The Christmas Scandal: Regency Romance (Rogues and Laces) Read online

  Contents

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  BONUS CHAPTER 1:THE CHRISTMAS PROMISE

  Copyright © Regina Darcy 2018

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher and writer except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a contemporary work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

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  ONE

  “You are talking rot!” a gentleman shouted with mirth in the game room at Whites, the most exclusive gentleman’s club in London.

  Alexander Harrington, newly titled the Earl of Denhaven, threw his head back and roared with laughter.

  “You do not know Lord Harrington – I mean, Lord Denhaven,” said one of Alexander’s closest friends, Viscount Heber, who was glaring at one of the laughing gentlemen. “He may have been a good year or so away from London, but that does not make any difference!”

  “I thank you for your kind words, Heber,” Alexander grinned, aware of how his friend was still looking mutinously across at Lord Featherstone, who was still laughing uproariously, along with one or two others. “Lord Featherstone is, I understand, unwilling to believe my reputation is just as it has always been, given that I have been away for such an extended period.”

  “Eighteen months!” another gentleman piped up.

  “Ah, yes, eighteen months,” Alexander admitted with a roll of his eyes. “One must undertake one’s mourning period, as you well know. Not that I cared very much for my father, you understand, but I had a duty to honour the old man. I am not that cruel, you understand.”

  The laughter began to fade at this sentiment, with a few gentlemen nodding sagely.

  “But,” Alexander continued, a good deal more brightly. “Now that such a time is over, I am able to resume my duties in London, such as they are, albeit the little Season!”

  Lord Heber chuckled. “Your duties being?”

  “Well.” Alexander shrugged, his eyes gleaming. “My duties include beating everyone here soundly at cards, making as much money as I can for myself, and entirely neglecting the duties of my estate. As well as, of course,” he continued as the guffaws of the other gentlemen surrounded him, “taking as much pleasure as I can get from whichever young lady – or widow – takes my fancy.”

  At this, there came a few coarse comments, knowing looks, and one or two lewd suggestions. Alexander revelled in it all, sitting back in his chair and ordering more brandy for everyone.

  Lord Heber grinned. “It is good to have you back in London, if I might say,” he exclaimed, as they threw back their brandy. “It has been a trifle quiet lately. Even Ingraham has given up cards!”

  “Ingraham?” Alexander repeated, a little astonished. “Charles Ingraham, the second son of the infamous Earl?”

  “Yes, the Earl of Davenport’s son,” Lord Heber replied evenly. “He has quite given it all up, it seems. This time last year, he proposed to a lady named Miss Julianna Wade, who is the daughter of Viscount St James.” Lord Heber’s brow furrowed, his brown eyes narrowing as he tried to remember the details. “I cannot quite remember what happened with her father, but there was some sort of scandal. Or something akin to that. Anyway,” his expression cleared as he waved a hand. “Ingraham married the girl soon after Christmas and returned to his manor house in the country! Last I heard, he is expecting to become a father very soon.”

  Alexander rolled his eyes, finding no pleasure in this news whatsoever. “That is quite ridiculous,” he muttered darkly, recalling the many enjoyable evenings he and Ingraham had shared, playing cards, drinking, and generally making a nuisance of themselves all through London. “I can hardly believe he is wed! What sort of gentleman would give up a life such as this for a lady?” Sighing heavily, Alexander practically threw his empty glass in the direction of the footman and demanded another.

  To hear that Ingraham was no longer in London was something of a disappointment, although there were plenty of his other friends still here, he supposed. Although that being said, Ingraham was only the most recent one in what appeared to be the slow decline of gentlemen from London town. They were all, each and every one of them, falling head over heels for some chit or other before deciding to get married and start a brood of their own.

  Alexander could not understand it. In his year and a half away from London, he had itched with the frustration of not being able to do as he pleased, of not being able to continue with his roguish ways. For a moment, Alexander felt himself concerned that he might soon find himself quite alone in London, left to rot whilst all the other gentlemen gave up their freedoms to tie themselves to a lady of quality. He shuddered, throwing back the rest of his brandy to steady himself. No, he was being quite ridiculous. He had plenty of acquaintances here in London, gentlemen who appeared to be just as dedicated to remaining alone and without ties as he was. Lord Heber for one, although he was rather dog-like in his loyalty.

  “Cards, gentlemen?” he asked, throwing aside all thought of marriage and the slow loss of his friends over the years. “I feel the need to remove some coins from your purses.”

  The crowd of gentlemen who now sat around the table hesitated, their eyes a little narrowed as they studied Alexander. Alexander kept his smile to himself, feeling a faint sense of contentment in the knowledge that his ability and consistent victories were still well known in London. He arched one eyebrow in silent challenge, looking about the group.

  “Very well,” said one rather stout gentleman. “I will play, Lord Denhaven.” So saying, he drew up a chair to the already crowded table and made to sit down, only for two other gentlemen to get up.

  “You are both deserting me?” Alexander asked lazily as the two fellows glanced at one another. “You do not wish to play?”

  The first gentleman, the tall, thin, and wiry one, shook his head. “I think not, Lord Denhaven,” he stated, calmly. “Not all of us have deep pockets, such as you do. Nor the… luck that seems to come with it.”

  Alexander’s frown marred his smile. “I see,” he replied, a little stiffly, wondering if the gentleman had meant to suggest that Alexander liked to cheat on occasion. This was, of course quite true, despite only happening a handful of times and to gentlemen of the most dastardly disposition, but Alexander did not like to hear it being suggested.

  “Never mind them,” Lord Heber said excitedly. “Come now, who else shall play? It is quite a feat to play against Lord Denhaven and just think of the accolades that will come your way if you should defeat him!”

  This appeared to gladden the hearts of a few men, for Alexander could see their eyes brightening. His smile slowly spread into a grin as gentlemen crowded the table, their seats closely packed together as another man called for cards.

  “And more liquor, I think,” Alexander chuckled, although he normally was more careful when it came to whisky and playing cards. The times he was most inclined to lose were when his mind was befuddled with more whisky than sense.

  “Then shall I deal?” Lord Heber asked, rubbing his hands together. “And shall you – or any of t
he others – be taking vows?”

  Alexander sat back lazily in his chair and waved a hand, allowing the discussion between the gentlemen to run over him. He did not care for their banter. All he wanted was to play cards and, thereby, get himself back into the life he had long been missing. This was only the start. By Christmas Day, Alexander was quite sure he would be completely contented, no longer concerned with his duties and responsibilities as he had been for the last year or so. No. Now was his time to forget.

  Some hours later and Alexander sat glumly at the table, his head aching. He had been well and truly outplayed. His cards had not been kind to him and, in his continued foolishness, he had begun to drink a little too much. Whilst he had regained some of his losses, he had not made as much from the other gentlemen as he had hoped. In fact, much to his horror, it was Lord Heber who had come out as victor, his pile of coins glinting on the table, mocking him.

  “I cannot quite believe this,” Lord Heber breathed, his eyes wide with delight. “I think I have beaten everyone here, even you, Lord Denhaven.”

  Alexander grunted, sloshed some more whisky into his glass, and drank it in one gulp. It fired through him, making him gasp.

  “Are you quite all right, Denhaven?” Lord Heber asked carefully. “It is not like you to drink so much at the card table.”

  Alexander’s jaw worked. “I am quite all right, I thank you,” he muttered, not wanting to reveal the depths of his frustration. “But now, I think it is time for me to retire.”

  A few murmurs of surprise came from around the table.

  “Surely not!” one gentleman exclaimed, leaning forward. “Is not now the time to go in search of some other sort of… distraction?” His eyes gleamed as they bored into Alexander’s. “Some ball or other, where we might bring a pleasant end to this evening?”

  Knowing what it was the gentleman expected, Alexander pushed himself up into a straighter position and tried to regain some of his brighter spirits. Aware of his reputation, the gentlemen now evidently expected him to take them through town in search of some sort of event where they might make merry with a few of the more willing ladies present. He, however, did not find any enjoyment from the idea, realising that he was in fact uninterested in such a venture.

  Giving himself a shake, Alexander lifted his head and tried to think clearly despite the amount of liquor running through his veins. He was being quite ridiculous, he mused. He had lost at cards, and he was, therefore, allowing that disappointment to rule him. It was as though his defeat had aroused old fears and uncertainties. Could it be that he was no longer the calibre of gentleman that he once had been? At the displeasing thought, Alexander burst out in mirth and shook his head.

  Yes, that was a ridiculous thought indeed.

  “Allons-y!” he shouted in French, rising from his chair with more enthusiasm than he felt. “Where shall we go?”

  The other gentlemen cheered, and a few suggestions were shouted in his direction.

  “Oh no, not that soiree!” Alexander heard someone comment, seeing the gentleman shake his head. “The Marquess would never allow it.”

  Slowly, Alexander felt a faint stir of curiosity pique his interest. “You there,” he said, pointing to the fellow. “Who is it you are speaking of?”

  The gentleman looked back at him. “Lord Parkham, my lord,” he replied with a slight shrug. “The Marquess of Parkham, who has two daughters. One is as mundane as any debutante, the other one is as lovely as the shining sea, with glorious blue eyes and swaying locks of sun-kissed hair.” His eyes grew tender as he described her, only to be jerked back to his present circumstances by the loud, raucous laughter that surrounded him.

  “And why would the Marquess not welcome us to his little soiree?” Alexander asked, grinning at the gentleman’s discomfiture. “Does he not need to marry these daughters off?”

  The gentleman shrugged, his face now quite red. “I believe so, but he is most particular,” he replied gruffly. “He will not allow anyone here into his home and certainly will not allow his daughters to even so much as speak to us.”

  Alexander considered this for a moment, before letting his smile spread across his face as excitement began to fill him, chasing away his despondency. He could still keep his reputation intact, even if he had lost at cards. There were other ways to retain his devilish reputation.

  “Then I think that the Marquess had best prepare to meet me,” he said loudly, swaying slightly on the spot. “For I intend to make his diamond of the first water fall hopelessly in love with me.”

  There were a few gasps of surprise, only for cheers to suddenly break out, bolstering Alexander’s confidence.

  “You will marry the girl?” Lord Heber asked, looking quite astonished. “I did not think you the kind to consider such a thing, Lord Denhaven.”

  Alexander snorted, making the crowd laugh. “No, indeed, I shall not marry the chit, no matter how lovely she might be. No, instead I shall take what I can from her and then remove myself from her presence, although I shall still ensure I leave her reputation bruised but quite intact.”

  He grinned as Lord Heber frowned, evidently confused.

  “There are ways and means of securing such things without anyone ever knowing of it, Lord Heber.” That had the crowd roaring in laughter.

  The lewd shouts made Alexander chuckle as Lord Heber looked away, evidently embarrassed.

  “Then shall we make our way to the Marquess’s home?” Alexander asked, his voice ringing out across the room. “There, I shall prove to you that I can gain entry into his little soiree, and then we shall see what will become of this daughter of his.”

  Chuckling darkly to himself, Alexander made his way towards the door of Whites, feeling a good deal better than he had only a few minutes before. He was leading these fellows as he had always done, buoying his reputation as a rogue and a rascal which he knew so many of them looked up to. His confidence grew with every step, suddenly quite determined that he would not only be able to get into the Marquess’s gathering, but that he would be introduced and flirting with the daughter within the hour.

  All he had to do was be his usual, charming self, and he was quite certain that even the Marquess would not turn him away.

  “Are you quite sure about this, Lord Denhaven?”

  A little disgruntled, Alexander looked across at Lord Heber, whose youthful face was pinched with anxiety. “You need not attend with me, Lord Heber,” he replied a little sharply. “And if you are to doubt me, then may I suggest that your presence is, in fact, rather unwelcome.”

  Lord Heber shook his head frantically, looking back at Alexander for a moment before dropping his gaze again, evidently unable to find something to say.

  “You need not worry,” Alexander continued, wondering why he could not quite walk in a straight line. “I know exactly what I am doing, and as you well know, I have never had a single lady refuse my advances.” He held his head high, pride filling his chest.

  Lord Heber looked away. “Yes, Lord Denhaven,” Alexander heard him murmur. “That is precisely what I am worried about.”

  TWO

  “Really, Jemima, must you sit there all alone?”

  Jemima Hastings, elder daughter of the Marquess of Parkham, looked from where she sat into the angry eyes of her younger sister, Madeline.

  “Whatever is the matter, sister dear?” she asked with a small, inward sigh. “There is nothing wrong, as far as I can see?”

  Her sister, with her fierce blue eyes and beautiful blonde ringlets, looked almost like an angel to Jemima’s mind, although she knew full well that her sister was quite the firecracker when she wished to be.

  “This is to be our last event before we return home,” Madeline whispered loudly. “Why are you sitting so quietly, all alone, Jemima? Really, it is most unbecoming.”

  “And you think it reflects badly on you in some way?” Jemima asked firmly, seeing the flash of embarrassment in her sister’s eyes.

  Madeline to
ssed her head. “Jemima, it is you I am concerned about. You will never find yourself a husband if you set about in such a boring manner.”

  A flash of understanding hit Jemima hard. “I see,” she murmured slowly, never once taking her eyes from her sister. “And you think that Father will decree that I must marry first, before you?” She waited for her sister’s response, seeing the battle that was going on in her mind, her features displaying each and every emotion.

  Madeline closed her eyes. “Yes,” she finally admitted heavily. “Yes, I am afraid that Father will say such a thing. You know as well as I that he has not allowed more than a few gentlemen to greet or dance with us and has always been very careful when it comes to chaperoning us, even though you are nearly one and twenty!”

  Jemima closed her eyes tightly, hating to be reminded that, in four years, she had still been unable to secure herself a husband. Her sister, being four years her junior, had only just made debut in the summer season and had been delighted when her father had announced that they were to return to London for the little Season near to Christmas. However, Jemima had long suspected that the reason for her father doing such a thing was simply to encourage Jemima herself to make more of an effort to capture the attention of someone. That was, perhaps, why he was being particularly careful as to whom he allowed his daughters to become acquainted with.

  From what Jemima could see, the gentlemen who had greeted her were all very similar to her own temperament, with many able to converse about the books they had read most recently or to discuss with her the latest songs or musical pieces they had heard. These two things were, of course, two of Jemima’s greatest loves, and she felt quite sure that her father was picking these gentlemen precisely because he believed they would be a good match for her. What he did not seem to realise was that, with Madeline in the room, even the most kind and considerate gentleman would be unable to turn his head away from her beauty to look at Jemima.