A Match for Mother

by Mona Gedney, Kathryn Kirkwood, Regina Scott

  A MATCH FOR MOTHER

  Mona Gedney, Kathryn Kirkwood, Regina Scott

  CONTENTS

  “A Match for Mama” by Mona Gedney; “Lady Radcliffe’s Ruse” by Kathryn Kirkwood; “Sweeter Than Candy” by Regina Scott

  Mothers—they wipe away the tears and shave a wonderful kind of love. It’s hardly surprising that the resourceful children of Regency widows decide that their dear mamas have been alone too long and start searching for those special men who will put a sparkle back in their mothers’ eyes...

  Lady Lovington’s grown children have good reason for “Marrying off Mama” in Mona Gedney’s delightful story. While most people find her scrapes and escapes charming, Elizabeth and Reginald live in fear of what Mama will do next. Surely marriage to a military gentleman will provide her ladyship with stability. But, naturally, Mama manages to fall in love with someone they hadn’t quite expected.

  The machinations of newly-engaged Willow to see her mother in the same happy state as she result in “Lady Radcliffe’s Ruse” by Kathryn Kirkwood. Having no wish to remarry, Claire Radcliffe resorts to a pretend engagement with the rakish Earl of Sommerset. But she soon finds herself in an all-too-real courtship—falling under the irresistible spell of this very determined gentleman.

  In Regina Scott’s charming story, the young Masters Jacob know that their mama Cynthia is “Sweeter than Candy” but can they convince their grown-up friend Daniel Lewiston that he should court her ... especially when Cynthia’s memories of Daniel are less than fond? Surprisingly, all goes well ... until the little boys reveal their matchmaking scheme.

  Share in the joy of children’s love for their mothers, mothers’ love for their children—and the love that grows between a man and a woman when a perfect match is made...

  A MATCH FOR MAMA

  Mona Gedney

  “Well, of course I think Mama should marry again!” exclaimed Reginald, striding up and down the room and rumpling his dark hair until it stood up in disordered tufts. “She’s the dearest woman in the world, Bet—you know that I think that she is—but if she were married, surely she would have less time to rearrange our lives and to get herself into trouble! Perhaps we would have at least a quarter of an hour to ourselves!”

  He paused a moment and stared at his sister sternly, quite as though she might be held accountable for the actions of their mother. “I don’t suppose you realize that while I was out of town she repapered my bedchamber and had a talk with my housekeeper about what I should be eating—just as though I were a child instead of a man of six and twenty with his own establishment!”

  “You shouldn’t be surprised, Reggie,” responded Elizabeth calmly. “You know how she has been fussing over you. She thinks that you’ve lost weight and grown a little pale. She just wanted to be certain that you’re taking care of yourself—and I daresay that she repapered your room in cheerful colors—she thinks that colors have a definite influence on your mood.”

  Reginald nodded in disgust. “I now have a bedroom that looks like a lemon meringue—all swirls of yellow and white—but I suppose I should be grateful that she didn’t do anything more outrageous than that, like coming down to Brighton with me to be certain that I ate my dinner every night.”

  He thought with considerable bitterness of her unexpected arrival at his snug hunting lodge just last autumn. He and three of his particular companions had just settled in for a comfortable fortnight of hunting, drinking, and masculine camaraderie when his mother had descended upon them with her excellent cook and baskets of delicacies, announcing that she was certain that they would starve if dear Reggie were left to provide for them.

  She was already a favorite with the young men there, who looked upon her as a combination of mother, sister, and confessor, so they could see no difficulty with her staying with them for the entire visit, nor would they allow Reginald to say a word against her doing so. To his dismay, she had gambled with them and exchanged stories with them and ridden with them—although at least she had not taken part in the hunt herself. Their mother did not approve of blood sports.

  “Come now, Reggie,” she had told him. “Don’t be so stuffy! Your friends are having a good time—why cannot you do so, too?” If she perceived that her stories about flirtations and love affairs somewhat inhibited his ability to have a good time, she made no mention of it. She had seemed for all the world like one of the boon companions of his friends. It was no less than highway robbery.

  With this experience vividly in mind, he turned back to Elizabeth, and replied with emphasis, “So in response to your question, dear sister, I would again say yes! By all means, let us find Mama a husband so that she doesn’t have enough time to rearrange our lives entirely or to get herself into mischief.”

  He ruffled his hair once more and smiled wickedly. “If there were any justice, Mama would marry someone who was forever getting himself into trouble so that she would be the one who had to worry and fret and expect the worst.”

  Elizabeth, tall and dark and slender like her brother, smiled at him grimly, thinking of their mother’s brief second marriage. That husband, like her first, had been far from the type of man Reginald was describing. Sir George Lovington, a quiet and conservative country gentleman, had lived only six months after their wedding, dying, Reginald had announced to her privately, out of fear of what his beloved new wife might do next. He had succumbed to death shortly after Lady Lovington had gambled away ten thousand pounds in one night, making herself the talk of the ton for at least the whole of the next week. Sir George could easily pay the debt, but the notoriety had disturbed him.

  “I don’t believe that Mama would ever marry that type of gentleman, Reggie—or at least she has not thus far—and perhaps marriage might keep her that busy,” Elizabeth replied doubtfully, “but I don’t recall that that has been the case. Mama has far too much energy for one person.”

  “Don’t I know it!” he agreed, ruffling his hair once more as he recalled various recent other forays his mother had made into his life, rearranging his small household staff, giving advice to his valet, inspecting whatever barque of frailty he was favoring with his attentions at the moment.

  Lady Lovington appeared not to realize that there were some things that just weren’t done by mothers—and the thing that perturbed him most was that he and Elizabeth—and the late Sir George—appeared to be the only ones disturbed by her peregrinations. Others were either amused by her antics or they dismissed her frequently unusual behavior as what was to be expected of a delightful eccentric.

  Mercy Rochester, now the widowed Lady Lovington, was a universal favorite—sunny-tempered, kindhearted, and amusing. Only her own two children, although they loved her dearly, appeared to be troubled by her propensity to get herself into trouble.

  “I think, Reggie, that her next husband had best be someone who can have a greater influence on her actions than Sir George did,” said Elizabeth, her tone even more serious than it usually was. Elizabeth had inherited little of their mother’s frivolous nature and her quick humor. “I only wish that she were already married to such a man. Perhaps then we would not be at sixes and sevens at home as we are just now.”

  His attention arrested by her tone and her ominous remark, her brother stopped his restless pacing and stared at her, his expression suddenly fearful. He had been out of town only three weeks.

  “Is there something wrong, Bet? Is that what’s brought you out to see me so early this morning?” he demanded. “She hasn’t gotten herself into another scrape, has she?” There was no immediate response, and Reginald leaned toward his sister pleadingly. “Please tell me that she hasn’t!” Elizabeth, unable to give such reassurance, was
silent. Her hands, daintily gloved in yellow kid, were folded in her lap, and she appeared to be studying them intently.

  Able to bear it no longer, Reginald pulled her abruptly to her feet and put his hand under her chin, forcing her to look at him. “What is it, Bet? What has she done this time?”

  Elizabeth shrugged. “It was another bet, Reggie—and of course everyone knows about it. She was racing Lady Vickery in the park and overset her curricle as she took a curve.”

  “Was she hurt? No,” he said, answering his own question before she could reply, “you would have tracked me to the far ends of the earth if she had been injured.”

  “Mama wasn’t hurt—but she caused a gentleman to be thrown from his own curricle and injured quite badly.”

  Here Reginald sank into a chair and stared at her. Their mother’s antics, however wild, had never before caused anyone any serious hurt. “Was it anyone we know, Bet?”

  “No—although we shall soon know him very well indeed.”

  “What does that mean?” he asked apprehensively.

  “Colonel Anderson is home on leave from the Peninsula and hasn’t any relatives in town, so Mama had him taken to our home—along with his aide.”

  Seeing his astonished expression, she added defensively, “Well, she couldn’t just leave him friendless, Reggie! Mama was conscience-stricken when she saw what a disaster her carelessness had caused. And she has sworn faithfully that she will never again act without thinking of the possible consequences.”

  Her brother snorted in disbelief.

  “Well, I’m certain that you’re right, Reggie,” she sighed. “No doubt she will do something outrageous as soon as this is behind her—which is why we really must find her a husband who will be a settling influence.”

  Reginald nodded, his usually cheerful countenance creased by a worried frown. “She gets worse and worse. We’re fortunate that the man wasn’t killed outright. Has she thought that next time she might not be so lucky?”

  “Oh, indeed she has! And you know how soft-hearted she is, Reggie. Mama would never intentionally hurt anyone. You really mustn’t scold her when she is already so distressed.” He looked unconvinced, but they both knew full well that neither of them had the power to remain angry with their mother for very long.

  “You haven’t told me yet that this Colonel Anderson will be all right—he will, won’t he, Bet?” he asked anxiously. “Mama hasn’t done him any permanent damage, has she?”

  “No, fortunately the surgeon assures us that he will be quite well again. And in the meantime, the poor man is besieged by attentions. If Mr. Grant, his aide, were not here to protect him from the ministrations of Mama and Aunt Lucinda, why, I’m certain—”

  “Aunt Lucinda!” exclaimed Reginald, unable to let her continue. “What the devil is Aunt Lucinda doing in London?”

  Elizabeth looked at him in amusement. “When she heard that Mama had two men in the house with no proper chaperone, she closed up her home and came down to play propriety. I knew that you would be delighted to hear the news.”

  Reginald groaned. Aunt Lucinda, their father’s sister, was a tart-tongued spinster who spoke her mind at every opportunity, and all too often he had found himself the subject of her comments. He foresaw nothing but more trouble with her presence, for she too was under Mama’s spell.

  Suddenly, however, his eyes brightened and he leaped from his chair to pace up and down the length of his drawing room.

  “This military man that she ran down, Bet—is he truly a gentleman?” he inquired eagerly.

  “He certainly appears to be so. Why do you ask?”

  “And what age is he?”

  “He is an older gentleman—about Mama’s age, I suppose. He has a touch of gray in his hair like Sir George did, though, and Mama, of course, has none.”

  She looked at him suspiciously. “Why? What are you thinking of, Reggie?

  He grabbed her hands and pulled her up from the sofa, swinging her round. “I am thinking, dear sister, that he may be the answer to our prayer! Who better than a military man to take a firm hand with Mama? And since he is spending time with her already, why could he not fall in love with her? Everyone else does.”

  Elizabeth laughed in spite of her doubts. As always, Reginald’s good humor was contagious, and she found herself believing that Colonel Anderson might be the answer to their prayers—a safe haven for their irrepressible mother.

  “So tell me what you know of him, Bet,” he demanded a few minutes later as they bowled along the busy street toward the townhouse where Elizabeth lived with their mother.

  “Well,” she began slowly, “he is a well-bred man of good family.”

  “Good,” nodded Reginald encouragingly. “That is a must, of course. We could not have Mama marry someone unsuitable. Has he ever been married?”

  “Yes, but he is a widower, and he says that he has been for a good many years.”

  “Good—at least we know that he is not averse to marriage. Were there any children?”

  “No. He has mentioned that they both regretted the fact that there were none.”

  “Even better,” responded Reggie. “Mama does not need other children—even grown ones—to look after. Is he a kind man?” he added abruptly. “That is a necessity for Mama.”

  Elizabeth nodded, a smile deepening the dimples that were very like those of her mother. “He must be, Reggie. He has been at our house for some ten days with Mama ministering to him, and he has never once complained.”

  Reginald shuddered. “Has she been cooking for him?”

  She nodded again, solemnly this time, but with a light in her eyes that denied her serious expression. “Milk toast,” she said briefly, “and chamomile tea, punctuated by an occasional coddled egg and beef tea.”

  “Dear Lord, Bet,” groaned Reginald. “My heart goes out to the poor man. Surely you’ve managed to sneak in other food to him or he would have wasted away by now.”

  “Aunt Lucinda and I—and Mr. Grant, of course—have managed well enough,” she replied. “We have managed to smuggle in at least two full meals each day. However, Mama thinks that he’s thriving on the diet that she has prescribed and prepared with her own hands.”

  “And the surgeon is right—that he is really mending?” inquired Reginald, suddenly apprehensive. “I mean, are you absolutely sure that Mama hasn’t been responsible for an injury that has done him permanent damage?”

  Elizabeth patted his hand reassuringly. “I admit that things looked quite wicked at first. When I got home that afternoon, Mama was wringing her hands outside the guest room and the surgeon and Mr. Grant were inside with the colonel. All Mama could tell me was that he was unconscious and bleeding and that his right leg had been bent at a very odd angle. The surgeon says that fortunately it was a clean break and Colonel Anderson will be as ‘right as rain’ once it has time to mend.”

  Reassured, Reginald heaved a sigh of relief and they turned their thoughts once more to the much more agreeable prospect of marrying their mama to her unsuspecting victim.

  “Don’t worry, Bet,” said Reginald blithely as they pulled up in front of the house. “I promise you that if we put our minds to it, within a matter of weeks—or perhaps even days—we will have Mama safely married.”

  The subject of their distress had problems of her own to contend with. Lady Lovington pushed back a bright tendril that had escaped her topknot of curls and paused a moment to fan her flushed cheeks. The kitchen, situated in the basement of the townhouse, grew very warm on sunny days like this. She did not pause for self-pity, though, however little she might enjoy spending her time in such a way. She was preparing the colonel a light meal to help him regain his strength. It had seemed to her that he had a slight fever earlier that morning, even though Dr. Stout had said that he could detect none, and she had not the slightest intention of allowing their patient to suffer a relapse. She still had nightmares in which he did not recover as quickly as he appeared to be doing in real life
, so she could take nothing for granted.

  Settling herself on a stool safely out of the way of the bustling cook, she waited for the water to boil to fix his tea. It was there that Jack Grant found her.

  “Come now, Lady Lovington,” he said kindly, “you know that Colonel Anderson doesn’t wish for you to be down here in the kitchen spending your time fixing things for him. He sent me down to make sure that you were doing no such thing.”

  “It’s kind of you to come and check upon me, Mr. Grant, and kind of your colonel to send you,” she replied, smiling up at him gently, “but it would be cruel to deny me this. I must feel as though I’m doing something to make amends for my carelessness.”

  “I’ve tried to get her to accept at least some of her engagements and go out instead of languishing at home in the kitchen and the sickroom, but I’m afraid, young man, that it would take an act of God to change her mind once she’s decided to do something,” said Lucinda Rochester, who had entered the kitchen on his heels. “That’s what my brother Edward always said about Mercy, and I must say that she has proved his judgment correct again and again.”

  Lady Lovington laughed a little self-consciously and smoothed the skirt of her gown as she stood. “Yes, I’m afraid that I was a terrible trial to him. Edward was very sensible and patient, and so terribly logical. He always tried to anticipate what he called my ‘odd fits’ so that he could keep me out of trouble.”

  It was her sister-in-law’s turn to laugh. “But I don’t believe I recall a single time when he managed to do that, Mercy. You led Edward a merry chase.”

  “Forgive us, Mr. Grant,” said Lady Lovington, glancing at him apologetically. “I’m sorry to be boring you to distraction with our memories.”

  “But you aren’t, Lady Lovington,” he replied courteously, “not at all. I’m most interested in what Miss Rochester was saying.”

  “A very civil young man,” said Lucinda, looking at him approvingly. Then she turned back to Lady Lovington and patted her hand. “But even though you led him a merry chase, my dear, he loved every moment of it. He wouldn’t have had you change a hair.”