Unwrapping a Rogue: A Christmas Regency Boxset

by Samantha Holt

  Epilogue

  Four weeks later

  St. George’s Church, Hanover Square

  Alexander’s heart was full as he watched Marianne walk towards him, wearing a stunning new gown of pale gold silk trimmed with white Brussels lace. While Arthur had issued a suitably grovelling apology the day after the swan incident in Hyde Park, Marianne had declined his offer to walk her down the aisle. Instead, she walked alone, preceded by her youngest niece Penelope, strewing freshly picked snowdrops in her path.

  He’d offered to denude every hothouse in London for more expensive flowers for her, of course, but Marianne had told him she’d far rather have snowdrops, that earliest of spring blooms, easily gathered in February.

  “The are the first flowers of spring, the season of new beginnings,” she’d told him, and Alexander at once had agreed there could be no flower more appropriate.

  While he had hoped to obtain a special licence and wed Marianne within a week of her acceptance, his mother and Marianne had persuaded him that waiting for the banns to be called and throwing a grand wedding with the cream of the Ton on the guest list would forever silence any gossip.

  Since he was entirely at Marianne’s mercy, he’d agreed to whatever they wanted, though he’d privately bemoaned to her his reluctance to wait even a day more than he had to for her.

  “We’ve waited this long,” she’d told him tenderly, placing her soft hand against his cheek. “I want - no, I need - this wedding to be as different from my first as it is possible to be, Alexander.”

  Understanding, he’d kicked himself for his insensitivity. “Only tell me what I need do to make it so, beloved.”

  “Be patient with me - and be yourself,” she’d told him, reaching up to kiss himlovingly.

  MARIANNE’S HAND TREMBLED a little in her white silk glove as she placed it in Alexander’s, and he looked a query at her, brow furrowing with concern. She smiled back at him determinedly. The ghosts of her past were not going to cloud this, the wedding day she’d always wanted.

  Instead of her father and two bored servants as witnesses in a dusty parlour, there was a church filled with her and Alexander’s friends and family. The vicar was a kindly, serious gentleman who had insisted on speaking to them both privately before the ceremony, intent on being certain they were both happy before proceeding. And last but certainly not least, instead of a leering old man, there was her beloved Alexander, tall and handsome, his eyes filled with love for her as he spoke his vows.

  “Yes,” she said it loud and clear as the vicar asked if she accepted Alexander as her husband. “I do.”

  His smile was filled with both joy and relief as he squeezed her hands, and Marianne gazed lovingly back at him as the ceremony concluded and they emerged from the church to the rousing cheers of their friends.

  Thomas and Ellen Havers had insisted on throwing a wedding party for them after the ceremony, and afterwards they planned to return to Alexander’s townhouse and remain in London for another month before travelling to Hampshire to visit with the Pembrokes—the only friends who were unable to attend their wedding. Too close to her confinement, Amelia had instead sent many excited letters and a promise of a gentle mare from their famous stables as a wedding gift for Marianne.

  Once Amelia’s child was born, they would go to Portsmouth and take ship there for Scotland, cutting several days off the journey to Glenkellie. Marianne was looking forward very much to seeing Alexander’s childhood home, which he described as ‘an ancient pile’ but his mother had told her was one of the most beautiful castles in Scotland.

  Lady Helena was sailing for Italy in late March, and they would join her in September after Marianne saw Ellen through her confinement as well. She had already cornered Lavinia, who as the mother of five children was the most experienced source on childbirth she knew, and quizzed her for so much detail Lavinia turned quite pale.

  Their conversations had taught Marianne about a great deal more than just childbirth, however. Despite a great deal of blushing, Lavinia had imparted quite a lot of knowledge about what happened in the marriage bed when the wife wasn’t unwilling.

  Knowing happy couples like the Havers and the Pembrokes, Marianne had slowly become aware there could be true and genuine affection between husband and wife. More than once while staying with Thomas and Ellen she had accidentally come across them in a passionate embrace, and the thought of sharing such embraces with Alexander made her feel quite warm and flushed.

  Far from fearing her second wedding night, she was rather looking forward to it.

  “Do you think anyone would notice if we sneaked away?” she whispered to Alexander after they had dined and danced and talked for what felt like hours.

  “To go where? Are you feeling quite well?” He looked at her with concern.

  “Oh, I’m fine.” Sliding her hand into his, she squeezed. “I would like to be alone with my husband, that’s all.”

  “Really?” A wide grin broke across his face. “Then let us not waste another minute, my darling marchioness!”

  They slipped out and ran down the stairs, jumping into the waiting Glenkellie coach, where Alexander lost no time pulling Marianne into his arms.

  “I love you,” he whispered, raining kisses across her face. “I have always, always loved you.”

  “I love you, too,” Marianne said, nestling close against him and resting her head against his strong shoulder, safe in his arms and secure in the knowledge that she was finally right where she had always longed to be.

  THE END

  Find Catherine on Amazon and on her website.

  A Blessing in Disguise

  By Kelly Anne Bruce

  Chapter One

  A QUEUE HAD FORMED outside Almack’s, as it always did. Carriages lined up outside the assembly rooms on King Street and a chattering, jolly crowd were making their way up the steps to attend the regular Wednesday night ball. Peering around a tall gentleman in front of her, Maryanne tried to see if Lady Helena DeVere was waiting at the entrance to the ballroom as they had arranged. Every time she tried to look around the man in front, he moved. He was so tall and broad that she could not see around him.

  “Have patience,” Mama scolded. “You look like a calf-eyed dolt praying that the man she adores is inside waiting. You should never appear to be enamored of anyone. Have I not taught you anything?”

  “Mama, I am not doing any such thing,” Maryanne said. Mama never listened to her or considered her opinions yet she still tried to be heard. “I arranged to meet Helena.” She unclasped her cape and handed it to the liveried young man waiting to take it from her. “There is no young man that I adore that might be attending.” She turned her face away, hoping that Mama would not notice that she was not being entirely truthful.

  There was indeed no young man awaiting her inside, especially not one that Mama and Papa might approve of. There was, however, one who had claimed her heart that was not permitted entrance. He didn’t have suitable breeding or connections to have obtained a voucher for the season.

  Helena felt that society’s dismissal of the one she had chosen was entirely unfounded. After all, there was not a woman present that was not adorned in one of the furs Mr Callender sold from the fine store in the fashionable shopping district around Leicester Square. However, Mr Callender was a mere merchant and therefore Lady Castlereagh and the other Lady Patronesses had denied him entrance on the perceived wisdom that he was beneath their hallowed halls.

  As they made their way inside, Mama quickly gave Maryanne a look over, smoothing down her gown and then wrapping a wayward curl around her finger before pulling it into place. “Mama,” Maryanne protested. She hated to be fussed over.

  “You will never attract the attentions of a duke if you are slovenly in your appearance,” Mama said. “And, given your name and connections, there is no reason why you should not be an attractive prospect to any man of the ton.”

  “My father is an earl, you are the daughter of one of the
eldest families in the country, your family tree leads back directly to William the Conqueror. Yes, Mama, I know all of that and while I shall do my very best not to cause any shame to fall upon our family name, I must be free to choose a husband I can respect and love.”

  Mama rolled her eyes. “My dear girl,” she said. “Every young girl thinks she knows better than her parents. And do you know what happens to those girls that ignore their family’s advice?”

  Maryanne shook her head, though Mama had given her this lecture more times than she could count. Protesting never stopped her mother from continuing. Maryanne had learned through bitter experience that the lecture would be much shorter and less frustrating if Maryanne just let Mama have her say.

  “They find themselves living in poverty, estranged from their families, unhappy, and broken. Do you want that for yourself? There is a reason why merchants wish to marry into the aristocracy, and I can assure you that it has nothing to do with love. They wish to be amongst us but know they will never truly be accepted, no matter how wealthy they are. They simply do not have our taste and breeding.”

  “Of course, they don’t, Mama,” Maryanne said, trying to placate Mama enough that she might let her go. She didn’t entirely enjoy the Wednesday night ball at Almack’s, but it did at least give her the chance to enjoy a few moments away from her mother’s incessant scheming to find her a suitable husband. Though this was all part of Mama’s plan for her to see and be seen, Maryanne much preferred talking with her friends and enjoying dancing. It was better than worrying about the impression she might make on the titled and aristocratic attendees.

  “I shall remember your words, Mama, and I will be ever aware of unscrupulous men who only want me for my title,” she said, a little facetiously. But Mama heard only what she wanted to.

  “You should go,” Mama said, ushering her forwards. “Fill your dance card and be careful who takes you into the supper room. You do not want your name linked with anyone unsuitable.”

  Saved from any further admonishments by the timely arrival of Lady Highwood, Maryanne bobbed a quick curtsey to her mother’s friend then hurried to greet Helena. Her friend pointed up at the large clock on the wall and made a face as if she was annoyed at Maryanne’s tardiness. “I know, I am so very sorry,” she said. “Mama gave me one of her talks about who the right kind of man for me might be.”

  “They are not going to change their minds,” Helena reply. “You know that. No matter how wealthy, or how charming, they will never give you permission to marry your Mr Callender.”

  “Helena, my dearest friend, I cannot bear it if you start in on this too,” Maryanne groaned. “All I ever hear is that he is not my kind and not good enough for me, but he is a good and kind man. He is wealthier than Papa could ever imagine and he is well-mannered. I just do not see why his lack of a title makes him so unsuitable. I have no desire to be a duchess, though you would think that anything less would be considered a failure when Mama gets into one of her lectures.”

  Helena gave her a wry smile. “Well, you should, of course, aim for a prince. You are clearly not ambitious enough and underrate your charms,” she said in a wicked impersonation of how Mama spoke. She even got the way Mama looked down her nose at others, as if anyone below the status of an Earl was somehow suspect and likely a criminal. It was a look that said they most certainly must smell dreadful. “I shall disown you if you settle for anything less than a Duchy.” Helena flicked her fan open and turned her face away, just as Mama would. Maryanne giggled. It was just too perfect. Helena giggled too, unable to keep up the pretense.

  Catching her breath, Maryanne turned to look out over the ballroom. “So, who is here tonight that might be a pleasure to have upon my dance card?” she asked. “Last time we came here I went home with so many bruises upon my feet and ankles that I could hardly walk the next day.”

  Helena laughed. “Of those that can actually dance? Dear Maryanne, I am afraid we have few to choose from.” She pointed at a handsome young man ably partnering a pretty blonde through the reel. “There is Lord Wilson, but as you can tell from his doe-eyes, he’ll not take his eyes off Lady Caroline Dellwood all night. Captain Stevens and Major Harbottle are both here.” Helena pointed to the dashing young soldiers standing by the punchbowl. “They are often a good choice for the dances before and after supper. They at least know how to tell a good story and will be soon back to the war, so there is no expectation of imminent nuptials to deal with.”

  “So, of all these people here,” Maryanne said feeling a little frustrated, “there are only three men who can actually dance?”

  “Well, Freddie is here too, but I know how you feel about him. I know you’d be unlikely to allow him even a single dance.”

  Freddie Kerslake, now Duke of Cumbria, had once been a close friend and playmate. As the years had passed, however, they had grown up and apart and Maryanne had grown more and more disappointed in the choices he had made. “I do not know how such a sweet boy could grow up to be such a desperate rake,” Maryanne chided as the annoyingly handsome figure of her childhood friend appeared at the opposite end of the ballroom. “Ugh, just look at him,” she said, pulling her pretty features into a disgusted look. “He thinks himself so utterly irresistible.”

  “Well, he does have an awful lot of money, one of the finest estates in the country, and is close friends with Prinny,” Helena pointed out, “not to mention his height, dark curls, and vivid blue eyes... Oh, and that he is a truly excellent dancer.”

  “And doesn’t he make sure that everyone knows it,” Maryanne scoffed. She watched, unimpressed, as half a dozen girls fawned all over him, begging him to mark their dance cards. Of course, he flattered them all and flirted outrageously before adding his initials to every one of their cards. How any woman could think that he found them special, Maryanne would never know. “They should have more respect for themselves,” she said haughtily.

  Helena though was not listening as Lord Geoffrey Percy, heir to the Duchy of Northumberland, was walking towards them. Helena had been in love with him for more years than Maryanne could remember. “Lady Helena Devere,” he said, taking her hand and bending to kiss the air just above it in a courtly gesture. “You look quite lovely tonight and Lady Maryanne Colbert, a delight.” He took Maryanne’s hand, but his eyes did not leave Helena’s for a single moment.

  “Good evening, my Lord,” Helena said, bobbing him a curtsey. “I did not know you had returned to England.”

  “Wellington sent me back,” Lord Percy told her with a smile. “And, at his behest, I am to take a place in government.”

  “So you are staying?” she asked, trying her best not to sound too excited at the prospect. “Will take up your father’s seat in the House of Lords?”

  Maryanne felt a little ashamed for being so amused. Helena had cried herself to sleep for months after the young aristocrat had purchased his commission and departed for Portugal to serve under the Duke of Wellington. She had been so sure that he might propose before he went, but he had broken her heart and said he didn’t expect her to wait for him to return.

  “I am. My father is unwell and unable to attend as he would like. So, I am doubly needed by both my family and my country. Wellington was kind enough to let me sell my commission,” he explained.

  Maryanne couldn’t help but notice a heated flush rising up Helena’s neck and across her face. It was hardly surprising given the peculiar intimacy of the way they looked at one another as if there was nobody else present and they cared for nothing but each other. Helena’s family would no doubt be delighted as, heir to one of the oldest Duchy’s in the kingdom, Lord Percy was an excellent catch. Mama would have been delighted if Maryanne had been able to snag the affections of such a man, no doubt. However, that mattered little to Maryanne. It was the kind of affection for one another that they shared which Maryanne longed for but doubted she would ever truly find.

  “I know I do not deserve your kindness, but I should be most grateful
if you might grant me the pleasure of at least one dance tonight,” Lord Percy asked Helena.

  “I think I might be able to accommodate you. I have just two spaces left, before or after supper,” she said, her eyes twinkling a little as she batted her long sable eyelashes at him. The flush in her cheeks was beginning to subside a little.

  “Would I be too bold if I claimed them both?” Lord Percy asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Helena said, clearly pleased as punch that he had claimed the dances usually reserved by a potential marriage suitor. It signified their desire to actually talk, by escorting a young woman into the supper room it meant they would be seated together. That he also wanted the dance afterwards meant he felt that even that extended time in each others’ company would be insufficient.

  Lord Percy bowed to them both and, having also claimed a reel with Maryanne later on in the evening, disappeared into the crowd. Maryanne grabbed at her friend’s dance card and chuckled when she saw exactly what she had expected to. Maryanne had barely three of her dances filled. “You are an unabashed flirt,” Maryanne accused her friend. “Telling him you only had two dances remaining.”

  “He saw that and still claimed the most important ones. He even took the one at the end of the evening! That surely means that he wishes to be able to see me home, does it not?” Helena said excitedly.

  “I am sure it does and I can assure you that he did not take his eyes from you for one moment. From everything I saw, Lord Percy is still very much in love with you. So, it is up to you whether you wish to forgive him and entrust your heart to him once more,” Maryanne stated with a tone of caution in her voice. She wanted for her friend to be happy and loved, but she could not bear to see Helena upset again. The passionate emotions that still so clearly raged between the pair could be both a blessing and a curse.