Chase Family Collection: Limited Christmas Edition

by Lauren Royal

  Read an excerpt…

  Cainewood Castle, the South of England

  Summer 1808

  IT WAS ALMOST like touching him.

  Lady Alexandra Chase usually sketched a profile in just a few minutes, but she took her time today, lingering over the experience in the darkened room. Standing on one side of a large, framed pane of glass while Tristan sat sideways on the other, she traced his shadow cast by the glow of a candle. Her pencil followed his strong chin, his long, straight nose, the wide slope of his forehead, capturing his image on the sheet of paper she’d tacked to her side of the glass. Noticing a stray lock that tumbled down his brow, she hesitated, wanting to make certain she caught it just right.

  Someone walked by the open door, causing Tris’s shadow to flicker as the candle wavered. “Are you finished yet?” he asked from behind the glass panel.

  “Hold still,” she admonished, resisting the urge to peek around at him. “Artistry requires patience.”

  “This is a profile, not oil on canvas.”

  True, and she often wished she had the talent to paint, like her youngest sister, Corinna. But the fact that she was missing something Corinna had—that elusive, innate ability to see things others missed and convey them in color, light, and shade—didn’t keep her from taking pride in her own hobby.

  Alexandra made excellent profile portraits.

  She’d been asking Tris to sit for her for years, but he’d never seemed to find time before. “You promised you’d sit still,” she reminded him, knowing better than to read malice into his comment. “Just this once before you leave.”

  “I’m sitting,” he said, and although his profile remained immobile, she could hear the laughter in his voice.

  She loved that evidence of his control, just like she loved everything about Tris Nesbitt.

  She’d been eight when they first met. Her favorite brother, Griffin, had brought him home between terms at school. In the many years since, as he and Griffin completed Eton and then Oxford, Tris had visited often, claiming to prefer his friend’s large family to the quiet home he shared with his father.

  Alexandra couldn’t remember when she’d fallen in love, but she felt like she’d loved Tris forever.

  Of course, nothing would ever come of it. Now, at fifteen, she was practical enough to accept that her father, the formidable Marquess of Cainewood, would never allow her to marry plain Mr. Tristan Nesbitt.

  But that didn’t stop her from wishing she could. It didn’t stop her stomach from tingling when she heard his low voice, didn’t stop her heart from skipping when she felt herself caught in his intense, silver-gray gaze.

  Not that he directed his gaze her way often. It wasn’t that he was unfriendly, but, after all, as far as he was concerned she was little more than Griffin’s pesky younger sister.

  Knowing Tris couldn’t see her now, she skimmed her fingertips over his shadow, wishing she were touching him instead. She’d never touched him, not in real life. Such intimacy simply didn’t occur between young ladies and men. Most especially between a marquess’s daughter and an untitled man’s son.

  The drawing room’s draperies were shut, and the resulting dimness seemed to afford them an odd closeness alone in the room. She traced the flow of his cravat illuminated through the glass onto her paper. “Where are you going again?” she asked, although she knew.

  “Jamaica. My uncle wishes me to look after his interests. He owns a plantation there; I’m to learn how it’s run.”

  He sounded sad. During this visit he’d seemed sad quite a bit. “Is that what you wish to do with your life?”

  “He doesn’t mean for me to stay there permanently. Only to acquaint myself with the operation so I can make intelligent decisions from afar.”

  “But do you wish to become his man of business? Do you want to manage his properties? Or would you rather do something else?”

  He shrugged, his profile tilting, then settling back into the lines she’d so carefully drawn. “He financed my entire education. Have I a choice?”

  “I suppose not.” Her choices were limited, too. “How long will you be gone?”

  “A year at the least, probably two, perhaps three.”

  Everything was changing. Griffin would leave soon as well—their father had bought him a commission in the cavalry. Although Griffin and Tris had spent much of the past few years at school and university, these new developments seemed different. They’d be across oceans. It wasn’t that Alexandra would be alone—she’d still have her parents and her grandmother, her oldest brother and her two younger sisters—but she was already feeling the loss.

  “Two or three years,” she echoed, knowing Griffin would likely be gone even longer. “That seems a lifetime.”

  Tris’s image shimmied as he laughed out loud. “I expect it might, to one as young as you.”

  He wasn’t that much older, only one-and-twenty. But she supposed he’d seen a lot in the extra six years he had on her. Young men left home as adolescents to pursue their educations. They spent time hunting at country houses and carousing about London.

  While she didn’t exactly chafe at her own more restrictive life, she was counting the years and months until she’d turn eighteen and have her first season. She’d spent hour upon hour imagining the balls, the parties, and all the eligible young lords. One of those titled men would be her entrée to a new life as a society wife. A more exciting life, she hoped. And she would love her husband, she was certain, although right now she could hardly imagine loving any man besides Tris.

  He’d never indicated any interest in her, but of course he wouldn’t. As well as she, Tris knew his place. But that didn’t stop her from wishing she knew whether he cared.

  Just whether or not he cared.

  “Will you bring me something from Jamaica?” she asked, startling herself with her boldness.

  “Like what?” She heard astonishment in his voice. “A pineapple or some sugarcane?”

  It was her turn to laugh. “Anything. Surprise me.”

  “All right, then. I will.” He fell silent a moment, as though trying to commit the promise to memory. “Are you finished yet?”

  “For now.” She set down her pencil and walked to the windows, drew back the draperies, and blinked. The room’s familiar blue-and-coral color scheme suddenly seemed too bright.

  She turned toward him, reconciling his face with the profile she’d just sketched. From the boy she’d met years ago, he’d grown into a handsome, masculine man—one might even say he looked arresting. But she wouldn’t describe him as pretty. His jaw was too strong, his mouth too wide, his brows too heavy and straight. As she watched, he raked a hand through his hair—tousled, streaky dark blond hair that always seemed just a bit too long.

  Her fingers itched to run through it, to sweep the stray lock from his forehead.

  “It will take me a while to complete the portrait,” she told him as she walked back to where he sat beside the glass, “but I’ll have it ready for you before you leave.”

  “Keep it for me.”

  She blew out the candle, leaning close enough to catch a whiff of his scent, smelling soap and starch and something uniquely Tris. “Don’t you want it?”

  He rose from the chair, smiling down at her from his greater height. “I’ll probably lose it if I take it with me.”

  “Very well, then.” She’d been hoping he’d say she should keep it to remember him by. But as always, Tris was the perfect gentleman. If he did harbor any affection for her, he wouldn’t betray so with such a remark. “I wish you a safe journey, Mr. Nesbitt.”

  She’d called him Tristan—or Tris—for years now, but suddenly that seemed too informal.

  His gray gaze remained steady. “Thank you, Lady Alexandra. I wish you a happy life.”

  A happy life. She could be married by the time he returned, she realized with a shock. In fact, if he were gone three years, she very likely would be.

  Her heart sank at the thought.
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  But at least she’d have his profile. When she was finished, it would be black on white in an elegant oval frame, a perfect likeness of his face. And she’d almost touched him while making it.

  As he walked from the room, she peeled the paper off the glass and hugged it to her chest.

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  Books by Lauren Royal

  CHASE FAMILY SERIES

  When an Earl Meets a Girl

  How to Undress a Marquess

  If You Dared to Love a Laird

  A Duke’s Guide to Seducing His Bride

  Never Doubt a Viscount

  The Scandal of Lord Randal

  A Gentleman’s Plot to Tie the Knot

  A Secret Christmas

  A Chase Family Christmas

  CHASE FAMILY SERIES: THE REGENCY

  Tempt Me at Midnight

  Tempting Juliana

  The Art of Temptation

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  About Lauren Royal

  LAUREN ROYAL is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of humorous historical romance, mostly set in England and Scotland. Her “truly enchanting” novels have won many awards including Booklist’s “Top 10 Romance of the Year,” and they’ve earned raves from reviewers including Publishers Weekly, who calls her “an impressive talent.”

  All of Lauren’s books are complete, stand-alone stories, and yet they are also all connected—because they all feature her beloved “outrageously funny, loyal, compassionate, and unconventional” Chase family!

  Lauren writes steamy historical romance on her own and sweet/clean historical romance with her daughter, Devon. She lives in Southern California with her family, their constantly shedding cat, and a stupendous collection of fuzzy socks. When she's not busy writing, she enjoys singing along (off-key) to Hamilton, dancing (badly), and (wasting time) watching HGTV.

  Acknowledgments

  My heartfelt thanks:

  To Al Stewart, for writing “House of Clocks,” a song that sounded so eerily like Ford Chase that it inspired me to rewrite the beginning of his story to make it start on St. Swithin’s Day (check out Mr. Stewart’s album Down in the Cellar if you’d like to hear it).

  To Geoff Pavitt, Facilities Manager at Gresham College, for finding an incredible amount of information for me, including stuff I didn’t even know I needed until he sent it.

  To librarian Claire Andrews, at the Heritage Park Library in Irvine, California, for all her hard work finding obscure 300-year-old books and arranging inter-library loans for me.

  To Peter Do and Martha Altieri, for the Latin translation.

  To my dad, Herb Royal, for attempting the Latin translation, and also for giving me the taped documentary that inspired the premise for A Duke’s Guide to Seducing His Bride (yeah, I should have mentioned it in that book’s acknowledgments—but better late than never, right?).

  To Ayn Rand, for the concepts behind Violet’s philosophical musings on love at first sight.

  To Ian Franklin and Michelle Griffiths, State Apartment Warders at Hampton Court Palace, for directing me to the right places, and, in Ian’s case, giving me incredibly useful information.

  To Philip Sidebotham, Adrian Moles, and Tiffany Green at Sir Christopher Wren’s House Hotel in Windsor, for graciously allowing and assisting a crazy author to poke around and take photos of Wren’s house.

  To Amy and Rick Tanaka, for their expert advice on matters architectural.

  To The Landmark Trust, for making it possible for my family to actually live at Hampton Court Palace for a week (how awesome is that?).

  To my kids Brent, Blake, and Devon, and their friends Darci Dipo, Dan Mehefko, and Anna Pione, for helping me explore Hampton Court Palace through many different perspectives.

  To Andrew Metz, for the videotape on Hampton Court’s history.

  To Barry Waller, for converting the videotape on Hampton Court’s history so that I could actually watch it.

  To Alison Bellach, for sharing a laugh with me over the yipping sex in the hotel room next to ours and then challenging me to put it in a book.

  To Devon Royal, for moral support, fantastic editing, doing stuff for me so I can write, and being the best daughter in the world.

  To my BFF, author Glynnis Campbell, for letting me drag her on a cruise so I could finish writing A Secret Christmas.

  To all the honorary Chase cousins in my Chase Family Readers Group, for their enthusiastic support.

  And, last but certainly not least, to all my readers, whose wonderful emails, Facebook posts, and tweets inspire me to write more books.

  Thanks, everyone!

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  CHASE FAMILY SERIES: LIMITED CHRISTMAS COLLECTION by Lauren Royal

  Published by Novelty Books, a division of Novelty Publishers, LLC

  205 Avenida Del Mar #275, San Clemente, CA 92674

  All books except “A Secret Christmas” originally published in paperback by Penguin Putnam Inc.

  A SECRET CHRISTMAS Copyright © Lauren Royal 2019

  NEVER DOUBT A VISCOUNT (formerly titled “Violet”) Copyright © Lauren Royal 2002, 2012, 2020

  THE SCANDAL OF LORD RANDAL (formerly titled “Lily”) Copyright © Lauren Royal 2002, 2012, 2020

  A GENTLEMAN’S PLOT TO TIE THE KNOT (formerly titled “Rose”) Copyright © Lauren Royal 2003, 2012, 2020

  ISBN 978-1-63469-170-3

  November 2020 Edition

  Cover by Teresa Spreckelmeyer

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be used or reproduced or transmitted in any manner whatsoever, electronically, in print, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of both Lauren Royal and Novelty Books, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Authors work months or years on their books and need to feed their families, just like you do. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Learn more about the author and her books at LaurenRoyal.com.

  Royal, Chase Family Collection: Limited Christmas Edition