Their Mistletoe Matchmakers

by Keli Gwyn

  A Christmas Match

  The best Christmas possible—that’s what Lavinia Crowne intends to provide before taking her orphaned nieces and nephew home to Philadelphia. But carrying out her plan may be harder than she expects, with their handsome, stubborn uncle, Henry Hawthorn, insisting on raising the children in rough-and-tumble Sutter Creek, California. Lavinia can’t bear to lose her late sister’s children, though, or go against her father’s demand to bring them home.

  Henry believes his nieces and nephew need affection and security more than a lavish lifestyle. But as the children conspire to bring their aunt and uncle together, a new vision fills his head—of future Christmases spent with sweet, determined Lavinia and their growing family. Can three little matchmakers, and the spirit of the season, bring the gift of a very happy beginning?

  “I’d have been happy to help.”

  Lavinia set the figurine down and pinned Henry with a steely gaze. “Has it occurred to you I might not want your help? This party is my undertaking, my opportunity to show you that—” She clamped her lips together and turned away.

  “To show me what? That you’re determined to win the children’s affection? I know that. I just don’t think you’re going about it the right way.” Ugh!

  How tactless could he be? “What I mean is—”

  “I know what you mean.” She whirled around, her dark eyes flashing. “You think you can do a better job caring for them than I can, that because I’ve led a sheltered life I don’t have the necessary skills. You think you’re going to show me that they belong here with you. But you’re mistaken. I’m more capable than you give me credit for.”

  “I think you’re more capable than you give yourself credit for.”

  “I appreciate your kind words, but if you think plying me with compliments will make me give in, you’re mistaken.”

  Award-winning author Keli Gwyn, a native Californian, transports readers to the early days of the Golden State. She and her husband live in the heart of California’s Gold Country. Her favorite places to visit are her fictional worlds, historical museums and other Gold Rush–era towns. Keli loves hearing from readers and invites you to visit her Victorian-style cyberhome at keligwyn.com, where you’ll find her contact information.

  Books by Keli Gwyn

  Love Inspired Historical

  Family of Her Dreams

  A Home of Her Own

  Make-Believe Beau

  Her Motherhood Wish

  Their Mistletoe Matchmakers

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  KELI GWYN

  Their Mistletoe Matchmakers

  And whatsoever ye do, do it heartily,

  as to the Lord, and not unto men;

  Knowing that of the Lord ye shall

  receive the reward of the inheritance:

  for ye serve the Lord Christ.

  —Colossians 3:23–24

  To my bright, beautiful daughter, Adriana, who loves Christmas more than anyone else I know.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Dear Reader

  Excerpt from A Child's Christmas Wish by Erica Vetsch

  Chapter One

  November 1860

  Sutter Creek, California

  The ominous crack of the large oak tree branch overhead sent a chill racing down Lavinia Crowne’s spine. Despite her mad scramble to get out of the way, she lost her footing on the slippery path and fell backward.

  The jarring impact as she hit the ground was nothing compared to the thunderous roar as the limb came crashing down. She gasped, certain that her terror-laced breath would be her last.

  To her surprise, she found herself trapped beneath a bend in the branch, staring at the stormy sky above. Her arms were pinned to her sides, but she was alive.

  Thank You, Lord, for Your protection.

  “Help!” Surely someone would hear her.

  Bitter cold seeped through Lavinia’s clothing. The swollen gray clouds that had gathered throughout the day had begun unleashing their burden only minutes ago, quickly turning the yard into a muddy mess. Raindrops fell fast and furious, running off her cheeks like a fountain of tears. If only she’d attempted her dash to the shed earlier.

  “I’m on my way!”

  Lavinia recognized the man’s voice and groaned. Of all the people who could have come to her rescue, why did it have to be him? She had no desire for Henry Hawthorn to see her in her present state. When she faced her recently orphaned nephew and nieces’ uncle, she’d planned to be in her best form. Instead, she was a muddy mess.

  The front gate banged against the wrought iron fence surrounding the corner lot, obviously thrown open in haste. A second shout penetrated the downpour, louder and closer than the first, confirming that the man whose boots were thudding across the soggy ground toward her was indeed Henry. “Hold on! I’m almost there.”

  She hadn’t heard him speak since their one and only meeting at the wedding of her sister and Henry’s brother ten years before. Unlike his late brother, Jack, who’d embraced his heritage wholeheartedly, Henry had worked to lose his Scottish burr. The hint of the strong R she’d heard that day remained, though, giving his rich voice an undeniable appeal—even if it was the last one Lavinia had wanted to hear in response to her cry for help.

  When she’d arrived in town eight days before, her sister’s friend, who lived next door, had been watching the children. Since Norma had three little ones of her own, she was happy to leave the job of caring for Jack and Pauline’s three children to Lavinia.

  Henry had returned to Sutter Creek earlier than expected, having left for Marysville a day before Lavinia’s arrival. He’d told Norma not to expect him back until the day before Thanksgiving. That would have given Lavinia ten days to get to know her precious nephew and nieces on her own. But Henry was here now, cutting short her time alone with them by two days. Although the youngsters had been anxiously awaiting their uncle’s return, she wasn’t eager to face him again.

  The irksome man had a knack for showing up at the most inopportune times. What he’d witnessed at Jack and Pauline’s wedding reception all those years ago was nothing compared to her present state. She must look a fright. No doubt, her silk gown was ruined. Thankfully, she’d brought several more when she’d come west—along with the boots to match each of them. Some might see that as frivolous, but what lady didn’t fancy fine footwear?

  From her vantage point beneath the broken branch, all she could see when she turned her head were a pair of leather boots and the bottom of a stylish overcoat worn by the purposeful man headed her way. The downed limb blocked everything else.

  Henry covered the short distance from the white clapboard house at a jog. He leaned over her, confusion creasing his broad brow. Rainwater poured from the brim of his top hat. “Lavinia! What are you doing here? I left the children with Norma.”

 
The fact that he recognized her was a good sign. Her face must not be covered with as much mud as she’d feared. It also meant that even though so much time had passed since they’d met on that memorable but melancholy day his only brother had married her beloved sister, Henry hadn’t forgotten her. Then again, how could he after the spectacle she’d made of herself at the reception afterward?

  Although she’d been just sixteen at the time, she’d known better than to behave like a petulant child. It wasn’t his fault that his brother, Jack, had robbed her of her only sibling and best friend, whisking Pauline off to the Wild West. Not that Henry had shown much sympathy. Lavinia could still hear his mild reproach. They’re happy. Why can’t you be happy for them?

  He’d neglected to mention the gulf that had separated Jack and Pauline—a poor blacksmith and the daughter of a man who owned a hotel empire—which had become an obstacle that had led to discord, hurt feelings and, now, a bone-deep sorrow. Henry’s younger brother and her older sister had gone to their heavenly home two months ago following a boiler explosion on the steamboat taking them to San Francisco for their tenth anniversary, leaving behind three adorable children.

  Lavinia squelched the desire to toss out a sarcastic reply to Henry’s question. That’s what she’d done when she’d met him at the wedding—not one of her better moments. But she was older and wiser now. “Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t free myself. I thank the good Lord you came along.” She’d stretched the truth a bit since Henry wasn’t her choice of a hero, but she was grateful he’d heard her cries for help and come to her aid.

  He stared at her a moment, disbelief clouding his sky-blue eyes, and shook his head, sending water droplets flying. His businesslike manner reappeared. “I’ll get this off you, and then I’ll fetch the doctor.”

  “I don’t need to see a doctor. I’m fine.”

  “Perhaps, but you should still be examined.” He stood and gripped the branch with his gloved hands. They were fine leather gloves, not those worn by a smithy, such as he’d been in his days spent working with his brother in their shop back in Philadelphia.

  Lavinia appreciated Henry’s concern, but God had been looking out for her. As far as she could tell, she hadn’t suffered any injuries.

  The downed tree limb was large and must weigh a lot, but Henry hefted it with ease and dragged it out of the way. She attempted to rise onto her elbows, but the soggy ground made the task difficult.

  “Don’t move!” He dropped to his knees beside her, heedless of the mud puddle that had formed, and rested a hand on her shoulder. “I need to check you over first. You can lift your head, which is a good sign, but what about the rest of you?”

  “Nothing appears to be broken.” She’d done a quick test earlier, relieved to find that everything seemed to be in working order.

  “If you’ll permit me, I’ll perform a cursory examination. Once I’m satisfied that moving you won’t be a problem, I’ll take you in the house.”

  She wasn’t a hothouse flower in need of special treatment. “I appreciate the offer and would take you up on it, but—”

  “You don’t want the help of a man like me. I understand. You made it clear that my family doesn’t meet your exacting standards, but I’m not the lowly no-account you seem to think I am.”

  “I never said that.” All she wanted to do was get out of the rain, not recall memories of an unpleasant encounter she’d spent years trying to forget.

  “You didn’t have to. Your behavior that day spoke for you.” Although his tone was level, the underlying hurt that had crept into his voice flooded her with remorse.

  He made a valid point. She’d behaved badly, but now was neither the time nor the place for a discussion on that. “Fine. Check me over if you must, and then can we get out of the rain? I’m drenched, and you will soon be, too. I’d like to spare you that.”

  Despite their charged exchange, his hands were gentle as he ran them along her arms and legs, twisting them to and fro until he was satisfied. “From what I can tell, nothing’s broken, so I’ll get you inside.”

  Before she realized his intentions, he had scooped her into his arms and started for the house. “You don’t need to do this. I’m perfectly capable of walking. Besides, I’m covered in mud. I’ll get it all over you.”

  “I don’t care about that. I care about you.”

  His kind words, spoken with sincerity and that rich rolled R of his, robbed her of speech. Henry meant nothing special by them, but aside from the servants who were paid to see to her needs, no one back home had cared about her in years—not since her mother had passed on.

  Her father certainly didn’t care. The drive to expand his hotel empire consumed him. Paul Crowne had used her unexpected trip to California to care for his orphaned grandchildren to his advantage. He’d assigned his latest protégé, Stuart Worthington, who had served as her traveling companion and protector, the task of assessing San Francisco as a suitable location for another of his hotels, the Golden Crowne.

  Not that she was surprised by her father’s callousness. He hadn’t spoken of Pauline or Jack in anything but derogatory terms since the happy couple had headed west. Lavinia’s request to pay them a visit after the birth of their son, Alex, had been flatly denied. She’d attempted to bring up the subject a second time when Jack and Pauline had welcomed their first daughter into the world, but her father had made it clear the subject was not open for discussion.

  Lavinia hadn’t brought it up again until Henry’s letter arrived with the tragic news. To her surprise, her father had granted her permission to make the journey, proving he wasn’t as unfeeling as people seemed to think he was. If only he would wholeheartedly embrace the faith that her beloved mother had instilled in her daughters. He attended church and even made contributions, but he rarely spoke about spiritual matters, leaving Lavinia to wonder if he really loved the Lord as she did.

  Eager to ease the awkward silence that had descended on them as Henry carried her toward the house, she asked the question that had occurred to her as she’d lain flat on her back with nothing shielding her from the pelting rain but bare branches and a massive clump of mistletoe high in the tree. “What would make a limb come down suddenly like that? It’s not as though the tree was struck by lightning, and the winds aren’t that strong, although they seem to be picking up.”

  “It happens with oaks, especially after the hot, dry summers we’ve had the past few years. If a tree can’t support all its branches, it will shed one to survive. A falling limb usually occurs during the heat, but it can happen any time of the year. I’m just glad you weren’t hurt when that one came down.” He inclined his head toward the fallen branch.

  “You and me both. I thanked the Lord posthaste.”

  Her face was so close to Henry’s as he cradled her in his strong arms that his profile filled her vision. He’d already been good-looking at twenty, but the ensuing decade had done remarkable things for him, transforming him into a strikingly handsome man. With his angular jaw, aristocratic nose and arresting blue eyes, he must have turned the head of many a lady over the years. And yet, from what Pauline had written, no woman had turned his.

  He reached the back porch, tromped up the steps and glanced at her. His eyebrows shot toward his hairline, and his well-formed lips lifted in a winsome smile.

  She averted her gaze. How could she have been so foolish as to let him catch her staring at him? He might be a feast for the eyes, but he wasn’t the type of man to capture her attention. Like their late siblings, she and Henry came from different worlds.

  And yet it appeared his situation had improved. His waterproof top hat, made of high-quality beaver, provided a sharp contrast to the shabby slouch hat he used to wear. Her head rested on his chest, the wool of his alpaca overcoat soft against her cheek. The coat, one every bit as fine as her father’s, had to have cost Henry a small for
tune.

  “Since my hands are full—” he winked “—could you open the door?”

  Her many years spent schooling her emotions enabled her to hide her surprise. Barely. The gentlemen of her acquaintance would never have behaved in such a familiar manner, but in her experience, Henry only conformed to the social mores when it suited him. “You could put me down, you know.”

  “I will. When I’m ready. The door, please.” He inclined his head toward it.

  Obstinate man. “Are you always this insistent on doing things your way?”

  He grinned. “Only when I’m carrying a lovely lady in my arms.”

  Her manners failed her, leaving her mouth gaping. She snapped it closed and grappled for a suitable response, delivering it with playfulness on par with his. “Might I point out, kind sir, that I’m a muddy mess and don’t qualify for any special treatment?”

  “This isn’t special treatment. I make it a point to come to the aid of anyone who tangles with a broken branch or—” his pleasantly full lips twitched “—a wayward piece of cake.”

  He remembered? Of course he did. How could he forget that mortifying moment when she’d stumbled and sent her slice of Jack and Pauline’s wedding cake sliding down her front?

  Henry had hustled her off to the kitchen after the unfortunate incident and helped her remove the bits of white frosting clinging to the silk. She’d done her best to ignore him up to that point—not an easy task since he was the best man—but he’d repaid her with kindness. Aside from that rather pointed remark about begrudging Jack and Pauline their happiness, of course.

  “Very well. I’ll do your bidding.” Lavinia leaned over, twisted the knob and pushed open the door.

  He entered the kitchen, set her down in front of the cook stove and rested his hands on her shoulders. “You’re not dizzy, are you?”

  “No. Just a bit chilled.” She turned out of his grasp and held her hands toward the heat, reveling in the warmth.