His Bewitching Jewel (A Regency Holiday Romance Book 7)

by Mathews, Marly

  For her part, Giselle had been grateful to be out of such a place, and when he had set her up in a townhouse in Mayfair, she had easily adapted her life to suit his needs. They had conveniently forgotten where he had found her, and they had lived a nice little life, going through his money like it was going out of fashion, until he had received word that his sister needed him. Isolde had lived here at Penryn House with her husband and family with his blessing, while he had spent his life playing, and carousing his way through London.

  Once he had read Isolde’s urgent missive pleading for his help, he had told Giselle that he had to leave London, possibly never to return. She had looked at him with an expression that now nauseated him when he thought about it, and told him that it would be a cold day in hell before she left London for Cornwall.

  He had given her the sum of one thousand pounds, and had bid her adieu, telling her that she could remain on in the townhouse he paid to keep her in for one year. After that, she would be forced to find her own lodgings.

  She had screamed bloody murder at him, as he had walked away. She had told him that one thousand pounds was not enough, called him a cheap bastard, and told him, she would make him rue parting from her bitterly.

  Her ferocity had surprised him a little. He had not thought she could change so drastically. She had been an angel one minute, and had turned into an absolute shrew the next minute.

  Finn wagered that she had believed she could get him to bow to her edict. She had wanted him to stay on in London, and forsake his family. After he had seen how cold she was, and how greedy, he had to break things off with her—knowing that he could not live with someone like that. She had shown her contempt for any other location but London, and he had found out that she was not the woman he thought he’d made her into. She was nothing but a calculating, greedy, selfish minx who had attached herself to him like a bloody leech because he had been both stupid and gullible. He had fallen for her tricks so easily that now, now, he hated himself for it.

  She had seen him as an unending source of money. He was rich, even by the ton’s standards, and because of that, he could spend and gamble as much as he pleased. His family had made many investments over the years. His mother had been a tin and copper heiress from Cornwall. Upon her marriage to his father, her wealth became a part of the family’s fortune, and they had other business interests in Yorkshire that focused on the textile industry there, and to a lesser extent, interests in coal and steel. His family was benefiting greatly by industrialization, and while some old families had started to suffer fortune wise, his would only continue to grow.

  The rest of the monies came from being influential landowners, as they owned a good deal of Yorkshire. Many in the ton derided his family for moving with the times, thinking that it was beneath them to go into industry, but his father hadn’t given a tinker’s fart for what others thought, and neither did Finn. His father’s forward thinking ensured their legacy. While his wealth continued to flourish, other men in the ton set to inherit their father’s title and lands were not as lucky.

  No matter what other worries Finn had, he never had to worry about money. Some of his mates were poor buggers who were on the hunt for an heiress in order for them to save their estates. He had no such concern. He did not have to marry out of duty, or obligation. He could marry for love. He wagered that he had already lost his heart to Ruby. She beguiled him in a way that no other woman ever had.

  Someday, he might attempt to spend part of the year in Yorkshire, as it was a beautiful county, like Cornwall, it had been dubbed God’s Own County, and he wondered how Ruby would view Yorkshire. She had been willing to come here to Cornwall, so he hoped she would not be horrified by the thought of living in Yorkshire—should he ever want to return there.

  He would stay away from London for a few years, to give those who had known about Mrs. Brant, the time to forget about her. Hopefully, she would find another young lord—or old lord to latch onto, and she would take up to warming his bed instead.

  He knew very little about Ruby’s past, but he suspected it was a little cleaner than his. Surely, she would have no scandal to speak of. How could a woman with angel eyes ever have been touched by scandal? No…she was most certainly an honourable and innocent woman free of any stain upon her reputation. Why, she probably hadn’t even had any suitors.

  She had probably lived the life of a nun, cloistered away from society, tending to her invalided father. He could imagine her dutifully sitting by his bedside, easing him through his trials, until he left this world for the next, leaving her utterly alone in a cruel and unforgiving world.

  He knew she had to hail from a good family, and he knew she had good breeding. What he didn’t know was what sort of circumstances had put her into having to work for him as a governess. He wanted to know what dreadful event in her life had caused her to come down in the world. Had her father died, with his estate entailed, and had the family who had inherited, booted her out of what rightfully should have been hers?

  Had she been cast out into the cold cruel world, forced to make her way in life without a tender word or kind shoulder to cry on?

  Protectiveness welled up inside of him, and he resolved that now…now, he would shield her from the horrors of the world. She had found safe haven with him, and she would never have to worry again. From this moment on, she wouldn’t have to fear a blessed thing in life.

  He would be her knight in shining armour.

  He sighed, and finished dressing for dinner, and then, dismissed his valet. He would go down once again to their empty 16th Century Dining Room. He would eat at the large table, alone. He would have no one with which to have a lively discussion. No one here could possibly meet his intellect. No one here save for Ruby, and his nieces were of the class to sit with him at dinner. His nieces were too young, and Ruby was most likely, too tired.

  He wanted to see her face when she discovered the rest of the house. She had seen greatly pleased with what little she had seen, before Mrs. Teague had whisked her away to her bedchamber. Mrs. Teague was an annoying woman at the best of times, and he knew that she and his butler, Mr. Chegwin, did not always see eye to eye. Where Mr. Chegwin was a kindly older gentleman, Mrs. Teague was a hard and stern woman.

  Both were set in the ways, and both had different ways upon which they wanted to run the staff and the house. Despite all of that, Mr. Chegwin had a good heart, and he usually stuck up for Mrs. Teague when he should not. They had both been employed for a relatively short amount of time, as he had taken them into service after he had returned from London. The servants he had found at Penryn House, hadn’t been suitable, and so he had dismissed them without delay.

  Mrs. Teague knew that when it came right down to it, Mr. Chegwin was above her in authority, and it was a good thing, too, because he kept her from doing things that Finn knew he wouldn’t approve of, and it was Mr. Chegwin’s efforts that usually kept Mrs. Teague employed. Should he decide to stop interceding on her behalf, Finn would have cause to dismiss the woman.

  He walked slowly toward the staircase. He was so tempted to go and knock on Miss Massey’s bedchamber door and invite her to dinner. He couldn’t do that. That wasn’t proper, and now, now, he was a proper gentleman and so he had to act the part.

  He was the Duke of Camblesforth, and it was about time he started acting like it. He was no longer a libertine. He was a reformed rake, and his life here had to remain untouched by scandal.

  He groaned, as longing swept through him. He took a shaky breath, and instead decided to go up and check on Miranda and Cordelia in the nursery.

  He quietly opened the door, without gaining anyone’s attention, and found them ready for bed. One of the nursemaids had just slipped the warming pan under Miranda’s bedclothes, to warm her bed up. Once she was satisfied the bed was no longer damp, she took the bed warmer out, and handed it back to a waiting maid who hurried away with it.

  As the woman’s back was to him, she left Miranda’s side, and
walked back over to a waiting chair. Settling herself with a contented sigh, she reached for her sewing. The two women that were their nannies seemed to be good women, and they had a few maids that worked beneath them to facilitate them with their care of their charges. That was one thing about Finn. He could go easily undetected whenever he wished. So far, none in the room had noticed his arrival—or they were pretending not to notice his arrival.

  Miranda hadn’t crawled into her bed yet, but Cordelia was already under her bedclothes, and when she caught sight of him standing in the doorway, she let out a terrified little yelp, and shrunk under the bedclothes so her head was concealed from him.

  Miranda groaned, looking to see what or who had upset her sister. She held the kitten they had named Joan her arms. When her perceptively astute blue gaze settled on him, she sighed. “Cordelia that is simply no way to behave around Uncle, he has only come to bid us goodnight.”

  The nursemaids sat opposite their beds, and from what he could see, one was knitting, and the other one seemed to be darning socks. They slept in an adjoining room, and were meant to be on hand, in case the children needed them during the night.

  The nursemaids stiffened, as they finally noticed him, and jumped up to give him a quick curtsy.

  “That isn’t necessary. Go about your business as if I wasn’t here,” he murmured. “Would one of you two little pixies like a bedtime story?”

  He could see the covered lump that was Cordelia twitch ever so slightly. She must have been intrigued by his offer, but she couldn’t muster the courage to reveal herself and ask for a story.

  Miranda crawled under her bedclothes, and put the kitten at the end of her bed, then, she propped her pillows up, so she could sit up and lean against them. Folding her hands over the top of her sheet, she settled her uniquely intelligent gaze on him.

  “I would like a story, Uncle. I want one with pixie or a ghost in it. I want a spooky story befitting this splendid time of year.”

  He sighed. “It might give your sister nightmares, Miranda.”

  “Oh, no,” Miranda contradicted. “Not if it has a friendly ghost in it. We aren’t afraid of friendly ghosts, are we, Cordelia?”

  Cordelia hesitantly peeked her head out from beneath her bedclothes, and eyed him warily with her brown eyes that were so like his own mother’s. She looked as if she was trying to gather the courage to speak, but then, her resolve faltered.

  She demurely shook her head, and then, popped her head back under the covers. He resisted the urge to laugh, and went to sit on the end of Miranda’s bed. If he sat on Cordelia’s bed, he would scare her half to death.

  “Hmm…let me see…let me think of a story…let me tell you the tale of how your mother and I first met the Queen of the Pixies.” He could tell them a few ghost stories, but he didn’t want to chance giving Cordelia nightmares.

  No, a magical little tale it was.

  “You and Mama met Queen Joan?” Miranda raised her eyebrow slightly, and he could see she was unconvinced.

  “Aye, we did. We were playing in the nearby woods on the Estate when we came upon her. She had been captured by a giant who had placed her high atop a tree, hanging from one of its branches in a little birdcage. When we approached her, she started to speak to us in Cornish, and then, once we started to speak in English to her, she magically altered her voice, and suddenly, she was speaking English, as perfectly as you please. She told us who she was—as if we didn’t already know. She had…”

  “Was she naked, Uncle?”

  “Oh, no,” he laughed. “Never listen to those fanciful tales about pixies, Miranda. They do not run naked through the moonlight…well, not that I know of, anyway. Queen Joan wore a gown of emerald green. Her eyes were the shade of the loveliest amethysts, and her hair was the colour of silver, and she glowed with an arcane light. Atop her head sat a crown of rubies and diamonds, and the rubies glowed…they glowed like firelight. She could have kept the space lit if darkness had fallen upon us. She begged us to release her, and in return, she would bless us with good luck and give us each one wish. She said that from that moment on, we and our descendants would have the protection of the pixies.

  “She was the most beautiful will-o-the-wisp that I have ever seen. She told us that the giant wanted her to use her magic to bless a bunch of beans that he wanted to plant in the Earth to open the portal back to his homeland, where the giants lived. He believed if he did, they could once again attempt to invade our beloved Cornwall.”

  “Oh, no, how terrible for her! Did you release her, Uncle? Well, you must have done,” Miranda said sensibly. “Had you not, the giant might have used her magic to bring a Giant Army to Cornwall.”

  “Isolde and I were wary of her. Our parents warned against following the fairy lights. We had been warned that pixies were wont to spin fantastical tales that were not always the truth. Our parents warned us that pixies could have mercurial tempers, and could bestow upon us bad luck, as easily as they might bestow upon us good luck, and the day was growing short—we knew had to head home quickly, lest we be missed.”

  “Oh, you didn’t leave her there, did you? Why the giant might have gobbled her up for dinner, after he had used her to bless his beans,” Miranda gasped.

  He looked over and saw Cordelia’s bedclothes rustle again, as she peeked her wide brown eyes up above the sheet.

  He smiled, glad to see the endearing sight.

  “No…no, of course we didn’t. Though your Mama told me in her no nonsense way that I was to climb up the tree and free Queen Joan.”

  “And of course you obeyed,” Miranda said, giggling.

  “I could never say no to your mother,” he chuckled. “Aye, I climbed the tree, and narrowly avoided falling to my death. Once I was up high enough, I reached and unlatched the little door on her cage, and she crawled onto my outstretched hand, and then, onto my arm, and finally settled herself on my shoulder. She sat perched there like the little queen she was, until I had climbed back down the tree, and gingerly placed her on the ground. Once she was on the ground, a most curious thing happened…” he paused to take a deep breath.

  “Oh, Uncle, do tell us…what happened? Did she give you your one wish?”

  He chuckled. “Who is telling this story, Miranda?”

  Properly chastised, she looked away from him. “You are, Uncle.”

  “Aye, indeed I am. Once her little feet were on the ground, sparkles of her pixie dust flew in the air around her, and as we watched, startled beyond belief, she grew so she was just a little over five feet tall, and oh, how majestic she looked. She smiled at us, and opened her palm to show to us two sparkling purple jewels coated in her magical pixie dust. She told us to each take one, and that whenever we needed her help, or if we had decided what our wish was, that we need only hold the gemstone in the palm of our hand, and say her name three times, and she would appear before us ready to grant our wish. She told us she couldn’t give us anything that might cause harm to another, and that she had no power over life or death. She said she could not perform miracles, and that her magic was only to be used for good.”

  “She wouldn’t give you your wish that day?” Miranda asked, completely crestfallen at the thought.

  “She said…she said we were not old enough yet to know what our hearts wanted. She said, should we leave the living world without making our wish, our wish would then be bestowed upon our closest kin.”

  “Did Mama ever make her wish?” Miranda asked breathlessly.

  “No,” he sighed heavily. “After that last blissful summer together, we lost our brother, Randall, and our life never did return to the way it once had been. I went off to school, and I had a lot of growing to do. I wasn’t ready or prepared to become the duke, and my father…well, my father died when I was still quite young.

  “Fortunately, I had my mother to help me manage the Estates, and our other interests, and to show me what I had to know. Your grandmother was a formidable woman, and she could pretty much do any
thing she set her mind to, including managing all of my interests in my absence. Far too fast, Isolde and I grew up. Our carefree days of running like wild little fairies were gone.”

  “And shortly after that, Mama married our father,” Miranda said, sighing heavily.

  “Aye,” he said, suddenly feeling quite melancholy.

  “So, do you still have the purple pixie wishing stones?” Miranda asked, shaking off the sadness that had briefly marred her serene countenance.

  “Aye…I have them both, now that I think of it. Isolde gave me hers when we returned home. She said she never thought she would ever have need of it…and she was afraid to use it so she entrusted it to my care. I keep it in my valet case in my bedchamber. They are tucked in a little silk satchel inside of the case, and I haven’t looked inside of it for years.”

  “Oh, Uncle, you should use it, and make your wish. Maybe you could wish for true love.”

  “Hmm…maybe someday I will. Right now, I have all that I could ever want.” Now that Ruby had come into his life, he had everything he had ever desired. He looked to the clock, “now, it is time for you two sleepyheads to go to sleep, and dream of fairies, pixies, and the giants that try to catch them so they can use their magic for ill.”

  He stood up, and bestowed a kiss upon Miranda’s forehead. The kitten let out a sleepy purr, as it moved to sit up on Miranda’s pillow, next to her head.

  “I hope that little beast had a bath,” he said, eyeing it warily.

  “Aye, Uncle. One of the footmen gave Joan a good scrubbing, Mr. Chegwin saw to it himself. He said she screamed and screamed, but they finished the deed, despite her caterwauling.”

  “Good, good. I can always rely upon Mr. Chegwin.” He moved over to Cordelia’s bed, but she didn’t seem keen on the thought of a goodnight kiss. Sighing heavily, he gave a curt nod to their nursemaids. “Goodnight, Girls. Sweet dreams.”

  “Goodnight, Uncle,” Miranda answered. He waited, hoping to hear something from Cordelia, but she remained silent.