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

by Jenna Jaxon

  “They make a lovely pair,” Lottie said.

  “Who make a lovely pair?”

  Lottie snorted. “The two people you are determined to not look at: my sister and Sir Thomas.”

  He didn’t know how to reply.

  “It has always been understood they would probably marry,” the girl said conversationally. “I don’t think Iris is in love with him.”

  “Did I ask?”

  “No, but you’re wondering about it.”

  He couldn’t believe the cheek of the woman. Ambrose did let his sisters have quite a bit of freedom so he shouldn’t be surprised.

  “Why would you think I am concerned?” he asked blandly.

  Lottie shrugged and replied, “Because you’re attracted to my sister.”

  “Do you have any other theories you would like to share with me?” he queried, his tone light.

  “You did ask,” she replied with a twist of her lips. “I think your rakish reputation is merely an act.”

  “Do tell,” he drawled, enjoying himself.

  “Rose and I think so, but Iris isn’t sure. If she can’t believe you’re unredeemable she’ll have to admit the truth to herself.”

  “And what is the truth?” he asked, oblivious to the way this woman’s mind worked.

  “The moment she met you at Lady Cairs ball, she fell in love.”

  To his luck, their set was over. He didn’t know if Lottie was serious or merely teasing him. When they arrived back in the corner presided over by Lady Markham he made haste to ask Iris for the next set.

  “It would be lovely to dance with you,” Iris replied to his query.

  He hadn’t expected a waltz at a village assembly. From the surprised look on Iris’s face she hadn’t either. They moved together remarkably well.

  “You’re a very accomplished dancer.”

  She smiled. “As are you. It is nice to have a partner so evenly matched.”

  Her cheeks bloomed with color. He would let the awkward moment pass. He didn’t want to spar with her. Something was different. Lottie’s assertion Iris might care for him changed everything.

  * * * * *

  Ambrose excused himself to get a breath of fresh air outside. Once outdoors he pulled his flask from his trouser pocket and took two swigs of the noxious liquid. His head ached unbearably. He prayed the magic elixir would soon deaden the pain.

  Pain. It was a daily companion to him now. The surgeon in London couldn’t do anything about his condition but help him to relieve the discomfort of his affliction. The cool air did help. In a few minutes he felt able to return to the stuffy room upstairs.

  Sir Thomas approached him as he entered the ball room. “Are you quite all right, Ambrose?”

  “It has been a long day. I merely needed some fresh air.”

  “Would you like me to notify one of your sisters?”

  “Thank you but no. I appreciate your concern. I feel well enough not to ruin anyone’s evening.”

  The baronet nodded and moved away. He really was a nice man. It was a shame neither Iris nor Lottie seemed the least inclined to fall in love with the man.

  He simply had to live through his pain a while longer. It looked like his plan for Chastain and Iris might well come to fruition despite a rocky and duplicitous start.

  Lottie approached him and grasped his hands. “I believe you haven’t yet danced this evening.”

  “Lottie…”

  “Either dance with me or I will put a bug in Mrs. Cleary’s ear.”

  The thought of the grasping widow who would love to dance with him, among other things, helped him succumb to his sister’s wishes.

  “All right, dear sister,” he said gruffly. “Be it on your head if I step on your feet.”

  Lottie laughed out loud. “Dear Ambrose, if you didn’t step on my feet I would think you were an imposter.”

  As they danced he began to feel much better. He looked about and observed Iris dancing with an elderly gentleman and his friends doing their duty by dancing with the unattached females in the room.

  “You have looked tired of late. What did the surgeon in London tell you about your headaches?”

  “He told me to avoid stress or at the very least, nosy females and dancing.”

  They danced in silence a few moments before Lottie said, “You have been a wonderful brother to us since mama and papa died.”

  He swallowed. “And before?”

  “Before their deaths you were gone away quite a bit with your friends. You always cared for us in your own way.”

  “You are my responsibilities now.”

  The set ended. They walked arm in arm to where their aunt was seated, another matron beside her.

  “Don’t neglect your own happiness.” Lottie squeezed his forearm with her free hand. “We’ll find our own.”

  Peake approached to whisk Lottie into the next dance and he was left to his thoughts. There was no time to find his own happiness. The most he could hope for was to see Iris find hers.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Iris caught Lottie’s eye. She wanted to speak to her sister before either of them was asked to dance again.

  “I would like some lemonade,” Lottie said. “Would you care for something, Aunt Abigail?”

  The older woman shook her head. She was much too interested in the goings-on around her and waved a vague hand at Lottie.

  “I’ll go with you,” Iris replied.

  Their aunt was happy enough talking with another matron. Ambrose had disappeared. The other men of their party were dancing with the wallflowers.

  “Lord Chastain is enjoying himself entirely too much,” she said as they collected glasses of the watered-down lemonade.

  She nodded at the dancefloor where the viscount could be seen dancing with the infamous Mrs. Cleary.

  “He looks quite content to dance with every woman in the county,” she said with a sigh. “This isn’t going at all the way I planned.”

  Lottie took her arm and drew her away from an oncoming cluster of young ladies. “You could admit that perhaps Lord Chastain isn’t as selfish or rakish as his reputation.”

  “Did you pay attention to all the gossip columns you read to me these last few months?” she asked.

  “I did notice Lord Chastain’s frequency in the papers became less and less as the season wore on.”

  “Yes?”

  “After he attended Lady Cairs ball he was only in the papers one more time.” Lottie paused for effect. “That column suggested Lord Chastain appeared to have taken on a new leaf.”

  “And you believe it as well?” she asked with no enthusiasm.

  “He’d met you and was content to stay within the proper confines of society just to be near you.”

  Iris was struck dumb. The absurdity of Lottie’s statement far outweighed any of Rose’s fairytales. Thomas was nearby and strolled up to them.

  “You look speechless, Iris. I must make note of the date. Do share.” The baronet winked at them both.

  “You would not find our conversation amusing,” she replied, controlling the urge to swat him with her fan.

  In response to Thomas’s raised brow, Lottie said, “We were discussing the shortcomings of men.”

  “I’m sure you ladies could go on for days with that particular subject,” Thomas rejoined sunnily. “Any shortcoming I should be aware of?”

  She tapped a forefinger on her chin. “Hmmm. If you have any fault, my dear Thomas, it is that you are far too generous with others.”

  “My dear Iris, I believe that ‘fault’ is what has allowed me to remain your friend all these years.”

  Lottie put a gloved hand over her mouth. She looked as if she were trying to hold in laughter. Iris again felt the urge to rap someone with her fan.

  A young man approached Lottie for a dance. Iris’s gaze settled on Mrs. Cleary who was no longer dancing with Chastain. She observed how the men in the room subtly tried to avoid the widow.

  “What about a woman
scares men?” she asked Thomas.

  “Pardon?” He looked confused by the sudden change of subject.

  “What could a woman be doing to scare all the men away from her?”

  “Where do I begin?”

  “I’m serious, Thomas. For instance, take Mrs. Cleary. She is an attractive woman but unmarried men avoid her.”

  Thomas moved his gaze to search out the woman who looked to be pestering Ambrose to dance with her.

  “She is much too forward.”

  “Mrs. Cleary is not a green girl. She’s a widow.”

  “Yes, but she is still too forward. When she looks at a man you can tell she is thinking marriage. Children.”

  “And that scares men?”

  “Without a doubt,” he replied with a shudder. “When I look into her eyes I see her controlling the rest of my life.”

  She laughed so hard she had to take a breath before she could speak. “As bad as all that?”

  He nodded solemnly.

  “I don’t scare you?”

  “You are my friend and never look at me with the idea of capturing me. Possibly annoying me, but never capturing me.”

  She replied caustically, “It must be a trial for you to spend any time in my company.”

  “No man would admit such a thing, Lady Iris,” a voice said from nearby. “I find your company most diverting.”

  Chastain stood there looking as relaxed as if he were in a drawing room at his leisure. Was he not in the least bored with the country company? Did he not feel tired of dancing with the numerous gentry of Braxton?

  She needed to drive him away. He was playing a part and convincing her more every moment they spent together. She didn’t know why it should be imperative he leave the county as soon as possible, she only knew he must.

  “Thank you, Lord Chastain,” she mumbled. “How do you enjoy our simple country entertainment?”

  “The musicians are as good as any in town,” he replied.

  Thomas nodded his approval. “Hear, hear.”

  “The company is varied and extremely pleasant,” Chastain added.

  “How very generous of you,” she replied tightly. How nice of him to condescend to complement their society. She must harden her heart against him. Must remember everything out of his mouth was part of a plan.

  He frowned a moment before his brow cleared. “I give credit where credit is due, Lady Iris. You have turned out to be my most skilled dancing partner. I wonder if I might impose upon you for another set?”

  Iris couldn’t help but be flattered. The man could compliment her and her village all he wanted; she must remember he was meant to turn her head. Another few dances wouldn’t harm her and besides, at present she had no notion how to implement her next idea to scare the man off.

  “It would be a pleasure to dance with you, Lord Chastain.”

  Several windows in the large room had been opened to let in some air. Iris stumbled during her second dance with Lord Chastain and he drew her from the floor.

  “You look like you need a moment to collect yourself,” her dance partner said.

  “I am a trifle warm.” She fanned herself.

  They stood near a pair of balcony doors that were ajar. “I will fetch you something to drink, my lady.” He bowed the slightest bit. “Perhaps if you get some fresh air you’ll feel better.”

  She nodded wordlessly and he left her. Several deep breaths later she felt steadier on her feet. The cool air had been a blessing. Iris did need to collect herself. She was very much afraid she was falling in love with Chastain.

  “All that remained to drink was orgeat.” Chastain handed her a glass of the liquid, their fingers brushing for the slightest moment. He moved to stand a foot away. They both remained visible to the rest of the assembly.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, uncomfortably aware her fingers had trembled when their hands touched.

  “Better?” he asked after she’d taken a few sips of her drink. His voice sounded hoarse.

  “Yes,” she replied dumbly, struck by the intimacy of their situation. Tall potted plants were on either side of the doors. They were cocooned in the greenery.

  Chastain had probably been in this position many times before. She’d never been alone with a man other than male relatives.

  A light spattering of rain began to fall. She smiled, thinking of the dust on the road to Braxton. “I imagine your valet rescued your Hessians.”

  Chastain nodded. Their gazes locked. She might be an innocent, but she knew the look in his eyes. He wanted to kiss her.

  “Chastain…” She heard the longing in her voice.

  The man would think her besotted with him at this rate. Wouldn’t that play into her hands? She thought again about the things Mrs. Cleary did to drive away men. Surely Iris’s obvious desire to be kissed would worry Chastain. She was loath to ruin the moment.

  He reached out a hand and touched her face. Just the slightest caress. “I should return you to your aunt.”

  * * * * *

  Chastain was up early the next morning after a night tossing and turning in bed. Iris had looked indescribably lovely last evening. He dreamed he had been reckless and kissed the chit. Would she have enjoyed his kiss? He guessed she had never been properly kissed by a man. The proper Sir Thomas wouldn’t have dared.

  The thought of the baronet kissing Iris propelled him out of his bed. He dressed himself rather haphazardly as he merely needed a wander in the house to clear his mind. A look out of the single window in his room confirmed that it had snowed, if but a light dusting.

  He found himself in the conservatory, admiring Lottie’s pots of flowers. His mother would have been entranced by the variety of potted plants and fruit trees.

  A light noise caused him to turn his head. To his surprise, Iris stood near the entrance of the room, not ten feet away.

  “Lord Chastain,” she said in the softest of voices.

  Iris wore a pale-yellow morning dress. She appeared rested and ready for the day. He realized he was dressed in his clothing from the night before, no neckcloth, his shirt open at the throat.

  “Good morning, Lady Iris.” The sky could be seen brightening through the glass surrounding them. “Excuse my appearance. I couldn’t sleep so I went for a ramble.”

  “And came to the conservatory.”

  “Yes.” She looked so lovely in yellow, her dark hair pulled away from her face.

  “Do you enjoy plants, Lord Chastain?” She shook her head, an embarrassed smile on her face. “I mean gardening. You asked Lottie about her pineapples. Do you have an interest in gardening?”

  “I did once.” He rubbed a hand on his chin. He must look a sight, unshaven and in rumpled clothing.

  “What happened?” She took several steps forward.

  “My father sent me off to school as soon as he could. He told me I spent too much time with my mother in her garden.” He grimaced. “I needed to be off amongst other boys, not hiding behind my mother’s skirts. My father thought gardening was a woman’s pastime.”

  Iris squared her shoulders. He could feel indignation roll off her in waves. “I would imagine the members of the Horticultural Society would disagree. What did your mother have to say about your being sent away?”

  “It didn’t matter. My father has always done as he pleases with no regard to others.” He’d never spoken so intimately about his childhood with anyone other than Peake and Ambrose. He returned his attention to the plants in front of him, wondering why he’d told her so much about himself.

  Iris made a rude noise. “Then you should count yourself lucky you do not behave the same way.”

  “Do I not?” How could she believe it when she thought the worst of him?

  “You have shown yourself to be a true friend to my brother. The patience you’ve shown with Rose. And last night…”

  He looked at her sharply. “Yes?”

  “You didn’t take advantage of me when you could have.”

  “We were i
n a crowded room.”

  A flush crept up Iris’s throat and spread to her cheeks. “Nobody would have seen us.”

  He closed the gap between them. Looking down at her, he smiled a crooked smile. “You’re disappointed I didn’t kiss you.”

  “Chastain.”

  He loved the sound of his name on her beautiful lips. His hand came out and grasped her chin ever so lightly, lifting her face closer. He bent his head as he stared into her wide eyes. Her eyes fluttered shut. He touched her lips lightly with his own. He heard a sigh, not sure which one of them had uttered it.

  “Iris,” he said against her lips. “My darling girl.”

  * * * * *

  She fought to stay upright. The feel of Chastain’s warm mouth against hers was sweeter than she ever dreamed. He was right: she did want more. When he called her his darling girl she could have melted into a puddle at his feet. She had no defense against his skill in seduction.

  Iris opened her eyes and jerked her chin from his hand. She was sure Ambrose didn’t expect his friend to seduce her.

  “Was kissing part of the plan to turn my head?”

  The slumberous look in Chastain’s eyes turned to one of alertness. He took several steps backward. “You knew about Ambrose’s bet?”

  “Iris and Lottie both knew about the bet.”

  She swung around to see Rose standing just inside the doorway of the room. The girl’s expression was a mix of anger and sadness. “My sisters didn’t know I heard them talking about it.”

  Rose turned and ran from the room. Iris strode past Chastain without a word. On the way up the main staircase she passed Lottie on her way down.

  “What has happened, Iris? Rose is crying and you look as pale as death.”

  Iris hurried up the rest of the stairs and down the corridor to Rose’s bedchamber, Lottie in her wake. She was surprised Rose’s door was unlocked. She opened it to see the girl on her bed sobbing, Emma beside her.

  “Rose, please tell me what’s wrong.” Lottie stepped forward. “Please, dearest.”