An Icy Christmas Engagement (Christmas Matches of Worth #1)

Chapter Two

“Gareth,” Thomas Darnall said with a sly grin as Gareth followed his aunt and mother into the drawing room. “Welcome home, dear brother.”

Gareth smirked at his younger brother, momentarily forgetting the sense of foreboding that had just tried to settle around him moments earlier. The youngest son of Lord Darendale perched lazily across a sofa near the fireplace of the spacious, brightly colored drawing room.

A tray of tea and cakes rested beside him, teetering precariously on the edge of the cushion. Yet Thomas lounged as though he had not a single care in the world. Gareth might have frowned upon other men for such an unburdened existence. But he returned the smile as he crossed the room to sit beside his younger brother in a wing-backed, blue-upholstered chair.

“Greetings, Brother,” he said, clapping his brother gently on the back so as not to disturb the tray beside him. “It has been too long. How are you faring?”

Thomas wagged his eyebrows, the mischief in his eyes increasing with a sudden glimmer of wit.

“I am well,” he said. “However, certainly not as well as you surely will be very soon, I suspect.”

Gareth helped himself to the tea, which steamed in the white porcelain pot that sat on the table between another sofa and four more chairs identical to his.

“Oh?” he asked, taking a sip of the hot beverage. “And why might that be?”

Thomas gave him a knowing look and another wicked grin.

“You have been gone for quite some time,” he said. “I believe that there are many eligible young ladies who will be thrilled beyond compare of the news of your return.”

Gareth rolled his eyes. He knew that as the future duke of Darendale, it would be his responsibility to produce an heir to the family legacy. However, it was not something which he was prepared to give serious thought. His father still reigned, after all. He felt no need to rush himself into a union with a woman.

“I am certain they will find other gentlemen with whom to occupy their time,” he said dismissively. He wanted to change the subject before his mother could get any ideas. She was already acting strangely. He did not need her latching onto the notion of him marrying any time soon.

As they all settled into their seats, Ian Darnall entered the room. He was tall and imposing, carrying himself with an affinity for duty. Though his brown-black hair was streaked heavily with silver and his face lined with age, his hazel eyes were as sharp and stern as ever.

The duke was not alone, however. Behind him were three familiar figures. While his family had been a sight for sore eyes, the people accompanying his father were sights to make his eyes sore.

“Gareth, darling,” Lady Agnes Bingham drawled, opening her arms as she approached Gareth. “It is so lovely to see you again.”

Gareth rose and stiffly kissed the countess of Birington’s cheek.

“It is a pleasure,” he said, forcing a polite tone.

Lord Percival Bingham joined his wife and Gareth, bowing slowly with a small smile.

“There is nothing quite like a grand trip overseas for a man, is there?” He asked, clapping Gareth on the shoulder with a bit too much sharpness.

Gareth forced a chuckle and shook his head at the earl.

“Indeed,” he said.

Before he even looked at the third disquieting person, he could feel her gaze on him. Lady Cecilia approached with practiced grace, curtseying as she stood between her parents.

“Greetings, Gareth,” she said. “I am thrilled that you have returned home safely.”

Gareth bowed, ignoring the way she batted the lashes of her brown eyes as she stared at him.

“Hello, Lady Cecilia,” he said, refusing to use her Christian name plainly as she had done. She and her parents had been part of his life for as long as he could remember. Agnes was a dear friend to his mother, and Percival was an ambitious earl and a calculating businessman with whom Gareth’s father often partnered.

Yet despite the long history that Gareth and his family had with the Bingham’s, he had never liked them. They were too shallow, more concerned with social status and their fortune to offer anything sincere or not superficial, in Gareth’s opinion. He would never say as much, of course, and he was determined to remain polite. But he glanced at his father with a meaningful gaze, hoping for some indication as to when the unpleasant company might be departing.

When he met the duke’s gaze, he found his father’s eyes flashing with something which made his stomach turn. He had seen that expression on the duke’s face countless times when he was about to make a ruthless business negotiation, one which he knew he would win. The unease continued to grow within Gareth, and he quickly looked away. He decided to open a conversation with his aunt, hoping to dispel some of his discomfort. But before he could, Lady Cecilia spoke again, surprising him with how irritating the sound of her voice was rapidly becoming.

“Now that you are home, I trust that you plan to attend many of this season’s events,” she said.

Gareth tried not to shudder. As future duke, his attendance at social gatherings, especially during their peak in the late spring and summer months, was widely expected. However, there were few which truly held his interest. But it was the way that Lady Cecilia had spoken the words, as if his attendance at upcoming events had already been guaranteed and as if she had a stake in his attendance that made his stomach drop. If his parents thought he was going to spend the season serving as her escort to each ball and dinner party, they were sorely mistaken.

“I am certain that I will attend one or two,” he said casually.

His mother and father both gave him firm looks, causing him to squirm in his seat. There was certainly something happening. And it seemingly had something to do with Lady Cecilia. And even after all his time overseas, he still felt ill prepared for whatever it might be.

“We have accepted invitations to almost every ball on Gareth’s behalf,” the duchess said, giving her son a smile that did not reach her eyes. “I am sure that the two of you will be spending a great deal of time at them, as well, my dear Cecilia.”

Gareth pretended not to hear his mother’s words, even as the boulder of dread grew in his stomach. He had known Lady Cecilia and her family for many years. But they had never made him as uncomfortable as he felt right then. Still, he maintained a weak but polite smile. Throughout the rest of tea, he ignored the batting of Lady Cecilia’s eyelashes and the pointed looks from both their mothers. Once he was able, he would slip away to his guest chambers in his aunt’s home. There, he would remain until he felt rested enough to mingle with his family and their friends. Which, he suspected, would not be until a day or two after the members of the Bingham family departed.

As he rose at the conclusion of tea, however, Thomas approached him. He grabbed Gareth’s arm with a gentle but pointed grip. Gareth looked into his brother’s smiling face, noting a glimmer of intensity in the eyes which were so near identical to his own.

“Gareth, Brother, do join me for a walk,” he said. “I would hear all the tales of your trip.” He paused with a dramatic wagging of his eyebrows as he raised his voice just a little. “Especially those which you do not tell in the company of fair ladies.”

Gareth was confused, but he simply nodded, giving his brother a puzzled smile.

“Of course, little brother,” he said. “If it pleases you, we may attend to that matter at this moment.”

Thomas nodded, looking almost relieved as he led Gareth through the painting laden halls of the pale blue and green carpeted townhouse. The men were silent as they headed for the terrace doors, and Gareth tried studying his brother’s face. Thomas always wore a carefree expression, and right then was no exception. But as their eyes met when Thomas opened the door that led into the gardens, his eyes were serious and urgent. Gareth swallowed at the uncharacteristic change in his younger brother. What could possibly make the lighthearted Thomas Darnall so solemn?

Once they were far enough away from the townhouse, Thomas stopped Gareth. They stood just outside the expansive gardens, with Thomas glancing up cautiously at the yellow-draped windows of the townhouse.

“I understand that it is not my place to tell you this,” he said, keeping his voice low despite the solitude of their position outside. “However, I feel I would be doing my beloved brother a disservice if I did not warn you.”

Gareth sighed, nodding.

“What is Mother’s plan?” he asked with a wry smile. “Has she crafted a dance card for me for these balls and dinner parties and filled it without my knowledge?”

Thomas smirked, but his eyes held no amusement.

“I fear it is worse than that, Brother,” he said. “She and Father plan to make a match between Lady Cecilia and you. That is why she and her parents were here waiting with us when you arrived. It has apparently been all but decided. They were simply waiting for you to return so that they could finalize the details. I suppose they could not make such an arrangement official without your signature.”

Gareth heaved another sigh. The thought of marrying a woman like Lady Cecilia made his stomach twist. She was too shallow, too conceited and too empty-headed for him to tolerate for more than a couple of minutes. He had known that his father was eager for him to begin fulfilling the duties that would be his once he was duke. But to sacrifice his ability to find a wife he truly loved, who could serve as an elegant and compassionate duchess at his side and share the duties of the dukedom with grace and poise, was something which he did not think he could bear.

“Wonderful,” he said bitterly.

***

“My darling daughters,” Frederick said, smiling warmly at Anne and Grace as they took their seats at the dinner table. “You look positively ravishing, as always.”

The marchioness nodded in agreement, beaming at her daughters as they settled in.

“And what am I, dear Mother?” their older brother, Neil, asked from the doorway, giving their parents a grandly exaggerated pouting expression.

The women giggled as Neil made a small show of being wounded. As he approached their mother to kiss her cheek, she laughed, shaking her head and giving him a gentle push toward his seat.

“Do not be silly, darling,” she said. “You look absolutely beautiful, as well.”

Grace and Anne burst into laughter at their mother’s jest. Grace had always adored the closeness and humor within her family. And Neil was pleased to maintain the jest. He gave a deep curtsey, pinching the hem of his long brown dinner jacket and batting his eyelashes like a proper lady.

“That is more like it,” he said as he took his seat.

Grace could barely contain her laughter as she put her napkin in her lap. Her brother’s antics had been one bright light in the darkness that was the months following her accident. Besides the protective attitude he had taken with her out in public, the laughter he gave to her during that time had brightened even her darkest moods.

For Grace, that night, the jovial mood was not to last. Everyone settled their laughter as the first course of the meal, fish soup, was served. But before they began to eat, Louisa Farraway tapped her wine glass, smiling brightly at her children.

“I am very excited to announce that we will not be spending our summer in Bath this year,” she said. “Your father and I have been talking at length about it, and we have decided that it is time that we begin hosting our annual house party at Farenley Manor once again.”

Grace’s heart fell into her stomach, suffocating her appetite. Her parents had not hosted their yearly house party since before her accident. She had attended only a few parties hosted by her mother, and fewer still of those that took place at the homes of other noble men and women. The physician had suggested that her parents grant her as much time in Bath as possible, as the healing waters of the lovely place would be of great benefit to her healing journey after the accident. But now, her parents would be inviting the entire ton inside the walls of their home for them to judge and whisper about Grace.

Not wishing to make a fuss, especially after seeing how her brother’s and sister’s faces lit up at the mention of the party, Grace picked up her spoon and dipped it into her soup. Her stomach churned, but she would do her best to keep her family from seeing her anxiety and displeasure at something which clearly made them so happy.

“Grace, darling,” the marquess said with a soft, gentle voice. “I knew you might be worried about such a big event. Three years to us must feel like mere months to you, and we have not forgotten that. However, I want you to know that your mother and I will be there through the entire process to support and protect you.”

Grace looked up into her father’s compassionate eyes. She gave him a smile, feeling only marginally reassured.

“Thank you, Papa,” she said, forcing herself to sound more relieved than she truly felt. “I am certain that it will be a lovely affair.”

But as her family continued gushing about the party, Grace could not stop thinking about the stares and whispers she experienced when she did attend social events. It seemed that half the ton pitied her, but not enough to offer her friendship or kind words. And the other half hated her, just enough to make her feel uncomfortable and unwelcome when she found herself in their company. Even women whom she had known since she was a child treated her like a beast with a contagious plague after her accident. How could she ever face those same people with her head held high?

She quietly excused herself, doing her best to keep on her brave face. But once she and Lady Whiskers were safely behind the door to her bedchambers, she chewed her bottom lip fiercely, allowing herself to shudder with the horrific images of the judgmental eyes and sharp tongues that awaited her at the house party. She curled up on her bed, snuggling up to Lady Whiskers, who laid facing her and began kneading her stomach gently in an effort to comfort her.

She could never do anything to jeopardize her family’s happiness or to take away something that once meant the world to all of them. But how could she cope with their home constantly filled with people who would do nothing but make her more afraid and insecure than she already was?