His Mistletoe Miss
Anthony Beck, Viscount Redgrave, has always done what was
expected of his title and station. Ever the dutiful son, he abides by his
mother’s requests even when they tend to the ridiculous. There is no other
reason, after all, that he would visit a gypsy camp to acquire a piece of dead
mistletoe that should rejuvenated itself once he is on the path of true love.
Luckily at the gypsy camp, he happens upon the one lady he’s always wanted to
court. Unfortunately, she’s in love with her guardian…
Miss Holly Prescott is not in love with her guardian. It is her
duty, however, to make certain that nefarious young ladies with hopes of
becoming his duchess, don’t trap him into a loveless marriage. While attending
the Christmas Eve weddings at Castle Keyvnor, Holly learns that the nearby
gypsies could be of help in that regard. However, she did not expect to stumble
upon the handsome and oh-so-honorable Lord Redgrave in the process.
Her
Mistletoe Miss
Copyright © 2017 by Jane Charles
CHAPTER ONE
Blast!
The bodice was, well, so uninspiring. No matter how she drew it, scooped or
squared, Holly Prescott achieved the exact same result—dull. And the
sleeves—redundant. There must be something that she could come up with that was
new, inventive and would set society on its ear, but all of her creative
talents had abandoned her this day.
Setting
her pencils aside, Holly rubbed her cold hands together then blew into the
palms to warm them as she glanced out the window and into the gardens below.
Alarm rioted through her body. “Oh, this will never do,” A young woman, with whom
she was not yet acquainted, was gazing up at Ethan, the Duke of Westbury, as if
every word he spoke dripped of gold. Why were the two even in the gardens? It
was December and nothing was in bloom, though Holly had no doubt that in the
spring and summer the gardens at Castle Keyvnor were nothing short of glorious
and an inspiration to any artist’s eye.
Was
the chit actually fluttering her eyelashes at Ethan? Holly stood to get a
closer look, and the sketchpad slid from her lap, thudding against the muted
blue and cream rug, followed by her pencils that rolled in every direction, but
she couldn’t worry about them now. Not when a miss was giggling up at Ethan. Or
at least Holly assumed the miss giggled since she delicately covered her mouth with
a gloved hand.
Holly
adored Ethan, she truly did, and would be forever grateful that he’d taken her
in six years ago upon the death of her brother, but in short, His Grace was far
from humorous. Stodgy, stern, strict, and caring, but not amusing. Further, he
was a fool.
Goodness!
Was the miss now blushing? It must be the cooler temperatures causing the
misses’ cheeks to color because Holly couldn’t imagine Ethan ever saying
anything that would cause anyone to blush. In fact, she couldn’t recall ever
hearing him curse, let alone say anything inappropriate. Had he not been heir
to a dukedom, Ethan would have done quite well as a vicar. Not that he was
overly religious, but he shared the same drab temperament as any minister Holly
had ever known.
Despite
any lack of personality, it wasn’t any wonder so many misses sought Ethan out.
He was the Duke of Westbury after all and any single lady whom Ethan had
encountered only saw the title, without a care for the man. They were really no
different from Ethan’s youngest sister, Lady Ivy, who also sought a duke of her
own instead of love.
Foolish!
A title was cold comfort if one was not happy in a marriage.
Holly
had already lost count of the number of times she’d stepped in and saved Ethan
from being trapped since she’d made her coming out three years ago, and if
Holly had one goal, it was to see Ethan married well and happy. Just because he was a duke, and must marry
and produce an heir and spare, did not mean he shouldn’t find love as well. If
anyone deserved happiness, it was Ethan. Certainly there was a lady who would
appreciate him, tedious though he may be, more than they desired the title.
“What will never do?” Oliver Dallimore asked
from behind and Holly spun around. Oliver was her dearest friend, as well as
Ethan’s cousin.
“And
why of all places are you in here? This room is as cold as what I imagine a dip
in the Thames would be this time of year.” Then he looked at the large fire in
the fireplace and frowned.
Large
and bright as it may be, the flames had done little to bring warmth to the
room. “This is the quietest public room in the castle and I wished for a place
to sketch in peace. My chambers face north and are rather dark without any
direct sunlight.” She glanced around and shrugged. “The cold is probably because
of the ghosts.” Holly assumed that was the reason for the chill because half a
dozen spirits had been gathered when she walked into the parlor, not that she
minded of course. It wasn’t as if they were harmful. They’d been somewhat
surprised, or at least she assumed that was the expression on their nearly
transparent faces when she acknowledged them with a mere nod. But, she couldn’t
be bothered with ghosts right now, even if she was intruding on their gathering.
“Not
you too?” He rolled his eyes as he picked the sketchbook from the floor. “Just
because something probably happened that others cannot explain, a hysteria has
developed so that now anyone who steps into this blasted castle is convinced they’ve
encountered a being from another realm. It’s nonsense, I assure you.”
Holly
glanced at the four she could still see and smirked. The little boy, who
probably wasn’t any older than five, ducked his head. Holly didn’t mind seeing
ghosts that were older since they’d lived a full life, but her heart ached to
see one so young and taken far too soon.
Oliver
flipped through her sketches, pausing on occasion to study the drawings. “These are very nice. It is a shame you were
the daughter of a baron and are now the ward of a duke, otherwise, you’d do
quite well as a modiste.”
“That’s
very kind of you.” She took her book from Oliver and stared down at her latest
design. These were her future. She might be everything Oliver stated, but her
dowry was only five thousand pounds and the small manor on the coast near
Tintagel. With so little to offer, Holly did not expect to marry, which was why
she’d made a plan for her future. Once she achieved her majority in two years,
she would return home and become a dressmaker.
How
she missed her home. She’d not been back in nearly two years, though Westbury
assured her that the property was well cared for. It was still her home and no
matter how long she’d lived with Westbury and his youngest sister, Prescott
Place would always be home.
“You
never answered me,” Oliver interrupted her thoughts. “What would never do?”
With
that, Holly returned her attention to the gardens below. “Another miss has set
her sights on Ethan, and I’m certain the cap shall quickly follow.”
“Just
because a young lady speaks with Ethan does not mean that she immediately
begins planning their wedding,” Oliver argued as he sidled up next to her,
rubbing his arms as if to get warm.
Goodness,
she could see his breath. No wonder no other guests had ventured inside this
sitting room, lovely though it may be. The wool gown she’d chosen for today
must be warmer than she realized because other than her fingers being cold,
Holly was quite comfortable.
“She
is quite lovely,” Oliver murmured.
“I
suppose, but she really should have chosen a different color for her pelisse. A
redhead should never wear yellow.” Holly nibbled on her fingernail, a horrible
habit that she must break, but how could she when her guardian was in danger. “Besides,
Ethan doesn’t need lovely. He needs a lady who will care for him more than the
title or his wealth.”
“Ethan can take care of himself. Do give the
chap some credit.”
“I
do, but neither you nor Ethan can possibly understand the female mind and the
manipulative thoughts that can take root when a single duke, who is not
unpleasant to look upon and young enough to enjoy spending time with--even if
he is dull--is present.”
“Yes,
by your description, I can’t imagine why ladies don’t flock to Ethan’s side the
moment he steps into a room,” Oliver offered sarcastically.
Oh,
she wished Oliver would take this seriously, but he simply did not understand. “They
do, just not physically. Instead, they quietly scheme on how to get him alone
and thus ruin him.”
“Last
I heard, it is a lady who is ruined and never a duke.”
“And
most ladies would willingly serve themselves up and risk a sterling reputation
if it meant they’d become a duchess in the end.”
Oh,
something must be done and Holly was just now realizing that it would be harder
than ever to protect Ethan at the castle than at a ball or any other
entertainment where each location was limited and one could eavesdrop on plans
in a retiring room. But how could she protect him here, of all places?
If
any of the ladies she’d encountered in these last three years had truly cared
for Ethan, then Holly would have stood back and let love take its course. Unfortunately,
Ethan, as with most gentlemen, was easily susceptible to flattery, which was
why she must continue to protect him as she had since she was eighteen.
“Please inform me when you have vanquished the
ruinous lady from Ethan’s side so that I might be available to comfort her.”
Holly
slid a look at Oliver and smiled. “Oh, you are a rogue, dear Oliver.”
He
smiled unashamedly. “I rather enjoy repairing the hearts of those Ethan
dismisses.”
Holly
snorted. “Hearts have yet to be involved.”
“True,”
he mused. “Still, it is my duty, as his cousin, to soothe any disappointment.”
“Be
careful you don’t find yourself trapped either.”
“My
dear, does that mean you’d try to protect me as well?” he chuckled.
“You
are the last gentleman of my acquaintance who needs any protection. But, just
so, you tend to walk a little too close to the line dividing propriety and
impropriety, and if you aren’t careful, you will deserve what you get in the
end.”
“Ah.”
Oliver nodded toward the gardens. “Another heart broken, or disappointment to
be soothed. You must excuse me.”
Holly
glanced out the window. Ethan tramped back toward the castle, his head down and
shoulders raised as if he were cold, while the young miss watched, her features
strained in disappointment.
“Be
kind, Oliver, but not too kind.”
“A
romantic heart,” someone whispered.
Holly
whirled to the unfamiliar voice and her heart nearly lodged in her throat.
Before her stood a knight of old. Bearded and dressed in chainmail beneath a
white tunic that displayed a red cross of the Templars. “Who are you?”
“Sir
Gervase.” He bowed deeply as one would expect of a chivalrous knight. “You wish
to protect this duke from all women?”
“No.
Just scheming ones.” She glanced down at the gardens again. “But I have no idea
how I can ensure his happiness.”
“Perhaps
a spell of enchantment, or a talisman.”
Was
he suggesting…“Magic?”
Only
a slight nod was offered.
“Magic
can protect him or help him find love?”
“Nothing
is impossible in Bocka Morrow,” Sir Gervase assured her. “Might I suggest the Gypsies
or the witches? They will provide you with what you seek.”
Holly
turned fully toward Sir Gervase with interest. She’d heard there were Gypsies
in the area, witches as well, though she wasn’t certain she wished to approach
witches. Where ghosts might not frighten her, witches most certainly did.
“Go
to Madam Boswell.”
“Who
is Madam Boswell?”
“An
old Gypsy, wiser than anyone. She will help you.”
***
Anthony
Beck, Viscount Redgrave, dismounted, and tossed his reins to a waiting footman as
he strode toward the entrance of Hollybrook Park. “My carriage should arrive momentarily.”
He’d left it behind as they approached Bocka Morrow, needing to be free of the
confines that were about to close in on him. He detested long trips across
England and preferred to travel on horse when at all possible, and the journey
from London to Bocka Morrow had been nearly intolerable. Once he returned to
London, he’d not be traveling any distance for a very long time--years, if he
could manage it. Thankfully, any travel required to his ancestral home,
Halesworth Hall in Suffolk, was required only on rare occasions, and not nearly
as torturous as driving to Cornwall.
He’d
only left Bocka Morrow a few months earlier, but had been pulled back to this
blasted place. If it weren’t for Christmas, family and his mother’s insistence,
Anthony would not be attending the wedding of the Earl of Banfield’s daughters
to some local Cornishman and Lord Blackwater, respectively, at Castle Keynor of
all bloody places.
Until
a few months ago, it had been years since he’d set foot in Bocka Morrow or
Castle Keyvnor, and that was only because his parents deemed it necessary that
he attend a blasted will reading. Anthony still didn’t understand why his
presence had been needed at all, but he was glad he had been there since his
sister, Charlotte, had met and quickly married Adam Vail, who had since become
Viscount Lynwood. Had it not been for extenuating circumstances, Anthony would
have objected to such a quick marriage. But, as Charlotte’s very life had
depended upon her being wedded, and had he not seen a magical emerald glow
himself, or witnessed a very real ghost attempt to take Charlotte’s life,
Anthony would not have stood for such foolishness as a Gypsy wedding.
Thankfully,
that very marriage also allowed Anthony to avoid Castle Keyvnor until it was
necessary to attend the Banfield nuptials, as he would be staying at his
sister’s home and not the damned haunted castle.
At
one time Anthony had assumed the rumors of hauntings at Castle Keyvnor were
simply gossip to keep people away, or that perhaps there’d once been a gifted
storyteller and others believed his tales to be true. After less than a week at
the castle, Anthony had become a firm believer in ghosts and spirits, as well
as the power of witches.
Thankfully,
Hollybrook Park was blessedly not haunted,
nor had there ever been rumors of a haunting, not even Adam’s grandfather who
died three weeks after Charlotte and Adam married in the Gypsy camp. The old
viscount had insisted on a second wedding, one in the church, after banns were
read, to be certain of the legality. The next day, he suffered an apoplexy and
died. Charlotte had written that the servants believed he’d died of fright. Had
the deceased viscount been at Castle Keyvnor, Anthony might have readily
accepted the possibility, but since he’d been in his own home, Anthony assumed
the old man’s heart had finally given out as there was absolutely nothing
frightening at Hollybrook Park
“Viscount
Redgrave,” the butler greeted him. “I’ll advise Lady Lynwood of your arrival.”
Anthony
cooled his heels and waited in the marble foyer, though it felt odd to do so in
his sister’s home.
Voices
came from the parlor and the sitting room. Male and female. Was Charlotte
entertaining? It wasn’t like her to do so, and Lynwood had lived almost as a
recluse for over a year prior to meeting Charlotte.
“Anthony,
what are you doing here?” Charlotte asked as she came down the corridor. Their
mother followed on her heels.
“I’m
to attend Banfield’s daughters’ weddings.”
“Yes,
of course, I just hadn’t expected you so soon,” his mother answered. “Given it
is a wedding, and I know how you detest them, I thought you’d arrive at the
last minute, not four days early.”
He
did hate weddings, but as there was nothing to keep him in London, he’d come
early to spend time with his family, especially his younger brother, William,
who was also here on holiday from Eton.
“Well,
I am here now.” He turned to Charlotte. “I’m sure you don’t mind putting me up
for a few days.”
Charlotte
and Mother shared a look before his younger sister glanced back at him. “I have
no room available.”
How
was that possible? Hollybrook Park wasn’t exactly small.
“You
should have let Charlotte know that you intended to stay here,” his mother chastised.
“She’s
my sister, so I obviously assumed…”
“Anthony,
it is not like you to ever assume anything,” his mother responded, her pale
eyes full of worry.
“Yes,
well…” In that his mother was correct, he never left anything to chance, unlike
his younger brother Michael who wagered on nearly everything. “Charlotte is my
sister and as it is Christmas and I am to attend the wedding, at your insistence, why would you assume I’d
stay at the castle when I could be with family?”
“Oh,
I wished I’d known.” Charlotte worried her bottom lip.
Did
they truly expect that he’d stay at that blasted, haunted castle over
Hollybrook Park?
“Many
of the wedding guests asked to stay here as they are too afraid to sleep at the
castle,” his sister explained.
Of
that, Anthony could not blame them. But, he was her brother so certainly she
could find a place for him. “It doesn’t need to be a nice room. Maybe something
you wouldn’t wish to give another guest. I really don’t mind.”
“I
don’t have anything, Anthony. I’m sorry.”
Bloody
hell. He was not going to stay at Banfield’s haunted castle ever again.
This
was his mother’s fault. “Why didn’t you make certain Charlotte had a room for
me? You were quite clear that you expected my presence so I assumed you would
mention my attendance to her.”
“Darling,
you are eight-and-twenty, old enough to advise your sister of your plans.”
Damn
and blast. “Do you have a spare room in the servant’s quarters? Attic? Nursery?
Schoolroom?” Deep panic began to rise at the very idea that he might be forced
to seek shelter at Keyvnor. Not that he’d openly admit his fear, of course, no
matter how strong his current anxiety at the moment. “It’s not like the nursery
or schoolroom is in use at the moment, and truly, I don’t mind.” He’d sleep in
the blasted dustbin before sleeping at Castle Keyvnor again.
Charlotte
blinked at him. “Those rooms are already overflowing with guests. They too
would rather sleep in a schoolroom than the castle and it’s been quite a chore
to find beds for everyone. There is simply no place for you.”
He
couldn’t believe his own sister was turning him out. There had to be somewhere
else he could stay that wasn’t haunted. “The inn,” he said. “I am sure to find
a room there.”
“Dear,
those rooms were taken days ago. Relatives and guests arrived early just to be
assured they’d have a place to stay other than Castle Keyvnor,” his mother
explained.
“Then
what the blazes am I to do?” Rarely
did Anthony shout or lose his temper. Well, except when his brother Michael was
around, but never with his mother or sister. However, these were certainly
extenuating circumstances.
“Lord
Redgrave could have my room.”
He
turned to find Miss Miranda Vail standing at the threshold of the front parlor.
She was one of Adam’s younger half-sisters.
“That
is not necessary, Miranda. It serves my brother right for not planning ahead.”
Charlotte smirked, as if she was enjoying the situation.
He’d
expect such a response from Michael, but not Charlotte. What had marriage done to her?
“Though
I daresay, this is what I’d expect of Michael, but never Anthony.”
“Please
refrain from finding any similarities between my younger, wastrel brother and
myself,” Anthony ground out.
“You
know, Mother, if Anthony is slipping in his usual control, perhaps Michael
might be gaining some respectability.”
Charlotte
was enjoying his predicament far too much. And to think she used to be his favorite sibling.
Their
mother chuckled. “I dare not hope such will come to be.”
“Enough!”
Anthony snapped, irritated with both his mother and sister for not caring that
he had nowhere to sleep. “Is there any place, that is not Keyvnor, where I
might stay?”
“My
grandmother might make room for you on the floor of her wagon,” Lynwood,
Charlotte’s husband, grinned as he came down the hall.
Just
what he needed, another family member finding enjoyment in Anthony’s
ill-fortune. Though, the Gypsies, strange lot that they were, were preferable
to Keyvnor.
“Truly,
I don’t mind giving up my room,” Miss Miranda insisted. “I prefer the upper
floor. I spend most of my time there anyway.”
“She’s
already been sleeping up there, if you must know,” Miss Diana Vail added as she
joined her younger sister.
Anthony
had met all of Adam’s half-siblings when they arrived a few days after
Charlotte and Lynwood celebrated their Gypsy wedding. In all, Lynwood had four
younger half-sisters: Diana, Miranda, Cordelia and Adriana, as well as a
younger half-brother, Edward. Prior to
Charlotte’s marriage, they’d not lived at Hollybrook Park for nearly two years.
Their mother had taken them away when Adam’s older brother had become ill and
slipped into madness. He finally succumbed to his illness and passed nearly two
months ago, which prompted her return, with her children, to Hollybrook Park.
Upon her arrival, the dowager viscountess stopped only long enough to unload
her daughters and their belongings and then continued on to London. As Edward
was still away at school, he was not a concern. Apparently the dowager could
not wait to be free of Cornwall and insisted that it was up to Adam to do his
duty by his half-siblings.
“You
cannot possibly enjoy being in the attic,” Charlotte insisted. “I’ll not have
you give up your room because my brother failed to advise me of his intention
to sleep here.”
“It’s
where I prefer,” declared Miss Miranda. “It’s not dull or dirty or tiny, like
the servant’s rooms, but bright and open with glass doors that open onto a
railed platform. The Captain had it built so that he could watch for ships
through his telescope.” She grinned as if excited. “It’s much like the one
Captain Cook used, though the Captain believes his telescope to be superior.”
“The
captain?” Lynwood asked.
Miss
Miranda’s eyes grew wide. “At least that was what he wrote in his diaries.
Captain Jonathan Vail. He spent much of his time up there when he wasn’t
sailing, and he left a treasure trove of books, journals and the like.”
Miss
Diana Vail crossed her arms over her chest and leveled a superior look at her
older half-brother “You might as well know, Miranda has already moved all of
her belongings to the attic room, and has been sleeping there almost since we
arrived.”
“Is
that why your grandfather was so upset? He found you up there?” Charlotte
questioned.
Miss
Miranda’s face grew pale. “No. It was something else.”
“What?”
Miss
Miranda glanced away. “Can’t rightly say.” It was almost like she was hedging
about the truth. “He wasn’t angry that I was up there. He just thought it
foolishness since I had a perfectly fine chamber in the family wing.”
“A
room you are not using,” Anthony reminded them of his immediate concern.
“Exactly,
Lord Redgrave.” She brightened. “It’s yours if you’d like.”
He
grinned and turned to his younger sister. “I’d like very much.”
“Oh, very well, but only until all the guests
have gone,” Charlotte capitulated.
“But
we will revisit your preference for the attic, Miranda,” Lynwood insisted. “I
don’t like that you are up there by yourself.”
Miss
Miranda frowned at her brother, but wisely held her tongue, though Anthony
could read the defiance in her grey eyes.
“Well,
now that that is settled…” His mother clapped her hands. “Anthony, you can now escort
Charlotte and me to the Gypsy camp.”
He’d
just arrived. He wanted a brandy and a rest. Not to traipse off to the Gypsy
camp. “Can’t this wait? And why do you even need me?” Then he looked at his
brother-in-law. It was his family they were off to visit. “Why not have Lynwood
take you?”
“I’ve
matters to attend to.” With that, he turned and marched back down the corridor in
the direction he had come.
His
mother sniffed. “A lady should always have an escort.”
When
his mother straightened her spine and lifted her chin as she’d just done,
Anthony knew that she’d not let him be until he gave in. “Very well, but may I
at least freshen up first?”
She smiled serenely. “Why,
of course, dear, but don’t be long.”
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