateful for even if it sent a surge of homesickness into his heart. He had taken over the finance business from his father some years ago, looking at the investments that were being made and ensuring he got the very best returns and, in the last few years, it had grown and grown all the more steadily, making him and his father very wealthy indeed. It was reassuring to know it was all going well in his absence, but there was a part of him that longed to return to all he knew. The ball last evening had been another example of his lack of understanding when it came to propriety and expectation, for he had made a few mistakes and had caught Lady Rutledge’s embarrassed look on more than one occasion.

  Although he had managed to dance with Lady Georgiana on two occasions and, after their waltz, had then been able to sign the dance cards of three other young ladies. One had been the daughter of a baron, with the second being the niece of a Viscount and the third dancing with him for the sake of Lady Rutledge, who was her close acquaintance. Oliver had been grateful for each person he had danced with, but he had not enjoyed any so much as he had done with Lady Georgiana. There had been a stiffness in her frame when they had first stepped out together, but within a minute or so, it had gone from her completely. She had relaxed into the dance and had swung around the floor with him without any hesitation, her steps firm and sure. He had enjoyed holding her in his arms immensely, finding his heart already a little affected by her presence and her company.

  It was quite foolish of him to think of her in such a way, of course, so Oliver was doing all he could to set such feelings aside, telling himself he only enjoyed Lady Georgiana’s company because of her kind nature and gentle spirit that had been so evident from the very first time they had met.

  “Lowell?”

  He looked up from his letter just in time, seeing Lady Rutledge practically throwing herself into the room, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright with worry, and her skirts held up in one hand so she might scurry all the faster.

  “Goodness, cousin!” he exclaimed, looking at her harassed expression. “Whatever is the matter?”

  She shook her head, trying to catch her breath. “My dear Lowell, I must ask you a favor.”

  “Of course.” He folded up the letter at once and pushed it into his breast pocket. “What is it I can do for you, my dear cousin?”

  Lady Rutledge came a little more into the room and flopped into a chair, her eyes still holding evidence of distress. “Might you go into town for me?”

  “But of course.”

  She waved a hand. “I was to look over a new hat for Lord Rutledge—as a gift, you see—as well as some new gloves for him, but whilst they are ready for me to peruse, I have only just received a note from Lady Weatherly stating she will call upon me this afternoon. The dressmaker is expecting me, however, and given Lord Rutledge’s gifts were to be given to him this evening, should all be as I expect, I find myself to be quite stuck in difficulty!”

  Oliver smiled at his cousin. “Why don’t you just tell this Lady Weatherly you cannot meet with her?”

  Lady Rutledge looked quite horrified. “She is the wife of a Marquess!” she exclaimed as understanding washed over Oliver. “A marchioness cannot be refused anything.”

  “Of course not,” Oliver agreed quietly. “And the hat and gloves are to be given to Lord Rutledge this evening, you say?”

  “In time for the ball tomorrow,” Lady Rutledge answered, reminding Oliver that Lord and Lady Rutledge were themselves throwing a ball tomorrow evening—a ball he was very much looking forward to. “It was to be a gift, you see, and I would very much like to give it to him still, if I can.”

  Oliver rose from his chair without waiting another moment. “I quite understand,” he said, coming across to his cousin and reaching down to pat her hand. “Enjoy your visit with Lady Weatherly, my dear. I shall make sure the hat and gloves are well made and to the highest standard and will bring them back here for you.”

  Lady Rutledge seemed to collapse back just a little in her chair. “I thank you,” she breathed, clearly no longer alarmed. “You are very kind, Lowell.”

  He chuckled. “Not at all,” he answered with a rueful smile. “After all the trouble I have given you thus far, this is the very least that I can do.”

  “You do not bring trouble,” she corrected with a sharp look up towards him, her eyes bright. “You did very well last evening, Lowell. I was very glad to see you dancing so well, and I am sure the ton thought well of it also.”

  Knowing the view and considerations of the ton ought to be of great importance to him, Oliver tried to smile even though he felt the weight of the beau monde’s condescension whenever he set foot outside the house. “That is very good of you to say, cousin,” he answered without saying whether or not he agreed with her. “Now
, I should go before I make the mistake of accidentally meeting Lady Weatherly in the hallway and saying something that is either deemed inappropriate or a little lacking in manners.” He grinned at Lady Rutledge, who shooed him away with a teasing look in her eyes, telling him the name of the dressmakers just as he closed the door tightly behind him.

  “They look very well made indeed.” Oliver glanced up at the dressmaker, whose cheeks had colored a little red as he smiled at her. “I am sure Lady Rutledge will be very pleased indeed.”

  “I shall have them wrapped for you directly,” the dressmaker answered, closing the box and leaving it on the counter for a moment. “And now, the hat.” She picked up a large box from the floor and lifted it to the counter, opening it up to reveal a top hat that would befit any gentleman of the ton. He looked at it carefully, picking it up and allowing his well-trained eyes to run over each seam. It was without fault or flaw, he realized, thinking silently to himself that his cousin had picked an excellent dressmaker.

  “That is perfect,” he murmured, looking at the dressmaker who flushed a deep scarlet but bobbed a quick curtsy. “So well made, in fact, that I would like to purchase one also.” He hesitated, then smiled. “And some new gloves and a new coat too.”

  The dressmaker blinked for a moment or two, then began to smile. “I would be glad to assist you, sir,” she said looking him up and down as if assessing his frame. “Would you like to have one specifically made for you?”

  Oliver went into the finer details of his new coat for a few minutes, arranging everything quickly and then asking the dressmaker to ensure the bill was written out for him at once, as he would like to pay for it all this afternoon. The dressmaker nodded and hurried away, leaving Oliver to meander around the shop, looking at various things and finding himself in a happier state of mind than he had been when reading his father’s letter.