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

by Patricia Haverton

  The older man gave a nod and took a swig of ale.

  “Indeed, it is your first Christmastide since your return, and without your Father here, to boot.”

  Jonathan nodded when Miss Gordon spoke up.

  “I understand the feeling well. While I love Christmastide, it makes me somewhat melancholy also, due to the loss of my Mother.”

  “Now, now, these are rather dark thoughts to be shared at dinner, are they not?” Mister Downey said. His voice carried the tone of someone who was certain not only of himself, but of his place in this round.

  Jonathan felt a rush of fury at his comment. While he might be a candidate for her hand in marriage, he was not her husband yet, and therefore had no right to correct her in public.

  “It is quite all right, Mister Downey. The young lady is right. It is her home after all, and she is free to share any thoughts that may occupy her mind. This, in particular, as they were to show nothing but understanding and compassion of my own situation.”

  Downey placed his fork down on his plate and dabbed the corners of his mouth with a napkin.

  “I did not mean to offend, Lord Ekhard. I simply stated that perhaps speaking of our deceased loved ones over dinner is not the most…”

  “Your Grace.”

  Downey stopped mid-sentence and looked at Isolde as through struck by lightning. She turned and locked eyes with the man.

  “The proper way to address a Duke is as ‘Your Grace’, not ‘Lord Ekhard’. Only close intimate friends may refer to him as such.”

  Jonathan was utterly amused by her brazen display. It was so unlike her, and yet he’d always known she had a fire inside her that only needed to be lit. And it appeared, it had. Lord Lincester was nowhere near as delighted with his daughter’s sudden confidence. The opposite, in fact.

  “Isolde!” his voice boomed across the table, causing the young Downey boy to drop his cutlery on his plate with a bang. “We do not admonish our guests in such a manner! Apologize at once.”

  Isolde cast her eyes down at her plate and appeared to fold her hand under the table. Jonathan could see that she had clenched her jaw and stiffened her shoulders.

  “Forgive me, Mister Downey. I simply would not want to see you use the wrong forms of address in public. I know it can be rather difficult for someone who is not a member of the nobility.”

  Jonathan smiled. She had apologized as requested while still maintaining her defiance in a manner that was beyond reproach. It left Downey with no option but to accept her apology which he did, begrudgingly. The remainder of the dinner passed in an uncomfortable manner with only civil whiskers being exchanged.

  Jonathan found that following Isolde’s minor outburst, Mister Downey appeared much less eager to engage in conversation with her. Instead of talking to her he spoke over her, to his cousin-by-marriage who was seated on her other side. Lord Lincester kept a watchful eye on his daughter until dinner was concluded and the party gathered in the drawing room for cards and conversation.

  Jonathan sat with Eric, who appeared rather amused by the disastrous dinner.

  “Who knew my Sister had it in her? Did you see Downey’s face when she corrected him? It was glorious!”

  Jonathan nodded, “I am rather glad she stood up for herself. I did not care for the way in which he reprimanded her to being with.”

  Eric’s face darkened. “Neither did I. I will say thus far I had heard only good things of the man. Father practically sings his praises. Charitable he is, no doubt. But he is of an older generation and that was evident at tonight’s dinner. You and I may not feel it’s right that a woman should always be expected to keep quiet, but Downey certainly believe so.”

  Jonathan glanced across the room at Isolde, who sat rather miserably with Lady Westchester, as they listened to young Miss Eliza Downey play the pianoforte.

  “He is of the old guard, I gather. Perhaps after tonight’s display, he will decide that your Sister is not the right match for him, after all.”

  By Jove, I certainly hope so. The man clearly is seeking a woman that will be quiet and not cause a fuss. Perhaps seeing that Isolde has a mind of her own and is growing more confident in speaking her mind will discourage him.

  “So, you can swoop in and court her instead?” Eric asked. “Is that your intention?”

  Jonathan sighed. There was no point in being evasive and coy with his friend.

  “I should like to, yes.” Eric shifted, a glass of fine wine in his hand.

  “Whatever happened to you not knowing your place in this world and not knowing what you have to give a woman?”

  Jonathan drew his attention away from her and instead faced her brother.

  “I still feel the same way, old chum. I am not used to being Duke and quite frankly I dread when Parliament is back in session and I must attend with the other Lords. I do not enjoy being in charge of an estate nor the social standing the Dukedom has given me. But none of that keeps me from feeling how I feel for your Sister.”

  Eric took a swig of his wine, keeping his eyes on Jonathan the whole time.

  “I only hope you are quite certain, for if this arrangement with Downey goes pear-shaped, I will expect you to keep your word. Isolde has not had an easy life, being without a mother and being judged as she is by the insufferable wenches that are part of our society. I should not like to see her hurt in any way.”

  Jonathan was about to engage his friend as to what exactly he meant when he saw Isolde rise. She approached her father who was sitting with Mister Downey and Lord Westchester. She briefly spoke to them. Whatever she said did not please her father, for the expression on his face was rather dour. She left the group and, to Jonathan’s delight, walked toward him and Eric.

  “Your Grace, Eric, I feel rather unwell. My leg pains me some and I must retire for the evening.” She turned to Jonathan.

  “I trust I shall see you on Christmas Eve?”

  “I would not miss it for the world, Miss Gordon,” Jonathan replied. He noticed how she turned to her brother and gave him a slight nod of the head as if to direct him to leave them for a moment. With a sigh and a shake of the head, Eric rose.

  “It appears I am out of wine.” He kept his eyes peeled on his sister while chugging back what was left in his glass. “I shall have to get more.” He departed with a scowl on his face.

  “Are you quite all right?” Jonathan asked the young woman. “And I do not mean your leg. It has been quite the eventful night.”

  Her brown eyes darted around the room to ensure no one was listening.

  “It has been. And I am more certain than ever that I do not wish to be the future wife of that gentleman. I do however, thank you for standing up for me.”

  “You stood up for yourself, my dear. I simply chimed in a bit.”

  They smiled at one another.

  “In any case, I thank you. And, I look forward to seeing you on Christmas Eve.”

  “As do I. And I am certain you look forward to your morning walk with Miss Henrietta and Miss Brown.”

  “You have no idea how much! After the terrible last two weeks, and certainly after tonight, I shall need the company of my friends in order to restore my spirits. I really must retire now for if I linger any longer, my Father might decide I am quite well enough to stay and entertain.”

  Jonathan rose and bowed before her, feeling the eyes of Lord Lincester and Mister Downey on him as he did.

  “I bid you goodnight, fair lady.”

  She curtsied before him and turned around to depart.

  Jonathan watched her as she went, feeling an unease within his stomach that he could not explain. A sense of foreboding, probably fueled by the uncertainty of when he would see her again. When he turned to sit down once more, he caught the eye of Mister Downey who glared at him, evidently still soured by the exchange at dinner.

  To his surprise, the man rose and walked toward him with heavy steps.

  “Quite the eventful evening, hasn’t it been,” he paus
ed and then, facing Jonathan directly, added, “Your Grace.”

  “Indeed, Mister Downey it has.”

  Downey turned toward the great hall where Isolde slowly walked toward the grand staircase, located at the very end of the hall.

  “A lovely young woman, isn’t she? Rather more opinionated than I had imagined.”

  Jonathan turned to face him. “Nothing wrong with a lady who has opinions, is there?”

  The older man shrugged, still looking after her.

  “I prefer a lady who knows her place. But it is nothing that cannot be taught. She is otherwise quite pleasant and not bad to look at either. Wouldn’t you agree, Your Grace? She will make a lovely wife, I declare.”

  A sickening feeling rose inside Jonathan’s gut. He knew, didn’t he? He’d read the longing glances he and Miss Gordon had been exchanging, had understood that there was much more between them than friendship. And he was here to let Jonathan know he had no intention of stepping aside.

  Jonathan’s mouth twitched, for he could hardly control his emotions. He balled his hands into fists.

  “For the right gentleman.”

  Downey smirked and took a sip of his ale.

  “For the right gentleman, indeed. I trust her Father will make the proper choice. He is a smart businessman after all, and would not want anything to interfere with his way of life. Don’t you think?” He looked at Jonathan for a long moment and then turned. “I trust you will have a pleasant rest of your evening, Your Grace.” With that, he departed leaving Jonathan to stand where he was, hands balled into fists and with a sudden awareness that making her his wife would be much, much harder than he had ever imagined.

  Chapter 23

  Isolde woke early on the morning of Christmas Eve’s feeling utterly devoid of Christmastide spirit. This was most unusual, for Christmas Eve was one of her favorite days of the year. Usually she could not wait to jump out of bed and meet with Etta and Olivia.

  They would go on a long stroll through the park, followed by a festive breakfast at one of their homes. Later in the morning, their fathers and brothers would band together and ride into the woods in search of the perfect Yule logs for each of their homes.

  While the men were busy, the girls would decorate the house. Isolde knew that the servants had already collected holly, mistletoe, laurel leaves, and rosemary for them. These would be waiting in large baskets when they returned from their walk. Missus Maud, the head housekeeper, had already made a wreath for the front door which Isolde would hang later on in the day.

  Isolde got up with a sigh. These preparations always filled her heart with great joy, especially when Christmastide was held at Roselawn, as it was this year. Isolde had looked forward to it all year. Now she felt none of the joy and excitement. She’d much rather have remained in her warm bed, hidden from the world.

  The previous evening had been much worse that she had anticipated. The mere thought of having to spend an entire dinner seated next to the man she was to wed, while the man she truly loved was seated so close and yet so far from her, had been unpleasant enough.

  Yet, she had found herself rather composed for most of the evening, until Mister Downey chose to call her out when she’d attempted to show kindness to Jonathan.

  She had found herself slipping into such a disagreeable mood that, when Mister Downey had given her the slightest opportunity, she’d found herself lashing out. She already knew that her father would be reading her the riot act over her behavior, but she had not been able to contain her tongue. She knew that it had been wrong to correct Mister Downey in front of the entire party.

  It was difficult enough for him as a merchant to attempt to marry up into the aristocracy, without his future intended wife ridiculing him in front of the entire dinner party.

  She had to admit, she did harbor hopes that perhaps her display might have discouraged him from wanting to wed her, although she knew that in all likelihood, that was not the case. Isolde forced herself out of bed and stood silently while Molly helped her dress.

  * * *

  Soon enough, she found herself making her way downstairs where servants rushed hither and thither, readying the dining room for the celebration tonight.

  Her carriage waited for her outside and she climbed aboard. With her head resting against the carriage side, she let out a long, melancholy sigh.

  The carriage was on its way toward the gate house when she saw her father, dressed in his finest outerwear, walking alongside Mister Downey, who was due to leave that morning. To her dismay, her father scowled when he saw her, his displeasure at her behavior last night obvious.

  Beside him, however, Mister Downey appeared rather cheerful. He smiled at Isolde and lifted his hat in a merry fashion, bowing to her as the carriage passed. No. He did not look like a man who was about to cancel the betrothal he’d been promised on the strength of her outburst last night. Isolde swallowed hard as the carriage passed the men and took her toward the park.

  * * *

  Isolde and Olivia were sitting by the fountain near the entrance of the park waiting for Henrietta. The two girls were wrapped in their warmest winter clothing, though that did not keep them from freezing.

  “I know what will keep us warm!” Olivia exclaimed and got up at once and began to jump up and down. Isolde broke into a laugh and shook her head.

  “You are a riot, Olivia. If your Mother could see you now she would faint, I declare!”

  “’Such a spectacle you are, Olivia! It is no wonder the good Lord Canterbury has declined the courtship after all. Now if only you could act like a proper lady! Jumping around like a bunny, in public. Scandalous I say!’” Olivia giggled at her near perfect impression of her mother, although Isolde’s laughter caught in her throat.

  “Lord Canterbury no longer wishes to court you? You did not tell me!”

  Olivia shook her head and took her seat again next to Isolde.

  “I did not tell you for it only happened two days ago, and you were occupied. I am surprised Etta has not told you for she was with me when I received the news.”

  Isolde shook her head.

  “I have not seen Etta since the beginning of the week, when she came to visit me to keep me company. Now, what has happened?”

  Olivia sighed, but a smile gave away her relief at the change in circumstance.

  “I believe it was my Father who once again saved me. Mama had been pushing Papa to arrange for a meeting with Canterbury. As you know, we were forced to indulge Lord Pompous for tea a fortnight ago. Well, he was his charming self and Mama certainly would have wed him herself had she not already been married to Papa,” she rolled her blue eyes. “You would have thought he was the only unwed lord left in the realm. Papa did not care for him, nor Thomas, as you know.”

  Isolde was aware of Thomas’ dislike of Lord Canterbury. While recovering from her leg injury she’d had occasion to overhear her brother and Thomas Brown converse on the porch below her bedroom window, discussing Lord Canterbury and his many shortcomings.

  “As fate would have it, Lord Canterbury requested an audience with my Father right after tea, and thus Papa was unable to further delay the conversation. Of course, the good Lord requested permission to court me and Father was not in a position to decline.”

  “But if he was not able to decline, how is the courtship over with?” Isolde had some trouble understanding her friend’s elation for thus far she’d heard nothing but the worst of news.

  “It is because, while Papa was not able to decline, he, on Thomas’ advice, let Lord Pompous know what the dowry would be. A ridiculously low sum! So low in fact, that Lord Canterbury at once came down with rather a tremendous stomachache and had to postpone negotiations. And they have yet to be resumed!”

  Isolde grinned, happy for her friend.

  “Have you told my Brother yet?”

  Olivia’s smile faded and she shook her head. However, before she was able to answer, something drew her attention away.

  “Et
ta!” Isolde called out when she saw her cousin arrive, dressed in a primrose-colored pelisse with a matching cap. Her cousin rushed toward them, her face red from the cold.

  “Cousin! I am pleased you have recovered enough for our walk! Faith, I have so much to tell!”

  Etta was about to sit beside them when Olivia rose. “Perhaps we can reserve our chatter for when we are in motion, for I am near frozen to the seat!”

  The three of them made their way down the path leading further into the park.

  “Have you told Isolde your news, Olivia?” Etta asked as they went.