Page 1 of Once Upon a Gilded Christmas (To All The Earls I’ve Loved Before #4)

Edward Russell, the Earl of Lavistock, loved both his sons, a sentiment almost unheard of amongst his peers, who tended to favour their eldest son and, at best, tolerate the rest. While Kendall would be his heir, Edward was determined that his second son Jacob, was not to be neglected.

Not the way Edward had been.

When Jacob had come of age, he had declared him to receive a substantial inheritance, sufficient to live quite well with enough to keep a wife in great comfort, preferably a wife that he adored, for Edward would let his son marry for love.

He wanted a love match for Kendall too, really, though the odds of that were slim.

That was what happened when a son was positioned to become quite titled and somewhat wealthy as soon as the father popped his clogs.

Edward hoped that would not be for another twenty years, at least. Maybe thirty, if he was lucky.

Still, the matrimonial target was on Kendall’s back simply because he was born first. The hunters would be out for him.

Prior to each Season, every aspirational young lady worked for months crafting the right kind of magic to entice, lure or trap a noble husband. In the past, Edward had assisted his sons to avoid such traps.

But not this week. Perhaps Edward's efforts had been too successful, for neither son had any prospective future wives in mind. They seemed quite content to continue their bachelor lives indefinitely. Perhaps it was time to withdraw support?

This week, they were completely on their own. Good luck to them.

Edward and his sons had been the first to arrive at Lady Hammond’s Christmas Party, if party was the proper name. They all knew why they were there.

Lady Hammond herself greeted them at the door, a round figure in a plum-coloured gown that made her look like a piece of fruit. She spread her arms as if to embrace him. He did not fall into them. "Ah, my dear Lord Edward!" she gushed. "I see you are not afraid to lead the peers."

Well, someone had to be first. "Cowardice was never fashionable," he replied. He bowed, as was proper.

Lady Hammond dropped her arms and returned the curtsey. She'd buried three husbands already through no fault of her own. While she might not object to a fourth, her primary focus was her own daughter, a blessing from her second husband.

Where was the little mouse?

Edward looked about the entrance hall of Solehill House.

When it had been built over a hundred years ago, it was practically country.

Now neighbourhoods considered more London-than-not had pushed up rather close, enough that one couldn't be considered having "left town".

The House had sufficient grounds to be considered luxury, but the smoke from neighbours' chimneys rose just beyond the treeline.

"So glad you were not delayed by the weather," Lady Hammond declared as the footman gathered their overcoats.

Weather? Other than chill and a vague overcast to the skies lending further grey to the world, one could consider the weather clement. It was neither rainy nor snowy nor windy. Just chill. "Wouldn't miss this."

In memory of all the earls she’d loved before, Lady Hammond had invited every single eligible young lord or lady (and their titled parents) under the pretence of celebrating the holiday season for an entire week. Fourteen desperate families accepted.

Nobody was under any illusion that this was anything less than a matchmaking affair, for Lady Hammond had her own daughter to unload and didn’t see any reason to wait. After all, Parliament had been in session since early November.

Edward didn’t mind. Subtly, he approved of the plan, as crazy as it sounded. His sons were in need of wives. As they had been rather slack in their own efforts these past couple of years, Edward was not above putting them in this situation.

Oh, he could have gone and chosen wives for them—his late wife Charlotte would thoroughly approve of this—but he would not. He would never inflict his own fate upon them.

Let them make their own choices. They were perfectly capable of dealing with the consequences.

Though consequences were the last thing on their minds right now.

As another set of guests arrived, Lady Hammond's attention turned from them. Edward, Kendall and Jacob retreated to the gantry rail above the spacious hall of Lady Hammond’s grand entrance to watch the rest of the guests arrive.

Not a bad spot, really. “All the better to regard their charms,” Kendall remarked.

Edward wasn’t fooled. It was the perfect spot from which to stare deep into the young ladies’ décolletages.

The lads leaned against the dark wooden railing that would do little to stop them from tumbling to the floor below, should they lean any further over.

One by one, the carriages arrived, dispensing matchmaking mamas and papas along with their scions, hoping for a splendid match.

One could hardly go wrong, for not a soul had been issued an invitation without Lady Hammond having vetted their pedigree.

The Late Lady Russell would not have sniffed once at this guest list. Normally, she had sniffed at everything.

Well, she could sniff the lid of her coffin until Resurrection Day, then she could keep sniffing it, for—

No, that was an uncharitable thought. It was not her fault she and Edward had been shackled together by their parents in the name of A Splendid Alliance.

Yes, the two families had pooled together their resources, their fathers gaining political advantage.

Lands and fortunes were saved and from the outside, all appeared to be well.

But none of them had to live with the Late Lady Russell's voice. Not what Charlotte said, but the sound of the voice itself. If it didn't make Edward's skin crawl so much, he might have spent more time analysing it to figure out why it sounded so hair-curlingly awful.

Thank heaven above none of their daughters had inherited the sound of their mother. Singing and language lessons helped with that, as well as very little exposure to their mother. Nothing like music lessons for all to drown out the sound of the Late Lady Russell.

Let her rest in peace. The Good Lord could figure her out later. It had been ten years.

This week, it was all about the boys. No matter how old his sons got, they would always be his boys. He wanted nothing more than to see them happy and secure.

But happiness seemed to evade them. Oh, they knew their duty; Edward had seen to that.

So why did they neglect it for so long? Often, young ladies put several complex plans in motion in hopes of capturing Kendall or maybe his brother yet both managed to slip their grasp.

How was it they could not fall in love? These boys needed to learn how to fall in love.

And that involved needing a plan.

If only he knew what that was.

More guests arrived, The Third Earl of Shipbrook, Lady Shipbrook and their daughter Lady Frances.

Kendall sniffed. "Pudgy little thing, isn't she?"

Edward regarded the young lady. Well, 'little' was not an apt description for Lady Frances.

She was a bit taller than one would expect.

Big-boned was the polite term. Well-fleshed was another.

Some would say it a sign of the fortunes of the Earldom of Shipbrook to keep their daughter so well-fed.

She wasn't ugly by any measure. She simply didn't fit the wispy little elfin ideal that was currently popular.

Meanwhile, Jacob trawled through a little notebook he'd brought. "Shame they're Irish."

Kendall sighed.

Edward rolled his eyes. "Looks will not matter so much if her manner is exquisite.

" How often did he have to school his sons to look for the good qualities beyond a fair face?

At least Lady Frances had that clear, creamy skin so well known amongst the Irish.

Her fair hair held a strong tint of strawberry.

Still, his sons smiled and waved to her. She, on the other hand, returned a baffled look.

Next through the door: "William Fermor, Third Earl of Pomfrit."

Jacob scrabbled through his book. "Mary, his daughter by his first wife, who died not long after the birth."

"At least no man with two eyes can doubt she is his daughter," added Kendall. "Her eyebrows are an exact replica of his."

Alas. Now that his son had pointed them out, Edward couldn't not see them. They were like two square caterpillars hovering over her sleepy-looking eyes. He shuddered.

Jacob made a note with a stub of a pencil. "Perhaps she will have good conversation."

Kendall sniffed, echoes of his mother. He didn't need to say anything.

Edward sighed. Three guests in and nothing looked promising.

William Ashburton, the Earl of Baring, had arrived soon after Edward and his sons had, but he brought only his son Bertram, a rather bookish young man whose girth suggested a sessile life.

Here was a lad who was not ashamed of sporting spectacles, as if he hadn't a care in the world for any appearance of virile masculinity.

It was through these he had surveyed Kendall and Jacob, not as rivals, but as.

.. Edward didn't know what. Almost dismissive.

Likewise, his sons had dismissed him as well, for he would be neither rival nor threat. Nothing like a strapping man to attract the young ladies, Kendall often declared. Boxing, horse riding, and other such pursuits showed a man to be a most desirable specimen.

Bertram, he had declared, was not it.

"Good thing you're not marrying him," Jacob had quipped. Still, he had made notes in his notebook.