Hearts Beneath The Mistletoe

by Jenna Jaxon

  “I beg your pardon, Mamma. I meant no disrespect toward you.” Alec grasped her hand and squeezed it. His mother was a dear soul and he wouldn’t hurt her for the world. His father, however, had something to answer for. “But Father needs to tell me where this money went, as it seems I am the one who will be made to pay for it.”

  “By God, Alexander,” his father began to bluster, but Alec cut him off.

  “Just tell me, Father. We are almost home and I would not have the servants get wind of this, although God knows they probably have known for years.” He was likely the last one, save his younger sisters Patrice and Theodosia, to know anything that went on in the household.

  “It started with a series of bad crop years. I borrowed just enough to see us through. There was one excellent year and then the disastrous cold summer of 1816 wiped it all out. I had to borrow again to see everyone through the winter with enough for spring planting the following year.” His father leaned forward. “That accounts for the first five thousand.”

  “I suppose I can see that was necessary.” Alec leaned back and regarded the man across from him. That, however, accounted for only a quarter of the sum. He crossed his arms over his chest. “What else?”

  “Margaret’s dowry.”

  “You borrowed from a dowry you didn’t possess to make up one for your daughter?” Alex sat up so abruptly his hat hit the roof of the carriage. “Hadn’t you provided for that from mother’s settlements?”

  “Yes and no.” His father sank further into the cushion. “Lord Stanley required somewhat more substantial a dowry than we had accounted for.”

  “What were we to do, Alec?” His mother broke in. Her face sagged, as though she were about to weep. “Tell Margaret she couldn’t marry him? She was in love with him. We couldn’t disappoint her so.”

  “How much did Stanley want?” Alec hadn’t liked the viscount from the moment he’d met him. His sister was too good by a mile for the unlicked cub. But Margaret’s face when she looked at him would have melted the hardest heart.

  “Fifteen thousand.”

  Alec gulped.

  Father’s lips stretched into a thin line. “Just so. I might have told Stanley to go to the devil, except Margaret was so set on him. We’d already settled five thousand on each of the girls, so I borrowed another ten and the wedding went forward.”

  Alec had to clear his throat before he could ask, “And the last five thousand?”

  His father’s too-wide smile set Alec even more on edge. “Oh, the remaining sum was for you, son. For your university education.”

  Damn. Alec’s heart sank. “Why didn’t you tell me we didn’t have the means to send me to Oxford? I could have made do with another school or none at all. You certainly didn’t need to row us even further up River Tick.”

  “It really didn’t seem folly at the time, my dear.” Mamma patted his knee just above his polished Hessians. “We truly believed you and Jenny would marry.” She looked up at him hopefully, her face framed by her newest brown velvet bonnet. “Won’t you even consider it, Alec?”

  On the tip of his tongue to deny it, Alec hesitated. His prospects had changed in the blink of an eye. No longer did he have anything much to commend him as a husband other than the expectation of the baronetcy upon his father’s death. When he’d contemplated offering for Miss Winston, he’d assumed he’d inherit an estate free from debt. Few young ladies or their fathers would see his suit as advantageous now. And since his heart was not engaged, well, not truly, although he would sigh a bit over Miss Winston, he’d be willing to do his duty and marry Jenny. Except for his promise.

  “I would be willing, Mama, but I promised her I wouldn’t. She doesn’t want to marry me. I couldn’t go back on my word.” Alec shook his head. The prospects of happiness for either of them at the moment were bleak.

  “Her parents will make her see reason.” His father nodded his head so sharply his tall beaver slid down over his eyes.

  “I will not marry her if her parents have to force her, if they even could.” He smiled into his father’s scowling face. “Jenny has a bit more pluck than any of us bargained for. It’s one of the things I like most about her right now.”

  “How can you say such a thing?” Father had turned an interesting shade of puce. “Your family is about to be ruined and you sit there applauding the reason for it?”

  “I lay this blame squarely on you, Father. Or you and Mr. Crowley. Had you told us from the beginning that you expected us to marry we would have been used to the idea and perhaps not so disinclined.” Alec drummed his fingers on the side of the carriage. Dash it all, it certainly wasn’t fair to Jenny. He’d at least had several years to sow his wild oats. “Jenny’s been told for years she would have her Season in London. To say now that she can’t is just cruel.”

  “Alec, dear, you said you were not averse to marrying Jenny.” Mamma clutched his arm as the carriage turned into the long driveway toward Hazelwood Manor. “Will you at least try to persuade her? If you give each other a chance, you may find everything will work out for the best.”

  “How can I do that, Mamma? She’s heading off to Somerset with her Aunt Arabella.” Thank goodness for a Crowley with some sense. “Her aunt seemed quite determined that Jenny would meet a variety of gentlemen, titled and otherwise, over the Christmas season. When she returns after twelfth night she may well be betrothed.”

  “I can write to Lady Marbury this afternoon and ask for you to be invited as well.” She turned on the seat to pat her husband’s arm.

  Father stared grumpily straight ahead, unspeaking.

  “She might be unwilling to do that, Mama,” he said, trying to keep her from getting her hopes up. “Lady Marbury knows Jenny does not want to marry me. Why would she invite such an unwelcome parti?”

  “Oh, I will plead your case elegantly.” His mother’s knowing smile made Alec’s stomach drop with foreboding. “Who could resist the opportunity to play Cupid?”

  “Please do not say anything rash, Mama.”

  “An unrequited love is so romantic. Just like in the novels from the Minerva library.” She clasped her hands to her chest, her light blue eyes shining. “Lady Marbury will insist on your coming.”

  Alec shrugged. He would attempt this harebrained scheme for the family, although he suspected he’d better spend his time trying to win back their fortune at a gaming hell in London. “Whatever you say, Mama. However,” he leaned forward and grasped his mother’s hands. “I will consent to the marriage only if Jenny wishes it.” He looked earnestly into his mother’s excited face. “If she does not, if she finds another man she prefers to marry, then we must attempt some other means of repairing our fortune.”

  She gave his hands a squeeze and released them. “If I can get you to Marbury Place, then you are as good as married, my dear. I’m sure you will be able to woo Jenny and win her, despite any of the other gentlemen’s suits. After all,” her eyes crinkled as she laughed, “you two were made for each other.”

  Chapter 4

  Alone in her rooms at Marbury Place, Jenny ran her hands lovingly over the white and silver-net ball gown, her favorite dress from Madame Michaud. With a glance at the other four gowns, all presents from her aunt, Jenny sighed and glided out of her dressing room, her feet barely touching the pink carpeted floor. Fresh from a whirlwind trip to her aunt’s modiste in London, she could scarcely credit how much had been accomplished in just ten days.

  Aunt Arabella had spirited her away from Crowley Hall the day after her birthday. They had shopped in London, purchasing not only the dresses she would wear during the house party, but all manner of shoes, half-boots, muffs, spencers, clocked stockings, and hats. Alarmed at the expense she was incurring, she had protested the gifts on the first day. They had just seated themselves in her aunt’s carriage, bound for the theatre, when Aunt Arabella had taken her hands and spoken a comforting word in her ear.

  “As I have only my two sons and no daughters at all to bring out
, and your mother has been kind enough to entrust you to me for the next few weeks, I am going to take this opportunity to spoil you as if you had been my own.” She laughed and raised her hand to tuck one of Jenny’s ebony curls back beneath her bonnet. “Please allow me the honor of bringing you out in our little country society as if you were setting foot in Almack’s in April.” She squeezed Jenny’s hands. “I so want to make this Christmas one you will never forget.”

  So far, her aunt had been as good as her word. Their time in London had been spent not only shopping, but attending the theatre, art museums, and paying calls on her aunt’s friends and relatives. Amazingly, most of these acquaintances had sons of a marriageable age and were swiftly invited to attend the house party. Jenny marveled at Aunt Arabella’s forethought, and blessed her ability to maneuver people into saying yes.

  “Miss Crowley?” Baker, the maid who had been assigned to her for her stay, entered bearing a pair of her old boots, now well-oiled and shiny. “Her ladyship requests your company for tea in the drawing room. Shall I lay out your yellow striped gown?”

  “Yes, thank you, Baker.” She had only been here one full day, but already she had begun to relax and enjoy the house and its inhabitants.

  Her uncle, Lord Marbury, a very tall, jovial man, had greeted her with a kiss on her cheek and pronounced her a credit to the family. Her cousins, somewhat older than she, were nevertheless pleasant gentlemen. When they went in to dinner, she overheard Stephen remark to Eric that, “if only the chaps at school had an idea our cousin was a diamond of the first water, they’d have all been clamoring for an invitation.” She had smiled to herself, more than pleased with the compliment and tingled in anticipation of the first night’s festivities.

  After the maid helped her change and arranged her hair in an attractive coil on top of her head, Jenny ran swiftly down the stairs to the drawing room at the front of the house. The pale green room, furnished with Queen Anne sofas and chairs in a pretty pink and green floral motif, had a cozy fire crackling in the fireplace. Aunt Arabella sat sipping tea, talking animatedly to four older ladies while five young ladies, all apparently of an age with her, were chatting amongst themselves in a separate grouping.

  Jenny gulped. She hadn’t ever met so many strangers at one time. She twined her fingers together as she gazed about looking for her aunt.

  “My dear,” Aunt Arabella’s voice caught her attention and she gestured her over. “Come let me introduce you to some of my neighbors.” Jenny hurried to the group of ladies, made her curtsey, then tried to follow the quick succession of introductions. Lady Camden, Lady Hendle, Lady Moss, and Lady Ivor. And oh, lord, now their daughters. Lady Mary Cope, Miss Longworth, Miss Caroline Longworth, Miss Newel, and Lady Celinda Graham. Almost dizzy with the parade of nobility, Jenny longed to sit in a quiet corner and enjoy a hot cup of tea alone.

  Not today.

  She glanced around the room, awed by all the animated ladies. Most likely she’d not find solitude until she returned to Crowley House. Goodness, she was so unused to meeting this many people at one time, imagine what London would have been like.

  Her aunt and her friends had resumed their conversation. Their daughters, however, surrounded her like hunters closing in for the kill.

  “Have you just arrived, Miss Crowley?” One young lady, dressed in blue with gilt trim—was it Lady Mary?—arched her neck in a superior way.

  Before she could answer, quite the tallest lady of the group grasped her arm and exclaimed, “What a pretty frock you have on. Did you get that in London?”

  Jenny stood tongue-tied as the questions continued fast and thick.

  “Are you related to the Duke and Duchess of Beddingfield? Their family name is Crowley.”

  “No, their name is Crawley, Caroline.”

  “Indeed, Anna, I know it is Crowley. Lady Grace Winthorpe married a younger son and—”

  “You look like you could use a cup of tea right now.” A petite blonde in a sweet pink and cream sprigged dress held out a steaming cup toward her. “Here, let’s go sit here, away from all the fuss.” The young lady motioned toward a pair of chairs in a cozy corner far from the fireplace. “Ladies, please go back to your places. Let Miss Crowley have a minute to accustom herself to our company.”

  Jenny smiled gratefully at her. “Thank you.” She hesitated. Was this Lady Diana or Miss Newel?

  “Lady Celinda Graham,” the blonde supplied with a little tinkling laugh. “It’s always impossible to remember which face belongs to which name when they throw them at you all at once. It’s easier for me, since there’s only one of you.” She smiled, crinkling her eyes and drawing a dimple out of her left cheek. “You’re Miss Crowley, from Hampshire, is that correct?”

  “Please call me Jenny,” she said, dropping gratefully into the plush chair. “I’d prefer that.”

  Lady Celinda seated herself in the companion chair, smoothing out her skirts. She cocked her head. “And I insist you call me Celinda.”

  “Thank you. What a lovely name. I’ve been plain Jenny to my family and friends. I’d like to number you among them.” She sipped her tea, wanting to groan with pleasure as the hot fragrant beverage slid down her throat.

  “I would be honored.” Lady Celinda leaned forward and bounced in her chair. “Are you making your come out this spring? I came out last year and lord, what a fuss Mama made over it.” She wrinkled her small nose. “I did meet some of the most handsome men, and had convinced myself that I was absolutely in love with one, but Papa didn’t approve of him. He didn’t approve of any of the gentlemen I liked.” Her lips puckered and Jenny could see the displeasure in her eyes. “And the suitors he suggested were simply awful and old.” She shuddered. “But this year will be different. And it will be so much more fun to have a friend at all the dances.”

  Jenny hung her head, staring into her teacup. “I doubt I will be allowed a come out, Celinda.”

  “Not to have a come out?” Celinda’s round face looked like a huge “O,” her eyes wide, mouth open. “Why ever not?”

  With a sigh, Jenny launched into her tale of woe. “And so these weeks here at Marbury Place are all I’m to get for a Season.” She sighed and took a sip of her cold tea. “I am most grateful to my aunt for arranging it, but in the end I suppose I shall have to return home and marry Alexander.”

  Celinda, whose face had warmed and paled throughout the explanation, leaned forward and whispered, “Is he old and warty?”

  Jenny laughed and set her cup down. “No, he’s nothing like that. He’s a little older than I, but only by a few years. I’ve known him all my life.” She grew quiet. That was the problem. She didn’t want to marry someone she’d seen climbing trees at ten years old, or falling and skinning his knee. She wanted someone new and exciting, someone she could dance with and flirt with without remembering that they had once poured a bucket of rainwater down her back. Most of all, she wanted to have a choice.

  “Hmmm.” Celinda tapped her finger against her lips. “But the main reason they want you to marry him is because he will inherit his father’s title. Is that right?” Her eyes closed to mere slits.

  Jenny nodded, a sliver of hope dawning within. Did Celinda perhaps have some sort of plan to thwart her parents?

  “So if you fell in love with another gentleman who had a title, they should let you marry him, correct?”

  “I suppose so.” Jenny thought about her great-aunt’s face when she had chastised Mama about not marrying up. She wanted only to be able to crow about having a family member with a title. “I doubt Great-Aunt Henrietta will be very fussy about what the title is.”

  “Splendid. I daresay Lady Marbury has invited quite a few unattached gentlemen, titled or heirs apparent to her party.” Celinda rolled her eyes to stare at the ceiling as she counted, ticking the names off on her fingers. “Lord Buttram, Lord Kentwroth, Lord Vincent, Mr. Pace.” She wagged her finger at Jenny. “Don’t worry, he’s the nephew of Lord Damien, and heir to an earldom,
but no title yet. And of course since any title is higher than a baronet, you could end up marrying into a much more prestigious family.”

  “The Isleys are quite prominent in our area.” Jenny had to defend them. They were like her own family. “Alec’s considered quite a catch in our circles.”

  “Just not by you.” Celinda laughed again. “I suspect a sigh of relief will go up in unison by all the young ladies of your district when they find out he’s still an eligible parti.”

  “I…I suppose so.” Jenny hadn’t quite thought of it in those terms. Of course, no one had known of the betrothal, but her friends who admired Alec would certainly breathe a sigh of relief when they found out she’d relinquished all claim to him. The thought made her uneasy somehow.

  “So now we must plan how to show off your charms to the best advantage these next weeks. You’ll have some competition, but if you decide you have a tendre for anyone in particular, I’ll make sure the other young ladies don’t encroach.” Celinda sighed and shook her head. “I do wish my younger brother was of age. I should love to have you as my sister.”

  “How old is he?”

  “Ten.” Celinda frowned comically, sending Jenny into peals of laughter.

  “Well, much as I would love to be your sister, I doubt my parents are willing to wait eleven years for a betrothal.” She sobered and picked up her tea. Cold or not, it was fortifying. “Now, tell me all you can about Lord Buttram.”

  Chapter 5

  Her first week at Marbury Place had flown by with the speed of a curricle race, Jenny decided, as she and the other ladies retired to the drawing room for tea. Aunt Arabella had taken her to pay calls in the neighborhood, on a two-day outing to Bath, and on another one to attend the theatre in Frome. If this whirlwind pace was usual for a titled lady, she feared she would never keep up. She had, however, loved every minute of her visit. Her only regret was that she hadn’t been able to spend more time with Lady Celinda. A lack she intended to remedy this instant.