A Mistletoe Match For The White Duchess (Historical Regency Romance)

by Patricia Haverton

  * * *

  They had ridden slowly through the forest with the temperature falling considerably as they went on. Isolde knew enough of the way the weather worked in these parts of the country to know it would soon snow. By then she would likely be in her bed, in a deep slumber. Of course, she could not stop but worry about her horse.

  “I shall hope the Duke can find Marigold,” she said softly.

  “I thought you were asleep! You have been so quiet for the past half an hour. How do you feel, Sister?”

  She sighed and adjusted the way she was sitting, which caused another flood of pain.

  “My leg aches, and my head is not entirely clear. But I shall survive, I venture to say. Faith, poor Marigold.”

  “Do not worry. She is at heart a wild animal. Even if Ekhard cannot find her, she will be fine. She will make her own way back.”

  He paused, though she could tell from the way he breathed–taking a deep breath and then holding it, that he was bracing for a serious conversation.

  “What is it, brother? I know you well enough that you wish to speak to me about something. Is it the wedding? I must say, I would have rather Father did not tell you about it for…”

  Her brother interrupted her.

  “It is not that. Not entirely. Of course, I am not happy about the way with which this sudden decision was made. But there is something else on my mind.”

  Isolde pulled her hands up into the sleeves of her redingote for the wind had picked up, making her feel all too chilly.

  “Speak freely, we are among ourselves.”

  Her brother cleared his throat as they rode on. Up ahead she could see the outer buildings of their property already. Soon they would be home.

  “I see the way the Duke looks upon you, and you him. And he has alerted me to the infatuation he feels for you.”

  Isolde felt her body go rigid. This was not a conversation she wanted to have. Unfortunately, there was no way to escape it, for she was trapped on the horse with him.

  “I do not wish to see you make a mistake, Sister.”

  She turned so she could look at him, but the position and the injury did not allow it.

  “A mistake? How so?”

  Eric guided his horse to the right in order to avoid a thicket of trees up ahead. The sky had begun to gray and Isolde heard the sound of birds up ahead, though the trees were so tall she could not see them.

  “I am aware Downey is not what you dreamed of for a husband. He is a decent fellow and very rich. He could give you a good life. You would not need to worry about financial matters. And his house in Bath is magnificent. Much grander than even our London house. I would not want to see you turn down the opportunity to wed a good man, and upset Father in the process because of your infatuation with Ekhard.”

  Is he encouraging me to wed Downey? Certainly not. I know he worries about Father, but how could he want me to marry the old man? Even if it wasn’t for the Duke?

  “I do not understand. I thought His Grace was your closest friend, and yet you seem to be displeased about the connection he and I have made.”

  “I am not displeased. However, as you said, I know Ekhard. He has been my dearest companion all of my life. He is almost like a brother to me. You are in fact my sister by blood and I should not like to see you hurt in any way.”

  “You believe His Grace may hurt me in some fashion? Why? He has been nothing but kind to me.”

  Why would Eric put doubts in her head? Did she not already struggle enough with her own sense of self-worth? Just as she had grown to trust in Jonathan and to believe he felt as she did, here was Eric, attempting to muddle her brain into believing that it was false, after all.

  “I know he has and I trust he is true in his feelings. He certainly appears to be. I have known him many years and before he left, he was quite different. Quite the dandy. You were too young to remember this, but Ekhard used to have a lady in near every city, looking at him just the way you look at him now. Of course, many years have passed since then, and he appears to be quite a changed man, but I cannot help but worry.”

  Isolde grew quiet, all too aware of what her brother’s concerns were. Given her quiet nature and plain looks, it had been difficult for her to believe Jonathan would choose her. And yet, it appeared he had. But what if his affections for her were but a flight of fancy? What if she trusted in him to undo her betrothal to Mister Downey and she lost her one chance at marriage?

  But surely that would not happen. Surely he would not do this. He himself had told her how much his travels had changed him. After all, wasn’t he presently out in the freezing cold, seeking Marigold to ease her mind? Those were not the actions of someone who was flighty and unsure of their feelings.

  “I did not tell you before Brother, but the Duke knew all about Mister Downey’s intentions before you said it this afternoon. I told him when I saw him a few days ago. He is working to help undo the betrothal. He promised he would, and once Father undoes the promise to Mister Downey, His Grace will speak to him. He promised. Do you not think he is true?”

  He sighed as they approached the stables. “I cannot speak to his feelings. I can say that I have never known him to make a promise he did not intend to keep. Even in his days as a cad, he did not make a promise or give assurances. I simply fear that you may lose your chance at a good match, especially if Ekhard is not able to convince Father. I only ask that you remain civil to Mister Downey. Do not let him know you do not wish to wed him, for …”

  “It is best to keep one of the opportunities in my pocket, that is what you wish to say?”

  “It is.”

  They rode past the stable and to the main house where Eric stopped and alerted North to the troubles they encountered. Together with North, Eric carried Isolde to her chambers and Molly was dispatched to collect the physician.

  Isolde said little during the entire interaction, having retreated within herself, for her brother’s words had cut her deeply.

  As she laid on her bed and waited for the physician, the daylight waning, she felt her mood slip. Since meeting Jonathan, she’d grown more confident in herself and more outspoken. She’d even begun to like herself a little more. Now her brother’s words threatened to undo all of that.

  She tried as hard as she could to remember all the beautiful, quiet moments she’d shared with him, and reminded herself that Eric did not know of most of their meetings. But still the voice inside her head, the one that told her she was not pretty, or smart, or desirable, the voice that told her no one would ever want her–certainly not one as handsome and wonderful as Jonathan–was back. And it was slowly growing from a whisper into a scream.

  Chapter 20

  Jonathan returned with Marigold trotting beside him that same evening. He had not even jumped off of Jora yet when Eric rushed out of the house.

  “Ekhard! You found her! That is wonderful news. Isolde will be ever so relieved when she hears.”

  Jonathan jumped down, the gravel crushing beneath his feet as he landed. He handed the reins of both horses to a stable boy who’d come rushing.

  “How is she? Has the doctor been able to see her as yet?”

  He had been worried sick the entire time he’d been away from her.

  “Her ankle is sprained as you expected, and she has assorted cuts and scrapes, but she shall recover in time for Christmastide. Now, where did you recover Marigold from?”

  “I found her on Lord Balwick’s Estate, it took the better part of three hours to recover her, but here we are.” He leaned in closer and lowered his voice, even though no one appeared to be around. “I must show you what I have discovered, Gordon. It is rather troubling.”

  Eric frowned, “What is it?”

  “Let us walk to the stable. It is best I show you.”

  The two walked the short distance to the estate’s stables while Eric updated Jonathan on his sister’s health.

  Jonathan was greatly relieved to hear that there had not been a great amount of
damage to the lady’s limbs. She would be confined to her chambers for the better part of a week, which meant it would be rather difficult to see her. Perhaps he could send her a letter or arrange to see her while visiting with Eric. He could not imagine not seeing her for the entire time she had to rest her leg.

  “Ekhard?” Eric prodded him in the side with his index finger. “You have not heard a word I said.”

  “I am sorry, I was lost in thought. What did you say?”

  “I asked what it is you discovered. Or must I wait until I see for myself.”

  Jonathan shrugged, “We are nearly there. I have discovered something troubling. I would like you to take a look for yourself and tell me your thoughts.”

  They had reached the stable and Eric pushed the door open.

  “What is it we are looking for, Ekhard?”

  Jonathan stopped a passing groom. The man’s eyes grew wide when he recognized Jonathan and after a short moment, Jonathan understood just why. It was the same man who’d just recently greeted him with an extended pitchfork.

  “Where is the saddle that was removed from Miss Gordon’s mare, Marigold?”

  “Right over yonder, Yer Grace. I shall show you meself, Yer Grace, if it pleases ye.”

  The man rushed as though chased by Napoleon’s Army, followed in close succession by Jonathan and Eric.

  “Here ye go, Yer Grace. Anythin’ else yer Grace requires?”

  Jonathan examined the saddle, not paying the groom too much attention. “No, thank you. That is all I needed.”

  The groom rushed away while Eric broke into giggles.

  “What has gotten into ole George? He does not even show reverence in such a manner to my Father, and he is his employer. What have you done to put such a fear into him?”

  Jonathan did not respond but instead flipped the saddle over and pointed.

  “Take a look and tell me what you see.”

  Eric frowned and knelt down, lifting the straps while Jonathan stood next to him, arms crossed in front of his chest. When his friend rose again, his face told Jonathan all he needed to know.

  “You see it too, yes?”

  “They have been tampered with, the straps. It is no wonder Isolde fell when she did. The straps must have been cut just enough to where they became more and more loose as she rode. Then as she jumped, they snapped causing the saddle to shift enough for Isolde to fall.”

  “Indeed. Those were my thoughts, as well. But who would do such a thing?”

  Eric sat down on a ball of hay; his face utterly ashen.

  “I do not know. All the staff love my Sister and no one unknown would be able to make their way to the stables unseen to do such a thing.”

  Jonathan’s head bopped from side to side as he knew this statement to be somewhat untrue. He and Isolde had snuck into the stable alone after all. Albeit at night.

  “Not in the daytime I should imagine.”

  “And who would sneak into the stables to do such a thing at night? Who would at all? It is most unusual.” He scratched his chin, deep in thought. “We must not tell Isolde, nor anyone else. I do not want to alert her to the attack and scare her. She is in enough turmoil as it is.”

  Jonathan agreed. Too much was happening in Isolde’s life already, what with their clandestine romance, the sudden threat of her marriage to Mister Downey, and the accident.

  “You are right, we must solve this issue ourselves. We will find the culprit and resolve the whole matter before Isolde finds out anything of it. Now. Who would have access to the stables?”

  Eric rose and paced up and down in front of the wall of saddles.

  “The entire stable staff. There are three grooms, six stable hands, the horse trainer, and the coachmen. A total of perhaps fifteen. Then there is the family, of course.”

  Jonathan chewed his lip.

  “It would need to be someone who had access with ease, someone who could spend a considerable amount of time here without arousing suspicion. Thus, a stable staff. Perhaps we should begin by questioning them.”

  A smirk appeared on Eric’s face. “I know just who to start with!” He got up and leaned forward so his voice would travel. “George! The Duke requires your assistance.”

  “Aye! Right away!” This was followed by a ruckus as the groom rushed to meet them and evidently fell over an assortment of objects on his way. “Blasted bucket!” he shouted, as rapid footsteps resumed. A moment later, the groom appeared before them, out of breath and with a face as red as the brightest poppy seed.

  * * *

  Jonathan and Eric had spent the better part of the day questioning the groom and several of the stable boys, as well as the head coachmen as to their whereabouts over the last several days. They inquired as to their observations of the stable and saddle room. Since they did not know exactly when the straps had been cut, they had to be rather broad in their investigation.

  When Jonathan returned to Chesterton Hall, he was surprised to find Hastings had returned from Bath. He was in his office where Jonathan soon found him.

  It had only been a few days since his departure; thus he had not expected him back until much later. The man was there and carried with him a rather large bundle of papers and information.

  “Hastings! I had not expected you back so soon. I trust you did not wait for me all day.”

  The old man rose and bowed. “No, Your Grace. I returned within the hour. Well, truthfully, I returned several hours ago, but I had a desire to see my wife, for it has been a few days. I came straight here after ensuring she was quite well.”

  Jonathan smiled. He thought it was quite lovely how enamored Hastings still was with his wife after all these years.

  I wonder if Isolde and I shall be this way when we are that age. Still so eager to see one another after even a short separation. I hope so. I believe so. I know even the thought of a short separation is vexing for me now. I should imagine it will only grow more severe as the years pass.

  He shook his head. There he was, imagining a future that was more than uncertain right now. He looked at the old man and then at the pile of papers in his hands. Jonathan’s heart beat faster, for he knew that within those papers might be the solution to his problems.

  “Hastings, join me for a bite to eat and tell me what you have found.”

  “Very well, Your Grace,” Hastings rose, the bundle in one hand while with the other he leaned on his walking stick.

  “I am sorry. I am rather inconsiderate. I’m afraid my mind has been elsewhere. Here, let me carry these.” He took the papers from Hastings and walked next to him to the drawing room where he ordered refreshments and a light meal for the both of them.

  “Now, what have you found out?”

  Hastings took the stack of papers back and undid the tie that held them all together. Slowly he shuffled the papers out from the bundle and stacked them neatly side by side on the table.

  “Well, it appears, Your Grace, that Lord Lincester recently made his own inquiries into the man. Thus, it was rather easy to gather the information, as most of the fair folk I spoke to had already compiled it all for him. Your Grace may not be pleased with the result.”

  Jonathan swallowed hard. This was not what he’d wanted to hear. He’d wanted scandal, hidden mistresses, a gambling habit. Something. There had to be something, surely.

  “Well, Hastings, let us go over what you’ve found.”

  The old man leaned forward and pointed at the first stack.

  “These are all the financial records I was able to gather for Mister Downey. It appears he came about his wealth in quite the legal manner. Inheritance from a wealthy grandfather as well as income from the coffee house. He is also a partial owner in a vineyard in Shropshire, which appears to be doing very well. Thus, all his wealth–and there is a considerable amount of it–has been obtained without any clandestine influences.”

  “I see,” Jonathan brushed his hair back behind his ears and got up, pacing the length of the room as he thought
.

  “When you say his wealth, we speak of what? Five thousand a year? Ten?”

  Hastings shook his head and shuffled through the financial papers. He raised a page and held it close to his face.

  “More in the range of twenty a year, Your Grace.”

  The breath was nearly knocked out of him. Twenty a year. The man was worth more than Jonathan, not by much, but still. He’d hoped he at least had him beat financially, if nothing else.

  “What else have you found? What of his wife? How did she pass? How has he conducted himself since?”