His Christmas Angel (A Regency Holiday Romance Book 8)

by Mathews, Marly

  His Christmas Angel

  By Marly Mathews

  A Regency Holiday Romance

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Copyright © 2015 by Marly Mathews

  www.marlymathews.com

  Cover Design by Melody Simmons from Ebookindiecovers

  http://ebookindiecovers.com/

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  To My Readers,

  His Christmas Angel is Clarence Deville’s story. Clarence first appeared in His Valentine Princess and has been a recurring character in my Regency Holiday Romances since then. He is always a delight to write and he usually steps into the spotlight no matter how hard I attempt to keep him as a supporting character, so he finally has the opportunity to shine as the hero of His Christmas Angel.

  I hope you all enjoy his story.

  Thank you for reading my books!

  Happy Holidays!

  ~Marly

  Chapter One

  "Love sought is good, but giv'n unsought is better."

  Twelfth Night,SHAKESPEARE

  Mayfair, London, England, 1823

  Lady Ann Hardwicke sat opposite her father in his gentlemen’s study. He sat calmly finishing his missive, whilst her heart continued to race so fast she believed she might pass out. Her mother had already stood up, and she was anxiously pacing back and forth in the rather small room.

  “I won’t do it, Father,” Ann said, her voice trembling. “I won’t. I can’t.” Miserable didn’t even begin to describe how she felt at the moment. Tears welled in her eyes, and she held her handkerchief in her lap, ready to wipe the tears away, should they trickle out of their prison. She didn’t want to look weak in front of her father. For as long as she could remember, she had admired, respected and even loved, Walter Hardwicke, 5th Earl of Broadway, and now…now…she felt as if his presence would kill her. If she stayed in the same room with him a moment longer, she would suffocate.

  She hated him.

  She hated him so much she couldn’t see straight. She wished a large hole would open in the floor and swallow him whole. He was treating her like a commodity. He was treating her as if she were one of his possessions, and she despised him for it. All of the tenderness she had felt for him evaporated the instant he told her of his plans. All of her respect vanished with that tenderness. Now, now…she only wanted to see the back of him.

  Tension rolled off her mother in waves, as she felt as helpless as Ann. They were in a Point Non Plus, and their father was the one who put them in that detestable situation.

  “You must, Ann. Needs must in this case, my darling daughter. And if you do not do what I want you to do, our family will be ruined. Utterly and completely ruined. Do you want to be responsible for that? Do you want to be the reason why your brother inherits a bankrupted estate? Well, do you, Ann?” he asked harshly.

  Every single thoughtless word only succeeded in lowering him further in her books. How had she ever admired him? How had she ever believed he was a good father? He had entirely forgotten about what would happen to him should he not find someone to settle his debts. If he wasn’t a Peer of the Realm, he could be facing Debtors’ prison, and the rest of the family would have been sentenced to the same grim fate with him.

  Damnation.

  He was the weak one. He had let all of his vices corrupt him and put him on this destructive path, and now he expected her to somehow save him from himself, by sacrificing her own happiness.

  “Do not place the blame on my shoulders. This is entirely your fault,” she said sharply. “You were the one that risked all in the first place. You allowed your vices to cost this family everything. You are the one that lost it all—you are the one culpable, Father. Not me. Not me,” Ann reiterated, keeping her voice as unemotional, as she could. “I have done nothing wrong.”

  “Ann, my dear, there are a few things in life you have yet to learn. Men are allowed their vices. We are allowed to indulge in a way that women…well, women cannot. You must simply understand that.”

  “Wally, be reasonable. You can’t expect her to marry that that man, if that cretin can be described as such,” her Mama said. “Find someone else…find anyone else to settle your debts for you—but pray, do not expect our daughter to do it for you. You cannot expect that much of her.”

  “Yes, I can, Camilla. Do you so easily forget that we were matched up in a similar manner?”

  Her mother sighed. “Sentencing her to an arranged marriage is one thing—sentencing her to life with that disgusting beau-nasty is quite another. You cannot do it. You were not…you were a better prospect, Wally. You were a better man, and I shan’t have my daughter marry beneath her station, and titled or not—that man is far beneath her station in life.”

  “He has money. He has power and as far as I am concerned, he has our youngest daughter. It is a small price to pay for what I owe him. He…he could have taken so much more. He could have thrust us into a scandal the likes of which the ton has never seen—but he did not. He had the decency to only ask of me something that I can definitely give him. He wants Ann. It is a trifling cost. She shall do her duty by her family. She is quickly turning into an old maid, Camilla. We have seen our other children happily leg-shackled in marriage bargains they could live with. Poor Ann hasn’t found such a match, and she is about to be put on the shelf for the rest of her life. We have been supporting her for far too many years—and it must stop. She is like a leech on our resources. I wanted her married off when she was eighteen. Do you understand, Camilla? I am getting old, and I shall pass from this world shortly. I want to know that Ann is taken care of before I meet my maker.”

  Her mother snorted rather indelicately. “You are getting old, Wally, and as you become a decrepit old man you are losing your wits. You are not doing any of this out of fatherly concern. You are doing it for selfish reasons, and you and I both know it. As for Ann’s age, at four and twenty years of age, she is hardly old. She is younger than I was, when I married you! She would be taken care of, if you hadn’t done what you did. You…you jeopardized everything, you bloody fool. If you die tomorrow, I, along with your daughter, will both have a grim future indeed.”

  “And that is why she will marry Sir Wilfrid. She shall have financial security that way. She shall be safe from the horrors of t
he world. She shall live a life of privilege and luxury. She couldn’t ask for more.”

  “No,” her mother’s voice raised to a fevered pitch. “No. I distinctly forbid it. Do you hear me, Walter? The devil may dance in your pocket, but you shall not marry our daughter to that disgusting blackguard. No. You have done a great many things I have disagreed with, and I have looked the other way—but I shan’t allow you to marry my daughter off to a dirty little coxcomb like that. He is horrible. He is a spiteful little fop, and you know it. Marrying Ann to him would be like committing her to a life in prison. So, I am drawing a line in the sand, Walter, and I say, no, you shall not do it.”

  He regarded her mother silently for a few moments, and then, sighed. “Fortunately, my lovely wife, you have no say in this matter. You are as powerless as Ann. As mere females, that is your lot in life. You only have what men give you. You must do your duty as my wife, and stand by me, come what may. I have made the decision, and it is final. Ann,” he said sternly, directing his attention to her. “You will marry Sir Wilfrid, when he returns from France. You shall be his Christmas Bride, and that is the end of it. Within a fortnight, you will be known as Lady Culpepper. You will be happy with Sir Wilfrid, and if you are lucky—he will not live long, and you shall become a wealthy widow, and have the freedom to do whatever you please with your life.”

  He gave her a smile that sickened her. He thought her future in hand. He was mistaken. She would do whatever she had to in order to avoid this grim fate.

  “No, I won’t marry him, Father. I shan’t. I would rather die than marry that beast. He is old, and he can barely bloody walk, and he can hardly hear me when I talk to him—and Father, he…he smells like an old man who needs a bath! They say he is infected with disease. He is a dirty old man—Mama is right—he is a beau-nasty, and the whole ton knows it! They say his last wife took poison because she couldn’t bear to go on with him as her husband, and yet, you want me to put myself into that kind of a life? No. I won’t do it. I shan’t marry him and that is the end of it,” she said stubbornly.

  “No, it is only the beginning. You will marry him, Ann. It is a little bloody late for you to decide that you have a backbone, Daughter. You are my daughter, and you will do as I say. My word is law, in case you have allowed that to slip from your mind. I am the master of this family.” She looked away from him. She couldn’t bear to stare at him anymore. He looked far too pleased with himself. “Ann…Ann,” he repeated, in a bid to command her attention, “look at me. You will do your duty, do you understand? It is the only way I can settle my debts with him. If you do not marry him, there is no telling what sort of travesty shall befall us all.”

  “So, you will actually resort to selling your own daughter?” Her mother asked furiously, whirling on him. Her hands were crossed over her chest, her colour was up, and she looked about ready to throttle her father’s neck. She had never seen her mother so incensed. She was absolutely beside herself.

  “I am not selling Ann, Camilla, dear. Pray, do not sound so severe. I am not doing anything so reprehensible that it must be condemned by the two of you. I am making up a beneficial marriage arrangement. It is something that has been done for ages, and unlike me—those men were never challenged in such a highhanded manner by the females in the lives. Evidently, their women knew their place. The two of you have yet to learn that.”

  “You are despicable, Wally. If not for an accident of birth, you would have been a wastrel, of that I am quite certain. I thought…I thought I had married a man, not a snake in the grass,” Camilla snapped.

  “You married a man who wants to see this Earldom continue to thrive. Without the money that I lost…it will not thrive, Camilla, and I will gladly sacrifice a daughter, in order to ensure that I do not leave my precious son an empty title. Even if I sold a few of our properties to settle my debts to Sir Wilfrid, it might keep us from being completely ruined, and disgraced, but it wouldn’t leave anything for James, and I can’t bear that thought. A son is worth far more than a daughter. Far more. You gave me four daughters, and one son, Camilla. You barely did your duty by me. I will not leave a wretched legacy to him, my precious, cherished boy.”

  Her mother staggered backward, and clasped her hand over her heart. “I cannot believe you just said that to me, Walter. You are a cruel buffoon. To think that I ever…to think I ever loved you. Leave us, Ann, dear. Go and visit one of your friends. I heard that the Duchess of Kenilworth is in Town, for at least part of the Christmas Season. Why don’t you go and see her? She is bound to lift your spirits. She is such a lovely lady. Have our carriage take you, dear. She can still use the carriage, can’t she, Wally?” Her mother’s tone was calm, and composed, and more than a little cold, though her eyes rioted with emotion. She looked pointedly at Ann, and Ann chanced a glance at her father. He seemed completely oblivious to the message her mother was attempting to convey to her.

  She only hoped she understood what her mother wanted her to do.

  “Oh, aye, aye. I wouldn’t begrudge the girl that. We cannot have anyone else in the ton know that we have fallen on such hard times. No, indeed. We must keep up appearances. You go and see your little friends, Ann.”

  Ann looked away, and rolled her eyes. Her father was a bloody doddering idiot. He had put his lot in with the foul Sir Wilfrid, and now…now, she was going to pay the price. Marrying Sir Wilfrid was out of the question. She would do anything not to become part of a bride price pact. She would go to any lengths, and it would seem, so would her mother.

  She had the love of one parent at least. That warmed her heart, and kept her from becoming a watering pot.

  The Ton was about to be shaken by a scandal…a scandal of her own making.

  She would not be marrying that greedy lecherous old man. She would not entertain the ridiculous notion, it was complete and utter flapdoodle, and if she was going to keep herself from becoming a virginal sacrifice to Sir Wilfrid, she would have to act fast.

  There was absolutely no time for delay, and she couldn’t second guess herself. She had to run to the only man that could save her from this horrible situation.

  She had to go to Clarence Deville.

  Chapter Two

  Clarence Deville sat studying the four kings with his mates, Felix ‘Tiny’ Grey, Baron Spaulding, Gilbert ‘Lucky’ Jones, Baron Prescott, and his friend from his Eton days, Cassius Fane, 4th Earl of Chorley. Back when they had all been together at Eton, he, Cyril and Cassius had been known as the three C’s.

  Tiny and Lucky had come to town to stay with him at the townhouse that he had just purchased and called, Evesham House. They had recently all come into a good deal of money, courtesy of a financial venture they had taken part in with Mr. Edward Lovett.

  By doing so, Clarence was now completely independent. He hadn’t exactly been poorly off before what with the money he gained from his Estate in Gloucestershire, Evesham Hall, which went along with his courtesy title of Earl of Evesham, but now…now, he had enough money to live more than comfortably in London, in a residence of his own making. Come to think of it, he had enough money to do whatever the hell he bloody wanted. He was set for life. He felt as if he was rich as Croesus.

  As families in the ton went, the Devilles were quite well off, but there had never been a townhouse for the heir apparent in London before, but not anymore, now Clarence could stay in London without having to be under his parent’s roof. Not that he minded being under their roof at Deville House, but the freedom of having his own residence was rather exciting—and empowering. He was a boy no more. Now, he could be considered his own man.

  Tiny and Lucky had exposed him to a scandalous and rather decadent part of the life in London that he hadn’t known existed before. His father had attempted to start his education on how to pleasure a woman once he had turned eighteen, by taking him to a few women who made their living by selling their bodies, and Tiny and Lucky had furthered it by taking him to some of the establishments on King’s Street.


  Those dens of iniquity had opened his eyes to the ways of the world, and though he had enjoyed himself immensely, all of the women offered to him there, paled in comparison to the woman he wanted.

  Tiny, Lucky and maybe even Cassius, probably believed him to be a killjoy, but his heart didn’t hanker after the Birds of Paradise, he could find at the brothels. His heart desired only one beautiful woman, and she spurned his advances at every opportunity. Most would have given up, and moved onto to another woman who would give them the attention they sought—but not, Clarence. No, he would persevere until he had what he wanted.

  “What do you think, Tiny? Should we go and have another night on the Town?” Lucky asked, as they drank their whisky, and Tiny smoked his pipe, and Clarence and Cassius continued to peruse their cards. Cass was looking at his cards so intently, Clarence wagered he was trying to make them magically turn into a better hand.

  Clarence couldn’t say that he was particularly fond of the scent of pipe tobacco, and only allowed it in his house because they were sitting alone, with no ladies present. That and the fact that he wasn’t altogether certain that Tiny would put aside his pipe, if Clarence asked him to, and he was loathed to put it to the test.

  “I reckon we could,” Tiny mused, between puffs, “or we could sit at home, and have a quiet night with Clarence, and Lord Chorley, should he decide to stay—and continue our friendly games.” He smiled broadly, holding the pipe away from his mouth. At his remark, Lucky and Cassius both chuckled. “I think I can hear a certain lady calling me name. She never calls me Tiny when we are in the…now what did Freddie’s father call it once?”

  “Boudoir. He said it was a ladies evening receiving room…” Clarence said.

  “Well, whatever it is, I am well received in it,” Tiny joked.

  Clarence laughed, and Cassius smiled. His mates were trying desperately to keep his spirits up, and though they were succeeding to a certain extent, he still felt rather low.