His Mischievous Bride (Regency Matchmaker Book 2)

by Celeste Jones

  "I understand you live nearby, St. Clair, " Harley said. "I suspect you wished to keep the fair Lady Calliope to yourself." He raised an eyebrow in challenge.

  Forcing myself to remain calm, as a gentleman should, I responded, "That certainly would have been my preference, but I am not intimidated by competition. Are you?"

  The corner of his mouth turned up and his eyes darkened. "Oh no, I enjoy it. Besides, when the prize is so desirable, one must expect significant effort will be required for the attainment."

  The music ended and before I could form an answer, my companion spoke again, "Ah, 'tis my turn to charm the fair Lady Calliope with my skills as a dancer." With a curt nod, he spun on his heel and moved toward the crowd in the ballroom.

  Knowing my much-anticipated dances with Lady Calliope followed Harley's, I decided to stroll the gardens of Thornthwaite Hall in an effort to calm my nerves and improve my temperament before my bit of semi-private time with Callie. I sat for a few minutes upon a bench nestled amongst the ornate shrubbery of the formal garden. Dusk had fallen, and I was sufficiently removed from the candles of the ballroom to make visibility murky.

  Though my eyesight might have been diminished by the coming nightfall, my hearing remained sharp as ever and when I detected the familiar melody of Callie's laughter, my body, as of its own volition, turned in that direction. In the waning light, I made out the forms of Lady Calliope Winterbourne and Lord Thomas Harley. Alone and moving quite intentionally toward the area where the carriages were waiting to return their guests homeward at the party’s conclusion. When I saw Harley lead her between the rows of coaches, I gasped at his audacity and was angered by her gullibility. If they were discovered in a compromising position, a marriage could be required to save Lady Calliope's reputation.

  Even I, in my palpably desperate desire to have her for my own, would never consider doing something so potentially disastrous to my beloved's good standing in the community.

  Leaving the bench, I shadowed the two figures, my mind racing to determine the best course of action. They stopped abruptly, and I was able to halt my own forward movement without alerting them to my presence.

  "Oh, is not this the loveliest party you have ever attended?" Callie's words were a breathless rush and her enthusiasm and happiness pleased me greatly. Only her happiness mattered to me.

  Well, her happiness and my own possession of her, which I expected would contribute to her happiness as well. I knew it would mine.

  "Yes," the loathsome Harley said. "I have never had a more agreeable evening."

  "Oh, that pleases me so much." Callie clapped her gloved hands together in glee.

  I eavesdropped and carefully crouched down behind the wheel of a phaeton to surveille them better. My mind raced as I considered my options. My two primary goals were to prevent a scandal and to thwart whatever plans Harley had to usurp my place in Callie’s heart.

  Or at least the place I hoped I had in her heart.

  I spied the Knox family crest upon the door of the carriage. It was an impressive piece of transportation and bespoke the wealth and status of my competitor’s family.

  I fought against jumping to hasty conclusions at Harley’s intentions. As I said before, although we did not move in the same circles at school, I had never heard anything untoward about him which would make me unduly suspicious, though his current actions were questionable.

  When Harley opened the door and assisted Callie inside the compartment, I gasped at his brazenness and crept closer. As soon as the door closed, I heard muffled noises coming from within. Placing my ear to the door, I heard Callie say, "Oh, are you not just the sweetest thing? I could just kiss you, you are so adorable."

  Consumed with unbridled fury, I yanked the door open and grabbed Harley by the scruff of his neck and hauled him to the ground. I pounced upon him and put every bit of pugilistic skill which had been forced upon me at school to use in bloodying his nose.

  "Stop!" I heard Calliope’s voice, but it was as though it came from down a long corridor, so focused was I upon meting out punishment to any man who dared besoil my Callie. My fists flew through the air and landed with a satisfying thud against Thomas Harley’s flesh.

  "William St. Clair," Calliope shouted my name and kicked me in the shin, instinctively I whirled upon her, fists raised. She shrank back from me, terror etched across her face.

  I came to myself, horrified at my behavior. Transformed from gentleman to madman in an instant. What evil lurked in me?

  Sweaty and winded, I gaped at what I had done. Dear Callie’s face a mix of fear, confusion and disappointment, gutted me.

  I reached down to assist Harley in standing, adding my own handkerchief to the one he held to his nose. I stammered an apology and he was gentleman enough to accept, though he eyed me warily. "Have you lost your mind, man?"

  Perhaps I had.

  A whimper caught my attention and I turned to find the source. In Calliope’s hands I saw the culprit. A puppy.

  "What the—"

  "Thomas brought me this sweet little boy as a birthday gift," Callie said. "What gift did you bring... other than your bossy attitude?"

  Callie, no longer fearful, squared off against me, her chin jutted out in defiance. I did have a gift for her. A ring which had been passed down through my family and last adorned the hand of my grandmother rested in the pocket of my jacket. But after my foolish behavior and in the presence of my rival, I dared not consider presenting it to her.

  Numb, I said nothing as my mind whirled.

  "I thought so," she said with a huff. "I was having the most delightful time at my party and now you have ruined it." She glanced down at the puppy in her arms. "And you have frightened my puppy. How could you?"

  "I-I thought…" I looked from Harley’s bloody face, to Callie, to the puppy and felt all kinds the fool.

  "Please leave. I thought you were a gentleman. I thought you realized I am an adult and have no need of your protection. I was wrong. You are no gentleman." She slipped her hand through Harley’s arm and turned from me, but not before uttering the final blow. "Leave. You are not my friend."

  My jaw hung open as I took in the scene.

  The scene of my self-inflicted destruction.

  Chapter 1

  Lady Calliope Harley, The Dowager Countess of Knox

  London

  More than twenty years later

  As the carriage made its way through the crowded streets of London, I hummed a happy tune and my heel bounced beneath my skirts. I have been a heel bouncer for as long as I can remember, though I tried to curtail my habit when Thomas was alive. He was a good man, but not exceptionally prone to whimsy and rarely appreciated any unladylike behavior, two of the primary characteristics of my personality.

  Please do not misjudge. I am more hoyden than hussy.

  Despite my high birth and outstanding upbringing, I simply could never completely conform myself to the strictures of society.

  Well, in truth, it is not as though I was incapable, it is just all those rules were just no fun at all.

  And what is life without a little fun in it?

  As the carriage rolled closer to my destination—an appointment with Lady Ambrosia, the matchmaker who found the perfect bride for my son Jimmy—the flutters of excitement built within my tummy and I fairly burst with the need to squeal in eager anticipation.

  To be honest, my life had become rather dull. Much as I hated to admit it—I had become dull. It had been so gradual, I had not even noticed until one day while calling upon Lady Hortense Hamberly I realized we had spent a quarter of an hour discussing lamb chops.

  Lamb chops?

  Not only that, but I had been as engaged in the discussion as my hostess.

  I shall agree a good meal is a joy, but if the most inspiring conversation of my week involved details on the preparation and consumption of mutton... well, it was time for me to make a change.

  Yes, I had my beloved dogs, but their conversationa
l skills were decidedly lacking and in fact, they were not even good listeners. Oh, Darcy pretended to listen, but he always looked a bit peeved by my silliness. Bingley wanted to be a good boy, but he simply could not stop chasing his tail. And Wickham... well, his leg humping had scared off more than a few of my regular lady callers.

  And when I saw how happy my Jimmy and his Tempest were together, well, I decided it was not too late for me. Surely there was a nice gentleman out there who would like to have a wife who was — if I may be so bold — still not too old or too unattractive to be appreciated as a life companion.

  A small flush warmed my chest and moved up my neck as I contemplated all of my wifely duties.

  It had been a long time since I had enjoyed the company of a gentleman. Unlike many of my peers, I had not taken lovers either during my marriage or after the onset of widowhood. I hope you will not think me boastful, but I was not without opportunities. However, I might be flighty and easily distracted, but I am not disloyal. Thomas cared deeply for me and I never had reason to believe he had strayed and I wished never to give him reason to wonder about my own fidelity.

  Despite my loyalty, however, I could not help but wonder if there might be more to the marital bed than I had experienced with Thomas. Something within me yearned for something unknown, suspected there were tricks and treats about which only a select few had learned, but had no idea how to go about finding out without great risk to my reputation.

  Now, however, I was free. My only child, Jimmy, was happily married and expecting his first child. From all my observations, joy abounded in their household. It warmed my heart, but also made clear to me I did not want to be the hovering, clinging widow who intruded on her child’s life.

  Thus, my trip to see Lady Ambrosia.

  So lost in my thoughts was I, I failed to notice the carriage had stopped and when the footman opened the door the sudden burst of sunlight surprised me. "Oh, here we are."

  "We are, your ladyship." The young man assisted me in alighting from the carriage. I enjoyed the feel of his strong forearm beneath my gloved hand.

  Yes, I was in need of a man.

  Glancing about, I noticed a bright red door and a sign declaring Lady Ambrosia, Matchmaker to the Discerning.

  I set my sights on the door, righted my flower covered hat and stepped boldly toward the next chapter of my life.

  The door swung open upon my approach and a statuesque woman stood in the doorway, a warm smile upon her lips. She dipped her head in acknowledgment and said, "I do so hope you are Lady Knox. I have been ruminating on your match and am eager to make the final determination for you. Please, come in."

  She had already been thinking about my match? Did she know who would be my new husband? Was she gifted with clairvoyance? What mystical delights awaited me? I hugged myself with giddy excitement and crossed the threshold.

  There would be no discussions of lamb chops here.

  Lady Ambrosia’s home was tidy but cluttered. Yes, I know that is contradictory. There were piles of books and papers all about, but they were stacked neatly, and I had the firm belief, at any given moment, Lady Ambrosia could find exactly what she sought by going to the correct pile and locating the desired document or manuscript nearly instantly.

  We wound our way through her overstuffed home single-file as that was all the width remaining from the mounds of treasures. I tried to keep up with her long strides and she chattered as we moved along. "I simply adore your hat," she said. "I do love flowers."

  Instinctively, I reached up and touched the brim of the wide, bloom-adorned accessory atop my head. "Thank you," I said. "I understand you use flowers to make your matches, so I thought it might give you some inspiration."

  Lady Ambrosia came to a sudden halt and I nearly ran into her, but managed to avoid a collision at the last minute. "Why, yes, it is inspiring," she said and plucked two blossoms with a hearty yank. I stole a peek in a mirror, relieved to see that there were still ample flowers covering the hat. It had cost a fair amount and Jimmy, despite his recent upturn in mood, still fretted over my spending and a replacement hat would not have been in my budget for several weeks to come.

  Ah, but I was getting a new husband. A new man to manage my finances and provide for me. Surely a newlywed would not begrudge me a couple of hats and maybe a few sets of gloves?

  Lady Ambrosia clutched the flowers in her hand and mumbled to herself as we continued our trek. As a person known for talking to herself, I took comfort in realizing Lady Ambrosia was a kindred spirit.

  Lady Ambrosia moved quickly through her home and I followed her as best I could. We traversed a route through the house and entered a solarium filled with warmth and blooms. The aroma wafted all around me and I felt myself begin to relax. I had not, until that time, realized I was tense, but in retrospect I knew I was about to make a life-changing decision, which rested upon the judgment of the woman seated across from me.

  The tea items were brought out and Lady Ambrosia poured a cup for me and passed the cream and sugar. I took a sip of the delectable concoction and wondered what blend Lady Ambrosia used which was different from that available to we mere mortals, or mere countesses, as the case may be.

  I was eager to learn my fate, but equally curious about the woman into whose hands I had entrusted my future. As I sipped my tea I considered my hostess. Lady Ambrosia was a woman of some height, her hair a large pile upon her head. The variety of shades and streaks of color mesmerized me: a smattering of gray, a bit of brown, and a twirl of golden hue all twined together and secured atop her head with a lovely comb in the shape of a butterfly. I was unclear about her age. The sprinkling of gray in her hair indicated she had lived some years and a slight thickening around her waist showed she was no longer in the youth of her life. However, the sparkle in her eye and the spring in her step led me to think regardless of what her exterior said, the interior Lady Ambrosia was little more than a girl, much like myself.

  "I suppose you would like to know the identity of your soon-to-be husband?" Lady Ambrosia asked.

  "Why, yes, I believe I would." My heart pounded and for a brief moment I wondered if I had made a mistake by seeking to find love at my age. But then Lady Ambrosia clasped my hand and warmth tingled throughout my body and my anxious thoughts evaporated.

  She gave my hand a squeeze before releasing it. "Ah, it is not so easy as that," she said with a laugh. Reaching beneath her seat, she retrieved a giant, leather bound book and set it upon the table, nearly engulfing the entire surface. Picking up my cup and saucer to make room, I glanced at the brittle brown pages filled with symbols which I assumed was some sort of code, or maybe just random doodles. It seemed anything was possible in this house.

  Noticing my interest, Lady Ambrosia lifted the tome from the table and held it in her lap, like a fence between us. Returning my cup and saucer to the table, I stared at the worn cover of the book, as though somehow, I would be able to read its contents if I tried hard enough.

  Meanwhile, Lady Ambrosia continued to flip pages back and forth while mumbling to herself. I managed to make out a couple of phrases, but mostly her words seemed like gibberish.

  Patience is not my strong suit. I bounced my left heel up and down beneath my skirts so hard my chair began to wobble. Just when I was at the point of screaming at Lady Ambrosia in frustration, she lowered the book and smiled at me.

  "There are still a few matters for me to investigate," she said, "but I believe I am on the right track to find just the right man for you." She winked. "I have a good feeling about this."

  "Me too," I said, excitement building within. I leaned forward eagerly, awaiting Lady Ambrosia’s edict.

  "Please stand up," she said.

  Puzzled, I complied.

  "Good," she said. "Now, take three giant steps backward while clapping your hands."

  "I beg your pardon?"

  Lady Ambrosia set the book down and focused all of her attention on me. Opening her mouth wide, she repeated he
rself, this time enunciating each syllable precisely and using her eyes to convey some sort of expression in an exaggerated effort to convey her meaning. I hated to tell her I had perfectly understood her request, I was simply flummoxed by being asked.

  Nonetheless, I began to clap my hands together in front of me and then glanced over my shoulder to gauge the amount of space I had to complete the task before taking three giant steps to my rear.

  "Outstanding," Lady Ambrosia exclaimed and opened her book to make notes.

  Confused by her methods, I forced myself not to question her. I placed my trust in Lady Ambrosia, for better or worse.

  "Next, I would very much like it if you could do a cartwheel for me." She opened her book again and looked up at me expectantly, pen poised at the ready to take notes on my next feat.

  "A cartwheel? Why I have not turned a cartwheel in years."

  "Oh, but I am confident you can still do it. Sometimes our youth gets buried by duty and expectations, but if you dust those things off, you might find it is easy to return to a time in the past."

  I thought back to the last time I had done a cartwheel. I was probably about twelve years old and I had been wandering the woods talking to myself, as I had a tendency to do as an only child with a vivid imagination, when an overwhelming desire to turn a cartwheel had come over me. Months earlier, my mother, ever desirous of making me into a proper young lady, had forbidden me from such exhibitions. This edict came about when a particularly exuberant burst of tumbling came upon me just as the Duchess of Vermouth’s carriage rolled into our drive and that exalted personage was greeted with an image of my naked bottom as I cartwheeled across the lawn.

  My mother had told me a grand guest was expected and I thought my effervescent display was just the thing to show her how thrilled we were to have her at Thornthwaite Hall. I was, sadly, mistaken.

  But, that episode had been months before and with no one else in the woods but me and it being a glorious spring morning, I took a few steps to build up speed and flung myself wholeheartedly into the cartwheel to end all cartwheels.