Page 9 of The Grand Mistletoe Assembly
Cameron nodded, pocketing the card. “It is a little early on for a holiday house party?”
Ridley grinned. “My sister is adamant we all head to Avonmead forthwith to prepare the plum pudding. And she wants us to assist her with a special event for the children of their estate. Something about Saint Nicholas Day. Her holiday arrangements will continue for weeks, so plan on being out of Town longer than the usual two weeks.”
With another nod, Cameron assented. Whatever it took to please the duchess so he might prevail on the Duke of Halmesbury for an introduction to the earl next year. He would learn how to embroider holiday seat cushions like a debutante if the duchess willed it, just so long as it would somehow bring him closer to Isabelle.
“Can I drive you somewhere, Bolton?”
“No need, Ridley. My rooms are close by.”
Ridley gave a wide smile and tipped his beaver in salute. “Until morning, then. I will leave you to pack.” His friend walked back to the awaiting carriage until Cameron called out, remembering just in time why he had been looking for Ridley in the first place.
“Ridley, do you happen to know the Earl of Saunton?”
His friend turned back with a bemused expression. “Why?”
“I have been trying to meet him. Quite desperately, in fact. He has a relation … a young woman I am eager to meet.”
A strange look flickered over his friend’s face. Cameron had the impression Ridley was concealing a smile. “We shall ask the duke in the morning, shall we?”
Cameron suppressed his irritation. There was nothing for it but to wait until morning. Checking his pocket watch, he realized it was just gone midnight. It was a good thing he needed to pack because his misery at the way the evening had turned out would prevent him from sleeping a wink.
Hopefully, his introduction to the Duke of Halmesbury would ultimately straighten out this muddle with Isabelle, so he could learn more about her and her family in order that he might one day meet her.
* * *
Cameron’s dilapidated hiredhackney stopped in front of the Mayfair mansion with a jolt just as the first ray of sunshine broke over the chilly autumn sky. As he descended to the roadway, the front door opened and two footmen rushed forward to assist him with his two trunks and valise.
After Ridley had warned him that the house party would be lengthy, he had given up his rooms for the duration and brought his meager possessions with him, including a heavy trunk of his favorite books that had accompanied him on his long journeys since leaving Cambridge.
Packing his things had reminded him of his hopes to settle down and put down roots now that he was his own man without a father to please. The notion had been so appealing, especially after encountering Isabelle a week earlier. But he could no longer summon the same optimism he had experienced after he had envisioned her presence at his side, assisting him to establish the new business venture.
Nevertheless, he had decided he would set off to explore Wiltshire, then head farther south to hunt for a suitable location to house his new bookshop, rather than mope around Town for the next few months awaiting Isabelle’s return to London. He would travel back after Easter, when the new Season commenced, to find her.
God, what a depressing thought. How did I let her slip through my fingers?
Cameron consoled himself with his imminent introduction to the duke. Surely it would assist him when the next opportunity arose to meet Isabelle. Sighing deeply, Cameron followed the servants through the doorway into the duke’s home with a decided lack of vigor in his step.
When he reached the entrance hall, he found Ridley engaged in conversation with two tall gentlemen. Noticing Cameron’s arrival, Ridley’s face split into a grin. “Bolton! You made it!”
Cameron nodded in greeting as his friend turned to one of the men. Blond, several inches past six feet with the broad, handsome features of a Viking god, the imposing gentleman turned toward Cameron.
“Your Grace, may I introduce the Honorable Cameron Bolton from Limpton, late of His Majesty’s army and my closest cohort from my Cambridge days?”
As Cameron gave a bow, the duke stepped forward to shake his hand. “Ridley tells me you have returned from your adventures in India. Welcome back to England, Bolton. We are well pleased you will keep my reprobate brother-in-law in line during our holiday festivities.” Despite his intimidating stature, His Grace had an amiable manner that immediately put Cameron at ease.
The second gentleman, a sable-haired man of about six feet with wide shoulders and a lean, muscular build, snorted as he glanced at Ridley and then turned to Cameron. “I never understood why your father insisted you attend Cambridge, Ridley. But then he never did like you very much.”
Ridley laughed in a good-natured way at the jape. “Your Oxford snobbery is showing”—Ridley turned to Cameron to give him a mischievous wink—“Saunton.”
Cameron came face-to-face with the dark-haired gentleman and looked straight into his emerald green eyes, skipping a beat in his chest. His mouth agape, he shot Ridley a questioning look.
“Saunton is the duke’s cousin, Bolton. His family will be accompanying us to Wiltshire this morning.”
Cameron snapped his jaw shut lest he appear to be a dullard, while a shot of joy ran straight through him. Shaking hands enthusiastically with the man he had sought to meet this past week, he thought about how he had wished for a miracle, and Ridley had delivered it. Did this mean Isabelle was close by?
* * *
Isabelle was sippingtea and staring despondently at the garden through the window of the brightly lit breakfast room while her sister-in-law chattered with the duchess.
