“I gave them all the day off.”
Caroline nearly jumped out of her socks when Eric suddenly appeared behind her. “Oh,” she gasped, slapping a hand over her racing heart as she whirled to face him. “You scared me!”
“Sorry,” he said, although he didn’t look very apologetic. “That was not my intention.”
Casually dressed in a white linen shirt and a pair of gray trousers with his hair damp and curling from a recent bath, he looked as handsome as she’d ever seen him. Not that she was looking. Because she wasn’t. Not at all.
Well, maybe a little bit.
“What – what is going on?” she demanded, forcibly tearing her gaze away from the V of golden skin at the base of his neck. “Where is everyone?”
“Follow me,” he said mysteriously, before he turned and started walking briskly in the direction of the library.
“Wait! I do not understand – stubborn man,” she broke off under her breath when it became clear he had no intention of stopping. Picking up the hem of her nightgown she hurried after him, feet slipping and sliding on the polished floor.
Slightly out of breath, she managed to catch up to him just as he reached the library. “What are we doing here?” she asked. “And why is the door closed? It is never closed. Are Anne and Mr. Newgate in there?”
The corners of his mouth twitched. “To answer your second question no, your maid and my butler are not in there. As for your first, I thought this would be a fitting place to have it. After all, aside from your bedchamber this is where we’ve spent most of our time together. Granted the majority of it has been spent arguing, but I hope after today that will begin to change.”
She shook her head. “A fitting place to have what?”
“Christmas, of course.” He pushed open the door and then stepped to the side, allowing her an unfettered view of the library. What she saw took her breath away. There, taking up most of the fireplace, was the largest Yuletide log she had ever seen. And tied around the middle was a bright red bow.
“I don’t…I don’t understand.” Eyebrows pulling together in bewilderment, she looked back at Eric over her shoulder. “Where – where did this come from?”
“The forest.”
“I know that. I meant what is it doing here?”
He walked past her into the library and then turned so they were standing face to face. “I cut it down and brought it here for you,” he said simply as he reached out and gently tucked a loose curl behind her ear. For a moment the back of his hand lingered on the soft curve of her cheek and it took all the self-restraint she possessed not to close her eyes and lean into his touch.
It’s an act, she told herself fiercely. It’s all an act. Do not let him play you for a fool. Not again.
“If you did this as some sort of trick to try and seduce me–”
“I did this,” he interrupted, “because you were right.”
She blinked. “I – I was?”
“Yes.”
“About what?”
His grin was charmingly sheepish. “Everything, mostly. But especially what you said last night about a few words not changing anything. I meant what I said, Caroline. I am falling in love with you. Or maybe I already have.” He shrugged. “I’ve never been in love before, so I’m not really sure.”
“Your Grace–”
“Eric,” he said. “If we are going to become engaged, I think you should call me Eric.”
“Engaged?” she echoed, truly at a loss. “But we’re already married!”
“No we’re not. You married the Duke of Readington.”
“You are the Duke of Readington.” Her eyes narrowed with suspicion as she took a step back. “Are you foxed? Is that why you’re acting so oddly?”
“I am not foxed and I am not the Duke of Readington.” His gaze hardened. “The Duke of Readington is a cold-hearted bastard who wouldn’t know what love was if it ran him over in the street. He doesn’t deserve his wife, and she bloody well doesn’t deserve him. His wife is kind, and intelligent, and beautiful, while he is–”
“A dolt?” she suggested.
“Yes,” he agreed without hesitation. “He’s a right proper dolt.”
“And who is Eric?” she asked softly as a tendril of warmth began to unfurl inside of her chest, spreading up through her lungs and surrounding the ice that had hardened around her heart.
“Eric is a man who wants a second chance. He knows he’s not entitled to it, but he prays to God you’ll give it to him nevertheless. I love you, Caroline,” he said huskily. “I am sorry it took me this long to realize it. And I am sorry, so bloody sorry, that I’ve treated you as though you meant nothing to me.”
“Eric–”
“You were never nothing, Caroline.” His blue eyes steady on hers, he closed the distance between them. “You were always everything. And that terrified me because I didn’t want to end up like my father, in love with a woman incapable of loving him back. But what I understand now, that I didn’t before, is whatever my parents had, it was never love.” He took her hands. Squeezed them tight. “This is love.”
“What – what about having a marriage of convenience?” She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe him so desperately that she ached. But for better or for worse, she was no longer the naïve girl who had blindly believed in fairy tales and happily-ever-afters. She was stronger. Braver. And she would never again settle for anything less than what she deserved.
“I don’t want convenience.” He laced their fingers together. “I want you. I want you not because of what you can give me, but because you make me happy. You bring light into my darkness, Caroline. So I want you. Just you. For the rest of my life.”
“What are you doing?” She stared at him in disbelief when he dropped down to his knee and pulled the gold band she’d tried to throw into the fire out of his pocket.
“Asking you to marry me. Properly, this time.” He looked up at her countenance, and whatever he saw in the swirling depths of her gray eyes made him smile. “Lady Caroline Elizabeth Wentworth, would you do me the great honor of being my wife?” He paused. “Again.”
“Well at least you remembered my name this time,” she said, blinking back tears.
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes.” She dashed her knuckles beneath her lashes. “Yes, I do believe it is.”
He gently slid the ring onto her finger and then leapt to his feet to pull her into a hard, lingering embrace. “I love you,” he said fiercely. “I love you so bloody much. And I’m going to spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”
“I love you too,” she said, smiling through her tears. “I love you too.”
Together they lit the Yuletide log and stood wrapped in each other’s arms as it caught fire and started to burn. With a contended sigh Caroline rested her head on Eric’s shoulder, and he pressed his lips to her hair. It wasn’t the Christmas either one of them had been expecting.
But that was what made it so perfect.
A Note From the Author
I genuinely hope you enjoyed these four tales of love, hope, and redemption! If you have a few extra minutes, I would greatly appreciate it if you could leave a review. Reviews are the #1 one way readers discover new books and new authors!
Since this is a Christmas boxset, I wanted to share a few pictures of my family with you. Reading something someone has written connects you with that person, and I’d love for you to get a better idea of who you are connecting with.
I’m a33-year-old mom of three boys who all share the same birthday! Crazy, right? My husband is my rock. As I write this, he’s at a Frozen event with all the kiddos. On a Saturday. In December. A moment of silence for his sanity, please.
I’m also an animal lover. We have an 11-year-old cattle dog x jack russell named Scarlett. A draft mule (cross between a horse and a donkey), a horse, and a miniature donkey. All rescues, and all very much adored for their goofy imperfections.
When you’re done looking
at the pictures, please continue reading for an EXCLUSIVE excerpt from Marquess Under the Mistletoe, this year’s Christmas novella!
Family Pictures
Marquess Under the Mistletoe
It’s a family tradition. Every single Appleton sister has met her husband at their parent’s annual Christmas ball. Every single sister except for Honora, that is. Determined to maintain her independence, the last thing the youngest Appleton sister wants is to be caught kissing a marquess under the mistletoe. She’s quite happy sipping warm cider and watching everyone else fall in love, thank you very much.
Then a handsome stranger arrives and suddenly the cider is no longer the hottest thing in the room. As sparks begin to fly, will Honora be the first in her family to break tradition…or follow in her sister’s footsteps and run towards the nearest mistletoe?
Chapter One
“What about the Earl of Souderton?” asked Emily.
“Or Lord Readington,” Anne said with a mischievous grin. “He’s quite handsome.”
“I’m partial to Mr. Briggs,” Rebecca put in as she strolled into the parlor and leaned against the back of Emily’s chair. “I realize he isn’t titled, but he’s filthy rich. And his side-whiskers.” She pressed a hand to her heart and fluttered her lashes. “It’s enough to make me swoon just thinking about them.”
“He does have very good side-whiskers,” Anne agreed.
“Excellent,” Emily nodded. “Not patchy at all.”
Honora Appleton eyed her sisters from across the room. She knew they meant well. They always meant well. But that didn’t mean she liked their meddling. In fact, she despised it. Unfortunately, it came with the territory. She was, after all, the youngest. Worse than that, she was the one sibling without a husband.
A tragedy worse than the pox, as far as her sisters were concerned.
“No,” Honora said emphatically. Her dark ringlets bounced as she shook her head from side to side. “The earl is nearly twice my age, Lord Readington couldn’t spell his way out of a box, and Mr. Briggs is already married to his fancy hotel.”
Emily and Anne pursed their lips in identical expressions of annoyance. Born two minutes apart, they were often mistaken for one another, except by those who knew them best. The twins may have looked alike with their blonde hair, hazel eyes, and heart-shaped countenances, but their demeanors couldn’t have been more different. Emily was far more outspoken, while Anne preferred little quips and sly innuendos. Rebecca, as the eldest of all the Appleton sisters, was a combination of the two, and Honora…well, Honora wasn’t sure who she was.
She certainly didn’t have Rebecca’s confidence. But neither was she as shy as Anne. She liked to voice her opinion as much as Emily, but as an unmarried wallflower teetering on the brink of spinsterhood, her opinion never seemed to carry much weight. Suffice it to say, she always felt caught somewhere in the middle. Like a boat adrift in a wide open sea that didn’t know which direction to sail or which port to head towards. It didn’t help that her sisters, while well-intentioned, were always pushing her in three different directions at once when all she wanted to do was follow her own North Star.
Even if that North Star didn’t lead to a husband.
“You’re too selective, Honora,” Rebecca chided.
“Far too selective,” the twins agreed in unison.
“Shouldn’t I be?” Honora countered as she walked to the window and peered out at the snow-covered lawn. They’d left London for their country manor two days ago. It always felt strange to exchange the bustling life of town for the quiet solitude of rolling hills and homes spaced so far apart one required a carriage to reach their neighbor, but Honora liked the peace it brought. Or the peace it would have brought, if she wasn’t being hounded by her sisters. On a loud sigh she turned to face them, her arms folded tightly across her chest.
“I am not going to choose someone because I like their side-whiskers.” Her nose wrinkled at the very idea. “This is a man I will be with for the rest of my life. I will live with him, raise children with him, make important decisions with him. It is not as if I am picking a dress to wear to a ball.”
Emily sipped her tea. “I think you’re putting too much thought into it.”
“And I don’t think you put in enough.” The moment the words were past Honora’s lips she wished she could snatch them back. But that wasn’t the way things worked, and her stomach turned unpleasantly when she saw the color drain from Emily’s face.
“I am perfectly happy with Richard,” her sister said stiffly. “He is a good man.”
A good man, perhaps, but not a good husband or a good father to their one-year-old son. But Honora knew better than to say that aloud, especially when Anne wound a protective arm around her twin’s shoulders and scowled at Honora.
“At least Emily won’t spend the rest of her life alone in a house filled with cats,” she snapped.
Rebecca gasped. “Anne, that’s quite enough.”
“Honora started it.”
“And I am finishing it.” Rebecca stood up and smoothed out a wrinkle from her blue skirt. “It is almost Christmas, and we are not going to carry feelings of ill-will into the New Year, let alone to the house party. Mother would have our heads if she saw us squabbling.”
Honora bit back a groan. With the past few months being so busy – one event had started to run into the next until they were a blur of pretty dresses and pesky suitors – she’d almost forgotten about their mother’s beloved Christmas party.
As a conservative woman with simple tastes, Lady Appleton did not get excited about many things. But her house party, which she’d been hosting for as long as any of her daughters could remember, was one of them. It was an event she began preparing for in August. No expense was spared, and the guest list was always long and very impressive. Two years ago, a duke had attended. A duke! Suffice it to say, it was the event of the holiday season and Lady Appleton wanted – expected, really – her daughters to be on their very best behavior.
Honora did not know how she’d forgotten. Most likely because there was a small part of her that had wanted to forget. Or at least pretend they were skipping it all this year. Because there was one part of the party that had become a family tradition of sorts.
A tradition she wanted absolutely nothing to do with.
It had begun with Emily. One innocent peck on her cheek under the mistletoe, and two weeks later she’d found herself engaged to the Earl of Carlisle. A catch by anyone’s standards; never mind that he spent more time hunting than he did with his wife and child. But no one had really thought anything of it. A lovely bit of happenstance, nothing more. Then the following year, Rebecca was kissed under the very same mistletoe by Lord Featherstone, and two weeks later, she was engaged. Twelve months passed and Anne met her husband in the exact same fashion. Now it was Honora’s turn, but if it were left to her, she’d happily burn every last piece of mistletoe in the entire house.
It was the height of ridiculousness to believe just because all three of her sisters had discovered their future husbands during the house party, she would be destined to do the same. And yet that was exactly what everyone believed. Why, yesterday her lady’s maid had asked her if she’d given any thought to what gown she wanted to wear when she met her husband! As if a bit of evergreen possessed the power of matrimony. As if it were a foregone conclusion. As if she had absolutely no say in the matter.
Honora sighed. She knew, of course, her parents would never force her to marry against her will. But it was the expectation of it all that left a sour taste in the back of her mouth. And the knowledge that if she didn’t receive a kiss under the mistletoe, she was letting everyone down.
“Are we all in agreement, then?” Rebecca looked at each of her siblings in turn, her serious gray eyes daring someone to contradict her. “No more fighting until after Boxing Day. By then, all the guests will have gone home, Mother will be visiting Aunt Abigail in Hampshire, and no one will care if we are at each other’s
throats.”
“Fine,” the twins muttered.
“I’ll agree,” Honora said, “if all of you agree to stop trying to play matchmaker. I know I’m the youngest. I know I am the only one who isn’t married.” She spread her arms in a desperate plea. “But that’s because I don’t want to be married. At least not yet. Truly, I don’t see that changing in a week’s time.”
Rebecca tucked a glossy brown curl behind her ear. She, like Honora, had inherited their father’s dark hair, while Emily and Anne had their mother’s fair coloring. “You’ll change your mind,” she said confidently. “I thought the same exact thing – until I met Jeffrey. One kiss and it was love at first sight.”
“I don’t believe in love at first sight,” Honora frowned.
Emily lifted a brow. “That doesn’t mean it doesn’t believe in you.”
Jasper St. Clair, the sixth Marquess of Slatington, rolled his eyes at his little sister and barely managed not to snort. “You’ve got to be jesting.”
“I never jest about the latest fashion trends from Paris.” Bridget straightened in her chair. “And I certainly do not jest about house parties. This invitation is a great honor, Jasper. Lord and Lady Appleton don’t invite just anyone, you know.”
“Then go,” Jasper said with a careless shrug. “But I’ve no intention of attending with you. There are a thousand things I’d rather do with my time than be trapped at some stuffy function where everyone talks about the weather and the brandy is watered down.” He rubbed his chin. “Having bricks tied to my feet and tossed in the Thames is the first thing that comes to mind. Drowning would be vastly preferable to enduring a week locked in a house with my peers.”
“You have to go.” Bridget’s guileless blue eyes widened in distress as she sprang to her feet, the invitation in question crumpled against her chest. “I can hardly show up by myself. The envelope was addressed to Lady Bridget and the Marquess of Slatington. That’s you.”
My Winter Rogue: A Regency Holiday Collection Page 32
