Hearts Beneath The Mistletoe (Handful 0f Hearts Book 1)

by Jenna Jaxon

  A Kiss Beneath the Mistletoe

  Jenna Jaxon

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, places, or events is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  If you purchase this book without a cover you should be aware that this book may have been stolen property and reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher. In such case the author has not received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  Published by Rising Phoenix Publications @ Smashwords

  Copyright © 2015, Jenna Jaxon

  Cover Art by Jenna Jaxon

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission. The copying, scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions, and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Dedication

  For Alex

  Thank you for all your help and support on this and all my scribblings

  Acknowledgements

  My great thanks go out to my fabulous beta readers, Patricia Green, Alex Christle, Ella Quinn, and Kellie Bynum, who kept this work on the straight and narrow. You ladies are awesome. And my absolute gratitude to the anonymous commenter three years ago who said, after she read my short story ‘Tis the Season, that she wanted to know what happened during Jenny’s season in London. Well, this is what happened!

  Chapter 1

  Hampshire, December 1819

  “Happy birthday, my dear.” Mama smiled her sweet smile and hugged Jenny around the shoulders. “Your favorite dessert for your special birthday.” She motioned for the servant to enter the festively decorated dining room. Candles burned brightly in the best silver candleholders all along the blue damask-covered table. Bows of gaily colored lace adorned the chair where Jenny sat in the place of honor on this great occasion, in Mama’s seat at the end of the table.

  Jenny twisted around to see, as though she were a mere eight rather than a dignified young lady. She turned again and straightened her new blue silk striped gown, feigning reserve when what she wanted to do was shout and skip all over the house. She had done it, had at last turned eighteen. The year when all her dreams would come true.

  Agnes appeared laden with the best cut crystal serving bowl, heaped high with frothy mounds of pudding encasing slices of raspberry-layered golden cake. Jenny loved trifle more than anything in the world. How good of Mama to remember it for this most special of days.

  Turning eighteen meant this year she would go to London for her long awaited season. She would attend balls and parties, and meet scores of young men with whom to flirt and fall in love. In fact, this time next year it might be only her and her husband celebrating her birthday. Another even more delicious thought occurred. She would preside over her own Christmas table as well. Her heart beat a little faster as she pictured such a scene. A handsome husband sitting at the end of the long table loaded with Christmas pudding and mince pies. And he would carve the roast goose, just as her Papa did each year.

  Today was the first day of December, and she had already counted and re-counted the days until Easter, until she became part of a social whirl she would remember for a lifetime. Not impossible that she would fall in love and marry the perfect man in such a short time. It could happen.

  Agnes served Jenny the first dish of trifle, the scrumptious smell of sugar and raspberries tickling her nose. Her mouth watered, and not only from the food being piled on plates. Images of shopping for new gowns and bonnets, of dancing at a real ball in London, of attending the theatre, of carriage rides and musical evenings filled her with an excitement she could scarcely contain. She had looked forward to her season since she had turned twelve.

  “Happy birthday, Jenny.” Alexander Isley leaned toward her, his deep voice startling her out of her daydream. He was seated to her right, and currently running his finger around the top of a very tightly tied cravat. The elder brother of her best friend, Alec had ever been a presence when she and his sister, Margaret, played together growing up.

  “Thank you, Alec. It’s so good to see you today. It’s been ages, hasn’t it?” She smiled and patted his hand. He’d almost been the brother she’d never had, although she’d not seen much of him the past few years. First he’d been off at university, then living in London. The last time she’d seen him had been at Margaret’s wedding.

  His quick, lopsided grin assured her he hadn’t changed an iota. He’d always used that silly smile to tease her.

  She gazed around the table, so happy to be sharing her special day with the people dearest to her. Most of the Crowley family had gathered for this momentous birthday. Aunt Arabella, her father’s sister, the wife of a viscount, had been a surprise guest, arriving from Somerset just yesterday. Great-Aunt Henrietta, always bedecked with pearls and jewels, attended all family functions. Her great wealth, which she never failed to mention, made her believe she had the right to be outspoken. So outspoken, in fact, Jenny often wished her great-aunt would stay at home.

  And of course no family gathering would be complete without their dear neighbors, Sir John and Lady Isley and their son, Alexander. The Crowleys and the Isleys had been friends since before she was born. Papa and Sir John had attended university and their children had grown up together.

  “Have you heard from Margaret, Lady Isley?” Jenny asked as she waited for Agnes to finish serving their guests. She had missed her friend terribly since she had married and moved away.

  “I had a letter from her this last week.” Lady Isley put down her teacup to answer her. “Mother and child are doing extremely well. We are all so thankful the ordeal is over with such a happy outcome.” Lady Isley smiled and leaned toward Mama, then added, “She asked me to wish you a happy birthday too.”

  “Oh, I must write and tell her thank you.” Jenny could barely contain her excitement. “How good of her to think of me at such a time. I do wish I could visit her.” Margaret had married Lord Stanley almost eighteen months ago and had just presented her husband with a son and heir two weeks before. Jenny could only hope she would be as fortunate two years hence.

  Dishes of trifle finally sat at each place. Jenny itched to pick up her spoon. She could taste the berries and cream even now. She glanced at her father, who at last smiled and nodded.

  “So, Charles, when is the wedding to take place?” Great-Aunt Henrietta trumpeted the question from her place at the mid-point of the table, her spoon already busy with her dessert.

  “Wedding, Aunt Henrietta?” Papa’s voice rose in a question, but he cut his eyes toward Mama, who sent a frightened look to Jenny.

  Odd, but no more so than her great-aunt’s question. Whose wedding was she talking about?

  “Yes, Charles. Jenny’s wedding to young Alexander here.” Her great-aunt nodded across the table to Alexander Isley, who sat up abruptly, staring at her aunt with wide eyes, as though he thought the old lady quite mad.

  Jenny thought so herself. A prickly sensation began at the back of her neck. She shot Alec a quick look. No, his face wore an expression of outright confusion, his brows knit over his sky blue eyes.

  “She’s eighteen now, and you promised me when she was of age I’d see her married into the Isley family. I have lived for the day that I could announce to the world that one of my family had moved into the titled class.” She glared at Mama, who blushed and turned to Jenny.

  “It’s not a
s bad as it sounds, Jenny darling,” Mama said, patting her hand.

  That might have reassured Jenny, except her mother’s wide, staring eyes said yes, it was that bad. Maybe worse. Her heart began to pound and the sweet trifle turned sour in her mouth.

  “Not bad?” Great-Aunt Henrietta swung her gaze to Jenny and fixed her with a cold black-eyed stare. “You should be grateful, girl. Your parents and I have arranged for you to take your place in society, as a titled lady in due time.”

  “It’s not true, is it, Mama?” Jenny could barely choke out the words in a voice that didn’t sound like her own at all. Too high, too soft. A peculiar roaring in her ears made her head light.

  “Yes, my dear, it most certainly is.” Great-Aunt Henrietta nodded with such vehemence that the feathers on her green velvet turban bobbed back and forth. “When your mother refused to marry up, I swore none of your family would ever see a penny of my money. Then when you were born, she came to me, begged me to reconsider, and promised that you had already been betrothed to the Isley heir here,” she said, pointing an imperious finger at Alec who looked like he might dive under the table. “She showed me the betrothal papers.”

  Everyone at table sat in stunned silence. Jenny looked down at her hands, clasped together so tightly her knuckles showed white. All her dreams of excitement and romance during her season had just exploded in the blink of an eye. Then the real import of her great-aunt’s words sank in and her stomach twisted. They expected her to marry Alec?

  She whirled to her right, furious at Alec. “Did you know about this?”

  “No, Jenny.” Alec’s pale face and livid scowl convinced her he told the truth. “I’m as stunned as you are.” He glared down the table in the direction of his parents. “I swear they never said a word to me.”

  “I won’t do it.” Jenny lifted her head high and glared, first at her mother, then her father, and finally at Great-Aunt Henrietta. “You cannot make me do it. I am to have my Season, Aunt. My come out Season in London. There are many eligible men with titles there who I might fall in love with and marry.”

  “And who you might not. That’s what your mother said to me twenty years ago. Then instead of accepting the proposal of a peer and raising our family’s status, she chose to marry your father.” She sniffed and glared at Papa. “Well, my girl, I will not make that same mistake again. You’ll do as your parents say and marry young Isley here and count yourself fortunate.” Her aunt’s commanding voice sent chills down Jenny’s arms, but they also stiffened her resolve.

  “You cannot compel me to do this. Neither will Mama and Papa.” She looked from one parent to the other, expecting instant confirmation of her words. They, however, refused to meet her eyes. Her heart skipped a beat. “You would make me do this?”

  “Jenny, it’s not as if Alec is a stranger, now, is it?” Her father rose and paced to stand behind her chair. “You’ve known each other since you were born. Naturally, we assumed you’d be happy to settle down here, near your families. You don’t really want to go through all that fuss in London, do you?” He patted her shoulder.

  “All that fuss is what I’ve been dreaming of for years, Papa.” She kept her eyes on her plate, unwilling to look at anyone as she tried to blink back the tears. “This isn’t fair.”

  “What’s not fair, young lady, is you refusing to do your duty to your family.” Her great-aunt reared back in her chair. “In my day, a girl your age did what she was told for the good of her family.” She punctuated her words by stabbing with her trifle spoon. Splotches of cream and pudding flew down the table, landing here and there on the festive tablecloth. “The boy’s from a respectable home with a good name. And a title to come. What more could you possibly want? What is wrong with becoming Lady Isley in due time? You should listen to your elders. They know what’s good for you.”

  Aunt Arabella, elegant in her dark rose and lace gown, her lips pinched, spoke up for the first time. “This betrothal notwithstanding, I do not see why Jenny should not be allowed to have her Season. She needs to see a bit of the world and show that she can handle herself out in society. And if she falls in love, so much the better.” Her aunt drew herself up in her seat, her green eyes flashing. “My brother may not have a title, Mrs. Harmon, but he has taken excellent care of your niece and grand-niece all these years. Arranged marriages are quite out of fashion, you know.”

  “Hmmph.” Great-Aunt Henrietta snorted. “That is fine for you to say, my lady. You did your family a favor and married a viscount.”

  “I married for love, Mrs. Harmon.” Aunt Arabella stared coldly at her adversary. “My niece deserves that same opportunity.” She turned to the Isleys, who were shifting uncomfortably in their seats. “I mean no disrespect, Sir John, Lady Isley. But I would think you would want the same thing for your son.”

  The Isleys exchanged a glance, then their gaze fell on Jenny and they smiled as one. “We would like nothing better than to welcome dear Jenny to our family,” Lady Isley said, ignoring Aunt Arabella. “Alec has always been so fond of her. They will be quite the most envied young couple in the county.”

  The reality that her parents and their friends truly expected her to marry Alec hit her like a wall of cold water. Goose flesh rose on her arms and her breath completely stopped. She must escape or swoon. Unable to stand another minute in the room with everyone’s eyes fixed upon her, Jenny mumbled, “Excuse me,” tossed her napkin on her uneaten desert and fled.

  Chapter 2

  Heart beating a tattoo, hand over her mouth to muffle her cries of despair, Jenny ran down the corridor and into her father’s library, the first haven she could find. She slammed the heavy oak door, hoping the inhabitants of the dining room could hear it, then threw herself on the chaise lounge by the fireplace. Tears she had fought to stop erupted at last and cascaded down her cheeks.

  What a nightmare. She must marry Alexander Isley. She could not get her mind to accept such a thought. Alec stirred none of the romantic feelings she’d been assured she would feel by the romance novels she and Margaret had sneaked out of her mother’s bedroom. They had swooned over dashing men with darkly chiseled faces, tall men who danced with grace and possessed just a touch of danger in their manner. These were the men she expected to meet and flirt with and dance with in the spring, just as Margaret had. Oh, but it wasn’t fair!

  Ever since she was twelve years old and had heard Mama talking about her come out in London, she’d looked forward to this year, this Season. She had sighed with envy when her friend had written about the glittering balls, the crowded parties, the exciting excursions to Vauxhall Gardens. Now it was her turn to have the time of her life, meet someone wonderful and fall in love. Until they ruined it.

  Oh, but it hurt to cry. Even more than not to. Her chest ached, her nose dripped, and she couldn’t draw a deep breath.

  How could they not have told her such a thing? How could they make her marry Alexander? Not that she hated Alec. She liked him well enough, although she’d always thought of him like a brother because Margaret had. To imagine dancing with him or kissing him, much less marrying him… Jenny shuddered. It gave her the fidgets.

  The library door opened and shut, but Jenny refused to look up. It was just Mama, who would to try to explain, try to make her do her duty to the family. Well, they were all in for a nasty surprise because she simply wouldn’t do it.

  “Jenny?”

  Her head shot up at the sound of Alec’s voice.

  “What are you doing here?” She didn’t mean to sound ungracious, but he was the last person she wanted to see. Except maybe her great-aunt.

  “I wanted to see if you were all right.” His low-pitched voice did sound tinged with concern.

  “Of course I’m not all right.” She wiped at her eyes and sat up. “My aunt just announced to the whole world that I’ve got to marry you. No one has ever said a word about that before this minute.” She looked suspiciously into his blue eyes. “And you swear you didn’t know about this be
trothal?”

  “True blue and will never stain.” He solemnly drew his right hand across his breast in the sign of a cross. “My parents never breathed a word of it to me. I was as shocked as you were to hear it.” He gestured to the chaise. “May I?”

  She nodded and slid across the dark maroon fabric to make room for him.

  Alec sat down, stretching his long legs, encased in fashionable navy blue breeches, out on the figured Indian carpet. He shook his head. “I can’t imagine why they did it. I can understand that your family wants to stay in your aunt’s good graces, but that wouldn’t affect mine in the least.”

  Jenny toyed with her handkerchief. Only one thing came to mind. “Our fathers are such good friends, you know. Your father would do anything for mine, I daresay. And parents seem to like family alliances.” She grimaced. “As if they expect their friendships to spill over into their sons’ and daughters’ lives.” Her bitter tone pulled her up short. How unflattering she must have sounded to him this afternoon.

  “I’m sorry, Alec. It’s not you. You do understand that?” Jenny reached over to grasp his hand, and was encouraged by his firm clasp in return. His warm smile sent a sigh of relief through her. Perhaps he did understand. “I grew up with you, so I’ve never thought of you courting me.” Although why the thought had never crossed her mind now puzzled her.

  Because of the title he would inherit, Alexander was one of the most eligible catches in the county. He might not be as tall as most men, but he stood at least a half head taller than she. His even features and curly golden hair would be called handsome by even the most critical young ladies, and he had an easy laugh and perfect manners. Very handsome and very eligible. Still, she had never considered him at all.