The butler shook his head. “Mrs. Hartsmeade has been asking me about this cat all week,” he said, referring to Medford’s housekeeper. “We assumed it belonged to one of the guests. Mrs. Hartsmeade has been decorating that cat for Christmastide every day. I dare say the animal seems to enjoy it.”
They all laughed and Cerian bent down to rub the cat on the head.
“Strange, but the cat doesn’t appear to have an owner.” Medford shrugged.
Cerian scratched the cat under its little chin while the feline purred contentedly. “Well, she does now. She’s our cat.”
Oliver glanced down at his affianced bride and smiled. “What do you intend to name her?”
Cerian scooped the cat into her arms. “Why, Merry, of course. With an e and two r’s. She was responsible for bringing us together, wasn’t she? She’ll be a fine cat in a duke’s household.”
Oliver patted the cat on the head and pulled Cerian into his arms for another kiss. “I think Merry is the perfect name,” he said. “And I think you and I are going to be very happy together.”
Cerian nodded, tears in her eyes. “I agree, Oliver. Truly, I do.” She smiled at him over the cat’s fluffy gray head. “You know, I once thought it was impossible for a duchess to love her duke.”
He tugged her hand to his lips and kissed it softly. “Tell me you’ve changed your mind, my love.”
“I have. I absolutely have.” She glanced up at the ceiling where a festive bough of mistletoe hung. “And to think it all happened under the mistletoe.”
Read on for an excerpt from Valerie Bowman’s next book
THE UNEXPECTED DUCHESS
Coming soon from St. Martin’s Paperbacks
London, Late June 1815
Derek Hunt stared across the crowded ballroom brimming with sparkling belles wearing the latest fashions and their gallant escorts wearing high-starched cravats. Laughter, champagne, dancing, and revelry filled the large room. Derek straightened his own cravat and slid a hand into his pocket. Had it really only been a fortnight since he’d been holding his dying friend’s hand on a blood-soaked battlefield in Belgium? And since then, he’d returned to London, been granted a dukedom by the Crown, and was even now in the market for a proper wife. The future mother of his future son.
A fortnight ago, Derek hadn’t known whether he’d be alive tonight. Now, he was lifting a champagne flute from the gleaming silver tray of a passing footman as if he’d never stepped foot on the battlefield, never watched as his countrymen were sliced down in front of him, never heard the agonizing screams of his dying friends. In London, the parades and parties given in honor of the victory over Napoleon were all the rage. And here he was tonight, the celebrated hero, enjoying the victory along with everyone else. As if he’d never seen the truth. The real horror of war.
Derek lifted the flute to his lips and took a long swallow. Good stuff, that. He narrowed his eyes and scanned the room. He was no longer in battle, but he still had a goal.
There she was. Lady Cassandra Monroe. Tall, blonde, beautiful. And quiet and demure if Julian had been correct about her temperament. The perfect wife for a man who’d just spent his last years in the upheaval of battlefields. Lady Cassandra Monroe was exactly the type of woman who would ensure that Derek lived his remaining days in peace and quiet. Precisely what he wanted.
But most importantly, he’d promised Julian. As he’d watched him grit his teeth and writhe in pain on the packed earth outside Waterloo, Derek had promised his friend that he would find Lady Cassandra, and he would marry her.
And Derek Hunt, whether general or duke, never went back on a promise to a friend.
* * *
Lady Lucy Upton stood on the sidelines of the ballroom, tapping her slipper in time to the music. It was true that she hadn’t been asked to dance in an age, but that didn’t keep her from enjoying the tune. Whether one was firmly on the shelf or not, a ball was a ball and a dance was a dance. And she adored dancing. It wasn’t her fault no suitors had been interested in an age. Oh, very well, strictly speaking it was her fault. For her unpopularity with beaux just happened to stem from the fact that she’d earned a solid reputation as a lady who did not mince words.
She had a rapier for a tongue, they said. She jabbed with nouns. She riposted with verbs. And she delivered adjectives with a particular flourish. By all accounts, she was a master. One who could rip an overzealous beau to shreds in mere seconds. It hadn’t taken long for the eligible bachelors of the ton, those who were not otherwise occupied with war, to disentangle themselves from any association with Lucy. But was it her fault the Earl of Milhaven wore a ridiculous bit of fake hair upon his lip to which she’d immediately responded, “Good God, my lord, I should think it very difficult to eat with that thing flapping about”? Or that Viscount Ballard had been wearing a bright orange overcoat when he’d asked her to dance that caused her to blurt, “I should very much like to dance, your lordship, but I fear my eyes might be done irreparable harm if forced to look at such a vivid bit of clothing for the duration of a waltz.”
Perhaps it was her fault that she’d never been able to curb her tongue. Her mama certainly seemed to think so. But Lucy had long ago made peace with her reputation and her penchant for forthrightness and these days she used it entirely to her advantage. Only tonight she was ready to use it in the employ of her very closest friend, Lady Cassandra Monroe.
“Why do you think he’s staring at me that way?” Cass glanced skittishly in the direction of the newly minted Duke of Claringdon.
Lucy reached over to squeeze her friend’s hand. “I’m not sure, exactly. But he does seem to be pinning you with his eyes. Not exactly a gentleman, the duke.”
Cass dared another glance. “I must admit he is handsome. But he doesn’t have Julian’s blond hair.” She sighed.
Lucy glanced over at the man. He was standing by the Grecian column in the middle of the crowded ballroom. She narrowed her eyes. Very well. Cass was right. The Duke of Claringdon was handsome. More than handsome, actually. Spectacularly handsome. He was well over six feet tall, had midnight-black hair and emerald green eyes, shoulders so wide he looked as if he might not fit through the average doorway and muscles from top to toe. A war hero to boot. A general known for his decisiveness in battle. He’d won a variety of battles over the last few years and had been sent to meet Wellington in Belgium just before Waterloo. The Duke of Decisive, they called him.
He was also arrogant, commandeering, and entirely too used to getting his way. Which, Lucy was sure, was quite an asset on the field of battle, but his way, at the moment, involved making her friend a bit uneasy.
And for that, Lucy would not stand. Lucy, bold, blunt, completely without the demure gentility of a lady, had only two friends in this world—well, three if you counted Garrett—and Cass was one of them. Elegant, modest Cass who was too friendly and kind to rebuff anyone. Yes, Cass had always been quietly loyal to Lucy and Lucy was nothing if not loyal herself. If Cass wanted to avoid the attentions of the Duke of Claringdon, well, Lucy would assist her in any way she was able.
“How do you suppose he managed to have such a golden glow to his skin?” Cass asked.
Lucy wrinkled her nose and shrugged. “I heard he was on holiday in Italy just before he was called back to battle. Apparently his mistress is Italian.”
Yes, the duke was powerful, commanding, and more handsome than he had a right to be. And the whole war hero bit didn’t diminish his appeal, but Lucy wasn’t about to allow him to frighten Cass. And something told her, some gut feeling, that the duke had set his sights on her friend. Who wouldn’t love Cass? Why, she’d had more offers than you could shake a stick at. And she’d managed to refuse them all. Yes. Cass had managed to remain unattached for the last five seasons, waiting for her precious Julian to return from the war. The only problem with Lord Julian Swift was that he was all but betrothed to Cass’s cousin Penelope.
“Mother says I should be flattered,” Cass said, biting he
r lip.
Lucy rolled her eyes. “Of course she did. He’s a duke. An incomparable catch as far as your mother is concerned. His just glancing in your direction has probably got her planning your wedding with glee.”
“He frightens me,” Cass whispered.
Lucy patted Cass’s shoulder. “I know, dear.”
Cass glanced down at her hands. “When he looks at me, I want to shrink back against the wall.”
Lucy had just opened her mouth to offer some additional comforting words when their friend Jane came hurrying up. Jane had chestnut brown-hair, wide brown eyes that were framed by a pair of silver-rimmed spectacles, and a lovely face that she usually kept buried in a book. Despite her desire to remain unattached, Jane’s mother dutifully dressed her up and trotted her out at every ball every Season hoping her bookish bluestocking of a daughter would eventually catch some gentleman’s eye. For her part, Jane reluctantly spent her time at these affairs pretending to enjoy herself, famously scribbling notes for her future books, and biding the time until she grew old enough that her parents gave up. Cass and Lucy and their third friend, Jane, were all solidly on the shelf, all at the ripe old age of twenty-five.
“What’s happening?” Jane asked, slipping into line beside the two of them.
“I’m trying to avoid the Duke of Claringdon,” Cass replied in a hushed whisper. “He’s watching me.”
Jane surreptitiously glanced at the duke. “Ooh, he is watching you. Who knew he’d be so handsome? I expected him to have scars, perhaps be missing an ear or something.”
Cass slapped at Jane’s light blue sleeve. “Good heavens, that’s positively morbid. You and your writerly imagination.”
Lucy eyed the duke, arms crossed over her chest. “He doesn’t look as if he’s missing anything to me,” she said, giving him a once-over. She shook herself. “But we cannot allow him to frighten our Cass.”
“Do not worry,” Jane replied. “Simply tell him you’re not interested. He’s sure to immediately retreat.”
Lucy glanced over at the duke who was eyeing Cass like a prize boar. “Something tells me it won’t be quite that simple,” Lucy replied. “The man seems to be quite used to getting his way.”
Cass was busily smoothing her skirts, her eyes downcast. “Lucy’s right. But even if I wanted to, I couldn’t tell him I’m not interested. I’m not like you, Lucy. When I’m frightened, words completely leave my head. I wish I had a bit of your gift for witty repartee.”
Lucy laughed. “And I wish I had your ability to keep my mouth closed when I should.”
“It’s easy, truly. You simply have to— Oh good heavens, he’s coming over.” Cass’s voice reached a high note Lucy had never heard before.
“He’s surely going to ask you to dance,” Lucy said, watching the duke’s inexorable advance.
“Just thank him and tell him you’re not in the mood for dancing at present. That should be that,” Jane added with a resolute nod.
“Be strong,” Lucy whispered, squeezing Cass’s shoulder lightly. “We’ll be right here.” She and Jane moved quietly back against the wall.
Cass took two brave, if shaky, steps forward to meet the duke upon his arrival. Lucy and Jane watched as the two spoke for a few moments and the next thing Lucy knew, the duke was leading Cass onto the dance floor. Oh, Cass, no. Lucy threw up her hands. She really did have a problem saying no to anyone or standing up for herself.
Lucy watched the two spin around the dance floor. Cass with her pretty white-blond hair and the duke with his striking dark features.
“Poor Cass,” Jane whispered. “If she wasn’t so in love with Julian, she and the duke might make a beautiful couple.”
“She’d be miserable with Claringdon,” Lucy said with a sigh. “Besides, I for one say she may well have a chance with Julian when and if he ever returns from the Continent.”
Jane arched a brow, giving her a highly skeptical look.
“One can always dream, can’t one?” Lucy replied, twisting her mouth into a half-smile.
Moments later, when Cass returned alone from the dance, Lucy and Jane snatched her into the corner.
“What did he say?” Lucy asked, her own voice taking on a high note this time.
Cass’s face was bright pink. She shook her head. “He paid me lovely compliments and said he should like very much to call on me tomorrow. Oh, what am I going to do? I want to discourage him, but the words just will not come out of my mouth. I simper like a fool when he speaks to me.”
Jane had pulled a pamphlet out of her reticule and was busily reading it, obviously no longer that interested in her friends’ antics. She pushed up her spectacles on her nose and nodded absently toward Lucy and Cass. “It’s too bad you two cannot switch personalities for the evening. I’ve every confidence that Lucy could set the duke back upon his heels in mere seconds.”
Lucy clapped her hands and Jane’s head snapped up from the pamphlet.
“That’s it!” Lucy cried.
“What’s it?” Cass asked, her teeth nibbling on her lower lip.
Lucy rubbed her gloved hands together with glee. “Jane’s perfectly right. Each of us is good at something different, correct?”
Jane eyed Lucy curiously. “I’m not entirely sure I’m following you.”
Lucy grabbed her friends’ hands and they formed a circle. “I’m adept at speaking my mind and being quite blunt. It’s the reason I’m still on the shelf after five seasons, I know. Mama’s told me often enough.”
“Yes, you’re very good at speaking your mind,” Cass agreed with a nod.
“And you are good at attracting gentlemen and looking stunning and befriending everyone you meet, Cass.”
Cass smiled at that. “I suppose I am.”
“And Jane is good at—”
“Oh, this I simply cannot wait to hear,” Jane replied with something of a smirk on her face.
“Stop it,” Lucy replied. “You’re good at being exceedingly clever and knowing things none of the rest of us know. Why, if you were allowed to be in Parliament, you would have negotiated the peace years ago and would have the taxes set to rights while you were at it.”
“Please tell that to my parents,” Jane said with a laugh. “They don’t quite see the merit in all my reading and writing.”
“I still don’t understand, Lucy,” Cass replied, her blue eyes cloudy with confusion.
“Don’t you see?” Lucy said. “We all must help each other. Help each other to get what we want. We’ll each do the thing the other cannot do and assist one another.”
“What do you mean?” Jane asked, looking more interested by the moment.
Lucy smiled brightly. “Well, I want to marry well. I don’t need love or any of that nonsense, but I’m expected to make a decent match and—” She drew in a breath. “To date, I’ve been a spectacular failure. I frighten gentlemen away. Cass can help me be more … attractive to men.”
“Go on,” Cass prompted, blinking rapidly.
“And Janie, you want to remain entirely unattached, do you not?”
“Absolutely!” Jane replied. “Entirely.”
“Repelling gentlemen is my specialty, I can help you immensely.” Lucy laughed.
Jane smiled at that. “And Cass?”
Lucy pulled them both closer. “I already have a plan. Cass wants to have her chance with Julian, correct? True love and all that. I’ll be your voice, Cass. I’ll tell you exactly what words to use to dissuade the duke from pursuing you.”
“You will?” Cass’s eyes were round.
“Yes,” Lucy replied. “I shall help you with the duke. Now, you must send him a note. Ask him to meet you tonight outside beside the hedgerow in the gardens. I’ll hide behind the bushes and whisper what you need to say and you’ll repeat it.”
A wide grin spread across Jane’s face. “You know, that plan is just mad enough that it might work.”
Cass shook her head. “No. No. It won’t work at all. He’s sure to hear you,
Lucy.”
“We’ll just make sure he’s several paces away,” Lucy replied. “You’ll tell him not to come any closer. For propriety’s sake, of course. It’s perfect.”
Cass’s wide blue eyes turned to Jane. “Janie, what do you think?”
Her forgotten pamphlet shoved back into her reticule, Jane crossed her arms over her chest. “I think I’m going to be out in the garden hiding behind the hedge with Lucy so I don’t miss a moment of this.”
Cass wrinkled her nose. “But what if it doesn’t work?”
Jane patted her friend’s shoulder. “I’d say at this point, you’ve got nothing to lose. And if anyone can manage this feat, it’s our Lady Lucy here.”
Cass gulped. She eyed both her friends warily and took a moment to speak. “Very well. I’ll try it.”
Lucy smiled an enormous smile. “Excellent. Leave everything to me. I’ll set the arrogant duke back on his heels. Don’t you worry.”
Also by
VALERIE BOWMAN
SECRETS OF A SCANDALOUS MARRIAGE
SECRETS OF A WEDDING NIGHT
SECRETS OF A RUNAWAY BRIDE
Available from St. Martin’s Paperbacks
* * *
Do You Love All Things Romance?
Want access to original stories, exclusive excerpts, sweepstakes, and so much more?
Heroes and Heartbreakers is the online community for you!
Featuring daily content discussing romance in every form, Heroes and Heartbreakers allows you to discover, share, and obsess. Visit us today!
www.HeroesandHeartbreakers.com
* * *
About the Author
Valerie Bowman grew up in Illinois with six sisters (she’s the youngest) and a huge supply of historical romance novels. After a cold and snowy stint earning a degree in English with a minor in history at Smith College, she moved to Florida the first chance she got. Valerie now lives in Jacksonville with her two rascally dogs. When she’s not writing, she keeps busy reading, traveling, or vacillating between watching crazy reality TV and PBS.
It Happened Under the Mistletoe: A Holiday Novella Page 9