Have Yourself a Merry Little Scandal: a Christmas collection of Historical Romance (Have Yourself a Merry Little... Book 1)

by Anna Campbell

  “Lady Hughes,” Emily tried again. “Please. I’ve despaired for so long that Roger will grow old alone. He would want you if you came with nothing, and I think we both know that to be true. Forget about the scandal, or Angus’s foolhardy mistake. Think only of what you feel, what you know about my brother. I think you will find you already know that answer. He trusts you with the part of himself he keeps hidden from everyone else. I know that because he told me so himself and I believed him.”

  Miranda perked up at that, a sudden realization occurring to her. If this had been an entrapment scheme, why wouldn’t the Thornton’s have used Angus to snare her instead of Roger? Angus was the sociable one who boasted a title—an old name if nothing else. He would need heirs someday, and Miranda was not too old to conceive them.

  Roger, on the other hand, was the last man this family should have used to bait her. Over the course of the party, she’d learned that his reputation for silent aloofness preceded him. She had witnessed his embarrassment and shame over his stutter, knew how difficult it had been for him to even speak a few words to her. Now that the initial shock and anger had cleared, and Angus had come to her with the truth, Miranda realized she had been hasty in her judgment. The reason her heart kept telling her not to believe what she had heard, was because deep down she’d known the truth. She had mourned Roger’s loss because something inside her knew him to be just the man she’d thought he was.

  “Dear God,” she whispered, slowly coming to her feet. “I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

  “You acted based on false information,” Emily said, with an endearing smile. “Roger understands, and is not angry with you. But he is suffering to think of you hating him, Lady Hughes. Will you put him out of his misery?”

  Miranda grinned, joy and relief coming on the heels of clarity. “I do think the time has come for you to start calling me Miranda. After all, if Roger will have me, we are to be family.”

  Emily let out a soft squeal of excitement, then took hold of both her hands. “And you shall call me Emily, or Em. Oh, of course Roger will have you.”

  “I have to find him. Where is he?”

  “I saw him walking toward the garden just before Angus and I came here.”

  Before the words had left her lips, Miranda was through the door and running with skirts held aloft, her heart soaring and her hope restored.

  Roger leaned against the tree at his back and closed his eyes. Weariness sapped the strength from his body and fatigue made a mess of his senses. He’d hardly slept since the night Miranda had gone running from his chamber, convinced by his idiot brother that the scene on the terrace had been staged to entrap her. He had been too shocked to go after her, and once he’d recovered enough to race into the corridor after her, she was gone. Instead, he’d torn into his brother with a string of unintelligible, stammered oaths and accusations. Angus had been regretful and, for once, at a loss for words in the face of Roger’s tirade. While it was common for him to take Angus to task for some foolish stunt or another, he’d never been forceful or raised his voice. Calm was a part of his nature, and his family had only experienced the cold, hard side of his anger. What he’d felt watching Miranda walk out of his life had filled him with heat and fury.

  So close. He had been but a breath away from finally having everything he’d longed for. Miranda had been on the verge of accepting his proposal, he’d seen it in her eyes. Over the course of his speech, her expression had changed from one of uncertainty, to one of sudden realization, then joy. Roger had practiced the words he would say for when he saw her again. He had been elated to get them all out without faltering. It was what Miranda deserved, and he’d wanted it to be perfect. It had been perfect … right up until it wasn’t.

  Pounding his fist against the tree, he grunted, frustrated and at his wit’s end. All his notes to Miranda had gone unanswered, and his hostess had made it clear she would not assist him further. He couldn’t blame Lady Rodingham, who knew only what her friend believed.

  What was he to do now? He didn’t want to believe he had lost his chance with Miranda. If he could only gain a moment alone with her, he could plead his case and explain that this was all nothing more than a misunderstanding. But Miranda would have to be willing to speak to him, and that seemed unlikely just now.

  Footsteps crunched over the foliage nearby, and Roger opened his eyes, straightening to face whoever had come upon him. The other guests were excited for the festivities of Twelfth Night, and their cheeriness only annoyed him. There was nothing to celebrate, no reason to force himself to interact with those who were happy and had the things he wanted but had been denied.

  He straightened at the sight of Miranda, coming toward him wearing a forest green travel ensemble and gloves. She walked hurriedly, her rough breaths white and misty on the air as if she’d come this way at a run. Apparently, she was in a hurry, for she wore no hat.

  “Miranda,” he choked out, uncertain whether his eyes were playing tricks on him.

  But then, she was before him, her scent invading his nostrils, and her warmth kissing his skin. Her hands were on his arms, soft and tangible.

  Sucking in deep breaths, she stared up at him, eyes wide and probing. “I’m sorry.”

  Roger raised his eyebrows, taken aback. “You’re sorry? Miranda, the person who deserves an apology is you.”

  Shaking her head, she clung tighter to him. “No. The things I overheard were damning, but I owed you the chance to explain. You deserved the benefit of the doubt.”

  Roger bowed his head, relief stealing over him in the face of what felt like a second chance. “Angus was mistaken and made an assumption. He and my sister know nothing of our arrangement, and he thought the worst.”

  “I know that now. If I’d been thinking clearly that night, I might have realized I already knew the truth. Our time together has been short, but I already feel as if I know you better than I ever did Lord Hughes. It would have occurred to me that if you and your brother really had concocted such a scheme, Lord Thornton would have been the better bait. Logically, it made no sense for you to trick me into marriage.”

  Roger wrapped his arms around her waist, and was elated when she leaned into him instead of retreating. He was suddenly overflowing with energy and life, the sadness and exhaustion of the past few days forgotten.

  “Angus is quite a catch. If you would prefer someone like him—”

  “I know what I want,” she protested. “I mean no offense to your brother, but I have no desire to wed a man like him—I don’t care what his title might be. I want all the things you promised me last night. I want the passion and the fire. I want us to spend the rest of our lives learning everything there is to know about one another. I want to wake beside you each morning. I want you to be a father to Ursula and to any children my body can bear you. If your offer still stands, I’d very much like to become your wife.”

  He pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes, soaking in this moment of triumph and new beginnings. All the things that had seemed impossible for Roger had just been dropped into his lap, and he couldn’t be more grateful.

  “The offer most certainly still stands,” he replied between soft, sweet kisses against her plush mouth. “I … I love you. It is mad, and it makes no sense, but it’s the truth. It is real.”

  Miranda cupped his face, and Roger opened his mouth just in time to see her smile. “Yes, it is real. And … I love you, too.”

  He pressed her flush against him, lifting her off her feet to claim her mouth in a deeper kiss. Miranda wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, giggling and smiling against his lips with the same joyful hysteria that now welled up in him.

  “I can hardly believe this is happening,” she said with a disbelieving huff of laughter. “I wanted a courtesan for Christmas but ended up with a fiancé instead.”

  Roger set her back on her feet and winced. “I suppose explanations must be made to Mr. Sterling. The avoidance of complication was l
aid out as one of the rules of being a Gentleman Courtesan.”

  “There is nothing complicated about it,” she argued. “We love each other and are getting married. Your time as a courtesan is over.”

  “Thank God for that. I don’t think I could have gone through with it for any woman but you. In that regard, I suppose I owe Mr. Sterling a debt of gratitude for pushing us together.”

  “I owe him a debt as well, though there is also the contract to consider. I am still obligated to pay the other half of your fee.”

  “I don’t want it,” he insisted. “The first half was a tidy enough sum. I will come up with a way to replace the rest of Emily’s dowry.”

  “No, you will not. I want her to have every cent, minus Mr. Sterling’s commission. Your sister is responsible for helping me see the truth, and I am grateful to her for that.”

  Taking her hand, he began leading her back toward the house. The weather was milder than it had been in days, but her nose and cheeks had begun to flush pink from the chill.

  “I don’t want you to feel as if my family’s problems are now your own,” he said. “Once Emily marries her husband will care for her, but Angus is not our responsibility.”

  “What belongs to me will belong to you,” Miranda argued. “I trust you to act as you see fit concerning your brother.”

  Pulling her up short before they reached the entrance, Roger kissed her brow and smiled. “And will you trust me with your heart?”

  Her smile took his breath away as she stroked his cheek. “I trust you with that most of all.”

  Epilogue

  Christmas Day, 1 year later…

  Miranda slowly pushed open the nursery door, her lips curving into a smile as the deep, masculine voice reached out to her from the other side. The warm glow of the hearth cast its light over the father and children seated in the rocking chair, the heartwarming scene making pangs of adoration resound from within her chest.

  Roger’s legs bent and straightened as he slowly and gently rocked the chair, each large hand braced on the back of a sleeping child. Ursula sat on his knee with her thumb in her mouth, eyes closed and the hem of her nightgown tangled around her knees. Their son, born only two months ago, lay in the crook of Roger’s arm, cherubic cheeks pink with youth and good health.

  Love overflowed in her as she gazed upon her family, and contentment was like a warm blanket wrapped around her.

  Malcolm Oswyn Thorton was made in his father’s image, though he had inherited the obscure blond hair shared by his Aunt Emily. His eyes were Roger’s dark brown, and his features would develop over time to mimic his father’s stark, angular jaw, straight nose, and slashing cheekbones. Roger had taken to fatherhood as naturally as Miranda had known he would. After years of caring for his sister and months of heaping adoration and attention upon Ursula, he was a father in his heart long before Malcolm birth.

  The months behind them stood as a testament to Miranda’s fortune in choice of a second husband, and she did not harbor a single regret. She felt as if time only revealed more about the man she adored, allowing her to know him more with each passing day. He shared her bed, but he also gave her so much more. His attention, his love, his true self.

  Leaning against the doorframe, she watched him with their children and listened to the endearing tones of his voice as he quietly sang God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen. Miranda had been pleasantly surprised to learn that her husband could sing … but also that in song, his cadence and rhythm never faltered. He occasionally stammered when he spoke, but never when he sang.

  He lifted his gaze to meet hers and smiled, though he never ceased singing in that low, hypnotic voice. She raised a hand in greeting, and he gave her a nod in response.

  Emily, her new husband Lord Lovett, and Angus would be arriving to share Christmas dinner with them any minute. But she was in no hurry to prepare to greet them, thoroughly captivated by the people who encompassed her entire world. Their visitors could wait while she reveled in this moment, and cherished Roger … the best Christmas gift she could have asked for, and one that kept on giving.

  About Victoria Vale

  Victoria Vale is the author of scintillating erotic romance set in the Regency (and lately, Georgian) era. The wife and mother of three resides in Texas, where the weather is as hot as her stories.

  Browse more from Victoria (including further stories in the ‘Gentleman Courtesan’ series) on Amazon

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  And… our Harlots authors have another irresistible Christmas historical romance collection for you to download, brimming with SECRETS!

  From the seductive boudoirs and elite salons of London to the ancient castles of the snowy Scottish Highlands, our fearless heroines enter the Christmas season in pursuit of their heart's desire.

  But, the course of true love never did run smooth... especially when SECRETS abound.

  Tales of intrigue, romantic adventure, sizzling passion, and heartwarming holiday romance.

  Unwrap the pleasure...

  Wedding Her Christmas Duke - by Collette Cameron

  The Knot of a Knight - by Linda Rae Sande

  The Marquess is Mine - by Tamara Gill

  A Yuletide Miracle - by Laurel O'Donnell

  The Lady Who Stole Christmas - by Sydney Jane Baily

  Christmas with a Czar - by Emily E.K. Murdoch

  A Scot Most Wanted - by Angelique Armae

  Secretly Marvellous - by Virginia Taylor

  Yuletide Secrets - by S. Cinders

  One Scandalous Christmas - by J. Burrelli

  The Rogue's Secret - by Stacy Reid and Giselle Marks

  The Secrets He Keeps - by Amy Sandas

  Ready to be whisked to the snowy wilderness of the Highlands, where passion burns through the winter nights?

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