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

by Charles, Jane

  He glanced at the Valentines who were greeting his family and settling in before dinner. He knew he would not toss Lady Jillian out on her ear no matter how much he wished to. He would never hurt the Valentines even if they weren’t soon to be part of his family.

  A slow grin spread across his face at the realization that his family would double with his marriage to Rosalind. She would live close to her aunt and uncle, and her siblings would visit often.

  Rosalind stepped aside so that Phillipa could take the seat she had vacated when her family arrived.

  Phillipa leaned heavier on her cane than she had earlier, and her mouth was pinched. She must have overdone it this afternoon while they looked for the painting. Noah moved to her side and bent to whisper in her ear. “Are you unwell? Would you rather rest?”

  She smiled up at him. “I will be fine as long as I am seated,” she assured him.

  Noah nodded but would keep an eye on her as the evening progressed. If her pain increased, he would insist she retire and take something so that she could sleep though he knew she wouldn’t. Phillipa refused to touch laudanum unless the pain became unbearable because she feared becoming addicted and preferred to live with her discomfort and a clear mind.

  Noah straightened and walked to the serving cart and accepted a glass of wine from Thomas before moving across the room where he could observe his family and guests. Rosalind chatted with her sisters, and Vicar Grant spoke with Victoria. This was his future, and he couldn’t wait until Rosalind was his, and they had many nights such as this.

  Lady Jillian rose from her place and glided over to Noah. “I wasn’t aware you were expecting the Vicar Grant and his family for dinner.”

  “Victoria invited them when she realized we would all be here.”

  “Does your family often dine with the family?” She asked with disapproval.

  Noah glanced down at her. “Not as often as when we were younger. It is rare for everyone to be home at the same time.”

  She sniffed and turned back to the room.

  “They will be frequent guests in my home, Lady Jillian, so I suggest you come to know them.”

  She narrowed her eyes up at him. “We shall see.”

  She moved across the room to stand by her brother, and Noah fought to keep his face impassive. Yes, she would see how matters sat very, very soon. Unfortunately, he would not reveal the painting until the Valentines had gone. Though he wasn’t sure why he owed Lady Jillian the privacy of the discussion, he did. She had kept her knowledge of Rosalind’s past between the two of them, and he would do the same for her and learn what explanation she had to offer.

  Vicar Grant pulled away from Victoria and wandered to where Broadridge and Lady Jillian stood. He eyed them with interest. “How is His Grace?”

  “Father is well,” Lady Jillian answered crisply.

  “You know my father?” Broadridge questioned. Then his eyes brightened with recognition. “You were the Vicar in our parish. I was only a boy when you left.”

  Vicar Grant nodded. “Yes, I was.”

  Broadridge looked over the Valentine family. “I remember now. The children came to live with you shortly before you moved.” He focused back on Vicar Grant. “I don’t know why I didn’t make the connection before now.”

  “You were a child, and I am sure there were matters far more interesting than the comings and goings of the local vicar,” Vicar Grant chuckled. “As I recall, you often found the view outside the windows of the church more interesting than what I had to say on Sunday mornings as well.”

  Broadridge’s cheeks actually colored.

  “It is the way with boys. Felding was no different.”

  In that he spoke the truth. Sunday morning sermons took forever at least to the mind of a boy who wished to be outside in the sun playing.

  “Dinner is served,” the butler announced, and Noah moved to escort Victoria into dinner. Broadridge could see to his sister. Normally, when the Valentines visited, they did not stand on ceremony. But as Lady Jillian and her brother were guests, Noah would seat them near the head of the table with him and his mother, followed by Sandlin and Phoebe, and Vicar Grant and his wife. The remaining family members would fill in the seats around the table beside those they wished to visit with.

  Noah said little as he glanced down the table during the meal. Victoria carried on a conversation with the Grants, including Phoebe often while Sandlin engaged Broadridge in a discussion of hunting. Lady Jillian remained stiff and confused probably due to all the talking across the table as well as the often boisterous laughter coming from the opposite end. This is what family and friendship should be. Not the cold, polite dinners he often attended during the Season. Those had a place and purpose, but in his home, he preferred the atmosphere relaxed and filled with laughter. Would he and Rosalind one day have a table filled with children and grandchildren?

  When the meal concluded, Victoria nodded to Phoebe who rose. The females around the table did as well, and a maid wheeled Victoria from the room closing the door behind them.

  Two bottles of brandy were placed along the center of the table and glasses given to the men. Demetrius looked at Noah, a question in his eyes, as did Vicar Grant. As Broadridge remained in the room, there was little he could say. Had Demetrius informed Vicar Grant of the exchange he had overheard between Noah and Lady Jillian?

  As he could not explain to these two men, he turned his attention to Benedick and asked about his position with the Metropolitan Police. Benedick filled their ears with stories of investigations and chases; his eyes were bright with excitement. Orlando had recently returned from travels to the Far East and spoke of the countries he had seen and further studies he would like to do in the medical field. Mercutio explained how he came about his blackened eye from a fight that took place a week earlier, and Petrucio spoke of the plays he hoped to participate in at the beginning of the Season while Bertram would be leaving once again to join the foot soldiers in his regiment at the end of Twelfth Night.

  Broadridge had nothing to offer to the conversation and held back, rigid, as if he felt out of place. Perhaps he did. Broadridge had no siblings save Lady Jillian, and if what she had said of their childhood was the truth, Broadridge probably couldn’t understand the comradely these men shared with each other and Noah. They spoke of life and adventure while Broadridge lived stifled in the role as a lord and future duke.

  Noah glanced up at the quiet knock on the door. “Come,” he called.

  Penelope peeked her head around the door. “Are you gentlemen going to join us? You have been in here well above an hour.”

  “My apologies,” Noah said as he stood. It was nice to spend time with the Valentine brothers, but they should not have left the ladies alone for so long especially since Lady Jillian was sitting in the midst of them. She was undoubtedly equally as uncomfortable as Broadridge appeared, not that it mattered to Noah. Soon, she would be away from here and they could all relax and plan for a wedding.

  “A moment, Felding,” Vicar Grant said as the others filed from the room.

  He turned to the older man. “Yes.”

  “Demetrius has told me what Lady Jillian is doing to gain marriage.”

  Noah nodded not surprised.

  “Do not marry her unless you love her and wish to do so. If she is vindictive and tells on our family, let it be so.”

  “I hope it won’t come to that,” Noah assured the man. Until he had Lady Jillian out of his life, he could not speak to Vicar Grant about Rosalind no matter how much he wished to do so now and followed the man from the room.

  When he entered the sitting room, Phoebe and Lady Jillian stood beside the pianoforte in quiet discussion. Rosalind rose from her place beside Penelope. “Oh good, you are here.” She grinned. “Since nobody plays as lovely as Lady Sandlin, and nobody sings as beautifully as Lady Jillian, we’ve convinced them both to perform for us.” She turned to the two. “I, for one, can’t wait to hear them together.”

&nbs
p; Noah nodded. As much as he disliked Lady Jillian at the moment, she did possess the voice of an angel. He accepted a cup of tea from a footman and settled back into a chair for the performance.

  Thirty-Four

  Noah’s plans were finalized, and he descended the stairs in search of Lady Jillian only to be brought up short by a trunk being carried out the door by his footmen. Were they leaving already?

  Rosalind breezed through the door.

  It wasn’t Lady Jillian leaving but Rosalind. His heart pounded and panic surged. “Where are you going?”

  “Home with my family.”

  He reached out to her and grasped her hand. “Why?”

  “I live there and am no longer employed by Lord and Lady Sandlin. It is only right.”

  “No, you need to remain here, with me.”

  A smile pulled at her lips. “In time,” she whispered.

  Rosalind really shouldn’t live beneath this roof if they were not married, and there was no other reason for her to do so, but he didn’t want her to go. It could be weeks before they wed, and he didn’t like it one bit.

  “What of the painting?”

  Her smile disappeared. “I don’t think I should be present. This is between you and Lady Jillian.”

  Noah glanced around. This was too much of a public area for them to have this discussion. He grasped her hand and pulled her to the small parlor where he had placed the portrait and covered it with a cloth. “She brought you into this matter by using your family.”

  Rosalind opened her mouth to object, but Lady Jillian entered. “Lord Felding, this is where you have disappeared to.” She turned her head and practically glared at Rosalind and sniffed when she noted Noah still held Rosalind’s hand.

  He turned to face her. “We will not be married, Lady Jillian.”

  She hitched a brow and a mouth curved into a half smile.

  “Perhaps I should leave,” Rosalind insisted pulling her hand from his.

  “No, you shall stay,” Noah ordered. “Lady Jillian, please be so kind to close the door unless you wish for everyone, servants included, to overhear our discussion.”

  She did as he bid before coming further into the room. “I see no reason for there to be further discussion, Lord Felding, I believe I was perfectly clear in my intentions.”

  “Yes, you were,” he agreed before turning to the painting. “However, before you go about ruining an entire family, perhaps you should first explain this?”

  Noah pulled the cloth from the front of the paining, and Lady Jillian gasped. Her face lost all color as she brought a hand to her chest and stumbled back. “Where did you get that?”

  “My sister collects works of art. She obtained it some time ago.”

  “There weren’t supposed to be anymore. He swore.”

  * * *

  Rosalind watched as Lady Jillian sank onto the settee; her eyes were wide with horror.

  “Who?” Noah demanded.

  “Nico Bianchi,” she whispered then blinked and looked at Noah. “I am sure that was not his real name, but he affected the Italian accent well enough.”

  “How many of these paintings did you pose for?” Noah demand.

  Rosalind rushed across the room. Noah was too harsh. She understood he was angry and bitter because of what Lady Jillian demanded and the threats she had made, but couldn’t he see her humiliation at the moment?

  “How old were you?” she asked gently.

  “Sixteen,” Lady Jillian whispered as she blinked back tears.

  Rosalind settled beside her. “Tell us what happened.”

  She jerked her head to Rosalind. “As if you really care. You are only here to share in my humiliation.”

  Rosalind was struck by Lady Jillian’s malicious tone but took no offence. She understood the defensive reaction well. She had spoken in such a way when she was a child to keep others at a distance and to protect her family. “I assure you, I am not.”

  “My maid, who I thought was my friend, suggested I have a portrait done as a surprise for my father.”

  “Is this the maid you used to play with?” Noah asked.

  Lady Jillian nodded. “I hadn’t realized that she hated me and my family.” She sniffed and rose from her seat crossing to look out the window.

  “I thought it a grand idea, and she was to take me to an artist she knew.” Lady Jillian’s tone was flat but neither Noah nor Rosalind interrupted her. “At first she remained in the room with us, but as the sittings became more frequent, she would leave the two of us alone. I had no idea how many sittings were necessary for a portrait,” she laughed bitterly. “Nico seduced me with words and made me believe he had fallen in love with me.” Lady Jillian turned to them. “He did not physically seduce me,” she insisted. “But he might as well have.” She sniffed and returned to staring out the window. “Eventually he convinced me he wished to have portraits that only he would see and could gaze upon until we could be together. In my naivety, I believed him and allowed more and more of my clothing to disappear.” She gestured to the painting before taking a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbing at her nose.

  “Then, one day my maid disappeared. I was to have another sitting, but she had run off. As it had been a week since I had seen Nico, I couldn’t wait for my maid to return, so I took a hackney to his studio.”

  “He was gone,” Rosalind guessed.

  Lady Jillian nodded. “The entire place was empty save for a few rags and brushes.” She sniffed. “A week later my father received the first portrait with a demand for payment, or Nico would sell the remaining ones to the public.” She looked down. “I had never been so humiliated in my life nor felt more foolish.”

  “Or betrayed,” Noah offered.

  “Father paid for seven more portraits, similar to that one, before Nico claimed that there were no more. Everything was done through different messengers and even though Father had investigators try to locate him, Nico was never found.”

  “And your maid?” Rosalind asked.

  “She never returned either. Her parents lost their position in the house because they knew their daughter was being courted by an artist even though they had no knowledge of what the two were doing to me.”

  Lady Jillian turned to face them. “My mother and father kept me from those beneath me in status. I never understood because the servants seemed far more happy than I. The first friend I ever had, or thought I had, was my maid who came to the house when I was ten.” Tears flowed down her cheeks. “Because of her, I fell in love with an artist. I didn’t care that he was not of society. He made me believe that he loved me too all the while he was painting the portraits knowing he was going to use them to blackmail my father.” Her back stiffened. “In the end, I learned my parents were correct. You cannot trust anyone especially those with no standing in the ton.”

  “And because the Valentine children began their life in less than ideal circumstances, you assume they are unworthy.”

  “It is true. Look at what maid and artist did to me.”

  “Yet, look at what you have done,” Noah said bitterly. “The blackmail and threats you have made are no different than what was done to you, yet you hold yourself over them looking down your nose at those you consider beneath you.”

  Lady Jillian blinked up at him and her mouth opened, but no words came out. She drew back as if just now realizing she was doing exactly as the artist had done. “It is different,” she said insisted.

  “No, it is not.”

  Rosalind stood. She wouldn’t allow this discussion to turn into an argument. It didn’t matter now. The truth was laid before them, and it was up to Lady Jillian and Noah to decide how they proceeded forward.

  “We can’t marry, Lady Jillian,” Noah said after a moment.

  “Because of the painting?” she asked.

  Was she so naive that she didn’t understand it was her behavior?

  Noah pushed his fingers through his hair. “You know it is not.”

  L
ady Jillian nodded. “We will not suit.”

  “I don’t love you,” he said kindly if such words could be said in a caring manner.

  Lady Jillian looked to Rosalind. “You love Miss Valentine.”

  “And I love Lord Felding,” Rosalind added.

  She nodded. “I assume you will hold onto the painting to assure my silence.”

  “Yes,” Noah acknowledged.

  Rosalind glanced between the two of them. “No.”

  Both Lady Jillian and Noah blinked at her in surprise.

  “To do so make us no better than the artist who destroyed her trust.” Rosalind said to Noah as she lifted the painting from the stand and handed it to Lady Jillian. “Take this and do with it what you will, and I will trust that you keep my secret.”

  Lady Jillian stared at Rosalind for a moment before accepting it. “Thank you.”

  Rosalind grasped the cloth and placed it over the front so nobody else could view Lady Jillian’s humiliation.

  “Rosalind, are you certain?” Noah asked quietly.

  She wasn’t certain but knew all of these wrongs did not make anything right. Lady Jillian had been hurt, and she was not going to add to her pain. “I choose to trust that Lady Jillian will do the right thing.”

  Lady Jillian simply nodded and turned from the room. Her shoulders slumped as if she had been beaten or perhaps simply just weary. Noah and Rosalind followed her into the hall. Phillipa stood there and gazed at the covered painting with longing.

  “This was in your collection?” Lady Jillian asked.

  Phillip nodded.

  “Why did you have it or even want in?”