Improper Christmas

by Reed, Kristabel

  The gasp of surprise caught in her throat and she read the letter again, then once more.

  Lillian blindly looked at the fire. Even if she refused William, or he left her for Miss Simmons, she could never agree to marry Tate. Though she had no idea he offered her marriage — multiple times — deep in her heart Lillian knew she couldn’t agree to his proposal.

  And William. What was she to do about him? Marry him, her heart whispered. And Lillian wanted to. She wanted William, loved him more than she thought herself capable of, and wanted to spend the rest of her life with him.

  But Mrs. Martins was correct in one thing at least — he deserved better than she.

  What if William did choose Miss Simmons? Her life, with this generous allowance, was comfortable enough. Would she stay in Chesham? Leave for some place new and start over yet again?

  And could she ever give her heart to another?

  But… but what if it did work with William? What if he married her as he promised, as they promised each other? Or was she only dreaming?

  On one level she wished her father had told her of Mr. Tate’s proposals. Wished her father hadn’t dreamt of her being Lady Granville.

  Restless, Lillian stood and folded the blanket neatly over the back of the settee. She set the water on for tea, stirred the stew she made this morning, and looked around her small cottage. She didn’t know what to do about William, or her future, or if it even mattered what she wanted.

  No. Lillian knew what and who she wanted. The question was, dare she fight for him?

  Energy thrummed through her and she crossed to the basket William brought her from the feast. She yanked the overabundance of holly from it and tossed the greenery onto the tabletop.

  She wanted him; she loved him that much she knew. And William, he already knew who and what she was, knew her circumstances.

  But was her happiness worth his future?

  Chapter Seventeen

  Lillian sat perfectly still on the settee and stared into the fire. William was such a gift, one she hadn’t expected ever to receive.

  He loved her, and despite her fear and confusion, that knowledge eased the band around her heart and sent a pleasant jolt through her. But now, with Mrs. Martins’s visit and harsh words about William’s fortunes, and Mr. Tate’s trip, Lillian didn’t know what to do.

  Perhaps William was a gift for a short while. Perhaps she was never meant to have him, only the memory of him.

  Lillian shook her head and tried to dislodge the whirling thoughts. She was now no closer to a conclusion than last night when she finally made her way to bed.

  Restless, she stood and circled her parlor. She didn’t know what to do, and the tight walls of her cottage closed in on her. Finding her winter pelisse, she buttoned it tightly, wound a scarf around her neck, and tugged on her warmest gloves.

  The cold air slapped her the minute she opened the door. Pulling it closed tight behind her, Lillian strode in the direction of the brook the cottage was named after.

  She didn’t remember her cousin; she met him when she was but a girl, long before her first season and her father’s illness. So she honestly had no idea why Tate held such disdain toward her.

  Now, as for Mrs. Martins, Lillian understood perfectly why the other woman was so hateful. Even with that truth behind the hate.

  She shivered in the wind, and strode faster. The cold didn’t quell her racing thoughts as Lillian hoped.

  “Lillian!”

  Frowning, she turned. William raced toward her. He looked angry, and she waited for him. She didn’t know why she didn’t move to meet him halfway, but stood her ground and waited.

  “Why are you out here?” he asked, not angry at all. “The weather’s frigid.”

  The cold leather of his glove cupped her cheek, and she leaned into his touch before she thought to stop herself. She couldn’t look him in the eye, nor could she move away.

  “You’ve been crying,” he whispered.

  Her gaze flew to his.

  “Don’t deny it,” he continued in that same soft voice.

  Lillian nodded just enough to confirm his words. She stepped back, away from his touch, the tenderness of it, the meaning behind the simple affection.

  “What’s happened?”

  “I had entirely too many visitors yesterday,” she said in a rush. Lillian shook her head.

  She hadn’t meant to tell him that, but then she promised herself she’d be honest. No more taking things on blind faith and hope.

  “Miss Simmons comes with a rather substantial dowry,” she managed. “And, to my understanding, lands that enhance yours.”

  He frowned but didn’t move away. “That makes no difference to me,” he said shortly, the words as crisp as the day. “I have no interest in that girl. Why do you bring her up?”

  “Mrs. Martins was one of my callers yesterday,” she admitted.

  “Pay no heed to what that woman might have said,” he told her. William shook his head. “She sees the world through her own special lenses.”

  “William, it’s true.” She took a step back, putting distance between them. “You may hold affection for me now, but I have nothing. I hold nothing of value for your estate.”

  He caught her upper arms and drew her against him, shaking her once. A light, brief movement, it was not to hurt her, but to make his point. “You are more valuable than any coin in a coffer.”

  “You say that now,” she replied evenly. “But what of years from now? What if there’s a crisis? What if—”

  “Stop it.” He snapped the words, still not in anger, she realized with a start. Not at her. But in frustration. “You torture yourself for no reason. Lillian, I love you.” He drew her closer, cupped her cheeks, and pressed his lips lightly to hers. “The only regret I’d ever have, in my entire life,” he said, his words a breath between them, “would be not making you my wife.”

  She let her fingers trail down his cheek. “You can’t know that,” she whispered. “I had another caller,” she went on before he had the chance to answer. “My cousin, Mr. Tate.”

  Lillian took a deep breath, letting the cold air settle in her lungs. She was not completely recovered from her illness, and it hurt to breathe.

  Or maybe it was their conversation, the pain she tried to hold at bay, but she knew her efforts to be useless.

  “He...he proposed marriage. You wouldn’t have to be — ”

  “Enough, Lillian,” he said sharply, his hands again on her shoulders. “No more thoughts of others interfering between us. We won’t let ourselves be controlled by the opinions — or desires — of others.”

  That warmth, the tender expanse of love and affection, of his belief in her, spread through Lillian before she remembered she needed to stop it.

  “In this world we live in,” William continued, “there’ll always be someone who wants to interfere. Who wants to take what we have.” He drew her closer and said quietly and firmly so there wasn’t a shred of doubt he meant it, “Do not let them.”

  She opened her mouth to reply, but leaned up and kissed him. She pressed her lips to his and poured everything she felt and wanted and thought into that single kiss.

  “I simply want everything for you,” she told him but didn’t draw back. “Even if that doesn’t include me.”

  “You are everything to me,” William assured her.

  She grinned and kissed him again. She still didn’t know if she did the right thing, but it felt wonderful, being in his arms again, having the taste of him on her lips.

  “Come on,” he said and turned them back toward the cottage. “Let’s get you inside. You’re still recovering and it’s freezing out here.”

  Lillian didn’t argue; it was freezing, and she didn’t wish to be sick again. Though if William was there to tend her…

  She shook her head, but the smile remained. Mayhap the fates truly did smile on her.

  Inside, William stoked the fire as she poured fresh tea and set out several o
f the biscuits he’d sent over the other day. Despite his size, her cottage didn’t feel small or closed in when he entered.

  It felt like a home.

  “The village has known of our courtship for a day or two now,” William said as he sat beside her. He pulled her against him, and she rested her head on his shoulder. “I think we can marry tomorrow, if we want.”

  Lillian jerked back, her eyes wide. “William!” she half choked, half laughed. “We can’t, it’s too soon!”

  “Nonsense.” He grinned down at her. His eyes darkened and he leaned closer, his lips a brush against the corner of her mouth. “We’ve known each other for weeks. I’m certain everyone believes we fell in love while we planned the feast.”

  “Oh,” Lillian said and scrambled for anything else to say. “Even if they do, we should still show the proper — we should have a proper length of courtship, William. If only for appearances.”

  He shrugged it away, a careless movement of his shoulders. William’s smile never abated, and he held her closer.

  “I won’t have you doubting us simply to appease the gossipmongers of this county.” William shook his head. “Or to show the proper appearances. I’ve sent my solicitor to acquire a special license. We don’t have to wait for the reading of the banns.”

  “What do you propose we do?” Lillian asked, though she had a very good idea what he meant.

  His smile widened. “We marry in the morning.”

  Her mouth worked to speak, but no words formed. She supposed she should argue and protest his plan or… something.

  Lillian combed her fingers through his hair and pulled him down to kiss him. Forget logic. To hell with decorum.

  “Yes,” she breathed against his lips.

  She deepened the kiss and let that be her answer.

  Epilogue

  Chesham, England

  February 1818

  Lillian sat in the front parlor of Pennington Hall and sipped her tea. It still felt strange, sitting here. But the staff took to her as if she were the mistress of the Hall her entire life. With William’s good will, Lillian was certain.

  And she enjoyed it. She missed running a large estate, but it was more than that. More than the large estate or the security William provided.

  It was love. Lillian hadn’t known it was possible; she’d always been such a practical young woman. But every time she saw her husband, every time he walked into the door and smiled at her, the same flutter of excitement she felt since the first returned.

  Christmas, despite always being one of her favorite times, now held a special place in her heart. Not only the Christmas feast where she met William, but all that transpired on the day itself.

  Despite the fact so few wished her to marry William, the villages accepted her. They’d had to. Lillian hadn’t begrudged them, but she remained wary of the few who very much wished William to marry another, however by and large she found acceptance.

  And now, sitting across from her was Miss Violet Simmons.

  Miss Simmons cornered her at the Assembly Hall during a celebration of the baker’s tenth year in operation. The move surprised Lillian, who hadn’t had any contact with the other woman since before Christmas. But everyone visited the hall that day, especially since the baker gave away small cakes throughout the day.

  The private apology shocked Lillian, but Violet looked and sounded quite sincere. And Lillian found herself liking the woman, far more so than the first time they’d met.

  “They wanted me so desperately to marry Mr. Pennington,” Violet confided. “Even though I was not fond of him.”

  She frowned and shook her head, looking into her teacup rather than at Lillian. Lillian waited and wondered what had happened to have Violet confide in her like this.

  “I’m so sorry if I gave you an indelicate impression,” Violet continued in a rush.

  “I understand difficult relations,” Lillian assured her. It surprised her how sorry she felt for Violet but parents, and aunts, who believe in only one way, were hard to sway.

  Violet offered a grateful smile.

  “When you head down to London for season, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” Lillian set her teacup on the table and looked directly at Violet. “Have you heard of Mrs. Primsby?”

  The other woman nodded and Lillian smiled.

  Hours later, after Violet Simmons left, Lillian waited for William. He’d had business to attend to however, she knew he returned hours ago. And she knew her husband and knew he hadn’t wanted to so much as see Violet let alone make polite conversation with her. Suppressing a grin, she broke off a piece of scone and chewed it thoughtfully.

  Suddenly the hair on the back of her neck stood and she jerked around. William peered into the doorway as if ensuring the room was cleared of any and all guests.

  “How long have you lurked by my tea?” she asked with a coy grin.

  “It was such a long tea,” he said as he crossed the room. “And I missed my wife.”

  He stopped just enough to lift her off the settee and gather her into his arms. His lips pressed to hers, a quick hard kiss. Lillian pulled back and grinned up at him.

  “One more time.”

  William cocked his head and stared at her in silent confusion. Her smiled widened and she waited. She saw the realization light his eyes and he pressed his lips to hers again.

  “My wife,” he whispered against her mouth.

  Lillian wound her arms around his shoulders and held him tight. She opened to his kiss, drew him deeper into it. Tighter against her.

  No, she did not regret one moment, and never would, with William Pennington.

  A Note to my Incredible Readers

  I hope you enjoyed this second book of my new Regency series: Scandalous Encounters. I loved writing them! Coming next month will be Improper Duke, my second Scandalous Encounters Christmas story.

  Improper Duke: Mrs. Camilla Primsby is known for her exceptional matchmaking skills. She prides herself on knowing those who complement each other. But when Gareth, the Duke of Axton, wants her matchmaking skills for himself, she refuses. Gareth isn’t one to take no for an answer and uses the Christmas season to woo his beautiful lady.

  If you have enjoyed my stories, I’d greatly appreciate you sharing your views on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, or Goodreads. I’m always available through email if you have any comments, questions, or requests.

  If you’d like to sign up for my newsletter, I post news about my stories, excerpts, and historical recipes exclusive to the newsletter. You can also find me on Twitter, on my Blog, on Facebook, and pinning like mad on Pinterest.

  As always, thank you so much for reading!

  About Kristabel Reed

  Kristabel Reed lives on the East Coast and loves to explore the steamier side of historical romance. She loves all romances, but historical ménages particularly which add an element of danger and discovery not seen in contemporaries.

  She loves reading, watching old movies, random quotes, and anything Cary Grant.

  Also by Kristabel Reed

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