Authors: Hayley A. Solomon

Madrigals And Mistletoe (22 page)

BOOK: Madrigals And Mistletoe

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“For, my darling, had she
not
planted the maggot in your lovely head that Seraphina was the object of my fancies, we would all have progressed a lot more comfortably.”

“You are sure she is not?”

“Widgeon! I shall speak to you furtherâa good deal further on this matter when we are alone. But hush! I fancy the Earl of Drummond has something to say.”

Indeed, he had! He walked steadily down the aisle, his eyes fixed furiously upon the last pair of performers. Cordelia wondered for an instant who he was and what part he could possibly play in the strange, magical unfolding of their lives. In the split second before he reached Frederick, her fascinated gaze made a ludicrous connection.

Though Frederick's hair was abundant long and unruly and this man's was fair and clipped, the resemblance between the two was remarkable beyond coincidence. Of course, the captain was more muscular and youthful somehow, but the resemblance was nonetheless uncanny.

Seraphina, staring in turn, felt something momentous was about to occur. Her fingers trembled a little as they rested still upon the lovely gilt harp provided for the occasion. Frederick moved to her side and gently rested one gloved hand upon the nape of her neck. She trembled again, but this time from the electrifying sensation and not from faint premonition. In a haze, she watched the stranger draw closer and as he opened his lips to speak, she leaned forward in anticipation.

TWENTY-TWO

“Frederick, where on
earth
have you been hiding?” the Earl of Drummond bellowed before he'd quite reached the stage. “All of London, not to mention Bath, is asking after you, bidding me give Lord Frederick this commission and that. And where are you? I cannot say! As head of the family I am starting to look like a fool! What
use
is it being earl when you cannot even say where your brother may be found? Oh, and by the by, the Prince of Wales has been dogging me for your direction. He wishes a symphony to be written in his honour.”

He finally reached the platform and regarded Frederick in horror mingled with disbelief. “Good God! Has your valet run
mad?
How can you possibly present yourself in public with a cravat as mangled as all that? For shame, brother!” He glared at Frederick, but sad to say, his errant brother, rather than being repentant, was grinning from ear to ear.

“On that score you are correct, my lord! I never felt so much in need of a thorough grooming as I do this day. And now that the cat is out of the bag, I do believe I shall rectify the situation. With a deft move of the hand, he pulled the cravat loose and negligently retied it in an intricate knot that had his thunderstruck brother envious among all the
other
valid emotions passing through his person.

Frederick smiled at the bewildered Seraphina and took her hand lightly, raising her from her seat, and in a single, masterful stroke, he passed the hand upwards to his mouth, whereupon he turned it over and placed a kiss full of promise on the palm.

“Miss Seraphina, may I introduce to you my brother, Marcus Argyll, the Earl of Drummond? Marcus, make your bow, I beg you, to the future Lady Argyll, my dearest heart, Miss Seraphina Camfrey.”

The earl was still gaping like a fish when Frederick decided to further make a spectacle of himself by taking the young lady in question into his arms and kiss her so thoroughly that the small matter of his deception was left to another time to argue, bicker, debate and deliciously pout over.

Again, the spontaneous applause from the delighted audience was deafening. Only Rhaz's beloved mama looked thoroughly disgruntled, seeing all her carefully laid matchmaking plans gone south. As she
tap-tapped
her cane on the polished mahogany floor, Rhaz had it in him to feel sorry for her. Still, she ought to be a
little
punished, he thought, for the havoc she had wreaked on all of their lives. Thank goodness the tangle was almost untied. Lord Winthrop looked perfectly snug as the crowds streamed out of the door and he tucked his hand possessively into that of Miss Moresby.

Now, the church bells were chiming and throngs were moving from the hall to the age-old church, steeped in Carlisle history, just yards down the street.

The duchess pointed frantically and Rhaz inferred that she wished to speak with him. Accordingly, he bade Cordelia move on and hung back for the inevitable scold he was certain would tumble from her lips.

This occurred with remarkable rapidity, the duchess bewailing Rhaz's deplorable tardiness in his endeavours to attract Miss Camfrey. “And
now
”âshe glared at himâ“as if matters were not
already
deplorable, she must needs engage herself to your shimble-shamble friend! Rhaz, you are a slow top if ever I saw one and that I tell you! The most tedious endeavours I have been troubled with on your behalf! What have you to say to that, my son?
What?
I ask you.”

The duke kissed her forehead in the most outrageous way, causing her magnificently jewelled turban of bright indigo, crimson and saffron to teeter precariously on her head in the most unregal manner. Crossly, she reached up for her pins and admonished him not to try to cut a wheedle with her, for it simply would not fadge.

Her son smiled secretively and promised her that, by the end of the day, she would not be displeased with him, for he intended to do quite
precisely
what she wished.

At this, the duchess looked at him suspiciously, poked him a little with her hideous pewter fan and inquired how he intended to achieve this miracle. He merely shook his head, chuckled a little and bade her be patient. Then, with a few timeous stridesâhe was anxious to make good his escapeâhe caught up with his guests and registered delight at their astonished pleasure.

His grace, as a Christmas surprise, had ordered sleighs rather than landaus to convey them all to church. Of course, they could have walked, but the snow and ice were slippery and his grace had no desire to see Cordelia sent sprawling whilst her arm was still tender. Besides, one did not need a
reason
to order up sleighs and sleighbells on a morning as festive as this one!

All climbed inâeven the
duchess
managed to puff up and order the third driver to make room for her illustrious person. Frederick's eyes twinkled at the spectacle, for his toplofty brother Drummond had refused the privilege, considering the festivities beneath his consequence. No doubt he would feel a trifle disgruntled at having missed the fun when the duchess, ranked far higher than he, had been unable to resist.

Cordelia, tucked up neatly with the duke, Frederick and Seraphina in the last sleigh, felt she had never seen a more magical Christmas. The air was like crystalâcold, sharp and impossibly clear. She was snugly tucked up in the midst of what seemed a picture-book setting, close to the man of her dreams. Her body yearned for contact with him and she wondered whether he felt the same. Evidently he did, for his hand stole, most improperly, to her lap under cover of the delightfully cosy blanket the thoughtful housekeeper had provided in each of the sleighs. Cordelia coloured to the roots of her dark, velvety hair.

She was certain Seraphina and Frederick would notice, for there was a telltale lump under the rug that must surely announce this impropriety to the world. She stole a glance at them, then bit her lip in an ironic, amused and suddenly lighthearted smile. The rug on Seraphina's side looked
identical
to her own. Lord Argyll appeared
extremely
pleased with himself as his eyes gleamed with mocking amusement.

“I shall have words with you, my lord!” Cordelia just caught Seraphina's cross pronouncement as she leaned towards Frederick.

“Shall you?” Amusement was plain as a pikestaff on Lord Frederick's expressive countenance.

“Don't seek to cozen me, sir! You tricked me most unhandsomely and you shall answer for it!”

“How shall I answer? Like this?” The lump, most improperly, moved upwards.

Cordelia blushed for her sister, but Seraphina, strangely, made no push to return the hand to its proper position. Instead, she leaned forward and allowed a half smile to play upon her pretty lips.

“Frederick! Behave yourself, for we are in company and we speak, if I might remind you, of your untramelled deception!” Her sister's raised whisper was now quite audible. Frederick did not seem in the
least
perturbed.

“Scold away, Seraphina! I shall square my shoulders and close my eyes, and you shall tell me when you are done. I don't regret a bit of it, for had I not deceived you, I should never have come to know you. I cannot regret that which has brought me the greatest happiness of my life.”

Seraphina released her breath and sat back. Her face was bathed in a joyous light, but she willed her voice to remain stern.

“I shall forgive you on this occasion, my lord, but you need not think, in the future, to manage me with simple smiles and beguiling words!”

“Good heavens, no!” Frederick sounded shocked. “You should know me by now, Seraphina . . . full of surprises . . .”

Seraphina giggled and Cordelia wondered, for an instant, what he meant. Then her thoughts focused, once more upon the delectable, unignorable warmth upon her
own
knees. The duke was regarding her keenly, slightly questioningly.

Rhaz to look unsure! She forgot her qualms and allowed the pleasant, delectably shocking situation to continue. When she looked up rather shyly, the fifth Duke of Doncaster nodded firmly and possessively. Doubts and uncertainties vanished. Rhaz whispered to her to open her gift, so she drew it out from her elegant reticule, where she had discreetly tucked it and cast an inquiring eye upon her lord.

Seraphina leaned forward with interest. “A gift
before
church? How naughty!
Do
open it quickly, Cordelia!”

This her sister obligingly did and was astonished to find her stolen cameo lying serenely in the palm of her hand.

“Papa's gift! How did you get this, your grace?”

“By dint of a lot of inquiries, certain bullying of our beloved prisoner and a little luck! The goods were all sitting with what I believe, in cant terms, is called a âfence' or, more commonly, a âhedge.' Anyway, I fancied you might like to have it back.”

Cordelia nodded and clasped the gift to her chest. She had not liked to speak of it, but she had taken the loss of her little memento quite sadly. “Thank you.”

He nodded and turned to her sister. “SeraphinaâI shall call you that, for I have hopes we shall soon be very nearly relatedâI have also retrieved your bangle. Lord Winthrop's odds and bobs have also resurfaced, so I hope that I may wish you all a very happy Christmas.”

Seraphina thanked him prettily, but was interrupted by the elder Miss Camfrey. “Rhaz, what has become of that poor miscreant? He was not, I hope,
hanged?
” She felt suddenly sick, all the joys of Christmas dimmed.

His grace grinned. “Was it not an express wish of yours, my love, that he be pardoned? The miserable varmint has been set free and even now is probably haranguing some poor innocent! Mind you, I have taken pains to set him up in some worthy employment on one of my farther estates, so I have hopes the country air shall reform him.”

Cordelia was confirmed in her notion that she loved the most noble man of her acquaintance. The glory of the day resurfaced and she fingered her little necklace with simple, untainted joy. “Rhaz”âthe name still felt strange upon her tongueâ“this is the best Christmas gift ever!”

“Is it? I hope not, my darling, for I have another in store for you. One that has been handed down from one generation to another of Carlisles even before the first dukedom! It is a great deal more valuable than your cameo, my love, and it has an unbreakable tradition attached to it that I hope may endure forever.”

“What is it? I
adore
traditions!” Seraphina could not help herself asking, but Cordelia was too breathless to do anything but stare in a manner the duke found most unfairly provocative.

“The Carlisle betrothal ring. It is a tradition that it be worn by the wife of the eldest son of the Carlisle family. The tradition has endured for close on two centuries, I believe.”

“But that is famous! Cordelia, it is wonderful, is it not?”

The full import of his words was only now striking Cordelia. She smiled at him mischievously. “Is that not rather high-handed of you, your grace? After all, I am betrothed.”

“Humgudgeon! Winthrop and I had an interesting talk this morning.”

“Did you?” Her tongue faltered, for Rhaz was watching her in such a burning way that every vestige of her being longed to boldly kiss him and be cradled in a way that was, she was certain, most unladylike.

“There is no reason I can divine, my lady, why you should not now become my wife.”

There was a silence before Cordelia's hands tentatively stole into his and the tense moment passed sufficiently for Frederick to breathe easy and resume his own caresses under the blanket.

The sleighs were coming to a slippery stop outside the church and the chimes were pealing so merrily that they were deafening. Soon, the couples stepped out gingerly onto the snow, but were arrested by the poking, impolite cane of the Dowager Duchess of Doncaster.

“I shall not take a
step
into this church, Rhaz, if you do not tell me at once what you mean!”

The duke relented. “Very well, Mama! I shall be brief. You engineered this whole Christmas plot that I may make Miss Camfrey an offer, did you not?”

The duchess glared at him and nodded.

“Very well, then, like the
excellent
son I am, I shall meekly do your bidding.

He drew Cordelia close to him and smiled deep into her clear, honest and immensely wonderful silver grey eyes. “Miss Camfrey, merely to please my mother, I beg you, most wholeheartedly, to become my wife.”

The pealing of the church bells was so sweet and insistent that it seemed all the world was hushed. The duchess, enjoying a good jest as much as anyone, threw back her
ridiculous
turban and laughed.

“You had better say yes, Miss Camfrey. I
always,
you may as well know, get my own way!”

The duke cast a wry look at his betrothed. Though her mouth was prim, he could have sworn she was chuckling.

BOOK: Madrigals And Mistletoe

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