Regency Romance: Promise Me (4-in-1 Book Boxed Set): The Duke’s Wicked Wager Collection (The Duke’s Wicked Wager Sweet and Wholesome Regency Romance Series)
Page 14
He groaned as the Duke entered.
“Good Evening.” George said. He was pale and pink-cheeked from the cold.
“Did you ride here, your Grace?” Evelyn asked. “Why did you not take a coach? It is freezing out there!”
She beckoned him into the room and sent a servant for another cup of chocolate.
“I did not want the servants to heave to fuss,” said George. “And I trust a horse better than a coach, in weather like this.”
“I am glad you could make it, Your Grace. I have found a means of beating the Evermonts at billiards at long last, would you care to learn?” Adele asked. She offered him the billiards cue, no longer needing it for a weapon.
Frederic held the other. He was looking down at his nails and picking at something beneath them.
“I doubt even that will be enough to save Pemberton from a good thrashing,” said Frederic.
His words were met with silence. He lifted his gaze from his hands, hesitantly meeting the Duke’s eyes. The playful ribbing was the first words he had spoken to the Duke since the argument the day Lord Lush had proposed.
“I will have you know, I have been practicing.” The Duke set down his chocolate and took the cue from Adele, sidling up to the billiards table with a new confidence.
Evelyn, laughing, said, “You bought a table just to practice? Oh, you did! That is precious. Well, let us see if your hard work has paid off. Did you pay for lessons as well?”
The Duke’s blush answered the question for him. “I found myself with an abundance of time. It seemed an ideal way to fill the hours.”
“Now if you lose it will be all the more embarrassing,” Evelyn teased.
She sat down beside Adele to watch. The fire in the hearth warmed her back, as snow piled up outside the window. Flakes fell in gusts as the storm rose in intensity, but despite its best efforts it could not penetrate Evermont and the warmth inside the manor. The Duke did lose, but he made a far better showing of it than he had in the past. Best of all, the game had been filled with the good-natured teasing she had come to expect from the two men; cautious at first, but in full swing by the last ball.
Evelyn did not realize she was staring at the Duke until he looked up at her, in the same sort of way she had been looking at him. They shared a smile. He stayed the evening in one of the guest rooms, his usual room by now, and when they woke the house had been buried in snow. Laughing, they opened the front door and piled out into the downy snowbanks. Covered in furs, they hardly felt the cold. Piling the snow into a compact ball with her gloved hands, Evelyn began to build a horse. She had just finished the body when something collided with her back, then two more hits. Indignant, she spun around. Adele, Frederic, and George were shaking with laughter, and Adele hid her hands behind her back.
“You had better not throw that!” Evelyn said.
She hardly got the words out of her mouth before her supposed friend threw the ball of slush at her. It splattered on her chest.
“Oops,” said Adele.
Evelyn had a snowball in hand before the other woman could run, and she caught the French woman in the shoulder with a good hit. It devolved into chaos after that. Tentative teams were formed, with Evelyn and George against Frederic and Adele. A moment of temptation was too great to ignore, however, and while George was focused on taking Frederic down, Evelyn got him in the back of the head.
They did not go inside until they were sodden and shivering. Evelyn warmed herself with a long soak in the tub, and Adele came in as she was dressing.
“I would wear something nicer than that,” Adele said, dismissing Evelyn’s dress with a wave of her hand.
“Why?” Evelyn asked, suspicious.
Adele huffed. “Just do it, Evie! You will thank me later.”
The Duke was waiting at the base of the stairs. Adele’s words and George’s unrumpled appearance took on sudden meaning, and her stomach filled with butterflies. He wrapped her shoulders in a fox fur shawl of mottled grey and led her outside. A sleigh, pulled by two black horses in patent tack, waited just in front of the steps, so she could climb in without stepping into the deep snow. The Duke helped her up, then hopped in beside her and laid a fur blanket across their laps. As the coachman urged the horses forward, he gave her a muff for her hands.
“Thought of everything, have you?”
The sleigh ride took them over the fields they had ridden together, and out into the woods along the cleared path between the trees. Snow billowed up on either side of the sleigh as it cut through the banks, and light flakes fell on Evelyn’s upturned face. Trees looked like glass, encased in ice and snow.
“It has taken me far too long to do this,” said George, as the sleigh slowed and he could be heard over the sound of rushing wind. “But I hope to have eternity to make up for it.”
Time stilled.
Perfect silence encased them in a snow filled wonderland, and the coachman in his dark clothes faded in the background; all she could see was George, turning to her with a red nose. She could not speak to reply, did not want to ruin the moment with a careless word.
“Lady Evermont, I have struggled against my affection for you. I have pushed you away. It was a fool’s errand. I can no more deny my love for you than I may deny my own name. Marry me, and give me the joy of spending a lifetime righting all of the wrongs I have done to you.”
His raw, open look was all the confirmation Evelyn had ever needed. Through tears, she nodded.
“Yes?” he asked, and she could see the brightness in his own eyes.
“Yes, you dolt, yes.”
~.~
5
The day of the wedding dawned with biting cold and grey skies. Evelyn had woken early and gone to the stables with a pocket of apples. She had fed each horse a piece of the fruits. It had been a suitable distraction, but she had run out of horses and time. There was the threat of snow in the air, crisp and wet, on her walk back to the house but with all luck, it would hold off until the wedding was over.
She dressed in a silver gown, trimmed with white fur and silk while Adele, her only bridesmaid, wore pink. Frederic looked as nervous as she felt. Evelyn was thankful she had not eaten because her stomach was twisting into knots as they climbed into the sleigh to ride to the parish. Inside, Adele fussed over Evelyn’s hair, straightening the silk flowers on her bonnet that had gotten knocked astray during the sleigh ride. Snow began to fall, a gentle drifting of flakes.
When the parish doors opened, her heart leapt at the sight. The Duke stood before the altar, dressed in a crisp suit; the only nod to his usual look was the gently rumpled hair that framed his angular face. Had there ever been a man more handsome? Frederic’s arm was a steadying presence as they walked down the aisle, though it shook beneath hers until he handed her off at the end of the rows, to stand at the Duke’s side before the vicar.
Through the lengthy reading from the Book of Prayers, Evelyn could hardly keep from reaching out to George, touching him to stay grounded in the whirlwind of emotions. The vicar passed her hand to the Duke’s, and with clasped hands they said their vows.
“I will,” said George, with tears in his eyes.
“Evelyn Emma Evermont, wilt thou have this Man to thy wedded Husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?” The vicar’s voice was strong despite his age, and she felt each word as he said it.
“I do,” said Evelyn, meaning it to the depths of her bones.
Adele and Frederic were crying, tears blotting the register as they gathered around to sign. Evelyn, having managed not to sob thus far, was undone when George embraced her the moment his signature was down, to whisper “wife” into her ear. It gave her chills, to have him call her so.
All four of them squeezed together in the sleigh to ride back to Pemberton.
“Do move over, Evelyn,” said Frederic. “Just because you are a married woman now, does not make you any less my sister and so I may boss you around as I please.”
Adele elbowed him in the ribs, judging from his grunt of pain. The Duke, with one arm draped in casual affection across Evelyn’s shoulders, tugged her closer to him.
“Ah but she is my wife now, Evermont, so I may fight you over your rudeness,” he said, laughing and planting a kiss on Evelyn’s bonnet.
Adele protested, “She is mine, mon amie, and there is naught either of you may do to change that!”
“I love you all, but you must know, Diadem comes first in my heart,” Evelyn teased in a deadpan voice.
They all laughed as the carriage crossed a stone bridge with wrought-iron rails to enter the Pemberton demesne. From the drive, the massive home, set behind an iced lake, stretched on farther than she could see. “Ride us past the stables,” George said, and although Frederic complained, the coachman complied.
“Yes, your Grace.”
Evelyn stared wide eyed at the expanse. Her own stable was indeed, a handful oGeorgef horses.
“How will I ever learn all their names?” she asked, and the Duke burst into the deep laughter that rumbled into her bones.
“We will have to ride a different mount each day, my Duchess,” he said with a smile. “Until every one of them pesters you for apple treats.”
The Duke helped her from the sleigh, and the group went, with laughter and jabs, into the breakfast-scented house where the servants waited in a line to greet their new mistress. Though it was her first time at the grand estate, with George’s hand wrapped around hers, it already felt like coming home.
~.~
If you liked this story, please be sure to go back to
Amazon and leave a review.
Isabella Thorne loves to hear from her fans and can be contacted at www.isabellathorne.com
To be notified when the next book by Isabella Thorne is available, please go to www.isabellathorne.com
Sign up for the newsletter and
You will also receive a FREE STORY from Isabella!
Continue reading Regency Romance By: Isabella Thorne
Just one Christmas Kiss
Book 1 in
Mistletoe and Masquerade ~ 2-in-1 Collection
*2 BOOK BOX SET*
NOW ONLY $0.99
**READ FREE ON KINDLE UNLIMITED**
SNEAK PEAK of the story of Lady Matilda Dartmount and Lord Barrington in
Just one Christmas Kiss
Book 1 in
Mistletoe and Masquerade ~ 2-in-1 Collection
Just One Christmas Kiss:
Regency Romance
1
One mistletoe. A single kissing bough was the only concession to the holidays her Aunt Alda would allow. Matilda had picked it herself two months prior, and now the green, leafy bough hung with a red ribbon above the doorway of the parlor, red berries waiting to be plucked. Of course, they would not be plucked, for there was no one to kiss and there would be no holiday ball. Matilda’s aunt, Lady Claridge, her father’s eldest sister, hated Christmas with passion. The old widow had no patience for the frivolity of holiday festivities. In fact she had no patience for anything with the slightest resemblance to fun.
If it were not for Matilda’s young brother, Clarence, she would not have minded so much. He was only ten and he deserved a true Christmas, filled with parties and plum puddings and ice skating, but alas, it was not to be. Even the weather was not cooperating. There was not a single snowflake and it was already the middle of December.
“She is looking at you, Mattie,” whispered Clarence, from beside her. “And she looks cross about it.”
Matilda stepped back from the window. She was being rude to the guests, and though she was not the hostess of this particular….party, she was still expected to entertain. They were, after all, her potential suitors. Lord Gibbon and Lord Mullens were engaged in a fierce discussion over the finer points of politics, ignoring her completely while Warwick was helping himself to the canapés. Warwick was the only one of them paying her any mind at all, but Lady Claridge and her clear-eyed gaze left no doubt her opinions on Matilda’s behavior. It was Aunt Alda’s fault for inviting three gentlemen over at once; whenever men gathered in a group they found each other the most diverting entertainment and Matilda was inclined to let them go their way and leave her alone.
“They are too old anyway,” Clarence said wrinkling up his nose and making a face like a dour old man while hobbling forward to his sister.
Matilda stifled a giggle. This was precisely the reason she had rescued Clarence from the school room. She needed his levity. Clarence was not wrong, either. All of the men had grey in their hair, and their bellies had gone to paunch. “Maybe Auntie should snag one for herself,” he whispered.
“You devil,” said Matilda, though privately she agreed.
At least they would be gone soon, before the roads turned slick with ice. At least since the private gatherings were not as formal as a ball, Aunt Alda did not see the need to allow anyone to stay at the house, which suited Matilda just fine, but she would dearly love a ball, with guests her own age instead of with one foot in the grave. She stepped into the center of the room and Lord Gibbon was at her side a moment later, offering her a flute of honeyed wine. Matilda took it, dodging his fingers as they tried to brush against hers.
“I was so sorry to hear about your parents, Lady Dartmount.. Dreadful business, and with the boy so young.”
“The boy is my brother. His name is Clarence,” she said a bit tartly. “And he is now the Marquis of Dartmount. He is not the boy.”
I’m sorry. I meant no disrespect. A true pity,” he repeated, trying again to touch her hand in a conciliatory gesture. Her parent’s death was a tragedy, but Lord Gibbon had swooped in the moment the news had reached his ears, quick as a vulture over fresh carrion. Matilda’s father had not allowed suitors; he thought her too young. Matilda was inclined to agree with her father, at least, she was too young for Lord Gibbon.
The fire that had stolen her parents a year ago had forced her to leave her home as well. At first, it was just until the repairs were finished, and then, well she had to remain on with Aunt Alda as her chaperone. After all, her Aunt reminded her. There was no hurry to rebuild Dartmount. It would be a while before Clarence was old enough to live there on his own; but Matilda would never be lady of Dartmount. Her home, even if were rebuilt, was lost to her, as lost as her parents. She would marry and be at home wherever her husband lived. She wanted more than anything to go home, but the truth was she no longer felt at home anywhere. Home was where her family was, and the only true family she had was Clarence. Of course, there was Aunt Alda, and her uncle. Alda’s brother who appeared occasionally when he could be bothered to escort them about town or get funds from Aunt Alda’s account, but it was Clarence Matilda thought of, when she thought of family– Clarence and her parents– now dead.
She took a deep breath. “Thank you, Lord Gibbon.” She looked past him. Aunt Alda gave her an approving nod. He must be the wealthiest of the trio, then. “It has been trying for my little brother, but we will get through it together. It is so good to have family nearby; is it not?” She asked, casting a brittle smile at Lord Gibbon, who sputtered. It was well known that his own sister was a veritable shrew who was destined to remain on the shelf, and Lord Gibbon spent most of his time at his club to avoid her. Matilda was tempted to see how shrewish she could be, just to drive the man off. Even if Lord Gibbon had been ten years younger and a stone or two lighter, she was disinclined to consider him for a husband. He was as boring as a lump of stone himself.
It was two hours later before she was rid of the lot of them. Matilda sank into a chair. There was nothing more exhausting than socializing with people you had nothing in common with. Clarence had been collected by his tutor and had long ago gone to bed, no longer required to wear the guise of a young lord.
“I
have never been so happy to see the back of a man,” Aunt Alda said.
Matilda turned to her, surprised. “Truly? I thought you were hoping for a proposal this very evening, the way you kept throwing me at them.”
“Oh, they all offered for you well before this evening, dear. But I thought you should at least have a chance to meet them before I accepted. I see now that none of them will do.”
~.~
Continue reading Regency Romance By: Isabella Thorne
Just one Christmas Kiss
Book 1 in
Mistletoe and Masquerade ~ 2-in-1 Collection
*2 BOOK BOX SET*
NOW ONLY $0.99
**READ FREE ON KINDLE UNLIMITED**
To be notified when the next story is published, and to get a FREE STORY sign up for Isabella’s newsletter at www.isabellathorne.com
Please Like Isabella Thorne on Facebook
https://www.facebook.com/Isabella-Thorne-Author-1737782389810565/
Share or comment on an Isabella Thorne Facebook post for a chance to WIN an AMAZON GIFT CARD