Yuletide Happily Ever Afters; A Merry Little Set Of Regency Romances

by Jenna Jaxon

  “Oh, Thomas,” she cried out, and then threw herself at him. He swept her into his arms and carried her back inside. Into the warmth cast by the fire, where only moments ago she’d sat with her son.

  She wept.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  When all her tears had been spent, she realized Thomas was cradling her in his lap, both of them sitting in one of the wooden chairs.

  “I have cried so much tonight, I may just as well dry up like an old prune.” She spoke into his collar with a sniffle.

  His hand stroked her hair.

  “It was not a mistake, was it, to bring him here?” His chest rumbled beneath her as he spoke. That dear, rumbling, coarse voice of his.

  She shook her head side to side. “It was the best gift anyone has ever thought to give me. Oh, no, Thomas, it was not a mistake.” And then she leaned back so that she could look into his eyes. “I still can hardly believe it.” This man set her in awe.

  He lifted one hand and brushed some hair away from her face. “I wasn’t sure.” The uncertainty in his voice nearly undid her.

  “I am so happy and so absolutely heartbroken at the same time. But most of all I am at peace.” She covered his hand with hers. “But why would you go to so much trouble for me, Thomas?” she had to know.

  “I wanted to see you at peace. I needed to see you at peace. I understand the weight of words left unspoken, of what they can do to your heart.”

  Oh, Thomas. “Your wife?”

  He nodded. “I never got to tell her thank you. I never was able to thank her for giving me such a wonderful daughter as Cecily has been. I never was able to thank her for the pain she went through, nor the difficulties she endured before the birth.”

  In his eyes, lurked both understanding and pain. But, also a wisdom. The wisdom to know that life continued as surely as the sun rose again each morning.

  “She knows.” She must be so very proud of the daughter he’d raised.

  Loretta had never known such a man could exist. A man who toiled, with intelligence, but a man who could also love. A man who could wield power and strength along with humility. Oh, she’d had so very much to learn.

  “And now Harold knows. He knows you love him as he is.”

  She nodded. “And I… I am so sorry I sent you away, Thomas. I was so foolish and such a coward. I do not care what anyone thinks. I want to be happy. I want to… but you are going to leave the country, are you not? Cecily says that you always leave. That you must attend to your interests overseas…” Oh, she would make a fool of herself over this man.

  And then his lips found hers, but only briefly. “I have discovered I have greater interests here in England. You have guessed, have you not, duchess of mine? That I love you?”

  Something between a sob and a laugh somehow escaped past her lips. “Oh, Thomas. I love you too!” Such relief. “You forgive me then?”

  He nuzzled the sensitive skin behind her ear. “Nothing to forgive, Duchess. You’ve been through so much. But I have something to ask you. He was sliding her off him, forcing her to stand on legs which had suddenly become wobbly and unstable.

  When he dropped onto one knee, she felt all of seventeen again. Taking her hand in his, he gazed up at her with those blue-gray eyes of his, which ought to look cold, instead looking warm and loving. “I have no title to offer you. I have no long history of nobility running through my veins. But my blood burns for you, Duchess. If you’ll deign to become my wife, I’ll spend what remains of my life doing everything in my power to bring you only happiness.”

  “You wish to marry me?” Oh, Thomas! She had only but a moment to imagine what her life might be like waking each morning beside him! As his wife. It would be so very different than her first marriage had been.

  It would be so very, very wonderful!

  “Yes!” She said the word on a gasp. “Oh yes, Thomas!”

  And then she was in his arms being twirled around and around. She would take a chance on living, once again.

  Clasping her hands at both sides of his head, she could hardly believe the wonder of this new love. New hope.

  Ah, Christmas indeed.

  ***

  Thomas could hardly believe his luck.

  She’d said yes. This proud, beautiful, deeply sensitive woman had said she’d marry him. He blinked back the stinging he suddenly felt behind his eyes.

  He touched his lips to hers, once, twice. Perhaps exhaustion had finally caught up with him. He’d not slept in over two days. Perhaps he was imagining her arms twining about his neck, soft curves pressed against him.

  “You are certain? You are not simply caught up in the emotion of the evening?” He would not want this woman to feel beholden to him. And yet she’d told him…“You love me?”

  “Oh, Thomas,” she whispered against his lips, her mouth tasting sweet and warm. “I was so angry with myself after you had left. When I thought of the words I said to you… I didn’t mean to hurt you. Sometimes I am the coldest, most horrible woman. Simply ask my maid—”

  “Hush.” He quieted her with a long, deep, searching kiss. And then, “Never speak that way about my woman.” At his words, he felt a shiver run through her.

  She broke the kiss and tucked her face beneath his chin. “What do Devlin and Sophia know? I imagine they are expecting me to return.”

  “Dev knows only that you were unhappy, and that you’d confided in me. They expected you would not be of the disposition to be around large groups of people for dinner, even if many of them were family. I told them I’d either leave you to rest here or return you to your chambers later tonight.”

  She leaned back then and gazed up at him. “I don’t want to go back to my chambers alone.”

  Ah. Sheer delight shot through him. “Your wish is my command, Duchess.” He growled into her neck.

  “And tomorrow, at the Christmas feast, you will announce our engagement?”

  He’d not been confident that she’d wish to make their promise to one another public quite yet. “You do not wish to wait?”

  “Only if you do.”

  But he did not. “I will make a very formal, very public announcement tomorrow at dinner.”

  He didn’t deserve any of this.

  “Thank you. Thomas. Thank you for everything.”

  But he would not accept her thanks. He lifted her and carried her to the bed. They were not pups, setting off on a life together. They had both lived, and loved, and lost. They would appreciate each moment they had together, and they would embrace all the love and joy life had to give them.

  “Happy Christmas, Duchess.” He set her upon the bed gently and began to remove his jacket.

  She undid a few pins from her hair, allowing it to cascade down her shoulders and across one breast. “Happy Christmas, Thomas.”

  *** The End ***

  NOTE: Although Silent Night was written in 1818 and first published in 1820, it had not been translated into English until 1863. Forgive me, dear readers, for taking liberty with this song. I had it in mind when I began the story and failed to realize that it was not, in fact, sung until long past the Regency Era.

  Full Length novels included in the Devilish Debutante’s Series include Thomas’s daughter, Cecily’s Story, Sophia’s Story, and others. https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B073ZLRB3F

  Hell Hath No Fury (The Devil’s Debutantes, Book 1)

  Cecily Nottingham has made a huge mistake! She married an earl who, climbing out of her bed the next morning, admitted to only wanting her dowry. The rat loves another woman but won’t set Cecily free. To keep the money, he must keep her.

  Raised by a ruthless businessman, Cecily refuses to accept the hand she’s been dealt and vows to free herself from her marriage. She is nobody’s milksop and at this point has nothing to lose! Hoping to goad the earl into divorcing her, she sets out to seduce his older cousin, Stephen Nottingham. And heaven help her, Stephen is everything her husband is not: Honorable, loyal, trustworthy…

  Stephe
n Nottingham has returned to England to save his cousin’s estate from financial ruin but finds himself trying to save his cousin’s life instead. For the bounder betrayed his new countess something fierce and hell hath no fury like a woman scorned… Torn between strangling his cousin, and kissing his cousin’s wife, Stephen’s honor is in for one heck of a beating.

  Amid snakes, duels and a good catfight, Cecily realizes the game she’s playing has high stakes indeed. There are only a few ways to end a marriage in Regency England and none of them come without a high price. Is she willing to pay it? Is Stephen? A ‘Happily Ever After’ hangs in the balance, because, yes, love can conquer all, but sometimes it needs a little bit of help.

  Hell In A Hand Basket (The Devil’s Debutantes, Book 2)

  “Thus reads the Banns of marriage between Lord Harold Brooks and Miss Sophia Babineaux.

  If any of you know cause why these two should not be joined in Holy matrimony, ye are to declare it. “

  Would anybody declare it?

  Please?

  THE BRIDE wants to declare it. The heat Sophia feels for another man has given her a bad case of cold feet! She’d never even been kissed, how was she to know the importance of sizzle? By the time she realizes her mistake it may be too late…

  THE GROOM never wanted to marry Sophia in the first place. His interests (ahem) lie elsewhere. Unfortunately, with a duke for a father, Lord Harold’s opinion makes no difference at all.

  So it’s up to war hero and rake, Captain Devlin Brooks to set matters right. He’s returned from war and ready to settle down, unfortunately the girl he’s wants is, well, ah… unavailable.

  But he has a plan.

  Once set in motion, one lie turns into a spiral of deceit and guilt. Was one shot at heaven worth a lifetime of hell?

  Because love endures but the heart has its limits.

  Or does it?

  Nobody’s Lady

  DUKES DON’T NEED HELP, OR DO THEY?

  Michael Redmond, the Duke of Cortland, needs to be in London—most expeditiously—but a band of highway robbers have thwarted his plans. Purse-pinched, coachless, and mired in mud, he stumbles on Lilly Beauchamp, the woman who betrayed him years ago.

  LADIES CAN’T BE HEROES, OR CAN THEY?

  Michael was her first love, her first lover, but he abandoned her when she needed him most. She’d trusted him, and then he failed to meet with her father as promised. A widowed stepmother now, Lilly loves her country and will do her part for the Good of England—even if that means aiding this hobbled and pathetic duke.

  THEY LOST THEIR CHANCE AT LOVE, OR DID THEY?

  A betrothal, a scandal, and a kidnapping stand between them now. Can honor emerge from the ashes of their love?

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Married to the same man for over 25 years, I am a mother to three children and two Miniature Wiener dogs After owning a business and experiencing considerable success, my husband and I got caught in the financial crisis and lost everything; our business, our home, even our car.

  At this point, I put my B.A. in Poly Sci to use and took work as a waitress and bartender. Unwilling to give up on a professional life, I simultaneously went back to college and obtained a degree in Energy Management. And then the energy market dropped off.

  And then my dog died. I can only be grateful for this series of unfortunate events, for, with nothing to lose and completely demoralized, I sat down and began to write the romance novels which had until then, existed only my imagination. I am happy to have found my place in life. Finally.

  Ms. Anders loves to hear from readers! Please contact her at:

  AndersAnnabelle@gmail.com

  https://www.facebook.com/HappyWritingGirl/

  www.AnnabelleAnders.com

  https://www.twitter.com/AnnabellReadLuv/

  https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B073ZLRB3F

  Boughs of Folly

  Anna Bradley

  BOUGHS OF FOLLY

  A story of frolics and folly, a search for true love, and midnight skies filled with stars. Make a wish…

  London, 1811.

  William Angel has been scandalizing London with his antics ever since he became the Earl of Archer one year ago, but now his rakish ways have come back to haunt him. He needs a respectable bride to help him find an honorable husband for his beloved younger sister, but there isn’t a single proper lady in London who wants to marry the Tainted Angel.

  Enter an improper lady….

  There’s nothing as beautiful as Christmas in London, but instead of celebrating with warm fires and spiced punch, Penelope Hervey is struggling to survive London’s merciless city streets. She has no family, no money, and she’s about to lose her place as an actress at the Pandemonium Playhouse. Only an angel can save her.

  Enter a Tainted Angel…

  Fate brings Will and Penelope together at a Christmas house party, but will a passion that began on the London stage burn bright enough to lead these two misguided lovers to their Christmas miracle?

  Other Titles by Anna Bradley

  A Wicked Way to Win an Earl

  A Season of Ruin

  Lady Eleanor’s Seventh Suitor

  Lady Charlotte’s First Love

  Twelfth Night with the Earl

  More or Less a Marchioness

  More or Less a Countess

  Boughs of Folly

  Copyright © 2018 Anna Bradley

  All rights reserved.

  To my wonderful readers.

  Happy holidays.

  CHAPTER ONE

  The Pandemonium Playhouse, London

  November 25, 1811

  Beads of sweat gathered at Penelope Hervey’s hairline, trickled down her neck, and slid into the hollow between the bare upper curves of her breasts.

  Which of the drunken scoundrels would be the cause of tonight’s disaster?

  That there would be a disaster was a foregone conclusion. The Pandemonium Playhouse specialized in disasters. What form that disaster might take, and which of their esteemed patrons would be the cause of it, well…that was anyone’s guess.

  She had a bad feeling about tonight. To be fair, she had a bad feeling every night she took the Pandemonium’s stage, but tonight the crowd hummed with an ugly energy that went beyond the usual mayhem. Whistles, catcalls, and rotten tomatoes hurled at the stage weren’t going to satisfy this mob.

  It had taken a few months, but Penelope had trained herself to dodge the tomatoes. They hardly ever hit her anymore. She’d never been particularly nimble in her past life, but it was astonishing how agile one could become when circumstances required it.

  Agility wouldn’t do her much good if she was trampled in a brawl, though, would it?

  The sweat between her breasts melted into a slippery puddle as the rabble in the pit grew wilder with every passing moment. She kept one anxious eye fixed on the drunken scoundrels, and the other on the actress dominating center stage.

  Florentina Fernside strutted, flirted and pouted her way through the final act of Bluebeard. She was playing the Wife, of course. Florentina always played the lead. Penelope was playing one of Bluebeard’s murdered wives, but she was dressed more like a whore than a corpse. She always wore the same costume, no matter what the play was. A long black wig, a black mask, and a dress with short skirts and a tight bodice that exposed her breasts.

  Oh, get on with it, won’t you, Florentina?

  Florentina didn’t get on with it. As always, she dragged her final moment out to its bitter end. Why shouldn’t she? No one threw tomatoes at her. The crowd might jeer and hiss at the rest of the players, but they all adored Florentina Fernside.

  Penelope’s cheeks ached as she forced herself to hold her smile. If she escaped the stage without injuries tonight, she’d consider herself lucky. Whether she’d be as lucky tomorrow night was less certain, but since she’d arrived in London a year ago, she’d learned to take one disaster at a time.

  Florentina batted her long dark eyelashes and blew a fl
irtatious kiss at the crowd. They roared their approval, but their satisfaction was short-lived. As Florentina made her curtsey and turned to leave the stage in a dramatic whirl of scarlet-colored skirts, the pit erupted into utter chaos.

  Brawls weren’t unusual at the Pandemonium, but as the crowd shoved and pummeled each other, a nameless dread lodged in Penelope’s throat.

  She couldn’t have said how she knew something awful would happen. Even later that night, when she looked back on the scene, she couldn’t recall a single thing that made this brawl any different than the others she’d witnessed at the Pandemonium.

  But it was different, and to Penelope’s horror, she soon discovered why.

  This time, the stage curtains caught on fire.

  It happened quickly. One moment two furious blackguards were beating the life out of each other, and in the next one had hurled the other across the stage. The felled man’s boot struck one of the oil lamps that served as floodlights, and it skidded across the floor and landed near Penelope’s feet. She was nearest the curtain, and so she was the first to see a thin, hungry flame catch the velvet fringe.

  No one else seemed to notice. They were so distracted by the brawl they might all have burned to death if Penelope hadn’t let loose a terrified shriek. Heads swung in her direction, and a shout rose up from the other actors. Without thinking, Penelope leapt upon the curtain and began stomping on the fringe to beat down the fire, but a shower of sparks shot up around her and caught at the hem of her skirts.

  She tried to jump back, away from the flames, but people were crowding around her, yelling and pushing, trapping her in the center of a mass of heaving bodies. She screamed as she was knocked to her knees, but just as she was in danger of being trampled underfoot or burned to ash, a pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist, hauled her to her feet, and dragged her free of the mob.