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December 26, 1818
Ivy Castle
Warwickshire County, near Bedworth, England
G
raham Daniel Ivy—Lord Bonham and a courtesy title at that—hid a yawn behind his gloved hand. In all his two and thirty years, he’d never been as bored as he was right now.
For the past few weeks, he and his siblings had been cooling their heels at Ivy Castle, more or less summoned to dance attendance upon his father, who claimed to suffer from an ailment of the heart. Whether or not that was true remained to be seen. So, he’d come home like all the rest, and there was nothing else to do except indulge in the pedestrian games his mother adored in the drawing room or take part in outdoor activities with his brothers, such as ice skating, snowball fights, or some other gammon.
While it was nice to see his family in one place, Graham missed the hustle and bustle of London, longed for society functions where the goal was to see and be seen, missed flirting with interesting and beautiful women who weren’t looking for a commitment, wished for the chance to knock about with his contemporaries while knowing all eyes would be upon him. What was the point of being fortunate with his looks if they were lost upon the country folk?
A sigh escaped him. There was simply nothing to hold his interest in the in Warwickshire countryside, and certainly nothing he wanted to devote himself to at Ivy Castle. Hell’s bells, he’d even taken to burrowing himself into the vast library, but though his father kept that room well-stocked with all manner of reading material, none of it brought the comfort or humor like his own private collection of Shakespeare’s works.
Of course, the whole of the holiday hadn’t been wasted, for he’d been given the opportunity to spend copious amounts of time with his six-year-old niece, Lucy, and had even made inroads into charming—and no doubt corrupting—the young son of Stephen’s fiancée. That brought a grin to his lips. How well he remembered his own childhood and youth while at Ivy Castle, and all the mischief children could find when not supervised.
Then he shook his head. His siblings notwithstanding, he needed more from life... as well as to escape the matchmaking machinations of his ducal parents. For they might believe they’d hidden that interest, but it was clear as day they’d mucked about and played a part in seeing Griffin, Stephen, and even Lettice engaged during the Christmastide holiday house party.
How was that even possible? And why did his parents care about the romantic lives of their children?
Well, I refuse to let that happen to me. I’m quite content.
Wishing, again, he were in London, Graham cast a glance about the rapidly filling room. The ball had been thrown by his parents to celebrate their wedding anniversary, as they did every year on Boxing Day, and from the mad crush of people attending, it would prove a wild success.
Too bad there were simply no compelling ladies in attendance. That rather put a damper on his enthusiasm for the evening. The chase, the flirting, the charming someone into a first kiss were what he enjoyed the most, and he’d indulged in none of that while at Ivy Castle.
When his gaze connected with his eldest brother Griffin—the man who would be the next Duke of Whittington—he sighed and gestured with his chin. Perhaps talking with Griff would alleviate the dullness of the evening, and it had barely begun.
“How is it that out of all the attendees here tonight, you alone are displaying an expression of fierce boredom?” Griffin asked upon arrival at Graham’s location.
He snorted but kept his position of leaning a shoulder against the wall with his arms crossed at his chest. “No doubt because there is literally nothing engaging about this ball.”
“It’s all in your perspective, little brother.”
Graham rolled his eyes, for he hated when his siblings referred to him with that moniker. “What would you have me do, pray tell?”
“Mingle. Charm. Do whatever it is you do that’s given you the reputation of a rogue.” Griffin waved a hand. Taller and leaner than Graham, he was also a twin, but all the Ivy siblings possessed dark brown hair. “There is nothing lacking in the guest list tonight.”
“Ha!” Graham pushed off the wall. “Do you see any heiresses, any unhappily married ladies, any widows who are fairly young and equally willing to break up the dullness of this affair?”
“I haven’t been looking for those specific demographics.” Griffin sent a glance about the room, and then his whole expression brightened, softened.
And Graham knew why. Nora, Griffin’s fiancée, had just entered the room. “Your betrothed aside,” he added, for there was a certain amount of annoyance knowing all three of his older siblings had found romance during the Christmastide house party.
And it was quite suspect. He couldn’t prove it and had no evidence that his parents were behind the matches, of course, but after his sister had announced her surprise engagement yesterday, and his parents hadn’t kicked a fuss that her baron was well beneath her in status—not that they had with any of the matches, even Griffin’s—the proof was becoming obvious.
“Don’t you think Nora is fantastic?” his brother asked while a goofy grin curved his mouth. He lifted a hand and waved, presumably at his bride-to-be.
Graham stopped himself at the last second from making a gagging noise. “Now that is a matter of perspective.” Married life wasn’t for him. He enjoyed playing the rogue way too much to set a toe into domestication. As soon as a man was caught in parson’s mousetrap, his freedom, his fun was over. There was nothing left for him except to set up his nursery, buy a townhouse, and do whatever the wife told him until death.
Gah! Imagine the years of boredom!
Perhaps the butler encouraged the guests to line the edges of the ballroom, or perhaps someone else put forth the idea, but eventually, the parquet floor where dancing would be held had emptied. Everyone waited for the duke—Graham’s father—to enter the room with his duchess on his arm. They would make their customary speech as they did every year on their anniversary. Then they would both open the ball with their traditional waltz. After that, the guests would join them.
But not before.
The wait crawled over his skin like the slow march of ants.
Griffin nudged an elbow into Graham’s ribcage. “You know, asking for a woman’s hand and enjoying an engagement is not the horror you apparently think.”
“So you say.” He narrowed his eyes on his brother. “To that end, what are you trying to say?”
“Just that in your avoidance of anything that smacks of marriage, you’re doing yourself a great disservice.” One of Griffin’s dark eyebrows rose. “In fact, I believe you’d make a fine husband if you’d stop chasing the wrong skirts.”
“As if you are suddenly England’s foremost expert in wedded bliss.” Just because his brother had courted and subsequently landed their father’s nurse, Nora, a few weeks ago didn’t mean he had experience in such an arena. Damnation, before Nora, Griffin had been painfully shy and socially awkward. He’d not ever put himself on the Marriage Mart or did anything to bring feminine attention to himself.
Until the deuced house party had come about, and his father maintained his heart was ailing him. Thus, the reliance on Nora... and how she came to be put into Griffin’s path. Yes, his parents must have had a hand in that romance.
So why, then, had they given up on matching him—Graham?
Have I destroyed my reputation so much?
“Well, I’m a fat lot better at it than you. Wouldn’t you say?” Griffin shot back, and the words recalled Graham’s wandering attention.
“Touché.” He glanced away, unwilling to see the pity in his brother’s eyes.
“Why are you so against matrimony?” The question brought Graham’s notice once more. “It’s not like you’ve had your heart broken or have been betrayed by a woman, which necessitates the need to guard your heart.”
“So you think.” His sibling didn’t need to know that Graham had never been in love. Lust or boredom usually drove his liaisons.
Griffin’s eyebrows rose. “Have you?”
Heat crept up the back of his neck. “No.” The buzz of excited conversation mixed with easy laughter throughout the room—the hallmarks of any holiday celebration. Elusive scents of perfumes and powders mixed with the stronger aromas of clove-studded oranges strategically placed around the room. “I never let a relationship advance so far that love might snap me up.” Even as he spoke, Graham traced the outline of an engagement ring in his waistcoat pocket. He never went anywhere without it since he’d reached his twenty-fifth birthday, and it had become the representation of hope, even if his brain didn’t wish to fall for such a trap. That trifling gift from his grandmother was a connection to both her and a life he only allowed himself to dream about when gripped with a weak moment. He heaved out a sigh. “I enjoy the chase far more, for what would I do with the woman once I won her?”
Truly, it was a baffling topic, and one that he couldn’t fathom, for he suspected he’d be a rubbish husband, for he didn’t have many things to recommend him, above and beyond the fear that he might not know how to fall in love after all this time.
“Uh, you’ll enjoy the remainder of your life with that one woman.” Griffin shook his head. “Why is this such a difficult concept for you?”
Graham stifled a groan. “Just the one?” A shudder of unease went down his spine, leaving cold gooseflesh in its wake. “I wonder if that’s even possible. Wouldn’t a man grow bored? I’d think the excitement would die quite quickly.”
“You’re impossible.” His brother leveled a look on him that consigned Graham to an insane asylum. “Once a man finds love—true, genuine, never-had-a-doubt love, he doesn’t think like that. Doesn’t want anyone else, but that woman holds every corner of his heart, and that’s all he needs.”
Was that even possible? Graham transferred his gaze to the crowded edges of the ballroom, where glittering jewels graced the necks of a plethora of ladies and their colorful skirts made up a pleasing holiday bouquet. One woman for the rest of his life. One person with who he could share his secrets, his hopes and dreams. Perhaps build upon them and incorporate hers into the mixture as well. One lady with whom he might have children and create a family to call his own...
He swallowed around the sudden ball of unshed tears in his throat. “Sounds about as dull as this house party has been.” So why, then, did he secretly wish he might at least stumble upon a glimmer of exactly that? Wish that his empty existence had a purpose after all these years?
“You need to change your thinking, little brother. Ask Stephen if you don’t believe me. He was much like you at one point.” Griffin dropped a hand on Graham’s shoulder and shook it. “But even the most stubborn of us fall when we meet the woman perfect for us.”
“I’ll bear that in mind.” Perhaps he could make an escape to the library and lose himself in one of the volumes of Shakespeare his father owned. Only in his imagination would he find exactly what he was searching for.
A sudden flurry of activity erupted at the doorway. Crowds parted. Murmurs of appreciation filled the air. Snippets of laughter echoed. Graham’s parents slowly made their way toward the middle of the dance floor. His mother rested a gloved hand upon his father’s pristine black sleeve. The ducal couple was resplendent in their evening attire, and the royal purple of his mother’s gown was indeed eye catching.
His father lifted a hand for quiet. “I’d like to thank all of you for coming this evening to help Lady Whittington and I celebrate our wedding anniversary.” As he talked, he constantly glanced about the room in an effort to encompass everyone in his gaze. It was something Graham had always admired about his father. “As you know, I take my responsibilities of being a husband as seriously as I do the ones that accompany being a duke. And, quite frankly, playing counterpart to my lovely bride brings more of a reward.”
A spattering of good-natured laughter circled about the room.
Graham looked at his brother, who shrugged, but there was a grin apparent on his face, for they’d both heard this same speech—slightly altered—many times in the past.
His mother cleared her throat, but the only person she looked upon was her husband. “Whittington and I are delighted to host this event tonight. As you know, we are firm believers of love and happy endings, and there is no better time to believe in such as Christmastide.”
By willpower alone, Graham bit off the sarcastic retort tingling on the tip of his tongue. How had he never noticed the overt romance and magical happiness his parents exhibited before now? Perhaps it was because he’d made it a point to remain far from Ivy Castle in recent years. Yet... As he peered about the room and sought out his siblings with their new partners, he sighed. That same sort of feeling, that special something had possessed them as well. Was it due to their parents’ influence or what love had done to them?
A swift stab of longing went through his chest. Surely, he didn’t need such fancy or whimsy in his own life. Did he?
When his father spoke again, Graham’s thoughts scattered. “I’m honored and humbled that everyone here has come to celebrate thirty-nine years of wedded bliss with me and Lady Whittington. The only reason I’m a success today is due to her influence.” The look he gave her brimmed with enough heat that Graham’s own cheeks burned with embarrassment. “To that end, we both heartily invite you to enjoy yourselves with dancing and the other entertainments offered tonight. As well as indulge your bellies with the wealth of rich foods and delicate sweets my cook and her staff has prepared.” Then, with a theatrical flourish, he gave a deep bow to Graham’s mother. Her cheeks pinkened, and when he took her hand, he asked, “Will you make me the happiest of men and grant me permission to lead you out in our traditional waltz, my love?”
A chorus of appreciative sighs went through the room.
Oh yes, his father was the original charmer.
“I can’t think of anything I would enjoy more, my darling.”
Polite applause echoed through the gathered guests. Seconds later the string quintet hired for the event struck up the first notes of the waltz. His father escorted his mother to the center of the parquet floor, and they smiled into each other’s eyes until that first step was taken.
While the guests’ attention was taken with watching the ducal couple swirl and sweep across the floor, Griffin again nudged Graham’s ribcage with his elbow.
“Don’t you want that, Graham? What our parents share?” A dreamy look had come into Griffin’s eye. “That enduring love that saw them through the whole of their lives?” He nudged Graham. “Father seems as much in love with Mother as he surely was when they married.” Appreciation echoed in his hushed tones. “I certainly want that, though I don’t have the confidence Father does.” His brow wrinkled with worry.
“Such gammon.” On both counts. Graham glanced between his brother and his parents. “You will do quite well when you wed Nora.”
“Thank you.” Griffin caught and held his gaze. “A love like that is nothing to sneeze at, you know. It’s endured and overcome much more than we probably even know.”
“They are terrific role models.” Graham nodded. The wad of emotion stuck once more in his throat. What if he didn’t have it in him to succeed like his father had? If he wed, what if he failed miserably at that most holy of estates? The thought of proving a disappointment to a woman left him suffering from chills. “Do I want that?” he asked in a hushed voice while his parents seemed lost in each other. “I couldn’t tell you for I’ve not thought on it.” He let out a breath of frustration and glanced away from the dance floor. “The woman in question would need to make an indelible impression on me no one else could. And there would have to be extenuating circumstances involved to prey upon my sense of nobility.”
When put that way, such conditions would never happen.
Griffin sighed. “I sometimes think there’s no hope for you.” He squeezed Graham’s shoulder. “But I’ll keep the faith for you all the same. Enjoy yourself tonight. I know I will.”
“Thank you.” He shook his head in an effort to knock loose the maudlin thoughts he’d sunk into. “I plan to steal a dance from you with Nora tonight. It’ll give me the opportunity to reveal a few damning secrets to her about you when we were boys.”
When Griffin gave him a mock-punch to the shoulder, they both laughed. “I rather doubt she’ll believe you.”
“We shall see, Hollingsworth,” he said, using his brother’s title as a bit of mockery.
No matter how much he adored his family, their happiness was rather stifling.