A Seasonal Pursuit (Regency Christmas Brides #1)

Chapter One

CHAPTER 1

R ose Portman loved her family.

Loved was a rather loose term, in her mind, meaning she tolerated them in appropriate doses, would defend them to anyone, and found them to be the least objectionable people in Society. They were the only people who truly knew her, which was a mixture of good and evil, and the only ones who did not gossip about her—mostly. She did not think her sisters gossiped about her, but there were no certainties there.

All of this did not mean, however, that her family did not also confuse, torment, aggravate, and downright exasperate to an excessive degree, sometimes for an extended period of time, and sometimes only limited to specific persons.

Her great-aunt was one such person, having been an eccentric most of her life, and she had gathered four of her siblings’ offspring into one room to meet with a solicitor, reason unknown.

Rose had had quite enough of unknowns and speculation in her life and now preferred only the most comfortable and clear styles of life and manner. Being nine-and-twenty years of age without a single offer of marriage, or true desire to have one, gave her such liberty of tastes. And when her time could be much better spent with the boring combination of a tome of ancient literature and a lukewarm cup of tea instead of sitting here in this stuffy room, she was bound to be a trifle irritable.

Her curiosity was piqued, but only in the mildest sense. She was the only female in the room, sharing this boredom with three of her male cousins, all of whom she tolerated perfectly well, and none of them had any ideas why they were here, if their expressions were anything to go by.

That was an interesting family trait: clear emotional expressions. At least among each other. Which meant there were very few secrets among them.

More’s the pity.

She drummed her fingers on the arms of her chair, trying to ignore the rather deafening sounds of the long clock in the corner of the room. She cast her eyes down the row of her cousins, and as she suspected, their faces were a veritable mirror of annoyed boredom.

What a unifying moment for their family.

Alden, down on the far end, glanced over, and Colin, next to him, leaned forward. “Do you know what this is about?”

Alden shook his head. “I do not. I was hoping you did.”

They both looked at Richard, who sat on Rose’s immediate left, then at her, and in unison, Rose and Richard shrugged.

Beautiful family coordination. What a triumph.

The office door opened then, drawing their attention towards it at once. A thin face with spectacles peeked around it, sheepishly smiling at them. “I apologize for the wait. Do come in.”

The cousins rose fluidly, two of them muttering under their breath as they traipsed into the room. A large desk took up most of the space, and a short man with a thin face stood on the working side of it, gesturing for them all to take seats. There were only three chairs, so Alden moved to the window while the rest sat.

Rose eyed the desk as she situated herself, the extreme tidiness of the papers on its surface boding well for the man of business.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” the man announced with a smile. “My name is Mr. Davidson. I am Lady Edith Walker’s solicitor.”

Considering they’d all had that general idea already, and the man’s name was one of those on the sign of the place, this was not much of a revelation.

“Why are we here?” Colin demanded without much patience.

Colin had never been one for patience.

Nonplussed, Mr. Davidson continued. “I’m afraid that I am the bearer of some bad news. Lady Edith is dying.”

A gasp escaped Rose, quite unexpectedly, but it could not be helped. Aunt Edith was the sort of person who was destined to outlive several generations, and though she was of a certain age, death was not something that had ever seemed likely to perturb the woman.

“Oh dear,” Alden muttered, looking a trifle winded. “How much longer does Aunt Edith have?”

“It is hard to say,” Mr. Davidson told them all, somber faced and sympathetic.

Rose only managed a stray blink or two, still trying to process the fact of Aunt Edith dying soon. The woman might be eccentric, but she was still family, and family gatherings would not be the same without trying to avoid being trapped into conversation alone with her. Nor without the particularly detailed gossip she could spout on any member of the family, of Society, or of historical figures. More than one glass of Madeira loosened Aunt Edith’s tongue for all the world, and Uncle George did so enjoy plying her excessively with drink when he could.

Who would be the center of all information for them now?

Mr. Davidson cleared his throat, drawing Rose back to the present. “I requested this visit because Lady Edith wrote each one of you a letter. She would like you to read them here, and I am available to answer any questions you may have.” He handed out letters to each of them and returned to his seat, watching them all with remarkable calm.

A letter from a dying relative. That seemed positively morbid, and Rose, certainly not Aunt Edith’s favorite niece, found herself filled with as much dread as she did curiosity.

Still, it seemed in poor taste to refuse a dying woman’s letter. She unfolded the paper and began scanning the lines quickly.

My darling Rose,

If all has gone accordingly, you have just been informed that I am not long for this world. But that has only spurred me to be rather blunt with you, dear girl, and to not spare your feelings.

I wish for you to marry, not for comforts or status or expectation, but for love. Your sisters, bless them, have made admirable matches, but they bear the sort of demeanors that would make affable marriages with nearly anyone. You are far more difficult, prickly, and particular, which would make a love match the greater victory. You are capable of a great love, if you will set your mind and, more importantly, your heart on it. I am determined you shall have it, and have arranged matters accordingly.

There is a cottage in the Cotswolds, just outside the charming village of Bibury, that I will bequeath to you, along with a generous stipend to maintain it. It bears five bedchambers, a library, two parlors, a healthy garden, and its own stables. Beechwood Lodge and all that accompanies it will be yours if you meet my terms.

You will attend a Christmas house party hosted by my dear friend Lady Standhope at her estate in York, Fairview. You must make yourself a match of affection and love from those in attendance at this party and become engaged before the end of Twelfth Night. Lady Standhope knows of these terms and will be sure to offer any assistance you require as well as keep me informed.

If my health and the weather permits, I shall trespass upon my dear friend’s kindness to meet your intended before the end of the party.

All my love,

Aunt Edith

“Oh my actual days…” Rose breathed.

“Scotland?” Alden bleated from his perch at the window. He argued with the solicitor a moment while Rose’s ears began to ring and burn with embarrassment and indignity.

Difficult? Prickly? Particular? She was nothing of the sort! She simply was who she was, and her sisters were of a more smiley temperament! Anybody would appear as a crone by comparison! Her sister Marina bore actual lines on her face, even at her young age, from excessive smiling!

“Aunt Edith cannot be serious,” Richard practically pleaded, finally speaking and breaking through the haze about Rose’s ears. “She wants me to wed before Twelfth Night? That is little more than a month.”

Rose closed her eyes, shaking her head. The length of time wasn’t her main concern; it was the entire prospect.

“That is correct. And Lady Edith is aware of the time restraint.” Mr. Davidson still appeared sympathetic, but Rose was convinced he was also secretly laughing at them.

Devil take the man. And devil take Aunt Edith, while he was at it.

“It is impossible!” Richard insisted.

Alden huffed, folding his letter roughly. “At least you don’t have to marry a chit from a small village in Scotland. ”

Rose turned in her chair, raising a brow at him. “What of me? I am supposed to attend a house party for Christmas.”

All three of her cousins seemed to scoff at once. “A house party?” Alden repeated, only very slightly smiling. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

Rose nodded, eyes widening, and turned back around, glancing at the other two.

Poor Colin seemed rather pale and beyond words. Richard continued to shake his head.

At least they were all in this stupidity together. But would they do as Aunt Edith asked?

“That coach will not be necessary,” Alden announced, straightening. “I have no intention of going to Scotland for Christmas.”

Mr. Davidson had the gall to appear shocked. “But…”

“I agree with what Richard said,” Alden overrode with a raised hand, stopping the man. “What our aunt Edith is asking of us is impossible.” He moved to the door and glanced back at them all with a nod. “I wish you luck, but I want nothing to do with this ruse.” And then he was gone.

“That was a very Alden thing to do,” Rose muttered to herself.

“Impossible,” Richard whispered as he looked over his own letter. “Absolutely impossible.”

Rose looked at Colin, who still hadn’t said a word. “Colin?”

He exhaled slowly and met her eyes. “It’s a lot of money. And we all know I need it. I just don’t know.”

That was fair, but Rose need not feel the same pressure. She looked at her letter and twisted her lips. What Aunt Edith was offering was exactly the sort of situation Rose wanted for herself, but she had also recently struck a bargain with her father that if she remained unmarried until the age of five and thirty, she would receive her dowry for herself. Ten thousand pounds could buy a cottage anywhere, and a comfortable life, if she were prudent with her funds.

And it avoided the issue of marriage entirely.

But to get what she wanted now instead of later, even if she had to marry… Distant marriages happened all the time, even if they had started out well enough. She could certainly find a good match with someone who could pretend to be in love with her for her aunt’s purposes, and then she could live at the cottage while her husband lived anywhere else and did as he chose. Who wouldn’t love such an arrangement?

Shaking her head, Rose stood and folded her letter, tucking it into her reticule. “Mr. Davidson, I will consider my aunt’s offer. I cannot make this decision without thought. Will two days be acceptable?”

Mr. Davidson seemed a trifle relieved she was not also going to storm out. “Of course, Miss Portman. I will wait for your answer.”

She nodded and walked by Richard and Colin, patting each on the head as she passed like they were part of some bizarre game.

After all, they were.

Leaving the room, then the building, Rose climbed into her father’s carriage, her thoughts awhirl as she was returned home.

She hated being social. Despised incessant chatter at social gatherings. Rarely found anyone worth conversing with. But what if…?

There was no harm in trying, surely. If she went to this party, there was the possibility she could find someone to engage in this scheme with, even if love or affection were not present. And if she could not, she had her father’s promise to fall back on.

And spending a Christmas away from her sisters meant that no one would ask her awkward questions. Her nieces and nephews would miss her, of course, but she might have to risk it. Her dream of a cottage life and solitude might be closer than six years hence, and her independence was too tempting a prospect to ignore.

Aunt Edith was pulling all of their strings in this, and Rose was, unfortunately, ripe for such pulling.