It Happened One Christmas

by Kaitlin O'Riley

  Touched by his protective nature, she looked on in amusement. “Ask who it is first.”

  “Who is it?” he barked. Then, “I work for Miss Hamilton.”

  Lisette could hear a male voice outside but couldn’t distinguish what was being said. Thrilled by her progress with Tom, she smiled. She liked the boy. It was apparent that he had a good heart and an eager willingness to learn and better himself.

  “He says he’s Mr. Roxbury.”

  Her heart flipped over in her chest and she almost fell off the stool. Good heavens! What was Quinton doing at the shop? “You . . . you can let him in, Tom.”

  “By the look on your face, I should send him away.”

  But the shrewd little Tom went against his better judgment and opened the door wide, the bells above jingling, and Quinton Roxbury stepped inside amid a swirl of snow. He wore a long black coat and a tall black hat, with a plaid wool scarf wrapped around his neck. Even scattered with snowflakes and his cheeks reddened from the cold, Quinton still looked stunningly handsome.

  “Merry Christmas,” he said. His warm blue eyes searched hers.

  “Mr. Roxbury, this is quite a surprise.”

  “I stopped by Devon House and your family told me I would find you here.” He paused and looked at Tom. “I see you have some company.”

  So this was not simply a random shopping excursion for him. He had deliberately sought her out at home and then came to see her at the shop. That thought caused a knot to form low in her belly and a little quiver to race through her body.

  “Yes, let me introduce you,” Lisette began. “This is Thomas Francis Alcott and he just agreed to work for me here at the store and I’m going to give him reading lessons. Tom, this is Mr. Quinton Roxbury.”

  “We’ve met,” Tom muttered, his suspicious glance falling on Quinton.

  “It’s an honor to meet you, Master Alcott.” Quinton gave a quick bow and held his hand out to the boy.

  Tom’s eyes grew round at the grandness of the older man’s gesture. There was no patronizing quality, no condescension whatsoever in Quinton’s greeting. The child regarded him for a moment before slowly accepting his overture of a handshake. Imitating the mannerisms with incredible precision, he, too, bowed and then said, “’Tis an honor to meet you, too, sir.”

  A little swell of affection flooded Lisette at how quickly Quinton won over the boy. She had not observed Quinton with children before and seeing this filled her with happiness.

  “Well, Tom, I see you have the good sense to take Miss Hamilton’s lessons. It’s important for a boy to learn his letters. It makes him a better man. A boy with an education can become anything he puts his mind to. I can see good things in you. A grand future.” Quinton spoke to Tom as an equal, his expression warm. Lisette loved how Quinton immediately understood the situation and saw in Tom all the potential that she saw.

  The boy fairly burst with pride, so much did he want to believe the words being said to him. “Thank you. Yes sir. I’m bringin’ my ma here after Christmas to meet Miss Hamilton and start work here at the shop.”

  “Again, you show fine judgment, so don’t neglect your lessons for frivolous pursuits or you shall be letting down Miss Hamilton,” Quinton warned.

  “No sir. I won’t forget.” Tom turned to Lisette. “I won’t let you down, I promise.” He shuffled his feet. “I should be gettin’ home to my ma now. I don’t like to leave her alone for long. And it’s Christmas Eve.”

  Quinton reached into his pocket and took out a coin. Handing Tom a guinea, he said with great seriousness, “You show great promise, Tom. This is because you did such a good job protecting Miss Hamilton this evening.”

  The boy’s eyes grew round at the sight of that much money. His small hand shook as he reached to take it. He spoke in an awed whisper. “I can get a special Christmas dinner with this. Thank you very much, sir.”

  “You are welcome.”

  Lisette reminded him to take his copybook and practice writing his name before he returned. He nodded in obedience, holding the book reverently in his hands. On an impulse, Lisette hurried to the stationery cabinet and took out the last of the gilt-edged Christmas cards. It was a simple but lovely one, embossed with a garland of flowers and elegant calligraphy. She handed it to Tom.

  “Why don’t you give this card to your mother, as a little Christmas gift? You can write your name in it for her.”

  “I can have it?” He looked at the pretty card with awe.

  “I’ve always wanted to give my ma something fancy like this, something that she didn’t even need. Thank you!” The boy flung his arms around Lisette’s waist in a brief but fierce hug. “Thank you.”

  “Merry Christmas, Tom,” she said, filled with joy at his brimming happiness.

  His sweet face lit up from his smile. “Merry Christmas, miss.” He turned to Quinton. “And Merry Christmas to you, too, sir!” Tom Alcott fled from the shop almost as quickly as he’d come, the bells above the shop door jingling.

  Feeling self-conscious now that they were alone together in the deserted shop, Lisette wiped at the tears that threatened to overwhelm her.

  “That was a beautiful thing you just did,” Quinton said softly, his warm gaze steady on her.

  “It was nothing,” she whispered. “I gave him a little card, a token. I had no idea it would make him so happy.” She couldn’t help the one tear that ran down her cheek. It had taken so little to make that sweet boy smile.

  “Well, it was a lot more than that to him. He is quite a little character, isn’t he?” he asked, removing his tall top hat, woolen scarf, and leather gloves and placing them on the counter. Slowly he unfastened the buttons of his coat.

  Gaining control of her emotions, Lisette eyed his movements carefully, surmising he had no intention of leaving anytime soon.

  “Yes, he is a character. I met him last week on the street and he seemed a good boy, one in need of help. There was something in his eyes that compelled me to speak to him that day. I invited him to come here, but I wasn’t sure if he would.”

  “But you are happy now that he did come to you.”

  “I am so happy that he came.” She could not help smiling.

  “And you are thinking you would like Tom Alcott and his mother to have one of my houses when they are complete, aren’t you?’

  “Yes, I was, as a matter of fact.” She was pleased that he seemed to have read her thoughts so easily.

  “They shall be one of the first on my list.”

  Her heart swelled. “Oh, Quinton, thank you! That would be wonderful.”

  He took a step toward her, and paused. “That is the first time you ever called me by my name.”

  “Is it?” She had not realized. In her thoughts she always referred to him as Quinton.

  “I like the sound of my name on your lips.”

  Her heart was pounding an erratic rhythm, and it felt a hundred times too large for her chest. “Mr. Roxbury, you should not say such things to me.”

  “I know I should not.”

  “But you do it regardless?”

  “It seems I am quite powerless to do what I should when I am in your presence.”

  She slanted a look up at him. “Why have you come here tonight?”

  “I wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas.” He retrieved a small package from the pocket of his coat. He held it out to her with an expectant smile.

  He brought her a present? He should not be gifting her in any way. Immobile, she stood staring at his hand, on which rested a small box tied with a bright red ribbon.

  “Please take it,” he encouraged her.

  With a trembling hand she reached for the box. “Oh, but I have no gift for you. I did not think that—”

  “I do not give gifts with the expectation that I get one in return. I give gifts because it brings me pleasure to do so. And this brings me great pleasure.” He removed his coat in a fluid gesture. “Please open it, Lisette.”

  Her name sounded like vel
vet when he said it, and she shivered at the softness of his voice. Their eyes met and held. She took a deep breath and looked back at the small package. With trembling fingers, she untied the ribbon and opened the box.

  “Oh, Quinton!” she cried in pure delight.

  It was the silver locket she had seen in the curio shop that day in Brighton, the one with four panels in which she could place photos of each of her sisters and inscribed with an elegant script L. She had loved it the moment she saw it, but with all that had happened that afternoon, she had completely forgotten about the locket. He must have bought it for her that day. Touched beyond words that Quinton would think to give her something so special, she blinked back the tears welling in her eyes once again.

  “It was not my intention to make you cry.” He stepped closer to her.

  “Thank you so much.” Half laughing at her sentimental foolishness, she sniffled and drew a steadying breath. “I seem to be a watering pot this evening. Forgive me. It was so thoughtful of you to remember that I wanted the locket. I didn’t expect . . .” She grew quiet.

  “What is it?”

  “Nothing.” She shook her head. “I really shouldn’t accept this from you. It’s not appropriate.”

  “I don’t give a damn if it is appropriate or it isn’t. I want you to have that necklace because it makes you happy.”

  She gently touched the locket with her fingers. It would be fun having photographs taken of her sisters to place inside.

  “Here,” he said, reaching for the locket. “Let me help you put it on.”

  Before she could protest, he had clasped the chain around her neck, the silver locket resting on her chest. He stepped back to admire it.

  “It looks beautiful on you,” he announced. “But then anything would look beautiful on you.”

  Her heart flipped over at his words. Oh, but this was absolute torture. Lisette gave him a hard look, attempting to cool the situation. “Thank you, Mr. Roxbury, but you are engaged to be married and should not be bringing me gifts.”

  “I am not engaged any longer.”

  She gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. The bookshop spun around her. Slowly, her hand slid down from her face to cover her throat. “Since when?”

  “The night before last. There shall be a notice in the paper after Christmas.”

  “Oh, Quinton, I am so sorry!” Lisette was quite stunned by this news. “What happened? If I in any way caused problems between you and Lady Emmeline, I would never forgive myself. Did someone say something about seeing us together at the Duke of Rathmore’s ball? I hope I had nothing to do with it.”

  “You had everything to do with it.”

  Lisette’s mouth dropped open in surprise at his words. Had Emmeline called off the wedding? Would there be a dreadful scandal? Was she named as the cause? A wave of nausea flooded her. She couldn’t speak and just looked at him.

  Quinton stared back at her, his blue eyes intense. “Lisette, you are the reason I cannot marry Lady Emmeline.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I spoke with the Duke of Wentworth and Lady Emmeline and explained that I was in love with someone else and could not in good conscience marry Emmeline.”

  The look Quinton gave her caused goose bumps to rise on her arms. Reeling from both revelations, she did not know which one was more shocking, that he broke his engagement or his reference to being in love with her. Her mouth went dry. “You did what?”

  “I am no longer betrothed to Emmeline Tarleton.”

  “You’re not?” she squeaked, feeling like an idiot. Her chest tightened.

  “No. I am not.”

  “Oh.”

  A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Is that all you can say?”

  “Won’t the scandal ruin your building career and your political hopes?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t believe there will be a scandal. When I broached the subject, Emmeline agreed with me that we did not truly suit. There will be talk, of course, but our goal is to avoid an outright scandal. We have parted as friends.”

  “She wasn’t angry about it? Angry with you?”

  “Oh no, she was quite angry with me to be sure. And hurt, too. But when she calmed down a bit, she saw the logic and reasoning behind my motives. We have barely seen each other in the last six months. I think she was more in love with having a wedding than with being married or even in love with me for that matter. Eventually she and her father will see the wisdom in this outcome, even if they can’t right now.”

  “Oh.” She could not get her head around the news. Quinton was no longer engaged to be married!

  “Her father had calmed down by the end as well. I will lose his political support and his financial backing for the houses, but I will find other donors. I am no longer worried about that aspect.”

  “Oh, Quinton.” She twisted her hands together. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Sorry you saved me from an extremely unhappy marriage ?”

  “But I did nothing. I did not do any—”

  “You did everything and nothing at all. You were simply you.” He paused and placed his hand under her chin, tilting her face up to his. “Lisette, you made me fall in love with you.”

  “You’re . . . You are in love with me?” The very words made her feel hot and shaky inside. A wave of dizziness washed over her. She blinked.

  “Madly in love with you.” His voice was like velvet.

  “Oh, I see.” Coherent words, clever responses all eluded her.

  “But now I have another dilemma.”

  “Which is?” Her heart pounded wildly.

  “I am in love with you. But you, Lisette, you are still engaged to Henry Brooks.”

  “Oh, but I am not!” she cried out in surprise.

  Now it was Quinton’s turned to be stunned. He dropped his hand from her face and his eyes widened. “You’re not?”

  She shook her head, a faint smile beginning to spread across her face.

  “Since when?” he questioned.

  “A week ago. I broke off with him.”

  “You did?” He was incredulous but enormously pleased.

  “Yes.” She nodded happily, a wild thrill of elation racing through every nerve in her body. He was no longer engaged and neither was she. They were both free.

  “Why did no one tell me? How did I not hear?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He thought for a moment. “You had broken off with him before the Christmas Ball at the Duke of Rathmore’s?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me that night?”

  “You were still engaged, remember?”

  “Yes . . .” His eyes narrowed on her. “Why did you break off with Henry?”

  “Because I could not in good conscience marry him.” She hesitated for a fraction of a second. Her eyes meeting his, she saw everything she’d ever wanted in Quinton Roxbury, and her heart flipped over in her chest. “Because I am in love with you.”

  “Ah, Lisette.” Quinton pulled her to him in a sudden movement.

  For the first time, she moved into the warm circle of his arms with a completely clear conscience. They had not intended for any of this to happen. They had only bumped into each other one day and their lives were never to be the same. Lisette breathed in his scent and sighed, drawing comfort from the strength that encircled her.

  “You have turned my world upside down and I am glad of it.” He placed a sweet, soft kiss on her lips. He then cupped her chin in his palm once again, tilting her face up to look in her eyes. “I want to marry you, Lisette Hamilton. I want to make a life with you by my side.”

  Nothing would make her happier than spending the rest of her life with this man. She would do anything for him. He had come into her life out of nowhere, and with him he brought a vividness, a vibrancy, and a purpose to her life that had been lacking. He inspired her and filled her with emotions she had only dreamed of and read about. With him she felt more herself tha
n she had ever felt with Henry Brooks.

  “I want you, too, Quinton.”

  “If you want me even half as much as I want you, you’ll make me the happiest man in the world.” His mouth covered hers in a searing and possessive kiss, leaving no doubt how he felt about her.

  This kiss made her shiver in anticipation. Hot and hungry, their mouths joined, and Lisette responded with complete abandon. Her arms moved around his neck, and he pulled her closer. Her mouth parted and his tongue met with hers. Desire flickered through her, fast and furious.

  There were no restrictions on them anymore. He was free. He was hers. A thrill of happiness surged within her and she wanted to give herself to him.

  29

  That Glorious Song of Old

  Alone in the bookshop on Christmas Eve with snow falling outside, Lisette kissed Quinton Roxbury with absolute indulgence and without an ounce of guilt. Never had she felt such joy mingled with unrestrained passion. His hands moved around her, stroking her back while stoking the fire that smoldered within her. She wanted him desperately. Wanted to feel him. All of him.

  Lisette pulled away from his kiss. “Wait.” She could barely catch her breath, could barely find the wherewithal to speak.

  Disappointment shadowed his face. “Yes, of course, if you—”

  “No.” She shook her head, her body trembling. “Let’s go upstairs.”

  “Upstairs?” His brows drew together in confusion.

  “Follow me,” Lisette whispered.

  She took his hand in hers and led him to the staircase at the back of the shop. Opening the door, she continued up the steps to the rooms above where her family had lived for so many years. The space had been refurnished and repurposed, but two bedrooms still remained. They lit the lamps, and he followed her into one of the bedchambers, with a large bed in the center. The air chilled them and Quinton quickly and expertly started a fire in the fireplace. The room was still cold, but the promise of coming warmth comforted them.

  Lisette shivered but only because she was cold. She should be nervous, but she wasn’t. Not a bit. It surprised her, this lack of nervousness, yet thrilled her at the same time. What she was about to do was scandalous. But she was going to do it anyway. Placing a lit candle on the bedside table, she turned to face Quinton. His blond hair glistened like gold in the firelight, and the lines of his face seemed more striking, more masculine in the shadows. The look of intense desire in his expression captivated her. This was not like the night in his carriage. This night was something else entirely.