* * *
The afternoon passed quietly. The snowfall had increased so much that the scheduled hunt had to be postponed and the men gathered together to play cards and billiards.
The ladies retreated to the drawing room where Jonathan briefly caught sight of Miss Gordon again. She batted her eyelids in his direction when she spotted him and he bowed his head in return.
He did not see her again until dinner, which was held early, at four in the afternoon. He was delighted when he was called upon to escort her to dinner, for it meant he would be sitting next to her.
As the highest-ranking peer, a circumstance still quite odd to him, Jonathan had the place of honor next to Miss Gordon at the foot of the table. Across from him was Lord Conner, second-highest ranking peer. Even in a gathering as small and intimate as theirs, everyone was seated by their rank. Beside Lord Conner was Baron Balwick, brother to Lord Lincester. Next to Baron Balwick sat Thomas. Eric was seated beside Jonathan.
At the head of the table was of course the host, Lord Lincester. Lady Conner and Lady Buxby were on either side of him, with the Baroness next, across from Miss Brown, and then Miss Henrietta Gordon. Seated at the center of the table, indicating their lower status, were several people Jonathan did not recognize. He leaned over to Miss Gordon once dinner began.
“Who might the gentlemen at the center of the table be?”
She turned to him, her body rather rigid and her jaw clenched. The discomfort of the situation, especially her prominent place among the group, was written all over her gentle face. Jonathan felt badly for her, for he knew how timid she was and how nerve-racking these occasions had to be for her.
She leaned over to him and cleared her throat.
“The gentleman with the graying hair is Mister Downey, Father’s business partner in the coffee houses. He is in charge of much of the southern region. The young man who is presently spilling soup all down his pantaloons is his son, Henry. Across is his daughter, Eliza.”
A smirk danced around her lips for she was right. The young man, all of perhaps five years old, appeared to have some trouble with the white soup as half of each spoonful appeared to land on his trousers, thankfully covered by a napkin.
Suddenly it dawned on Jonathan who the young woman was. “It was Miss Downey’s coming-out ball that led us to reunite.” He nodded appreciatively. “I ought to thank Mister Downey, for it was fortunate indeed he had the coming-out ball when he did.”
She blushed and fixed her gaze to the table.
“Your Grace flatters me.”
He shook his head. “It is not flattery. It is the truth.”
She shook her head, though her body did appear to relax, which was all Jonathan wanted–to help her feel more comfortable. She pointed with her chin toward the middle of the table again.
“The gentleman next to Mister Downey is Laird Stormbren. My Father is expanding the coffee houses into Scotland and this man is in charge of it. Across from him is his wife, Lady Stormbren. The younger boys and girls are their children. The Laird and family depart on the morrow, but the Downey’s are here for the season, staying with Lord and Lady Westchester.”
Thoroughly introduced to everyone at the dinner party, Jonathan leaned back and enjoyed the meal while Miss Gordon was being engaged in conversation with Lord Conner, on her other side.
They had just moved on to the second course when Lord Balwick spoke up.
“Your Grace, it is a pleasure to have you at our humble family dinner. This is your first Christmastide as Duke. I bet you harbored no hopes that might ever happen!” He laughed out loud, pleased at his own joke.
Jonathan frowned. Has he really just asked me if I had hopes of becoming Duke? Given that it means I would have to hope for my brother and father to pass away?
He wasn’t sure if he should be offended or not. Fortunately, before he was able to reply, Eric spoke up.
“Excuse my uncle, Your Grace. He is not known for his tact. I am sure he meant no offense.”
Baron Balwick’s eyes grew wide and his eyebrows nearly hit his hairline.
“Offense? But why? I am only making conversation.”
“Of course, you are. Forgetting conveniently that for Lord Ekhard to become Duke, his beloved brother had to die. Of course, given you are also the second son, maybe you are indeed very aware of what it takes to jump rank.”
“It was not my intention to imply anything of the sort.”
“Perhaps not,” Eric took a swig of ale. “But it would be a lie to say you do not sometimes hope being Viscount might be in your future.”
“If I had known I would be insulted in such a manner by my own family, I certainly would not have come to dinner!” Lord Balwick’s voice boomed, drawing attention from the assorted guests. Jonathan’s eyes darted back and forth from his friend to the Baron.
“Father!” Miss Henrietta Gordon’s voice rose. “Please, do not raise a fuss. Can’t we simply enjoy the meal? Must you offend the Duke when he just lost his Father and Brother?”
“I will not be spoken to in this manner, Henrietta. If these are the kind of manners you are picking up when spending time at my brother’s, then I shall have to limit your time here.”
At the head of the table, Lord Lincester rose.
“My dear brother, whatever is the matter?”
“The matter?” The Baron threw his napkin on the table.
Beside him, Isolde inhaled sharply. Jonathan’s head spun around toward her and he instantly saw the distress in her face. Instinctively, he reached out and touched her hand, causing her to look up at him with utter shock upon her face. He recalled where they were, surrounded by people, and withdrew his hand. Their eyes, however, remained locked.
“I do not like conflict,” she said quietly.
Jonathan turned from her and stood. He placed one hand on Eric’s shoulder and looked directly at the Baron.
“My dear Mister Gordon, I appreciate your desire to guard my feelings, which are indeed still raw from losing my Father, the great Duke of Ekhard, so unexpectedly and so soon after my brother. It was a shock, to be sure. But I am certain we all keep him in our memory for the kind, family loving man that he was. Miss Henrietta,” he addressed Henrietta, “I do appreciate your concern as much as Mister Gordon’s but please be assured, I took no offense as I know Lord Balwick to be a true gentleman who would never seek to offend. Especially not one above him in station.”
He noted Lord Balwick’s Adam’s apple bop. While Jonathan was keen to dispel the awkwardness in the room for the sake of Miss Gordon, he did cherish the opportunity to put Lord Balwick in his place. Jonathan had learned the art of delivering a blow while wrapping it in flattery from his mother.
“Now, given that my Father so loved Christmastide, and was indeed a man fond of all his friends, many of whom are assembled here tonight, I would like it very much if, with Lord Lincester’s permission, we could honor my Father by dedicating this meal to his memory. What do you say?”
He once again looked at Lord Balwick, leaving it up to him to put an end to the tension.
Taking his lead, Lord Lincester raised his glass and addressed his brother.
“I think it a rather excellent idea, what do you say, brother?”
Lord Balwick’s nose twitched and he took a long moment to think. Then he got up, grabbed his cup and raised it.
“I say yes. Let us honor the memory of our good friend, the late Duke of Ekhard. To the Duke!” He raised the glass higher with some force, causing ale to spill on the table.
He was joined in short order by everyone else at the table. Cups were raised, ale was spilled, and everyone honored Jonathan’s father which nearly drove tears into his eyes.
He noted that the man beside Lord Balwick, Mister Downey, had taken the opportunity to quite blatantly stare at Miss Gordon. Then, when he thought no one noticed, he turned toward Lord Lincester, who tilted his head and nodded his chin, as if asking a silent question.
In response, M
ister Downey closed his eyes and gave the Viscount a deep nod.
The exchange caused Jonathan’s stomach to knot up. He did not know why, but something about the exchange was surely suspect.
Chapter 13
The rest of dinner passed quite uneventfully. Something for which Isolde was eternally grateful. If the Duke had not stood and made peace at the table, she could only imagine how awkward the evening might have ended. What an awful way it would have been to ring in Christmastide.
He’d saved the day, however, and she could not hide just how grateful she was for it. The two spent most of the meal conversing, sometimes with Eric’s input, but more often without, for Eric was busy glancing longingly across the table to where Olivia was seated.
Now that the meal was over, the men departed to play cards and chew tobacco while she and the other ladies departed to the drawing room.
She headed to the large window in front of which a large settee stood. It was the place she and her friends usually convened, and they did so tonight as well. Henrietta was still rather cross with Olivia and had not spoken to her all night, which in turn only irritated Olivia.
Taking her cue from the Duke, Isolde decided to end the awkwardness between her two best friends.
“Do you not feel that we should carry on the spirit of the evening and let old wounds rest? Is tonight not the night we are to exchange gifts with our closest friends and enter into Christmastide? Which we all know is the best of seasons?”
Henrietta looked up at her and to her relief, carried a grin on her face.
“Aside from London Season. London Season is the best.”
Olivia cracked a smile and shook her head, “And Easter Season, for it gives us Pancake Tuesday!”
“Yes!’ Etta said and clapped her hands together. “Pancake Tuesday makes the entire Lent worth it; you are right, Olivia.”
Isolde shook her head. “As much as I enjoy Pancake Tuesday, nothing will ever take the place of Christmastide. Certainly not the London Season.” She rumpled her nose, causing Etta to break into giggles.
“Oh Izzy, I shall never understand how one can despise the London Season.”
“Etta is right, while I do not like being part of the marriage market, the London Season gives me reason to dress up and dance, both of which I love.”
Isolde sighed, feeling a wave of sadness overcome her.
“Perhaps if I were as pretty and desirable as the two of you, I might enjoy London Season. As it is, I much prefer Christmastide. “
Her friends looked at one another, both shaking their heads.
“Izzy, do not say such things about yourself. You are beautiful. The Duke certainly believes so,” Olivia chided her gently.
“He does. I saw him place his hand on yours at dinner.”
Isolde’s heart sank as her cousin announced this. She’d hoped no one had seen it in the commotion with the quarrel between the men.
“Oh Cousin, I cannot believe he would be interested in me in such a way, despite his…”
“Of course he is! It is quite obvious from the way he looks at you. And you know it to be true as well.”
Isolde didn’t know what to say because when she was with him, she felt as though it was true. That he was interested in her, and that he liked her the way a man likes a woman, not just as a friend. She certainly felt it every time she thought of him.
But could it be true? She, the most plain lady at every ball, the one who was overshadowed by her more beautiful friends–could she truly have attracted his attention?
“Oh la, Izzy, you may yet be wed before I am.” Etta tilted her head as she looked at her, a mixture of kindness and pride with a dash of disappointment for herself on her face.
“Faith, Etta, none of us will be wed before you, for you are the only one truly seeking a match,” Olivia said. “I for one am trying to get out of a courtship, and Izzy can’t seem to quite believe she might be about to enter into one.”
Etta shook her head, “No, it is not true. I wish it were. I know you missed the news, for we were not on speaking terms earlier in the day.” She sighed heavily before continuing.
“My Mother heard from the matchmaker and she has let it be known that she has no suitable matches for me at present. The matter being the dowry, I have no doubt. Or perhaps the title. Father has been most upset by the news, hence his display at dinner earlier. He feels guilty, I imagine, for not being able to provide a grander dowry. In fact,” she slid in closer and lowered her raspy voice, “I overheard my parents argue, for Mother wants Father to ask Lord Lincester for money, so I can have a larger dowry.”
“Surely it can’t be that dire, your Father’s financial situation.”
Henrietta shrugged. “I fear we are near dished up. I only know that the dowry he offered is not enough to have the matchmaker even consider me a good match.”
Isolde leaned in to hug her cousin, who looked genuinely distraught at the situation.
“Do not let it vex you, Etta. You are beautiful. I see the way the lords look at you at balls. You will find a husband quite on your own, without the help of the old matchmaker.”
Her cousin’s eyes glistened with tears. “I hope you are right, dear Cousin.” Olivia joined in the hug and the three girls took a moment to set aside their arguments and console one another. At last, Henrietta drew back and wiped her eyes.
“Now. Let us not talk of mates or the lack of them. Let us instead exchange gifts!”
Olivia clapped her hands together, followed by Isolde.
“Yes! Let us!” Olivia rose and rushed out of the room, followed by Etta. They had each stashed their gifts in the parlor, where a footman had been tasked with keeping them safe. Isolde had hidden hers in the drawing room and went to retrieve them as well.
Once all three were back on the settee, Henrietta took charge of the gift exchange. With a proud smile on her face she handed each girl a package wrapped in old newspaper.
“It is beautiful!” Olivia exclaimed when she’d opened hers. It was an embroidered handkerchief with a moon and stars design.
“I was inspired for it when we went to Hyde Park last summer and you stood under the stars by the water, do you remember?”
Olivia nodded, “I do. It is most amazing. Thank you, dear Etta.” She hugged her friend, the earlier tension forgotten.
When Isolde opened hers, she broke into a wide smile. Her design was made of many tiny red roses, with one large rose in the middle.
“It is because you stand out among the beauties, even if you cannot see it. It is also meant as a memento to your Mother. My Mother told me she loved roses the best,” Etta explained. Isolde almost dissolved into tears at the beautiful sentiment.
“Oh, Etta. You know that is one of the most beautiful needlework you’ve ever given me.” Etta waved her hand dismissively.
“You know how much my Mother loves her needlework, she loves nothing more than to teach me and I enjoy making them for you. Now, it is my turn for a gift, is it not?”
She smirked like a child on Christmas morning.
“It is indeed!” Olivia retrieved her gifts, which were also wrapped, albeit in fine cloths. Isolde could tell from the scent what it was. Sure enough, when she peeled back the fabric, contained within the package were an assortment of pastries and sweets. Henrietta squeaked upon discovering her package contained the same.
“Marvelous, Olivia. You know how much I adore your baking!” As if to prove a point, she popped a piece of cake in her mouth and chewed with abandon.
“I had help from Mrs. Westers, our cook. But the colorings and flavors were all my idea.”
Henrietta lifted the cloth to her nose and inhaled the scent.
“It smells delicious. Thank you so much!”
“I asked her to add cinnamon to yours as I know you love it so. And yours is flavored with cardamom.”
Isolde followed suit and smelled her sweets. The scent made her mouth water and tummy rumble.
“I shall tak
e these to my room and devour them tonight!”
Olivia laughed, “I wish I could eat as you do and never gain a pound! My Mother would faint at once if she saw me do so!”
Lady Conner lived in perpetual fear for Olivia’s waist, in direct conflict with Olivia, who loved little more than to indulge her sweet tooth.
“Now it is my turn!” Isolde turned around and retrieved the two wrapped frames and handed one to each of them.
Olivia was the first to unpack hers and gasped when she saw it.
“Did you make this, Izzy?”
She nodded. She’d recently discovered a love for oil paintings, and, given how much her father loved her and supported her interests, he’d hired a tutor who taught Isolde the art of oil painting. She’d kept her new interest a secret from her friends so she might surprise them this Christmastide. She’d painted a moonlight scene at the ocean for Olivia, for she knew how much she loved the moonlight. For Henrietta, she’d created a painting of a bright summer garden scene, as she knew how much Henrietta enjoyed sitting in the garden and doing her needlework with her mother.
A Mistletoe Match For The White Duchess (Historical Regency Romance) Page 11