Page 1 of Snowbound with the Earl (Snowbound #2)

One

The rumor was that Lady Dorsey had a knack for matchmaking.

Notably, Lord and Lady Ivy had become engaged at her winter house party two years before.

The next year, a slew of hopeful young ladies had vied for invitations so they might also attend the now famous—or was it infamous?

—Dorsey house party and catch a husband for Christmas.

Lady Noelle Bonneville, widowed viscountess, was not in search of a husband.

In fact, she’d just rid herself of one and had no intention of locking herself in the prison of marriage ever again.

But Lady Dorsey—Eva—was a family friend and had been so very kind to her when they’d been children.

Noelle had been one of the youngest of the bunch of children who gathered with their families at the summer house parties in Shropshire, and Eva had always included her in the children’s games.

So when their paths crossed in Town at a dinner party—one of the first events Noelle had attended since coming out of mourning—and Eva sat beside her on the couch after dinner, Noelle expected the invitation and fully intended to decline.

“Lady Bonneville, I have been wanting to speak to you,” Eva said, her green eyes sparkling.

“Surely we have moved beyond these formalities,” Noelle replied. “You’ve known me since I was in leading strings.”

Eva put her hand on Noelle’s. “You’re right. Noelle, it is so good to see you again. You are looking well.”

“Thank you, Eva. I admit it is a bit strange being in Society again, but I confess, I was beginning to feel a bit lonely.”

“I’m sorry to hear it, but I believe I have just the thing.”

Noelle began to shake her head, but Eva squeezed her hand. “Lord Dorsey and I are having a house party a fortnight before Christmas. We would be honored if you would join us.”

Noelle was still shaking her head. “I’m to spend Christmas with my parents at Fairborne House.”

Eva waved a hand. “Oh, the party will end the twenty-third of December. Fairborne is only a half day’s ride. You will be there for dinner.”

Noelle was prepared for this argument. “I wouldn’t want to risk being snowed in and unable to spend the holiday with my family.”

“You refer to the events of two years ago.” Eva smiled wistfully.

“I assure you that that Christmas was an anomaly. Last year we received only a dusting of snow.” The twinkle in her eyes dimmed, but only slightly.

“We had to forgo the snowball fight and the building of snow lords and ladies, but the pond did freeze. We had a lovely day of skating and shinty.”

“Eva, you have always been a good friend to me—”

“All the more reason to agree to come to Dorsey House!”

“But I fear you might be thinking of using your matchmaking skills—”

“I have no such skills and no ulterior motives. Yes, dear Holly and Lord Ivy became engaged at our party two years ago, but that had nothing to do with me. They had known each other for years. In fact, there were no matches made last year. At least none I am aware of.”

“I understand and yet I don’t feel quite ready—”

“I wouldn’t be so insistent except that Lord Evergreen will be in attendance, and you know how quiet and withdrawn he can be. I think he might appreciate a familiar face.”

Noelle ceased shaking her head. Lord Evergreen?

Graham Birmingham, the Earl of Evergreen, had agreed to attend the Dorsey house party?

His attendance was the best reason yet for Noelle to decline.

Surely, she was the last person Graham wanted to see or be forced into company with for a week to ten days.

Noelle knew she should decline. She opened her mouth to do so—firmly and decisively.

“Very well. I’ll attend.”

Eva, who had been looking at her out of the corner of her eye, jerked her head up. “Oh, I’m so pleased!”

Wait. She hadn’t meant to say that at all. Noelle was appalled with herself. She had to correct the matter immediately. “What I meant was...”

Eva looked at her with wide, hopeful eyes. Noelle sighed. How could she disappoint her friend when she was looking at her with so much eagerness? It would be like kicking a puppy. “I’d be honored to be your guest.”

“My lord!” Eva called as the doors opened and the men entered, having finished their port and cigars.

Lord Dorsey smiled at his wife and then caught Noelle’s eye.

His expression turned sympathetic. He crossed the chamber, and Eva stood.

“Lady Bonneville has accepted our invitation. I do believe this year’s event will be the best yet!

” She squeezed his arm then gasped. “Oh, there is Miss Rummage. I must speak to her.” She floated away, and Lord Dorsey smiled down at Noelle.

“If it’s any consolation, you never really had a choice.”

“I’m beginning to realize that.”

“She is a force of nature, and you can either fight it or enjoy the storm.”

“Can one enjoy a storm?” Noelle asked.

He grinned. “I do.”

***

TWO MONTHS LATER

Graham Birmingham, Earl of Evergreen, did not like house parties. He could tick off the reasons on one hand.

First, house parties were full of people, and he did not like people.

Two, house parties were full of noise, and he did not like noise.

Three, house parties involved numerous daily activities, and he did not like most activities. He preferred reading.

Four, house parties took time away from reading.

Five, he couldn’t think of a fifth reason straightaway, but he had no doubt one would come to him.

Graham had only arrived at Dorsey House the day before, though the party had begun ten days earlier.

He hadn’t wanted to come at all, but he felt he had a duty.

John, Lord Dorsey, was Graham’s cousin on his mother’s side, and he’d invited Graham for the Christmas festivities these past four years.

If Graham refused again, he feared there might be bad blood—possibly even spilled blood, as his aunt had taken him to task in more than one strongly worded letter last year.

And so here he was, standing in Dorsey’s dark-paneled billiards room, watching as Mr. Swinton and Mr. Rummage engaged in a lively game with far more skill than he possessed.

John approached with a glass of brandy from one of the decanters on the table near where Graham stood, observing the game.

Graham took the glass and looked down at it. “It’s a bit early for spirits.”

“Never too early,” Swinton remarked as Rummage sent a ball into the corner pocket.

“Don’t put it down just yet.” John motioned for Graham to take a seat before the fire.

The weather the past few days had been sunny and cold, but not bitterly so.

Last week there had been a light dusting of snow, and Graham had hoped more might fall and give him the excuse of bad roads so he might stay home.

But when he’d set out yesterday, the sky had been a cloudless blue with nary a snowflake to be found.

And he’d looked.

“Will I need it?” Graham asked as he sat opposite Dorsey in one of the comfortable, high-backed armchairs.

“You might.” Dorsey angled his chair so the billiards players could not see his face.

“Why?”

“My wife invited Viscountess Bonneville.”

Graham drank the brandy without thinking. He took a breath and forced the hand now gripping the arm of the chair to unclench. “Why?”

“After you accepted the invitation—”

“After?”

Dorsey ignored the hissed interjection. “—Lady Dorsey invited Lady Bonneville, and the viscountess accepted.”

“And you didn’t think I should be informed of her inclusion?” Graham asked in a flat tone.

“Eva said you wouldn’t come if I told you.”

“She was correct.”

“We weren’t certain either of you would attend under the best circumstances. In fact, Lady Bonneville has yet to arrive.”

Thank God for small mercies.

“I wanted you to know her arrival is a possibility.”

“Yes, well thank you for warning me of the ambush after the fact.”

Dorsey rose and took Graham’s empty snifter.

“It’s not an ambush, Graham.” He filled the snifter with two fingers, and Graham gestured for him to continue pouring.

John ignored him and handed him the snifter with the two fingers of brandy.

“Do you not think it long past time you and Lady Bonneville made amends?”

“No.”

John made a face and sat again with his own snifter of brandy. “That’s your choice, of course. The viscountess is a widow now, only a few months out of mourning. My wife felt this party might lift her spirits.”

“Your wife—and you know I adore Lady Dorsey as it’s impossible not to adore her, so forgive me for saying this—your wife wanted to play matchmaker. She had a taste of success a couple of years ago, and she wants another notch on her belt.”

John narrowed his eyes. “My wife does not notch a belt. She only wants—”

“—the best for everyone. It’s her worst quality.” Graham feared he’d said too much, but John burst out laughing, causing Swinton and Rummage to glance their way.

“It’s her best and her worst quality.” Dorsey finished his brandy and rose.

“Well, forewarned is forearmed, my lord. And now I must warn all three of you gentlemen that my wife will be expecting us in twenty minutes for a walk in the woods to gather greenery. So pluck up your saws and scythes and meet in the foyer.” He bowed and retreated.

Rummage sighed. “I believe I will allow Mrs. Rummage to chaperone Anne for this event,” he said. “I’m still done in from the dancing last night.”

“You’re missing the best event of the party,” Swinton said. “I intend to find as much mistletoe as possible and hang it in the most strategic places.” He replaced his cue and started for the door.

Rummage, undoubtedly thinking of his daughter, frowned. “Perhaps I will go along.” He put his cue in the rack and looked at Graham, who hadn’t moved from the chair before the fire. “Coming, my lord?”

“I’ll be right behind you.” But as soon as the door closed, Graham reached in his coat pocket and withdrew a small volume. Finally, he had what he craved—silence and uninterrupted time for reading.

He heard the echoes of voices as the other guests gathered and donned coats, pelisses, scarves, and mittens. Then the cacophony died down as the partygoers embarked on their activity for the day. Graham settled into his chair and his book.

Sometime later he was dimly aware of the sound of hooves and carriage wheels on the gravel drive. He imagined Lady Dorsey had sent for a carriage to retrieve the ladies who were too fatigued to walk back to the house and thought no more about it. He turned the page and continued reading.

“Hello?” a woman’s voice called. “Is anyone home?”

Graham’s head jerked up. He knew that voice.

“Hello? Lady Dorsey? Lord Dorsey? Anyone?”

Graham sat very still, hoping—nay, praying someone, anyone, would greet the newcomer and show her to her chambers.

“Hello?” the voice called again, sounding rather forlorn now.

Graham rose and glared at the door before crossing to it, opening it, and stepping out. Now he knew the fifth reason he disliked house parties.

Noelle Bonneville.