Mistletoe and Kisses

by Sasha Cottman

  Mistletoe and Kisses

  A Duke of Strathmore Holiday Novella

  sasha cottman

  Copyright © 2020 by Sasha Cottman

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Also by Sasha Cottman

  The Duke of Strathmore

  Letter from a Rake (ebook and audio)

  An Unsuitable Match (ebook and audio)

  The Duke’s Daughter (ebook and audio)

  A Scottish Duke for Christmas

  My Gentleman Spy (ebook and audio)

  Lord of Mischief (ebook and audio)

  The Ice Queen (ebook and audio)

  Two of a Kind (ebook and audio)

  Mistletoe & Kisses

  Regency Rockstars

  Reid

  Owen

  Callum

  Kendal

  London Lords

  An Italian Count for Christmas

  Promised to the Swedish Prince

  Devoted to the Spanish Duke

  Rogues of the Road

  When a Rogue Falls - Hello Rogue

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  About the Author

  A Scottish Duke for Christmas

  Also by Sasha Cottman

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  Chapter One

  Cambridge, December 1790

  * * *

  Lord Hugh Radley closed his travel trunk one last time, silently reassuring himself that he had indeed got everything he would need for the trip to Scotland. He turned and groaned. There, sitting on the end of his bed, was the pair of boots he was certain he had already packed.

  “You would forget your head if it wasn’t attached,” he muttered.

  He would be needing the boots for the ice-covered roads around his family home in Scotland. After adding the boots and closing the lid of the travel trunk once more, he stepped back and allowed the porters to take his luggage.

  He had been looking forward to this day for months. Christmas at the Radley clan’s ancestral home, Strathmore Castle, was always a special time. Hugh was champing at the bit to see his family.

  He would be making the trip north this year, along with two of his sisters and their respective spouses. With all of them in the one coach, it was going to be a cramped four-day journey. He had packed several books in his travel bag, intending to bury his nose in them rather than attempt hours of small talk. As much as he loved his family, he had important documents he needed to study and commit to memory before he returned to England in the new year.

  “When the coach arrives, could you make sure my luggage is safely loaded onto it? If my family asks, please tell them I have to see a friend before I leave, but I won’t be long.” He followed the porters out of his private rooms and locked the door behind him.

  For a moment, he stood with the palm of his hand laid against the solid oak door. It would be the last time he touched it. He was no longer a student at St John’s College, Cambridge University. His days of living on the campus of the hallowed halls of learning were now at an end.

  “Lord Hugh Radley, BA Theology. Fancy that,” he said.

  He crossed the college courtyard then strolled along a walkway with edges bordered by tall white rose bushes before finally arriving at a black door with a brass nameplate.

  Professor J. L. Gray.

  He knocked on the door and opened it. Professor Gray’s rooms were never locked.

  “Mary, it’s Hugh. I’ve come to say farewell,” he cheerfully called out.

  A hand rose from behind a pile of old exam papers and waved. “Down here.”

  Stepping around a neat stack of books, he found her. Mary Gray was kneeling on the floor, dust pan and brush in hand.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “A spot of cleaning. I moved a few more of Papa’s piles of papers this morning and actually found the floor. I dread to think the last time the stone flagging saw daylight,” she replied.

  He held a hand out to her and helped Mary to her feet. Her gaze took in his coat and scarf, and she smiled.

  “So, you are off to Scotland for Christmas?

  “Yes, the travel coach will be here shortly. I have sent the porters and my luggage out to the main courtyard to await its arrival,” he replied.

  She looked around the room, then back to him. “It must feel a little odd to be leaving here for the last time.”

  He had thought it would be his last time, but earlier in the week he had been given the news that he still had some minor studies to complete before he could take up his post as curate at St Martins-in-the-Fields in central London.

  “Actually, it’s not the very last time I shall be on campus. I have to come back after Christmas for a week. I will stay at one of the inns in town, but I shall drop by and say hello,” he replied.

  Mary nodded, a tight smile sat briefly on her lips. She picked up another pile of papers and straightened them. He sensed she was nervous.

  “Is your sister Adelaide making the trip with her newborn? I remember when she visited at half term and she was complaining about how swollen her ankles were,” said Mary. She put the papers down again and stood, tapping her fingers on the top of the pile.

  Mary always fidgeted when she was uncomfortable about something.

  Adelaide and Charles Alexandre had been blessed with the birth of a son, William, in early October. Hugh was dreading the prospect of sharing a cramped travel coach with a wailing infant but needs must.

  “Yes, she is. My brother, Ewan, has commanded that as many members of the family as possible should make the trip this year. My sister Anne and her new husband, the Duke of Mowbray, are also going to be travelling with us,” he said. His other sister Davina, the Countess of Shale, was with child and unable to travel.

  Mary wiped her hands on her apron. “Do you have time for a cup of coffee before you go?”

  Hugh shook his head. “No. The coach will be here soon, and I shouldn’t keep them waiting. I just wanted to come by and wish you a merry Christmas.”

  At his words, her face lit up. She quickly scuttled from the room, then returned with a small parcel in her hands. She offered it to Hugh. He set down his travel bag, along with the book he was carrying, and took it.

  “Merry Christmas, Hugh. It’s not much; just a little gift,” she said.

  He accepted the present with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had been so disorganized and muddleheaded when it came to making ready for the journey to Scotland that he had completely forgotten to buy her a Christmas present.

  Poor form, Radley. Too busy thinking about yourself, and not enough about her.

  With the death of her father earlier in the year, Mary would be spending her first Christmas without her beloved papa. H
ugh felt the heat of embarrassment burning on his cheeks. “Oh, I am so sorry. I completely forgot to get you a gift. I am the very worst of friends,” he said.

  She nodded at the parcel in his hands. “That’s perfectly alright. You have been busy studying. Christmas no doubt crept up on you,” she replied.

  Hugh opened the present and his discomfort deepened. Inside was a bar of beautifully wrapped French soap, and a small bottle of gentleman’s cologne. It must have cost Mary a good deal of money. Money, he suspected she did not have in abundance.

  “You shouldn’t have,” he said.

  She smiled. “Nonsense. As soon as I saw them in the shop, I thought of you. I hope you like them.”

  “I do, and I promise I shall bring you back a special gift from Scotland when I return after Christmas. I cannot believe that I could be so absentminded to forget about getting you something. I am mortified,” he replied.

  Mary reached out and placed a hand on Hugh’s cheek. “It’s fine. The fact that you like my present is reward enough.”

  The warmth of her hand on his face stirred once more to life the longing he had held for her these past two years. Somewhere in the endless nights of her bringing him toast and coffee for supper while he studied alongside her father, his thoughts of Mary had changed from those of friendship to those of love.

  But with her father being the head of theology and divinity, and the man directly responsible for the conferring of Hugh’s degree, he had not dared to move on those feelings.

  Now, the temptation to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless was almost too strong to resist. The heavenly scent of her perfume filled his senses. His fingers twitched with anticipation.

  When she withdrew her hand and turned away, Hugh was left to battle emotions of regret and relief. She had never shown any sign of being interested in him in a romantic way, so it was best that he not act on those impulses. With her father now gone, only a cad of the lowest kind would press his attentions on a vulnerable young woman.

  “So, when are you leaving to visit with your mother’s family?” he asked. He prayed she did not hear the shake in his voice as he spoke.

  “Oh, sometime later in the week. I am yet to make final arrangements,” she replied.

  “And you will be back after the new year? I only ask because when I return, I would like for us to have a conversation.”

  A conversation that he hoped would involve him declaring his love for her, and Mary, in turn, considering that a future shared with him might not be the worst thing she could imagine doing with her life.

  A knock at the door interrupted them, but as he turned away, Hugh caught a glimpse of Mary. She was biting down on her bottom lip.

  It stopped him in his tracks.

  Chapter Two

  “We thought we might find you here. Hello Mary.”

  Hugh’s sister Adelaide and her husband, Charles, stepped through the doorway. Charles’s held a small bundle in his arms—a bundle which was making gurgling and snuffling sounds.

  “Did the porter manage to get my luggage to the coach?” asked Hugh, stirring from his thoughts of Mary.

  Adelaide snorted. “And hello to you too, dearest brother.”

  Mary stifled a grin. For all his intelligence, Hugh Radley was at times a tad clueless when it came to social situations. His oversight in having not gotten her a Christmas present was so very typical of Hugh.

  She understood it, and was sure to forgive him, but it still hurt. The private moment they had shared when she’d touched his face meant more to her than any shop-bought gift could. He had leaned in toward her, and for the briefest of moments she’d imagined he was about to kiss her.

  Yet again, her hopes for Hugh to see her as more than just a friend had vanished like the morning mist.

  He is the son of a duke, and you are merely the daughter of a deceased university professor. Hugh Radley would never think to love someone like you, let alone marry her.

  “Hello Adelaide. How was the trip up from London?” said Mary.

  Adelaide stepped past her brother, giving him a small disapproving shake of the head. She greeted Mary with a hug. “Good. William slept most of the way. We also got a good night’s sleep at the inn where we stopped in Sandy last night. We should all pray that he keeps this up for the rest of the journey north,” she replied.

  Hugh turned to Charles. “Where are Anne and Mowbray?”

  Charles and Adelaide exchanged a look. Baby Will stirred in his father’s arms, and Adelaide hurried over to him.

  “I think it is time for your morning feed. Mary, do you have a chair or somewhere that I can nurse Will?” she asked.

  Mary pointed to the doorway of her father’s old study. “There is a comfortable rocking chair in the corner if you wish.”

  Adelaide took Will from his father, and Mary ushered them into the room. In between scattered piles of books and papers, the room also somehow managed to hold the chair and a large desk. Until recent days, the desk had been buried under a pile of midterm papers her father had succeeded in marking before his sudden passing. Mary had managed to clear the papers away earlier in the week, and like the floor in the front room, the top of the desk now saw the light of day.

  While Adelaide settled into the chair and allowed Will to latch on, Mary took a seat behind her father’s desk and sat with her hands gently clasped.

  “I am sorry about your father,” said Adelaide.

  “Thank you. And thank you for the lovely letter you sent. I appreciated it greatly,” replied Mary.

  Adelaide Alexandre, nee Radley, had always made a point of calling in to see Mary and her father whenever she was visiting her brother. For a duke’s daughter, Adelaide had a surprisingly pleasant affinity with people across all social classes.

  “May I ask what you are doing for Christmas? Are you staying here alone at the college? It would be a terrible pity if you were,” Adelaide said.

  Mary tightened her fingers together. Thankfully she had shown Adelaide into the study, rather than her bedroom. There was little evidence in this room that she was about to vacate the apartment for good.

  “I am due to visit with family for Christmas. I am just waiting for their letter to confirm the arrangements,” she replied, holding onto the lie she had already given to Hugh.

  Will began to fuss, and it was to Mary’s relief that Adelaide became too distracted with breastfeeding her son to press for further details of her family.

  “Could I offer you a cup of tea?” Mary asked.

  “Thank you, Mary, that would be lovely. Though we can’t stay long; Charles wants to make good time once we leave Cambridge. The road through to Stilton might be difficult in the fading light if we leave too late,” replied Adelaide.

  Mary looked at William and immediately understood Charles’ concerns. The last thing any new parent wanted was to find themselves stuck in a carriage late at night with a tired and hungry infant.

  After their final farewells to Mary, Hugh and the Alexandre family climbed aboard the travel coach. Hugh pulled down the window and waved to Mary as she stood on the side of the street. It was only when she was finally lost from sight that he drew up the glass and sat back in his seat.

  “So why did Anne and Mowbray cry off from coming to Scotland?” he asked.

  He hadn’t thought it polite to press for further details about the obvious absence of his sister and her husband, Clifford, the Duke of Mowbray, in front of Mary.

  Charles rolled his eyes. “They are not coming for Christmas. And for that we should all be truly grateful.”

  Adelaide kissed her baby son on the forehead and cooed. “Your uncle is not coming because he says he is a bloody duke, with his own bloody castle, and he does not see why he should have to travel all the way to bloody Scotland for Christmas. Isn’t that right, my beautiful boy?”

  “If the first word that our son speaks is bloody, I shall blame Mowbray. I cannot deny that I am glad he is not coming for Christmas,” replied C
harles.

  Hugh was not the least surprised that Anne and Mowbray were not making the trip. In the short time that they had been married, the Duke and Duchess of Mowbray had established themselves as being in a near-constant state of war with one another. When they were not going into battle, they were being sickeningly sweet to each other. Having witnessed both forms of behavior in the newlyweds, Hugh was not completely certain which one he disliked the most.

  He was ashamed to be relieved that Anne and Mowbray were not making the journey with them, but he knew he shared Charles’s sentiments.

  “Oh well, that leaves more room for us in the coach.” He could now spread out his study papers and books without fear of getting an elbow in the ribs from the Duke of Mowbray.

  Chapter Three

  Mary walked back to her rooms and closed the door behind her. She had watched the coach until it had disappeared from sight, crushed by the knowledge that it would be the last time she would ever see Hugh leave the cramped but homely rooms at St John’s College, which she and her father had always called home.

  She wiped a tear away, gritting her teeth to force back any others that may have threatened. Crying would not change her circumstances, and she knew from many bitter, lonely nights that it would not bring her father back. She was now on her own in the world.

  She had cleaned the main room from top to bottom over the past few days, intending that the new tenant should have a fresh start when they arrived early in the new year. Never would she have it said that the rooms had been left in anything but workable condition. Her father’s valuable papers and books she would entrust to the next head of theology and divinity. His clothes had been gratefully received by the head grounds keeper who promised to find each item a suitable new home.