Page 4 of The Gift of a Christmas Scandal

Chapter Two

The next morning, Selina woke slowly, her dreams seemingly reluctant to release her. There was something different about the dreams, this time. At first, she struggled to know what it was, apart from the rather more detailed sensations when it came to kisses and more! Then, as she patiently allowed Lisbet to dress her, and put up her hair, it came to her. This time, for at least part of the dream, the man’s face had been visible!

What startled her though, was not just that fact, but that the face the dream man had worn was not that of Lord Egremont, or any other man she knew. It was the face of a man she had seen for the first time, last night. When they had slipped back into the parlour they had obtained glasses of cordial, and gone back into their cosy alcove to talk. As she had settled onto the chair, her heart still beating harder than normal, and her cheeks still flushed, she had looked out across the room.

As sometimes happens, a gap had opened up in the crowd, and she had seen the other side of the room clearly.

Against the mantel, a man had stood, casually leaning, a drink in his hand, observing the room. Her breath had quite stopped. He was the most handsome man she had ever seen, in a chiselled, dangerous fashion, his clothing plain and elegant, almost severe, his hair dark, but not quite black, his lips twisted in a wry expression, as if he laughed at himself in some way, or at the people around him. She had thought, in the instant that she saw him, of those lips – of what they might feel like on hers – and the thought seemed far more exciting than the actuality of Lord Egremont’s kiss had been. Then the crowd had moved again, and the spell had been broken – he was lost to her sight. She’d realised that Mariel was speaking to her.

“…are you hearing anything I’ve said, Selina? Or are you woolgathering? I didn’t think that you found Lord Egremont enchanting enough to be dreaming of him already!”

Selina had turned to Mariel, and apologised. The conversation had moved on, and they had discussed the extent of Mariel’s ‘adventurousness’ – which conversation had provided yet more material for Selina’s dreams. The conversation had ended when Selina’s mother had appeared before them, with the Earl beside her.

Selina had been polite, and had taken a turn about the room with him, barely hearing his dull conversation, which seemed to be about the weather, the hunting, and the likely success of his investments in the new railroads. He had not once asked for her opinion, or about her health or interests – she was simply a silent audience to his self-congratulation.

She had, instead of listening, searched the room, hoping to see the mysterious man again. To no avail.

Yet, in that short minute that she had seen him, he had made enough of an impression on her that she had granted him the singular honour of dreaming his face on her imaginary lover. That fact utterly startled her. And her very next thought was ‘will I ever see him again?’.

For she wanted to, inordinately.

She spent the day feeling distracted, and a little out of sorts, the dream echoing through her, whenever she allowed her thoughts to wander.

~~~~~

Alex had found the Chaterwood soiree everything that he expected – utterly dull, full of hopeful women, who wanted to be Duchess, characterised by the blandest conversation he had ever experienced, and topped off by Lady Phyllida almost following him around like a lost puppy. He had pasted an attempt at a smile on his face, and endured it, for his mother’s sake. And, in a way, for his own.

He had studied every one of those eligible young women, in the hope that one might be different, that one might even appeal to him, enough to consider marrying her, albeit via the rather scandalous route that Warrington had suggested. He had been, as he had expected to be, disappointed. They were unmitigatedly uninspiring. Even the dashing widows failed to catch his eye, although a few of them tried – their jaded and somewhat tawdry presentation did nothing to arouse his interest. Still, he would keep looking – he refused to give up hope, and submit to his father’s wishes, this one last time.

He flung himself, the next day, into planning – planning which other social events to attend, and planning, with his mother, the Christmas House Party – if he was to be subjected to it, he was damned if he wouldn’t make sure that he had some influence on it! The guest list, as presented by his mother, was large – his first question was about the capacity of Fortescue Grange – just how many of these people could they actually accommodate?

Most, it seemed – which amazed him. And his mother had already made arrangements to book out the Grange Arms Inn – the only local establishment suited to the nobility – for those who could not be squeezed into the house. By the end of the week, invitations had been sent out, extra staff hired for the duration, food supplies arranged for delivery at the relevant times, and half of the crockery, cutlery, crystalwear and silverware which normally graced Southolton House in London shipped off to the country. His respect for his mother’s organising capability had increased substantially.

The house party was scheduled for two weeks hence, when he finally signed the last order for deliveries, and allowed himself to think of other things again. That was a mistake. For the first thought to surface was that he still had no method of avoiding marriage to Lady Phyllida.

He sat in his study – really, it still felt rather odd to call it his, it had been so much his father’s domain – working his way through the rather large volume of ledgers and documents that Uxbridge, his estate steward, had provided him, on his arrival back in the country. He was surprised, yet again, at the extent of his holdings – and the costs involved in maintaining them. Eventually, he would have a clear picture of all of it.

Eventually.

For now, some of it was a mystery to him – and some he knew needed investigation – for the balance of costs to income was not right, with respect to at least two estates. Nonetheless, there was no doubt that he was comfortably wealthy – even if, in the end, he chose the dishonourable path, and cried off, he could afford to pay Lady Phyllida’s family very substantial compensation. His mother would not forgive him, in such a case – but it was the rest of his life that they were looking at here, after all.

As he sat contemplating that fact, there came a tap on the door.

“Enter.”

His mother came in, her expression momentarily sad as she looked around the room, taking in the last portrait of his father, which had been painted barely a year before his death. Then she forced the sadness away, and met his eyes.

“Alex. I wanted to inform you – I have invited Lady Phyllida and her family to dinner this evening. I expect you to be everything polite. Really, when are you going to accept the truth – your marriage to her is inevitable – that contract was signed when she was but thirteen, and now she is twenty, almost twenty-one – you cannot expect to wait until the day of her birthday forces you to the altar! Have the grace to submit to what was arranged so long ago. She is pretty, and quite clever – and she has been trained from the start to be the perfect Duchess – why would you hesitate?”

Alex groaned, and his mother glared at him.

“Very simply, mother, no matter how perfectly trained she is, no matter how pretty, I do not wish to marry her. She bores me, nothing about her fires my interest, in any way. I am most happy to be friendly, in honour of the long association between our families, but I do not wish to marry her. How often do I need to inform you of this?”

“You can say it as often as you wish, but it does not signify. The contract does. I am more and more embarrassed by your hesitation – your mourning is over, so that excuse is gone – you must do something about this, an announcement must be made!”

“No. Just no, Mother.”

“You, Alex, despite now being the Duke of Southolton, are a stubborn, pig-headed fool, who is blind to the reality of things. I can only hope that you come to your senses soon!”