Yuletide Happily Ever Afters; A Merry Little Set Of Regency Romances

by Jenna Jaxon

  “Do think nothing of it, Marianne.” A distant hurt in Will’s blue eyes made Marianne want to hang her head. What had come over her? She and William had always teased one another, but somehow, this time, she’d gone too far.

  “A perfunctory apology and most inadequate, Marianne.” Mama’s gaze bored into her until she squirmed. “I suggest you dance with him to show your remorse for being so terribly rude.”

  “That is not necessary, Lady Dalkey—”

  “Mama! I don’t believe that is—”

  “I insist.” Glaring at them both, Mama motioned for Marianne to take William’s arm.

  With as much grace as she could muster, she tucked her arm in his and they quickly moved off toward the dance floor.

  “I’m sorry about this,” she muttered then looked sharply at Will. “What are you going to do with your bow and arrows?”

  Groaning, William left her to stash his equipment behind a tall spruce tree that dominated the far side of the ballroom and returned. “Better?”

  “Much. I feared I would be in danger of finding one of the arrows in my back.” She glanced at him and smiled. They’d often quarreled, but always made it up.

  He grinned. “I think you’re mistaking me for Cupid.”

  Immediately, she relaxed. They were all right again. “Hardly. Cupid wore only a toga or some such thing. Much too scantily clad for this chilly weather. And never have I ever seen a beard on any statue of him.” That beard fascinated her. If gentlemen actually wore those things, might they all look as handsome as Will did?

  “This beard is devilishly itchy.” He rubbed it, and it slipped to the side once more. “It’s stuck on with egg white.”

  Giggling, Marianne tugged it back into place, her fingers trailing over his firm jaw. A jolt of heat raced up her arm, making her flush all over. Stunned, she stepped back and looked at her hand, convinced it would be singed.

  Will stood staring at her, as if he’d experienced the same rush, for his cheeks turned pink. “Did you feel that?”

  She nodded, not taking her gaze off him. “What was it?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t rightly know, but I’ll wager it’s something to do with this blasted beard.”

  The music began, they addressed one another, and began a spritely country dance. They did not speak of that strange spark again, although Marianne couldn’t help thinking about it. Will might’ve been correct that it had been caused by the false beard, but somewhere deep in her heart she didn’t think so.

  CHAPTER 5

  Despite her unsettling encounter with William, Marianne was in high spirits when Lord Sherston came to lead her to the supper dance, which happened to be a quadrille. They joined the other couples on the floor, and Marianne forgot all about her previous trouble in the spritely and quick steps of the dance. While keeping her mind on the intricate patterns, she also frankly gazed at her partner, who acquitted himself excellently in the men’s part.

  As they moved off the floor toward the supper room, Marianne cast a surreptitious glance about for Will, but didn’t spy him. Just as well. Now was the time to discover as much as she could about the dashing Lord Sherston. Will’s comment about her not knowing the earl still sat ill with her, so she proposed to find out as much information as she could wheedle from him during the course of supper.

  With great solicitude, Sherston seated her at a small table then went to the sideboard to fetch them plates full of all sorts of delicacies.

  Marianne craned her neck, still looking for William in the crush. Why she was searching for him she couldn’t quite say. They’d parted on good terms after their dance, but she’d not seen him since. Somehow, she didn’t want to lose sight of him completely. After supper, she’d find him in earnest and be able to tell him truly how she and Lord Sherston might suit.

  The earl returned bearing plates heaped with cold veal pie, roast beef, boiled fowl, ragout of vegetables, blancmange, salad, prawns, and lobster patties. A broad smile on his face, he placed the towering mound of food before her and seated himself beside her.

  Staring at the plate of food she would never be able to consume in its entirety, Marianne said, “Thank you, my lord,” and selected the blancmange. She would eat a variety of items and hope that his lordship would forgive her lack of appetite. Her stomach roiled from nerves as she cast about for a good topic for them to start out with. “You dance excellently, my lord.”

  “Thank you, Miss Covington.” He forked half a lobster patty into his mouth and when he could speak again, said, “You are a delightful partner. I’ve not been able to dance for some time now.”

  Marianne froze, unsure if he was referring to the death of his wife. To cover her lack, she too cut a patty in half and nibbled on it. When she’d recovered, she continued in the only way she could think to. “And why is that, my lord?”

  “My wife passed on this last July. I’ve been in mourning for her ever since.” He stared at his plate then pushed it aside and took a glass of wine from a passing footman.

  “Please accept my sincere condolences, Lord Sherston.” Dropping her gaze to her plate, she took up her fork again and determinedly pushed food around. She’d hoped to find out something less personal—such as whether or not he liked to ride and what music he enjoyed.

  “Thank you, Miss Covington. I assure you I would not have abandoned my blacks so soon after my wife’s death had I not an urgent need to remarry.” Lord Sherston sighed. “I wished to continue my mourning, however my mother and several of my friends insisted that I should begin my search for a new bride before the beginning of the new year. They seemed to think there would be more entertainments for me to attend before the holiday.”

  “That is likely true.” Marianne had to agree. After the first of the year there was hardly anything at all in the way of parties or entertainments until April. “And the need is quite urgent? It cannot wait?”

  “I fear it cannot.”

  There was only one reason a titled gentleman felt the need to marry again soon after the death of his wife: he must feel compelled to produce an heir quickly. This presented a conundrum. Although a wife’s first duty to her husband was, of course, to produce his heir, Marianne had hoped that she and her husband might postpone that blessing of marriage for at least a little while. Let them come to know one another better—in ways they could not while unmarried. She wanted to enjoy a long honeymoon, traveling about Europe, perhaps, without the necessity of returning home due to the imminent birth of a child. Lord Sherston’s bright aura would dim considerably if his reason proved to be what she feared.

  “Can you tell me what that need might be?” They’d both abandoned all pretense of eating, although Marianne had also taken a glass from a footman. She suspected she’d need its fortification.

  “Well, a gentleman needs a wife, of course, as a helpmeet and companion. Someone who will run his household.” The hopeful earl looked deeply into her eyes. “And take care of his children.”

  Lord, she’d been right. Sherston wanted her to give him an heir. But why the rush? The man was rather young to be so intent upon setting up his nursery. Apparently, his wife had been unable to do so, but that still didn’t address his sense of urgency. “You wish a wife to assist you in getting an heir?”

  “Oh no.” Dark brows raised in genuine surprise, the earl sat back in his chair. “Praise God, I have an heir.”

  “You do?” Marianne’s brows rose as well. William had mentioned nothing of the earl having a child, although he truly had no reason to remark on it. Perhaps caring for the child was the reason for Lord Sherston’s hurry. He needed a mother for his son.

  “Yes, Miss Covington. My wife and I were blessed with four sons, in fact.” Lord Sherston’s voice took on a tone of pride. “Ranging in ages from three years to five months.”

  “Four?” Quickly, she looked around. She hadn’t meant for her voice to get so loud. But four boys? In as many years? “You have four sons?”

  “Yes, Miss Co
vington.” His puzzled air made her feel that she was the only one who thought anything unusual about these circumstances. “They are very young, you see, and now they need a mother’s touch in the raising of them.”

  She did see, and in spite of the dawning horror, she continued to smile sympathetically at the earl. Setting aside Lord Sherston’s handsome appearance, impeccable manners, and sad story, he was unmistakably in the market for a mother for his children—both his current and future children. And there would be no doubt he would want future children as well. To have gotten so many in such a short space of time spoke to the man’s determination to populate the world with his progeny. Marianne simply could not do that. “I do understand, my lord. Young children, especially having lost their true mother, must have a special woman in their lives who they will trust, who will care for them as her own, and raise them up in a loving home.”

  The look of unadulterated joy made his handsome face positively angelic. “You do understand exactly my dilemma, Miss Covington. When I first saw you, across the ballroom, I was struck by your kind nature.”

  “You were?” Marianne wriggled uncomfortably in her chair. The conversation had taken a turn she’d expected but now didn’t welcome.

  “It’s very plain on your face, my dear.” He took her gloveless hand in his, making her shudder. “And when we were introduced, I thought to myself, ‘Laurence, she may be the one.’”

  “The one?” Her voice deepened with shock. Was Lord Sherston about to propose to her upon this very brief acquaintance? The horror of the idea made her speechless.

  “Yes, my dear. The one woman who will love and take care of my children and myself.” He stared at her with beautiful, eager brown eyes, rather like a puppy she’d once owned.

  “My lord.” Her mind went blank. How could she gently refuse this poor man? She certainly could not accept him. “I…I do not quite know what to say.” Lord, she must say something. “Other than that I am truly flattered by your confidence in me.” Inspiration struck. “A confidence that, unfortunately, I do not share.”

  His brow furrowed as his smile disappeared. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I am so sorry, my lord. I do understand that you wish to provide a mother for your children as quickly as possible, however, I fear I am not that woman.” Marianne gripped his hand. “Being scarcely out of the schoolroom, I have no skills to be a successful mother. It is a role I hope to grow into in due time, but at present, I believe I might do more harm than good for your sons. And for you.” She released his hand. “You must seek out a woman who will cherish them, and you, with all her heart.”

  “But—”

  “I am certain she is here somewhere. Though not, perhaps,” she quickly interjected as he began to gaze about the supper room, “at this particular ball.”

  “I see.” Lord Sherston’s shoulders slumped and he downed his glass of wine in a gulp. “Forgive me if I’ve been bold with you, Miss Covington. I have not been myself since my wife died.”

  “No need for apology, my lord.” Her own body relaxed, relief pouring through her. She did feel sorry for the gentleman, but most decidedly could not help him. Or could she? From nowhere another thought arose. “Are you acquainted with Lady Tisdale?”

  Staring morosely at the table, he shook his head.

  “You should seek an introduction. Lord Tisdale died in a hunting accident two years ago. As his only child at the time was a year-old son, Lady Tisdale is beside herself, so I hear, with all the duties of managing the estate, in addition to the raising of a son.” A neater solution could not have been fashioned. “You and she seem to have much in common and perhaps could assist one another in both your grief and in caring for your children.”

  Something of his former lightness had returned to the earl as Marianne spoke. “Thank you so much for that advice, Miss Covington.” His brilliant smile warmed her this time. “I do believe I was actually correct in thinking you would be the one to assist me in securing my happiness and that of my children.” Lord Sherston arose. “Thank you very much for a lovely evening.”

  “The pleasure was mine, my lord.” Marianne smiled as he bowed and left.

  Waiting until the earl had disappeared through the doorway, she placed her unused napkin on the table, pulled on her gloves, and stalked toward the ballroom. Despite her upbringing, despite what her mother might say, when she finally found William Stanley, wherever he was, he’d better pray there was someone there to defend him for she would be sorely pressed not to strangle the man.

  * * * *

  Standing outside the supper room, ostensibly waiting to find a seat, but in reality spying on Marianne and Lord Sherston, William wanted to make completely sure nothing occurred of a similar nature to her interlude with Tamworth. So far, all seemed encouraging, although that in itself did not give him ease of mind. Something in the earl’s face when he gazed at Marianne’s during the dance or else Marianne’s headstrong determination to marry before Christmas itself still did not sit right with him. He scarcely knew Sherston, and what he knew had only come from his mother. Of course, he trusted her implicitly; however, the harsh truth was that women, even his mother, did not always know what was actually what. Hence, he observed Marianne and the earl both on the ballroom floor and at supper.

  Their conversation since Sherston had returned with loaded plates for them both appeared perfunctory. The pair began to eat, leaving Will with a growling stomach. He wished he could go in and grab a plate for himself, but he didn’t want to seem as though he were eavesdropping on them. Which he wasn’t. He couldn’t hear a word they were saying.

  Their gestures, however, had become rather erratic. Lord Sherston grasped Marianne’s hand. Good Lord, was the man about to propose?

  “No,” he whispered under his breath. How could the man ask a perfect stranger to marry him? A woman William had known all his life and would never think of marrying… Or would he? He stood, confounded by the notion. His mother had put the kernel of an idea in his head days ago. Would he truly ask Marianne to marry him if given the opportunity?

  He turned his attention back to Sherston, who was looking earnestly into her eyes. William held his breath. Had he waited too late to consider Marianne?

  The earl’s face darkened, his brows furrowing as she spoke to him earnestly. Something wasn’t going Sherston’s way. Had Marianne refused him? Will breathed in deeply. Had she discovered a tendre for someone else after all? Himself, perhaps?

  Sherston rose from his chair and turned for the door.

  Will dodged behind a tall, skinny potted palm, thinly disguised as an iceberg. The next moment, Sherston strode out and across the ballroom, apparently headed for the front entry in a hurry. He peered out after him. Had she accepted him? Or turned him down? He might not have been able to hear them, but he knew a proposal when he saw one.

  Before he could duck back behind the palm, Marianne charged out of the supper room. “William Stanley!”

  He knew that tone, and it had never boded well for him. “Hello, Mari.”

  “Do not address me as anything other than Miss Covington, you…you weasel.” She actually stamped her foot, drawing the attention of the handful of guests who’d already finished with their suppers.

  “Marianne, lower your voice before we have—”

  Seizing his hand, she dragged him toward the doors leading to an outdoor balcony.

  As soon as she threw them open, a blast of frigid air hit Will in the face. Even in this thick garb, the wind swept right through him. He’d perish out here without a warm cloak to cover him. “Marianne, let’s go back inside before you freeze.”

  “Hah.” She drew herself up until she seemed to tower over him. “If you’re cold, you’re the god of ice and snow. You should be able to take care of that without a problem. I am angry enough at this moment I’m surprised there isn’t steam rising off me.”

  “At me? You’re angry at me?”

  “Who else would I be angry at?” She stamped h
er foot again. “How could you introduce me to Lord Sherston, who, even though he seems a very pleasant gentleman, has but one thing on his mind: to find a mother for his four sons. Four sons, William! How could you?”

  “Four sons?” Astonished, he took a step backward and bumped into the balustrade that surrounded the balcony, some twelve feet above the ground. “Sherston has four sons?”

  “You know he does. That is the second cruel trick you’ve played on me.” She moved toward him, fire in her eyes.

  Suddenly, Will no longer felt safe backed against the balustrade. Inch by inch, he slowly made his way around the curved end of the balcony until his back rested on the hard stone of the building. He sighed in relief.

  Marianne had followed him until now she stood before him, her hands opening and closing rapidly. Would she actually plant him a facer?

  “I do not think you ever intended to help me at all.” Tears gushed from her eyes then were drenching his rough Norse jacket as she cried bitterly against his chest.

  Stunned both by her actions and the overwhelming rush of protective feelings churning within, William could do nothing save put his arms around her and hold her to him. Rocking her back and forth a little, he whispered, “Shh, Mari. It’s all right.”

  A few moments later, she calmed, sniffling a bit, and then stiffened in his arms. Her head came up and she stepped away from him, wiping her eyes on the backs of her gloved hands. “Don’t look at me. I am a mess. I shall have to go home immediately. Will you please find my mother and tell her I’m in the ladies’ retiring room?”

  “Of course.” Gazing at her, his heart went out to his longtime friend. She did look dreadful—tear-streaked cheeks, straggling wisps of hair, rumpled gown—and completely wonderful at the same time. He turned to go then turned back. “I do intend to help you, Marianne. I know how much you wish to be married and to the right gentleman. I suppose I’m simply not much help with such a task. Believe me, I did not know about Sherston’s family. Mother said nothing about it. Whether she knew or not, I will find out. And I vow I will make it up to you.”