The Fox And The Angel
Page 6
“Lucien’s? What do you mean?”
“He accepted the painting back from you after you told him it should remain at Blackheath . . . but secretly, he had it wrapped up and placed in the boot along with the gifts he sent home with you. You obviously had no idea he had done so, and I was left to believe that you had gone back on your word, that you had taken the one thing I had that would always remind me of you and you had taken it after promising me you would leave it here. Don’t you see? This was all neatly set up by Lucien. He knew very well that if you left, we would likely never see each other again, so he told me that you took the painting and that if I wanted it back I’d better go get it.”
“So he did this as a last way to try and get us together . . . .”
“Yes. A second chance.”
“And you came after the painting.”
“No, Angela. I came after you.”
She looked at him blankly.
“Don’t you understand?” He made a helpless gesture. “It has all been reversed for me, Angela. I don’t want you because of Margaret. I wanted Margaret because of you, because she is the only thing I had left to remind me of the living, breathing woman I knew for only a short time. The woman who thought that I loved a painting more than I could possibly ever love her.”
Sir Roger shut the boot and looked at her. Snow frosted his eyelashes, and he reached out and took her hand.
“You and I were meant for each other from the moment I fell in love with that portrait,” he said softly. “Please don’t tell me I rode all this way in the cold to no avail. Please don’t tell me that Christmas miracles don’t exist, after all. And for God’s sake, please don’t tell me that you’ll deny me a chance to prove to you that my interests are in you and you alone, the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on, and not an old portrait.”
A chance.
That was all he was asking for.
A chance.
She reached out and placed her hand in his.
“I will give you that chance, Sir Roger,” she murmured. “I will give us that chance. Because today has been one of the loneliest, saddest days of my life, and I would be a fool not to take it.”
She stepped willingly into his embrace, feeling his hard arms go around her, enfolding them in his warmth and strength and protection as she lifted her head for his kiss once more.
It was Christmas.
A season for hope, love, and miracles.
And for Sir Roger Foxcote and Angela Seaford Holmes, they had just been given the very best of all three.
~ the end ~
* * *
If you enjoyed this story, please feel free to post a review — and may your Christmas be merry, your holidays happy, and your new year one of health, blessings and beauty!
— Danelle
Read on for more about Lucien, the Duke of Blackheath, and the gorgeous De Montforte Brothers — and many more books from Danelle Harmon as well as a sneak peak from the #1 Kindle Download, THE WILD ONE!
# # #
About the Author:
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Danelle Harmon has written thirteen critically acclaimed and award-winning books, with many being published all over the world. A Massachusetts native, she has lived in Great Britain, though these days she and her English husband make their home in New England with their daughter Emma and numerous animals including four dogs, an Egyptian Arabian horse, and a flock of pet chickens. Danelle enjoys reading, spending time with family, friends and her animals, and sailing her Melonseed skiff, Kestrel II. She welcomes email from her readers and can be reached at Danelle@danelleharmon.com or through any of the means listed below:
Connect with Danelle online!
Danelle Harmon on Facebook
Danelle Harmon's Website
Danelle Harmon on Twitter
Danelle Harmon's Blog
Danelle Harmon on Pinterest
MORE BOOKS FROM DANELLE HARMON!
introducing:
THE INTERNATIONALLY BESTSELLING, AWARD-WINNING, CRITICALLY ACCLAIMED
DE MONTFORTE BROTHERS SERIES:
“The bluest of blood; the boldest of hearts;
the de Montforte brothers will take your breath away.”
Meet the dashing and aristocratic De Montforte Brothers by Danelle Harmon:
# 1 Kindle Store bestseller: THE WILD ONE (free on Kindle!)
(read below for an excerpt!)
THE BELOVED ONE (Book 2)
THE DEFIANT ONE (Book 3)
THE WICKED ONE (Book 4)
— all available as audiobooks, too! —
and:
from Danelle Harmon’s popular and bestselling
HEROES OF THE SEA SERIES:
MASTER OF MY DREAMS
(Heroes Of The Sea Series, Book # 1)
Sweeping from the shores of England to Boston on the eve of the American Revolution, this is the emotional and unforgettable story of a tough Royal Navy captain and the beautiful Irish stowaway who teaches him how to love once again.
An Amazon KINDLE Top Ten Bestselling Historical Romance!
An Amazon KINDLE #1 Bestseller (Sea Adventures)!
# # #
CAPTAIN OF MY HEART
(Heroes of The Sea Series Book # 2)
Thrilling romantic adventures aboard the 1778 Yankee privateer schooner Kestrel, captained by dashing Irishman Brendan Merrick — who meets his match in the outrageous shipbuilder’s daughter, Mira Ashton!
An Amazon KINDLE Top Ten Bestselling Historical Romance!
An Amazon KINDLE #1 Bestseller in Sea Adventures!
# 8 on the New York Times Bestseller list as part of FOUR IRRESISTIBLE ROGUES!
# 11 on the USA TODAY Bestseller list as part of FOUR IRRESISTIBLE ROGUES!
ALSO AVAILABLE AS AN AUDIOBOOK here!
# # #
MY LADY PIRATE
(Heroes of the Sea Series, Book # 3)
The sexy, swashbuckling tale of Pirate Queen of the Caribbean Maeve Merrick (daughter of Captain Brendan and Mira Merrick from Captain Of My Heart) and the powerful English hero who is determined to win her heart at all costs. Continuing the schooner Kestrel saga!
Winner of Romantic Times Magazine’s Reviewers Choice Certificate of Excellence!
Winner of Romantic Times K.I.S.S. Hero Award!
An Amazon KINDLE Bestseller!
# # #
TAKEN BY STORM
(Heroes Of The Sea Series, Book # 4)
Disgraced naval hero Colin Lord wants only to pursue his new career as a London veterinarian and put his tragic past behind him. But when fugitive heiress Lady Ariadne St. Aubyn convinces him to help get her prized racehorse to Norfolk before every reward hunter in England can catch her, Colin finds himself swept up into an adventure he could never have imagined. A treat for animal lovers everywhere!
An Amazon Kindle Regency Bestseller!
# # #
WICKED AT HEART
(Heroes Of The Sea Series, Book # 5)
A Beauty-and-the-Beast tale of love and redemption between a dark and brooding marquess and the woman who is determined to heal his tortured heart. Continuing the schooner Kestrel saga!
Winner of a Romantic Times Magazine K.I.S.S. Hero Award!
Nominated for Romantic Times Magazine’s K.I.S.S. Hero of the Year!
An Amazon KINDLE Bestseller in Historical Romance!
# # #
LORD OF THE SEA
(Heroes Of The Sea Series, Book # 6)
Love, adventure and heartbreak abound in this fast-paced historical romance set in Barbados during the War of 1812 between reckless and daring American privateer Captain Connor Merrick and beautiful Rhiannon Evans, whose charms he cannot resist. Bringing back beloved characters from previous books, this is the fourth and final book in the schooner Kestrel saga.
Original Publishing Date: December 23, 2013
An Amazon KINDLE bestseller in Regency Romance
# # #
THE ADMIRAL’
S HEART
A sweet and sexy short story/novella about second chances, with appearances by Lucien, the Duke of Blackheath and the De Montforte Brothers!
An Amazon KINDLE bestseller in Short Stories!
An Amazon KINDLE bestseller in Anthologies!
# # #
Want to know when the next new title from DANELLE HARMON is released?
Click here!
# # #
And now, for a special excerpt from the first book in Danelle Harmon’s bestselling De Montforte brothers series!
** The Number One Kindle Store Bestseller **
THE WILD ONE!
# # #
THE WILD ONE
By Danelle Harmon
Book 1 of the De Montforte Brothers Series
~~~~
Prologue
Newman House, 18 April, 1775
My dear brother, Lucien,
It has just gone dark and as I pen these words to you, an air of rising tension hangs above this troubled town. Tonight, several regiments — including mine, the King's Own — have been ordered by General Gage, commander in chief of our forces here in Boston, out to Concord to seize and destroy a significant store of arms and munitions that the rebels have secreted there. Due to the clandestine nature of this assignment, I have ordered my batman, Billingshurst, to withhold the posting of this letter until the morrow, when the mission will have been completed and secrecy will no longer be of concern.
Although it is my most ardent hope that no blood will be shed on either side during this endeavour, I find that my heart, in these final moments before I must leave, is restless and uneasy. It is not for myself that I am afraid, but another. As you know from my previous letters home, I have met a young woman here with whom I have become attached in a warm friendship. I suspect you do not approve of my becoming so enamoured of a storekeeper's daughter, but things are different in this place, and when a fellow is three thousand miles away from home, love makes a far more desirable companion than loneliness. My dear Miss Paige has made me happy, Lucien, and earlier tonight, she accepted my plea for her hand in marriage; I beg you to understand, and forgive, for I know that someday when you meet her, you will love her as I do.
My brother, I have but one thing to ask of you, and knowing that you will see to my wishes is the only thing that calms my troubled soul during these last few moments before we depart. If anything should happen to me — tonight, tomorrow, or at any time whilst I am here in Boston — I beg of you to find it in your heart to show charity and kindness to my angel, my Juliet, for she means the world to me. I know you will take care of her if ever I cannot. Do this for me and I shall be happy, Lucien.
I must close now, as the others are gathered downstairs in the parlour, and we are all ready to move. May God bless and keep you, my dear brother, and Gareth, Andrew, and sweet Nerissa, too.
Charles
Sometime during the last hour, it had begun to grow dark.
Lucien de Montforte turned the letter over in his hands, his gaze shuttered, his mind far away as he stared out the window over the downs that stood like sentinels against the fading twilight. A breath of pink still glowed in the western sky, but it would soon be gone. He hated this time of night, this still and lonely hour just after sunset when old ghosts were near, and distant memories welled up in the heart with the poignant nearness of yesterday, close enough to see yet always too elusive to touch.
But the letter was real. Too real.
He ran a thumb over the heavy vellum, the bold, elegant script that had been so distinctive of Charles's style — both on paper, in thought, and on the field — still looking as fresh as if it had been written yesterday, not last April. His own name was there on the front: To His Grace the Duke of Blackheath, Blackheath Castle, nr. Ravenscombe, Berkshire, England.
They were probably the last words Charles had ever written.
Carefully, he folded the letter along creases that had become fragile and well-worn. The blob of red wax with which his brother had sealed the letter came together at the edges like a wound that had never healed, and try as he might to avoid seeing them, his gaze caught the words that someone, probably Billingshurst, had written on the back....
Found on the desk of Captain Lord Charles Adair de Montforte on the 19th of April 1775, the day on which his lordship was killed in the fighting at Concord. Please deliver to addressee.
A pang went through him. Dead, gone, and all but forgotten, just like that.
The Duke of Blackheath carefully laid the letter inside the drawer, which he shut and locked. He gazed once more out the window, lord of all he surveyed but unable to master his own bitter emptiness. A mile away, at the foot of the downs, he could just see the twinkling lights of Ravenscombe village, could envision its ancient church with its Norman tower and tombs of de Montforte dead. And there, inside, high on the stone wall of the chancel, was the simple bronze plaque that was all they had to tell posterity that his brother had ever even lived.
Charles, the second son.
God help them all if anything happened to him, Lucien, and the dukedom passed to the third.
No. God would not be so cruel.
He snuffed the single candle and with the darkness enclosing him, the sky still glowing beyond the window, moved from the room.
Berkshire, England, 1776
Chapter 1
The Flying White was bound for Oxford, and it was running late. Now, trying to make up time lost to a broken axle, the driver had whipped up the team, and the coach careered through the night in a cacophony of shouts, thundering hooves, and cries from the passengers who were clinging for their lives on the roof above.
Strong lanterns cut through the rainy darkness, picking out ditches, trees, and hedgerows as the vehicle hurtled through the Lambourn Downs at a pace that had Juliet Paige's heart in her throat. Because of Charlotte, her six-month-old daughter, Juliet had been lucky enough to get a seat inside the coach, but even so, her head banged against the leather squabs on the right, her shoulder against an elderly gent on her left, and her neck ached with the constant side to side movement. On the seat across from her, another young mother clung to her two frightened children, one huddled under each arm. It had been a dreadful run up from Southampton indeed, and Juliet was feeling almost as ill as she had during the long sea voyage over from Boston.
The coach hit a bump, became airborne for a split second, and landed hard, snapping her neck, throwing her violently against the man on her left, and causing the passengers clinging to the roof above to cry out in terror. Someone's trunk went flying off the coach, but the driver never slowed the galloping team.
“God help us!” murmured the young mother across from Juliet as her children cringed fearfully against her.
Juliet grasped the strap and hung her head, fighting nausea as she hugged her own child. Her lips touched the baby's downy gold curls. “Almost there,” she whispered, for Charlotte's ears alone. “Almost there—to your papa's home.”
Suddenly without warning, there were shouts, a horse's frightened whinny, and violent curses from the driver. Someone on the roof screamed. The coach careened madly, the inhabitants both inside and out shrieking in terror as the vehicle hurtled along on two wheels for another forty or fifty feet before finally crashing heavily down on its axles with another neck-snapping jolt, shattering a window with the impact and spilling the elderly gent to the floor. Outside, someone was sobbing in fear and pain.
And inside, the atmosphere of the coach went as still as death.
“We're being robbed!” cried the old man, getting to his knees to peer out the rain-spattered window.
Shots rang out. There was a heavy thud from above, then movement just beyond the ominous black pane. And then suddenly, without warning it imploded, showering the inside passengers in a hail of glass.
Gasping, they looked up to see a heavy pistol—and a masked face just beyond it.
“Yer money or yer life. Now!”
~~~~
> It was the very devil of a night. No moon, no stars, and a light rain stinging his face as Lord Gareth Francis de Montforte sent his horse, Crusader, flying down the Wantage road at a speed approaching suicide. Stands of beech and oak shot past, there then gone. Pounding hooves splashed through puddles and echoed against the hedgerows that bracketed the road. Gareth glanced over his shoulder, saw nothing but a long empty stretch of road behind him, and shouted with glee. Another race won—Perry, Chilcot, and the rest of the Den of Debauchery would never catch him now!
Laughing, he patted Crusader's neck as the hunter pounded through the night. “Well done, good fellow! Well done—”
And pulled him up sharply at he passed Wether Down.
It took him only a moment to assess the situation.
Highwaymen. And by the looks of it, they were helping themselves to the pickings—and passengers—of the Flying White from Southampton.
The Flying White? The young gentleman reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out his watch, squinting to see its face in the darkness. Damned late for the Flying White . . .
He dropped the timepiece back into his pocket, steadied Crusader, and considered what to do. No gentlemen of the road, this lot, but a trio of desperate, hardened killers. The driver and guard lay on the ground beside the coach, both presumably dead. Somewhere a child was crying, and now one of the bandits, with a face that made a hatchet look kind, smashed in the windows of the coach with the butt end of his gun. Gareth reached for his pistol. The thought of quietly turning around and going back the way he'd come never occurred to him. The thought of waiting for his friends, probably a mile behind thanks to Crusader's blistering speed, didn't occur to him, either. Especially when he saw one of the bandits yank open the door of the coach and haul out a struggling young woman.