A Seasonal Pursuit (Regency Christmas Brides #1)

Chapter Ten

CHAPTER 10

T here had never been a more favored guest at Downing House in Webb’s memory, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. He was delighted, of course, that Rose had been such a favorite with his siblings, his mother, and his children, but he hadn’t exactly planned on inviting her back during the house party when he’d brought her. He hadn’t thought that far ahead, so how could he have done?

Yet now, she had been invited to Christmas Eve festivities, the Christmas Day feast, the hunt on St. Stephen’s Day, and to try some of Cook’s eggnog on New Year’s Day.

Webb hadn’t even extended those invitations to her. His family had.

Thankfully, Rose had demurred for the time being, as she was a guest of Lady Standhope and needed to consult her schedule before making any additional plans, which would give Webb plenty of time to gather his thoughts.

There was a ball that night at the local assembly rooms that Lady Standhope was insistent everyone attend. The villages in and around York celebrated Christmas and its season with great enthusiasm, if not fanfare, and nearly every night from the second Sunday of Advent through Twelfth Night had some sort of party or concert. Due to their stay at Fairview, the guests weren’t participating in all of them, but Webb was delighted that they would experience a few things in the village.

Especially if Rose could experience them.

It was becoming clearer and clearer to him that Rose was hungry for experiences in life other than what she had known, and he wanted desperately to give them to her, if he could. Her reaction to his family was a clear enough indication of that. Not in the least bit shocked, but entirely entertained and welcoming of every single one of their antics.

She was destined for more of them, as it happened, as they would be seeing his siblings shortly at the assembly rooms for the ball. It would give his brothers a chance to entertain her, if not interrogate her, and Emily would certainly ask a number of questions to sate her curiosity, which would then be reported back to their mother in short order.

The speculation about his relationship with Rose would run rampant among his siblings for the entire Christmas holidays, but he didn’t mind. He would explain the details when this was all over and Rose was happily married off, having attained her cottage and stipend. She would have helped him to return to the world of the living and social present, which would satisfy his mother and sister.

He was simply having fun with Rose and enjoying her company, as well as her view of the world.

Tonight, he would have to get to work in helping her find suitable suitors. She could not exactly come directly out and propose matrimony to them, but she could get to know them in ways that might tell her if they would suit her needs. And then they could begin a decent pursuit of the gentleman and meet Aunt Edith’s requirements.

Webb had always enjoyed dancing before Mary died, and he hadn’t danced at all since her death. To that end, he was not entirely certain if he actually enjoyed dancing or if he had simply enjoyed dancing with Mary. Tonight would tell him one way or the other, and then he could adjust his actions and activities accordingly.

Surely he could find enjoyment in a Christmas ball even if dancing turned out to not be enjoyable. He was determined to embrace whatever he could about Christmas this year and not think about the losses that had impacted the holidays of years’ past.

But now he was waiting for Rose to come down from her rooms, having arranged for her, among two other guests, to come in his coach to the village. It was quite the feat to finagle getting Rose in his coach without looking as though he was scheming to get Rose in his coach. The other two guests were elderly women, so they would be excellent chaperones for those who might have been concerned about such things.

Then again, this was the countryside and not London. Chaperones were more advised than required, and no one batted an eye if they were not present.

“What the devil are you pacing for, Webb? Needing some exercise, are you?”

Webb snorted softly and turned to look down the corridor, his laughter dying in his throat.

Rose looked as lovely as he had ever seen any woman look, but somehow more. Her gown was not elaborate or even perfectly fitting, but it was positively ethereal on her trim frame. White with shimmering gold plaits and elements, white rosettes along the neckline and somehow scattered along her dark hair as well. Ringlets hung along her cheeks and ears, and the white ribbon in her hair appeared like a crown of sorts. Or a halo.

An angel, then. Rose was a beautiful, frank, secretly silly angel, and he needed to find his mouth one of these next moments or she was going to think he had lost his senses.

He would think he’d lost his senses in a few moments, too.

“Not at all,” he all but sputtered, racking his brain to recall the teasing question she had asked him. “Only eager for the ball, of course. Aren’t you?”

Rose raised a brow, making her bright blue eyes shimmer remarkably. “Thrilled. All Society girls long for a ball. Wasn’t that the riddle made the other night?”

“You assured me that you hadn’t been a girl for some time,” Webb pointed out, elated that his wit and tongue had found their places again.

“Lord Downing!” an elderly voice he didn’t recognize chirped. “Do not tell me you were making a commentary on Miss Portman’s age!”

He looked behind Rose and saw two older ladies, both wrapped in shades of green and warm cloaks, heading towards them. Both were also giving him a rather severe look.

He wasn’t certain which had spoken, so he addressed them both. “Ladies. No, I am not making a commentary. Merely reminding Miss Portman of her own words.”

“Still not a wise decision,” the lady on the left murmured, her many beaded necklaces jangling with every clank of her walking stick against the floor. “And Miss Portman is dreadfully young, is she not?”

Rose smiled at the approaching women. “I am nine and twenty, Mrs. Richards.”

“A child,” the other woman puffed pompously, her perfectly rouged cheeks matching the red coloring of the top of her walking stick. “Still in her bloom.”

“Lady Clarke,” Rose said scoldingly as she adjusted her gloves and lifted her cloak from over her arm. “I have it on very good authority that I am past my bloom.”

Lady Clarke waved her walking stick a bit dangerously. “ The only ones who say that are the ones who regret the loss of theirs. You are blooming delightfully still, Miss Portman, and Lord Downing would agree.”

All of the women looked at him for confirmation.

He knew his duty.

“I would indeed,” Webb obediently replied, giving Rose a gallant bow. “Blooming radiantly.”

“Well spotted,” Mrs. Richards cackled. “Now, Lord Downing, will you take us to your carriage? I do not like to miss the reels at these balls.”

Webb took the woman’s arm and offered the other to Lady Clarke. She took it, then looked at Rose quickly. “Come take my arm, girl. Lord Downing doesn’t have a third to spare and we must make him look like a gentleman somehow.”

Rose coughed a laugh as she fastened her half cape about her. “I don’t mind walking behind, my lady. I do it all the time with my family.”

“Pah!” Lady Clarke sniffed loudly. “Being at the end of the procession and alone due to marital status is not the same thing. Come here and take my arm, I said!”

Rose gave Webb an exasperated look of amusement, but did as she was told.

There was a warm sense of unity and understanding that passed between them then, and the fact that Webb knew exactly what Rose was thinking without speaking and solely based on expression was oddly satisfying.

But really, what was he doing that for? Their companions were eccentric, and surely anyone would have reacted in a similar way to Rose and Webb. The understanding ought to have been present for strangers, let alone recent friends. He shouldn’t feel satisfied or proud or smug or anything at all apart from allied in amusement.

Stupid. He needed to figure out what he had done with his head as well as his senses because it was becoming more and more clear that they weren’t present at all.

The four of them loaded up into his coach and were quickly pulling away from Fairview. Lady Clarke was on his right, while Mrs. Richards sat beside Rose, and conversation was immediately struck up. Mrs. Richards lit into an animated description of the guests she had gotten to know already, and whether she could see any matches being made among them. Webb wondered if she somehow knew about Rose’s scheme for a match, until Lady Clarke jumped into the discussion with her own views, and the two of them were basically ignoring Rose and Webb altogether.

Webb saw Rose’s fingers fluttering in a sort of wave and he looked up at her face, tilting his head.

Her eyes were wide, and she shook her head very slightly, flicking her gaze from Lady Clarke to Mrs. Richards, then back at him. Again, she shook her head.

Ah, she was afraid he was going to inform these ladies about her situation, was she?

He smiled very slightly and bobbed his chin in a brief nod, keeping his eyes locked on hers. He did his best to cast the words do not worry across the space between them, purely through his eyes and expression. He wasn’t sure it would work, but there was only so much reassurance one could put into one’s expression before it became a smirk.

And he did not want to draw the attention of their companions by his facial expressions, nor his focus.

They would notice every little thing the moment their attention was diverted from their matchmaking discussions.

Rose smiled back at him, her shoulders sagging. He would take that as relief, and there was more delight and satisfaction in seeing that than anything else. There was more warmth in the way she looked at him, in her gratitude, in her blossoming trust, than he had felt in anything away from his family in years .

He liked being trusted, he realized. And being useful. He liked knowing that someone knew they could rely on him for help and to keep their confidences. He liked being able to do something for someone else. He liked being a gentleman in deed as well as in status and word.

And he liked, very much, that it was in Rose whom he was presently finding this usefulness, trust, and confidence.

The assembly rooms were only a few miles from Fairview, and even from the street, any passerby could see that they were fully lit with candles. In fact, they were lit in such excess that any other light in the village was weak and dim by comparison. And as the assembly rooms were not a residence, there was a long-held belief that it was exempt from the curses attributed to early decorating for the Christmas season. Upon entrance to the rooms, Webb observed hellebore, holly, hawthorn, rosemary, ivy, and evergreen boughs and garlands decorating every single corner, tabletop, window, and open surface. Ribbons and red beaded strings wove throughout everything, and there were very specifically placed balls of mistletoe in doorways and over the occasional window.

York celebrated Christmas in a way that no other place did, from what Webb had seen, and after a few occasions of celebrating it in other places throughout his life, he had vowed never to do so again. He could not look around this room without feeling his spirits brightening at once. They hadn’t even been particularly low, and yet they were lifting.

He adored Christmas, he reminded himself. He might have forgotten last year with the loss of Mary dimming every single moment of every single day, no matter how bright it might have been to others. But Christmas was always a much-loved time for him, and it was lovely to be reminded of that fact.

“Will I have the pleasure of dancing with you ladies this evening?” Webb asked of the ladies on his arms .

Lady Clarke rapped him on the arm sharply. “Naughty man, there is no way my joints will allow for such activity. And Anne-Marie’s bones are even more frail.”

“Speak for yourself, Louise,” her friend snapped with a laugh. “I may try it before the evening is out.” She looked up at Webb with a wry smile. “I do insist you dance with several ladies, Lord Downing. I know you are a widower, and quite the catch, but dance with several ladies and give them a lovely present for Christmas. I will say nothing of matches where you are concerned, only that you deserve a bit of fun.”

Webb looked down at her with a fond but cautious smile. “How do you know my story, Mrs. Richards?”

She winked up at him. “Lady Standhope will have her favorites, my dear. Never fear, she has no schemes for you either.”

“That is a relief,” he assured her, catching Rose’s muffled grin out of the corner of his eye. “I despair of schemes. Never engage in them myself, do you?”

Lady Clarke was now the one who chortled and released his arm to sit in a chair by a particularly well-adorned window. “Anne-Marie and I are the very epitome of matchmaking mamas, Lord Downing. We matched our niece and nephew without them being any the wiser, and they are so delightfully wed now that we’re settled on making more perfect matches we have an eye for.”

Oh heavens, it was worse than he’d thought!

Still, if they were certain he was not in their schemes…

“Do let me know how I can help, ladies,” he said in a conspiratorial manner. “I’ll even offer my house for your secret meetings if you can manage good marriages for either of my brothers.”

The ladies looked positively delighted at this offer. “Point them out to us, my lord, and we shall see what can be done! ”

Webb bowed, leaving them both to their seats, and turned to walk about the room, Rose staying by his side without looking as though she was accompanying him. “I cannot believe you would do that,” she hissed between giggles.

“Turn my brothers over to matchmaking monsters?” Webb snorted without reservation. “I’ll even write up biographies for them, if it helps. No shame with Fred and Bash, Rose, and it would only serve them right to deal with those two.”

“The ladies or your brothers?” Rose inquired through narrowed eyes.

Webb shrugged. “Either. Both. They all deserve each other.” He looked over at the dancing, already underway, filled with joyous whoops and hollers. “Fancy a dance or two with me tonight, Rose? You’ll need a break from those you’re pursuing.”

She groaned a little, making a face. “I will, won’t I? Very well, a dance or two at your discretion. If I seem like I may do something rash or imprudent, do come and save me. Whom should I dance with first?”

Taking all details into consideration, Webb looked around the assembly rooms in thought. “Start with Mr. Foyle, if he asks you. Or if you can convince him to it.”

“A lady can always finagle an invitation to dance, my lord,” Rose assured him with a sly smile. “It is all in the tone of voice and manner of suggestion. It is one of the first things we are taught and made to promise we will never divulge. It would be so crass for gentlemen to know we are really asking them. Excuse me.”

And with that, she swept away, head held high, moving directly towards Mr. Foyle. Mere moments after that, the gentleman was escorting her to the floor for the next dance.

“Clever girl,” Webb murmured with a smile, continuing about the room and wondering if he should also find a partner for the dance. Just for fun.