Earl of Bergen: Wicked Regency Romace (Wicked Earls' Club Book 15) Read online

  Elizabeth had no need for a London dandy, and she was trying not to be resentful of Aunt Jane for inviting him to dinner. He was too handsome by half and she had never been wont to partake in frivolous flirtations. Nevertheless, she refused to be uncivil and it was only for one dinner. That did not mean she could not convince him she was not to his taste, though. She had seen his eyes roaming over her in curiosity and he already thought her eccentric, so why not prove him correct?

  “Which dress will you wear, my lady?” her abigail asked, holding up two gowns for her perusal.

  “The grey poplin with the high neck.”

  “You have not worn that since you put off your blacks!” her old nursemaid said in disbelief.

  Elizabeth raised a haughty eyebrow. She did not wish to be questioned when she was already feeling insecure. She was not normally so prim.

  “As you please, my lady.”

  “And please have Sally bring the children. They will be joining us for dinner.”

  “With a guest?” Hannah asked with the familiarity of an old retainer.

  “He will not mind. He likes animals and children. Besides, he will not be here long. The vicar is also coming to discuss the Christmas pageant, so the children should be there.”

  “As you wish, my lady.” Hannah tightened the laces on Elizabeth’s gown and left the room. Elizabeth should probably be ashamed, but she had seen enough of these London bucks to know the type, and he might as well know what things were really like here so he could be on his way.

  When she went downstairs, she was surprised to find Bergen and Aunt Jane on the sofa, having a tête-à-tête. Her white cat, Snowflake, was sitting in Lord Bergen’s lap purring and swishing his tail. Elizabeth had never seen the cat come near anyone but Aunt Jane. Meanwhile, the bull mastiff, Sampson, was curled up at his feet. Aunt Jane was regaling Bergen with stories of her youth, and he was smiling at her as if she were in the bloom of her first Season.

  “I see you have met some of our menagerie,” Elizabeth said as she entered the room determined not to be taken in by his charm.

  He made to stand but she waved him back down. “The rest of the party will join us shortly. The vicar is coming to discuss the Christmas pageant and the children will be joining us.”

  Aunt Jane let out an inhuman growl before turning it into a half-hearted cough.

  “You must not think so ill of him,” Elizabeth gently reprimanded.

  “He is a fat, old toad who does not preach real sermons,” she returned peevishly.

  “Aunt, it is long past time to let bygones be bygones. He has replanted the garden he accidentally killed, as well as a portion of the adjoining hedge.”

  Aunt Jane gave a disdainful sniff.

  “I think his sermons are very thoughtful and lovely. No one wants to hear hell-fire and brimstone all the time, anyway,” Elizabeth added.

  Aunt Jane shrugged a shoulder begrudgingly. Elizabeth noticed Lord Bergen looked very amused.

  “May I pour you a drink, sir?” she asked.

  “No, thank you. I am quite content. I am curious as to where all the misfit animals are, however. All of these seem perfectly normal.”

  “They are here and there. I am certain some more will make an appearance.”

  The vicar, who really did look like a pudgy little toad, arrived then and Elizabeth made the introductions before the children were brought into the drawing room by their nurse.

  “Children, come make your bows to our new guest, Lord Bergen, and you know Vicar Brown, of course.”

  “Lord Bergen, allow me to introduce Josiah, Ruthie and Marie.”

  Bergen had risen to his feet—to the displeasure of Snowflake, who meowed loudly—and made a bow to the children. He then knelt down to greet the young girls of six and three. Ruthie was hiding behind Marie’s skirts.

  “I am very pleased to meet you, ladies.”

  “Why are you here, misther?” Marie asked.

  “I brought your mama a donkey.”

  “That is a very thrange gift to bring her,” Marie replied innocently.

  “I suppose it is, but I was told she rescued animals and Clarence needed a home.”

  “Clarence is a very thrange name for a donkey,” she continued, unperturbed.

  “Oh, but there I must disagree. Once you meet him, you can see for yourself that he looks like a Clarence.”

  Marie furrowed her brow. “I do not know any Claranthes, so how will I know what they look like?” she protested.

  Elizabeth was enjoying the look of consternation on Lord Bergen’s face enormously and made no attempt to hush the girl. She wondered how quickly after dinner he would make his excuses and flee from the domesticity.

  “I want to thee him,” Marie pronounced and took Lord Bergen’s hand to lead him outside.

  “Perhaps after dinner,” Elizabeth interrupted. “We do not wish to let the food go cold.”

  “It is already dark,” Marie protested.

  “Marie,” Elizabeth said in a warning voice, “I promise there will be time to meet him later.”

  The butler announced dinner and Elizabeth ushered the children into the room behind Lord Bergen, who gallantly offered his arm to Aunt Jane. The vicar followed.

  “Did I hear you say you brought a donkey?” Vicar Brown asked. He was bald as well as fat and appeared even less comely beside Lord Bergen’s tall person.

  “Indeed, you did,” Bergen answered.

  “It is surely God’s providence. We need a donkey for the pageant to bring Mary into Bethlehem.”

  “I am not certain…” Bergen began to protest, but Elizabeth interrupted him.

  “What an excellent idea!” Elizabeth declared. “You will fit on Clarence perfectly, Marie.”

  “I do not want to be Mary. I want to be a withe man,” she protested.

  “I do not wish to be Joseph and pretend to be married to my sister.” Josiah finally spoke.

  “Then perhaps we should not have a pageant this year,” Aunt Jane remarked. “If the children do not wish to participate, then why do it at all?”

  The vicar became flustered and sputtered, “Why, it is a tradition! We must tell the story of Christmas!”

  “Then do it in your droll excuse for sermons from the pulpit!” Aunt Jane retorted.

  “We will have the pageant, Vicar, never you fear,” Elizabeth put in hastily. “It will all work out as it should, I am sure. Everyone, do, please, enjoy your dinner. We are simple folk here in the country, Lord Bergen. Three courses are enough for us, but I am sure it is not what you are used to.”

  “I prefer a good country meal, ma’am, to the current vogue for French cuisine. I appreciate your hospitality.” He raised his glass in thanks and then served himself with some stuffed pigeon and boiled potatoes the footmen held before him.

  Elizabeth frowned. She had expected dinner to be lively with the children present, but it was entirely too calm and comfortable.

  The vicar was trying too hard to make Aunt Jane like him, as usual, and Ruthie was wearing more food than she was eating.

  Lord Bergen was making an effort to speak to Josiah, who tended to shy away from men. Somehow, to her surprise, he was drawing more than one-word responses from the youth. In fact, the dinner felt shockingly normal and almost cosy—that is, until Marie’s pet mouse, Nippy, decided to help himself to the cheese tray.

  Lord Bergen maintained his composure, but the vicar jumped, spilling his wine into his lap.

  “Good heavens!” he exclaimed, patting his napkin on his breeches as Aunt Jane laughed at him. The children quickly joined in. This was much more as expected, she thought, with a certain satisfaction.

  “Forgive us, Vicar. Marie is not supposed to bring him in to dinner.”

  “She keeps a mouse for a pet?” he questioned.

  “He is one of God’th creatureth, thir,” Marie reprimanded, her lower lip protruding with disapproval.

  “Perhaps it is time to go outside and meet the donkey,” Aunt J
ane suggested.

  Ruthie was standing at the window and with a giggle, pointed at the glass.

  “It appears Clarence has come to greet us,” Lord Bergen said.

  “He does not look like a donkey,” Josiah remarked.

  The vicar let out a deep sigh. “Perhaps we should cancel the pageant after all,” he agreed as they all stood and looked at Clarence, who was beating his nose against the window pane.

  Elizabeth opened the terrace door and Clarence jumped with apparent glee and began to make a noise.

  “Is he trying to sing?” Aunt Jane asked, squinting into the dark.

  “Did I not mention he is a singing donkey?” Bergen smiled.

  “I like him, but I do not think I want to ride him. I want to be a withe man,” Marie announced.

  “And I do not want to be Joseph,” Josiah stated.

  “We have no one else to play Joseph,” Elizabeth reminded him. “Perhaps Molly Satterley will play Mary instead.”

  “I do not wish to be Joseph!” Josiah said angrily, his face red.

  “He likes Molly,” Marie said innocently.

  Josiah stomped off and Clarence began to howl.

  “Hush, Clarence!” Lord Bergen commanded and surprisingly, the donkey obeyed.

  “I am certain this is not what you are used to, Lord Bergen. Please do not feel the need to be polite and remain,” Elizabeth suggested, trying not to laugh.

  “Nonsense. This is far more entertaining than watching my best friend and his new wife make eyes at each other.”

  Elizabeth was not sure what to say to that. Lord Bergen had not been such a superficial cur as she had imagined him, and he had been good with the children. She suddenly felt exhausted and wanted this man to leave. The pageant was only a week away and now it seemed the whole idea was falling apart. She had wanted this Christmas to be special for the children.

  “Did I say something wrong?” he asked.

  “No, not at all. I am distracted by the pageant, sir. Forgive me.”

  “I will leave you, then,” he said pleasantly.

  Now Elizabeth felt like the cur here, but this was why she did not entertain notions of men and remarriage. She had no time for it.

  “Thank you for Clarence. He will be a charming addition to our collection.”

  “Misther.”

  Elizabeth looked down to see Marie tugging on Lord Bergen’s coat.

  “Yes, Marie?” He knelt down to look her in the eye.

  “I know how to make the pageant happen.”

  “How is that, Marie?”

  “You be Joseph and Mama be Mary.”

  Chapter 3

  Bergen would never have thought himself as a candidate for Joseph, as part of the Nativity. Taking a sideways glance at Lady Newton, he could tell she was equally startled by the pronouncement. It seemed so simple when little Marie suggested it. Simple, yes, but a good idea? Maybe, maybe not. When was the last time that he had really celebrated Christmas? He had gone to balls and done his share of flirting, delivered presents to the widows who struck his fancy, and generally accommodated the festivities to his own comfort. Yet here, in plain Stony Stratford, he had a widow, and was being considered as Joseph in a Christmas play. His friends would say this had the potential to be a much better Season than he had anticipated, even though this very attractive widow was already wearing what could be used as Mary’s ancient dress—colour and all.

  “Could I have another glass of wine, please?”

  The vicar’s request interrupted his thoughts.

  “Certainly.” Smiling, he passed the wine decanter to the elder cleric seated beside him.

  “Marie, I am expected in London…” The look on her face stopped him in mid-sentence.

  “Thir, Mama needs you to play Joseph because Josiah does not want to be Joseph and she loves the Christmas play.”

  Bergen could not resist Marie’s plea. If Lady Newton were willing to do it, then he would, too.

  “When exactly does the play take place?” He needed to get word to Aunt Faith that his plans had changed.

  “It usually takes place on Christmas Eve, my lord. “ The short, balding vicar reached across the dinner table and helped himself to another biscuit as he answered.

  “Vicar, what animals could you consider using in the play?” Bergen asked. He was thinking of Clarence. The donkey seemed possessed of unexpected abilities. If it was to be a musical, surely Clarence could accompany the choir? What am I about? A donkey singing in a musical pageant? The thought made him laugh out loud. “I apologize. I did not mean to laugh. I was just thinking about Clarence and the many talents he seems to have.”

  “He will make a good donkey,” Marie added.

  “I trust you do not expect me to ride that little donkey!” Lady Newton exclaimed in astonishment.

  Bergen bit back another deep laugh. Now I would pay to see that. “No, I would not think either of you would find that comfortable. I only asked because I wanted to know the vicar’s thoughts on animals taking part in such entertainment.

  “I do think we can use…ah…Clarence, is it?” The vicar finished blotting up the wine that was on his lap and refilled his glass.

  “Help yourself, Vicar,” shot Aunt Jane, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “You will find it is better than the grape juice you serve.”

  “Please, Vicar, pray tell me how you feel we can use Clarence on the stage?” Bergen hoped to smooth the rough pause created by Aunt Jane’s acid words. He smothered a chuckle of appreciation. The old termagant.

  The vicar took a large swig of red wine. “It would make things look authentic if we have the donkey on the stage. This little donkey seems rather rare. He sings, you say?” He chuckled. “Then he is rare, indeed!”

  Bergen cleared his throat. “That is stating it mildly.” He glanced at the window and was relieved that Clarence seemed to have settled down. He was not pawing or trying to gain attention. He seemed to be just…watching. If Bergen did not know better, he would swear the donkey was…listening. No! Impossible. Nevertheless, the feeling persisted. “Lady Newton, will you be participating as Mary, as little Marie suggested?” He hoped she would. Despite the drab gown she had chosen, he found her interesting, not to mention, beautiful. He was aware she was purposely trying to drive him away and for the life of him, he did not understand her motives.

  Lady Newton had gone out of her way to make dinner difficult. He tried not to laugh, because it was having the reverse effect on him. She was wearing garments which indicated she was still in mourning, and she had included her three children—something that was normally frowned upon in Society. Ha! A good chase makes the conquest that much better. He had divested himself of his latest mistress because she had started whining and wanting too much of his time. He was not anxious to be leg-shackled and found widows to be a safer bet. Perhaps Lady Newton would ease his needs. He had hoped to find entertainment with the lovely Lady Burroughs, who was newly widowed and always made it known she was very anxious, but London would have to wait. Lady Newton would be a far more interesting diversion.

  Dinner continued until the vicar stood up to leave. “I should be getting back to the vicarage.” He looked at her aunt and nodded. “Aunt Jane, thank you for your delightful company. I always enjoy your spirited repartee. It keeps me on my toes, you know.” The short, stocky man bubbled with laughter.

  “Humph!” It was the first time in the evening the old woman was left without anything to say.

  “Rehearsals for the play start tomorrow evening at five o’clock.” He nodded to everyone and started to take his leave.

  Bergen noted that the vicar had said ‘start’. “What do you mean, Vicar, that rehearsals start? Surely there is not so much to learn?”

  “Well, we always need a few rehearsals before everyone feels…er…comfortable.” The vicar looked a bit flustered at the question and looked to Lady Newton, who nodded.

  “Yes, with the smaller children, it takes several practices for them
to become comfortable with speaking in front of adults.” Lady Newton answered and immediately rang the bell. The children’s nurse appeared.

  “Children, go with Miss Holly, please. I will be up directly.” Elizabeth pushed back her chair and stood up. “Vicar, please let me walk you out. Thank you for coming. It was delightful.”

  The children pulled back from the table quietly and left the room without a word.

  “Yes, indeed; most pleasant! Those are very well-behaved children. Yes, indeed; most well-behaved! I was glad to come. As always, your Aunt Jane—ah, the food, was delightful. If you do not mind me saying so, my lady, I think you and Lord Bergen would be wonderful in the pageant. Providing we do not have you ride the donkey, Lady Newton, might we count on your participation?”

  “Very well, if you insist.” Elizabeth’s voice was barely above a whisper.

  “Very good!” The vicar was all smiles and rubbed his abdomen in a circular motion with one hand. “The children can be the wise men, and, ah, Clarence can participate as well.” Patting his stomach, the vicar grabbed his hat and coat and made his way out into the evening.

  “I am not sure how the plan has changed so drastically, but since it is a Christmas pageant, I suppose I will do it,” remarked Lady Newton. “Please do not feel obligated, my lord.”

  “I would very much like to participate, if you are amenable.” Bergen smiled in earnest. “I shall be honoured to be Joseph.”

  Elizabeth rubbed her temple but did not reply.

  “I will also take my leave, Lady Newton,” he continued. “You appear tired. I do have one lingering question, however. How often will there need to be a rehearsal?” He envisioned rehearsing a time or two and then coming back a day or so before Christmas.