His Christmas Match (A Gentleman's Guide to Once Upon a Time)

by Charles, Jane

  Rosalind would have joined Penelope and Lady Meadows, but Penelope moved from Rosalind as soon as she had taken a seat and joined their hostess further away from the others. Clearly Penelope didn’t wish for anyone else to be a part of their discussion, especially Rosalind, and left her with these strangers.

  Besides, she wouldn’t have been able to concentrate even if she knew the persons being discussed. Rosalind couldn’t forget that Felding wished to speak with her, and she couldn’t stop thinking about the possibilities of what he wished to say.

  With a sigh, Rosalind stood. She needed to be away from their silliness and a breath of fresh air would be welcoming. She quietly stepped from the room without anyone commenting on her exit and went to her chambers for her pelisse and boots. On her way out of the house, she glanced back into the parlor. All was as it had been when she left, and nobody seemed to note her absence. Not that she expected them too.

  Rosalind let herself out of the manor through a door at the back of the house. The moon was full tonight and the sky cloudless. Torches were lit around the parameter of the swept terrace, and the light reflected off of the snow so that she was able to see well enough to negotiate the path to the gazebo. Once inside, she brushed the snow off of a bench and then sank down onto it. Closing her eyes Rosalind let the peaceful silence engulf her. For all the snow and the dampness in the air, the night wasn’t overly cold.

  The crunch of boots alerted Rosalind to someone approaching. She wasn’t alarmed but wondered who else would be out here and why they hadn’t used one of the cleared paths. She straightened and looked around. Rosalind came to her feet when Lord Broadridge stepped inside the enclosure.

  “I saw your escape from inside the house and thought it a brilliant idea.”

  Why did he wish to join her? They really shouldn’t be out in the darkness alone. Though if he could see her from the billiard room, others could as well, and it probably wasn’t any different than walking in the gardens where others could observe from windows so that propriety wasn’t brought into question.

  “I grew tired of being in the billiard room watching the contest take place and thought to get some fresh air for myself.”

  She glanced out at the sky through the opening. Stars twinkled from above. “It is a beautiful night.” She sighed.

  Broadridge stepped to her side. “Yes. Beautiful indeed.”

  She glanced at him and pulled back. He was much closer to her person than she realized, and he wasn’t looking at the sky either. Had he just complimented her? Was he flirting with her? To what purpose?

  “I like you, Miss Valentine.”

  Rosalind studied him. Should she say that she liked him too? But she really didn’t know the gentleman all that well and thought to not see him again after the house party.

  He took a step forward, and she shifted back. Alarm rang through her that perhaps she was in a dangerous situation after all.

  “I’ve been watching you, you know.” His hand came up and caressed her cheek. Rosalind took another step back coming against one of the pillars supporting the rounded structure. Before she could sidestep Broadridge, he was towering over her. Rosalind glanced in each direction trying to determine how to make her escape, but there were built in benches on either side of her. She was trapped.

  “I think we would do well together,” Broadridge said as he settled his hands at her waist.

  Rosalind eyed him askance. “How so?” She asked slowly.

  “I can offer you more than Thorn or Felding.”

  Her heart increased at the mention of Thorn. Did he know of the rumors? Did Broadridge believe the rumors or Thorn? If he believed Thorn, then he was also aware nothing had been offered. But how did Felding figure in? As far as anyone knew, he was a family friend.

  “I could set you up in a grand house, carriage at your disposal, the finest clothing, almost anything you wished.”

  Rosalind tried to pull back but her head was already pressed against the beam.

  Broadridge bent and just as he was about to kiss her, Rosalind turned her face away. She could only assume what he was offering, and marriage was not part of the bargain. “I am not interested, Lord Broadridge.”

  He chuckled. “You expect me to believe that?” His lips touched her neck.

  Rosalind pushed against his chest. “Please don’t.

  Broadridge chuckled. “You might play the sweet innocent around others, but I know better.”

  His words chilled her, and Rosalind looked back at his face.

  “Thorn has had you and no doubt Felding as well.”

  “You are mistaken,” she bit out through clenched teeth.

  Broadridge hitched an eyebrow. “I had assumed the rumors with Thorn might be untrue as I heard two versions of the event.” He stepped closer bringing his body against hers. “After seeing you on Felding’s lap and allowing him to practically seduce you in the snow, I knew the rumors to be true.”

  Rosalind gasped and pushed more forcefully at his chest. “You are mistaken.”

  “No, dear, I am sure I am not.”

  His arms went around her body pulling her tight against him. Rosalind struggled to break free.

  “Why should you enjoy their company without benefits? I can give you so much.” His mouth lowered to hers once again. She turned from him, but the lack of her lips was not a deterrent. Broadridge kissed her cheek before making his way to her neck. Bile rose in her throat. If she screamed would anyone hear her? Would they believe her if she told them he had come to her? Or would it be just like the last house party, and she would be more ruined than before if that was even possible.

  Rosalind took a deep breath and pushed with all of her might, but she could not dislodge the man. “Please let me go.”

  He pulled back slightly and smiled looking at her with hooded eyes. “You don’t really mean that.”

  “Yes, I do,” Rosalind yelled.

  “I’ll convince you otherwise.” His mouth descended again.

  Panic surged with the need to be away from him. Rosalind didn’t care what title he may hold one day. Nobody had the right to ignore her protests. She drew up her hand and struck him across the face. “I said, let me go.” She pushed again and this time he stepped back, one hand cradling his cheek.

  “That, Miss Valentine, was a grave mistake.” His voice was cold, hard, and it sent a chill down her spine so different than the gentleman that had been useless during the scavenger hunt or even solicitous towards her while that sat by the lake earlier.

  Rosalind sprinted to the opposite side of the gazebo placing her back to an opening. “The mistake was thinking you could come out here and accost me.”

  “If you didn’t wish for company from a gentleman, then why did you leave the ladies?”

  “I simply wished for fresh air.”

  He tilted his head, studied her, and stepped in her direction, quiet and slow like a panther stalking his prey. She fisted her hands and willed them to quit shaking and glanced behind her. There was no path just deep snow.

  “Unless you were waiting for Felding?” Broadridge took another step in her direction. “I can assure you that it will be some time before he joins you. He is in the middle of a billiard match with your brother.”

  Rage boiled within her. How dare he assume she was meeting a lover! “I can assure you, Lord Broadridge, that it was not my intention to meet anyone,” she bit out. “I wanted to be alone!”

  “Come now, Miss Valentine, you don’t expect me to believe that do you?”

  He sickened her. What had she done to deserve this treatment? Why would Broadridge assume she was of a low moral character?

  Perhaps it was because he had seen her with Felding. Who else had seen them, and what must they think? Nobody would ever believe nothing occurred between her and Thorn if they were witness to her and Felding’s kiss.

  Her stomach tightened, and Rosalind feared she would be ill. She should have never come to this party. She should have stayed at the S
andlin estate where she belonged with children and where her heart was safe.

  Broadridge advanced and grasped her arm. Why had she simply stood here? She needed to get away but the path leading back to the house was on the opposite side of the gazebo and she would have to go around Broadridge to get there.

  “I do expect you to believe me,” she argued. “I’ve not given you any reason to believe I would be interested in your offer, and what you heard with regard to Thorn are rumors with no factual basis.”

  He laughed. “I am not as foolish as you think, Miss Valentine.”

  She tried to jerk her arm out of his grasp, but he held too tightly. She should have stepped into the snow. The frigid cold in her boots was better than this.

  “Let’s discuss your future and put this argument aside. We both know the truth.”

  “You do not know the truth nor is my future any concern of yours.” This time she pushed back at him with her free arm with enough force to break free. He slipped on the snow dusting the floor and fell striking his head on a beam. When he straightened, blood trickled down from a cut on his forehead.

  Her hands began to shake anew. She just injured a peer. A future duke.

  Broadridge’s eyes darkened, and his mouth tightened. She had never seen anyone so angry in her life.

  Rosalind slowly took on step back and then another until she was sinking into the snow. She couldn’t go back to the house. She couldn’t face the other guests especially if Broadridge decided to paint the story that displayed him in the best light thus further ruining her.

  What was she to do?

  Tears sprung to her eyes, and Rosalind knew she couldn’t stay there a moment longer. He was liable to come after her to punish her for her insolence. Turning on her heel, Rosalind took off running for the woods ignoring the ache in her ankle. She had to find a place to hide until she could sneak back into the house and up to her room. Let Broadridge explain why he had a cut on his forehead. She wasn’t going to be part of the tale.

  * * *

  Noah leaned back against the wall beside a large window and cradled a glass of brandy. The evening had been enjoyable and a nice break from the ladies. In here, the gentlemen could say and act the way they wished without fear of upsetting the sensitivities of the fairer sex in attendance.

  Firelight from the torches danced on the undisturbed snow. Further, he could see the moon reflecting off the blanket of white. He pulled away from the wall and walked to the door leading outside. He could barely make out the gazebo from this distance but strained to see if anyone was out there. Broadridge had left that way not long ago, yet long enough that Noah wondered why the man had not returned. He assumed he had gone outside for a cheroot, but Broadridge should have finished with it by now and returned. Noah glanced toward the terrace brightly lit by torches, but Broadridge was nowhere to be seen.

  His footprints led across the terrace and into the snow. Noah wished the man would return because they needed to have a discussion. Broadridge had commented in passing that he was glad to see that Noah and Lady Jillian were getting on so well. Others had come into the room, so Noah didn’t feel it was the time or place to tell Broadridge he would not be asking to court his sister. He decided he would need to do so tonight so the man could begin to consider someone else for Lady Jillian.

  There was a light knock at the door, and Noah turned as Meadows sauntered forward and opened it. A moment later he called for Demetrius. Had something happened to Rosalind?

  He could not hear what was being said on the other side of the door, but Demetrius nodded and stepped into the hall. Meadows turned back to the group and frowned.

  “What is it?” Parker asked.

  “Apparently Miss Valentine went out for air and didn’t come back inside. Lady Penelope has grown worried.”

  Noah turned back to look outside. Surely she wasn’t walking the grounds. Though there was light from the moon, she shouldn’t be out alone this late. Should he go after her?

  Demetrius returned pulling his great coat on and made for the door. “Rosalind hates to be cooped up. No doubt she has wandered a bit farther than most.” He turned the collar up and strode for the door leading outside. “I’ll bring her back.”

  The door opened before he reached it, and Broadridge stepped inside. Blood trailed down the side of his face.

  “What happened to you?” Demetrius asked with alarm.

  Broadridge’s eyes met Demetrius. “I slipped and struck my head.”

  Noah narrowed his eyes on the man. There was also a red mark on his face that did not come from a fall. Almost the imprint of a hand. “Did you happen to see Miss Valentine while you were out?”

  Broadridge shot him an angry look. “Yes. She was one her way inside, by way of the kitchen. She wanted to retire.”

  “Well, that is it then,” Demetrius said as if the mystery had been solved.

  “I’ll get a maid to clean up that head wound,” Meadows said as he moved for the bell pull.

  Demetrius shrugged out of his coat and flung it across the back of a chair no longer concerned with his sister.

  Noah’s gut tightened. He didn’t trust that Broadridge was telling the truth, but he didn’t want to accuse the man if he were. Yet, he knew something wasn’t right, and it had everything to do with Rosalind.

  He tipped his glass back and drained the contents. “If you will excuse me, I need to speak with my sister for a moment.”

  Noah left the room before anyone could question him. They had already returned to their drinking and cards and paid him little mind.

  Noah strode down the hall and stopped when he came to the parlor. The ladies were inside sitting in separate clusters in conversation. Only his sister stood by the door leading outside.

  “Lord Felding, are you going to join us?” Lady Jillian asked happily, sliding further down the settee as if to make room for him.

  “I’ve come to have a word with my sister.” He strode across the room and leaned down to whisper in his sister’s ear. “Broadridge claims that Rosalind returned to the house by way of another door and said she was going to retire.”

  Penelope glanced up worry in her eyes. “Do you think she did?”

  “I am not certain.” Noah didn’t want to tell her he suspected something was wrong with Rosalind or that he was worried without a reason to substantiate his concern. “Could you check on her?”

  “Of course.” Penelope pulled herself from the door, and Noah followed as she marched across the room and up the stairs. He waited outside of the chamber while Penelope entered. She returned within a moment. “Rosalind is not here, nor has she been.”

  Alarm shot through him. Broadridge had done something to Rosalind, and it was bad enough that she didn’t wish to return to the house. Noah considered alerting Demetrius, but thought better of it. If he were wrong, then he would be made to be the fool, and one didn’t go about accusing the son of a duke of nefarious deeds without proof.

  Noah gently grasped Penelope’s upper arms. “Do not let anyone know that Rosalind did not return and that she is not in her room.”

  “Why? What is going on?”

  “I am not sure, but I fear if anyone learned that she had been outside when Broadridge had also been away from the house, her reputation might suffer. Until I know for certain that she is unharmed, and that this is not a misunderstanding, it is best to remain quiet.”

  Penelope nodded. “Are you going to look for her?”

  “Yes,” he answered already pulling away to find his coat. “Did she leave by way of the parlor?”

  “I’m not sure what door she used only that I saw her pass in front of the salon and then caught a glimpse of her walking toward the gazebo.”

  Noah nodded. He would start there and would hopefully be able to follow her footsteps.

  Twenty-Three

  Rosalind sank down onto the cushioned bench at the back of the orangery. She had never been in a place like this. Even though there was snow and cold ou
tside, it was warm and comfortable within.

  She clasped her hands together to make them stop shaking, but it was of no use.

  She had injured the son of a duke. What if he pressed charges? It wouldn’t matter that he was making unwanted advances. He was a peer, and she was the lowly daughter of missionaries. If the courts dug deeper, they would learn that wasn’t even the truth, and then her entire family would be ruined.

  No, she couldn’t think that way. She had to hope that Broadridge said nothing and didn’t blame her for the cut on his head.

  More tears welled in her eyes. How had this visit gone so terribly wrong?

  The squeak of the door being opened alerted Rosalind that she would not be alone for long. It closed with a thud and heavy footsteps sounded as if they were coming in her direction.

  She jumped to her feet and looked for a weapon. She would not allow Broadridge to harm her. He was the one who advanced on her despite her objection, and she would not allow him to touch her again.

  Rosalind glanced quickly around for some type of weapon because the plants were of little use unless she managed to pick one up and bash the pot over his thick head.

  At the back of the room was a table, and she quickly edged toward it and scanned the items. Gloves and loose dirt were not helpful. Did the gardener not have tools in here? She stepped to the side and spied a garden hoe. Grasping it in her hand, she leveled it out in front of her much like a sword. She would use it on Broadridge if necessary.

  “Rosalind?” a quiet voice called.

  Her heart stilled. Was that Felding?

  “Rosalind, are you in here?”