by Dawn Brower
For now he’d go in search of Juliette. Grayson left his study and headed to the sitting room. They’d chosen to spend the season at his London townhouse. That way she could remain close to her father. The earl had been more worried about Juliette than angry, and welcomed her home with open arms. He’d been surprised she’d run away to marry Grayson. Her father hadn’t realized just how opposed Juliette had been to marrying Lord Payne, and apologized for not listening to her, and following Eloise’s advice. For her part, Juliette was glad she didn’t have to see her step-mother every day. There would never be any love between the two women, but they’d learn to tolerate each other for the earl’s sake. Riverdale had been horrified to learn of Lord Payne’s crimes. Payne survived his injury and was deported for his actions. His title had been stripped from him and given to the next person in line to inherit it. In the end it had all worked out.
When he entered the sitting room he found Juliette staring out a window. It was similar to the memory of their last Christmastide as children. She even had a similar expression on her face. Her eyes were wide, her mouth opened a touch, and her cheeks slightly reddened.
“Wishing on stars again are you?”
Juliette turned from the window and faced him. “Not many stars to see in the city.” She crossed the room to him and wrapped her arms around him in an embrace. He held her against him as she laid her head on his shoulder. “Besides all my wishes have come true. What could I possibly hope to gain that I don’t already have?”
He kissed the top of her head. “What did you wish for all those years ago.”
She glanced up at him and met his gaze. “I wished to spend all of my days with you by my side. It took longer than I expected, but better late than never.” Her lips tilted upward. “What would you have wished for.”
“The same thing,” he replied. “Although I’m more greedy than you. I want more.”
His life was more than he could have imagined it could be, and it was all because of her. Happiness had seemed so elusive at one time in his life. Now that he had it he couldn’t imagine how he’d managed without it for most of his life. There was only one thing that would make it better.
“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow. “What do you want? Maybe I can give it to you.”
“I’m counting on it,” he replied. He leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Please make me a father.”
She jerked back, surprise filling her eyes. He’d believed he’d make a horrible father. His own had been a terrible role model. The more time he spent with Juliette he believed it could be possible.
“In that case,” Juliette said. The corner of her lip twitched. “I have good news for you, Your Grace.” She cupped his cheek in her hand. “It’s my pleasure to inform you that you will be a father sometime in early summer. I hope that meets with your approval.”
He couldn’t have asked for anything more. “You’re perfect.”
When he looked into her eyes every wish he’d ever dared to hope for came true. She was his everything. He’d been a fool and gave up on her. At least she’d had the good sense to come to him in her moment of need. They took the long way around, but it worked out how it was supposed to. She was the brightest part, and the shooting star he’d made the biggest wish of his life on. When she crossed his path again it was the best thing that happened to him. He’d never give up her, on them, ever again.
They’d come so far in their lives. Life could do its worst and throw anything at them, and through it all he’d have faith in the strength of their love. Because Juliette was what held it all together. He finally understood the importance of the knots at their wedding. It was more than a string tied together in a fancy way. It was their love knotted together for eternity, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
A Kiss At Christmastide:
Regency Novella
Christina McKnight
La Loma Elite Publishing
PROLOGUE
Lady Pippa Godfrey, the only daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Midcrest, sat in the front row of Lord and Lady Sheridan’s musicale recital, awaiting her turn at the pianoforte. It was the final evening of entertainment, thrown in Lady Natalie’s honor on the eve of her introduction to society. The room was crowded, overly hot, and the competing voices were deafening as Pippa waited for the next debutante to be called to the dais to apply her talents to her chosen instrument—some played the harpsichord or another stringed instrument, while others favored singing.
Pippa’s fingers ached, and her head swam at the thought of standing before the large crowd—mostly strangers and only a few she could greet by name—and playing the complex piece her music tutor had requested she perform. It was then that she looked to her lap and realized her hands were clenched tightly, clutching the fabric of her gown, wrinkling the delicate material and causing pain in her fingers.
Forcing her eyes shut, Pippa took a calming breath and pleaded with her hands to release their death grip on her gown. The delicate material would likely be creased beyond her lady’s maid’s ability to straighten it. It was as if her hands had a mind of their own—and Pippa feared they’d take over once more when she settled behind the pianoforte.
She mustn’t make a spectacle of herself before so many people—it certainly would not do to start her first London Season being the topic of gossip in every salon and ballroom.
A raspy female voice cleared not far from Pippa, the sound quieting the room instantly as everyone held their breaths.
When Pippa opened her eyes, Lady Natalie stood on the raised dais with a coy smile as she surveyed the audience. They were all staring at her as if she were about to announce something far grander than the next young girl to massacre a piece written by a great composer—or worse yet, pierce every eardrum in the room as she sang a note far too high. Her friend, Lady Natalie, was certainly at ease in her place as hostess and honoree of this grand three-day-long celebration.
In no way did she envy Natalie’s effortless grace, for all Pippa wanted was for this evening—and her first Season—to be complete. For the moment, she’d settle for her time at the pianoforte to be over, for then she’d be allowed to depart the Sheridan townhouse for her own home in Mayfair. A few hours spent gowned in her night shift while reading a book by candlelight far into the morning hours, sounded much more pleasing to Pippa than standing before this crowd and announcing the piece that had been chosen for her to play while every set of eyes scrutinized her every move.
But Lady Natalie was her oldest and dearest friend.
Possibly her only friend.
And so, Pippa would smile, nod, and play the piano before giving a quick curtsey and allowing the next girl to take her moment in the spotlight.
It all sounded so very simple.
She’d been raised to do this exact thing, but no one could have expected the daughter of a duke to suffer from a shyness so severe she became short of breath and light-headed just pondering the notion of walking into a crowded ballroom. However, Pippa had pushed herself and fulfilled her daughterly obligations—entering a ballroom full of elegantly dressed women and stodgy men clustered in groups around the room. She’d even spotted several handsome men taking their turn around the dance floor. At first, her mother had allowed her to hide among the palms bordering the large room, but that hadn’t lasted long. Men had approached her father and, eventually, placed their name on her dance card. And this evening had been no different—she garnered quite a bit of interest from eligible men, or so Lady Natalie had whispered to her several times. Her friend’s words should have been a boon of sorts for them both. They’d dreamed for many years of entering society together and marrying titled, wealthy, handsome men—to the dismay and envious stares of all the other debutantes and their mothers.
But, while Natalie had whispered her shock over Pippa’s popularity among the men, it sounded more of a hiss than a sigh of happiness. She’d put this behind her quickly the eve before.
This evening, as a new debutante a
nd Lady Natalie’s friend, Pippa was expected to play—and play well, as she and Natalie had shared an instructor since before their ninth summers.
Glancing at her mother who sat next to her, Pippa felt the urge to claim an illness and beg to be released from this obligation. But her mother’s serene smile and encouraging nod made Pippa’s erratic heartbeat slow. She prayed the sheen of perspiration on her forehead would dry before Natalie called on her. It would be embarrassing to have the light from the chandelier above reflect off her damp forehead.
Belatedly, Pippa realized her mother was nodding at her because her name had been called and the room was silently awaiting her arrival on the raised platform featuring a piano, harpsichord, and flute stand. There was also a small table with a dozen bells of varying sizes perched—oh, how Pippa wished she’d been assigned the bells. Not a soul would know if she shook one out of turn.
Except for Mr. Giles, Pippa’s instructor, who stood not far from the stage, his hands clasped before him with a proud smile on his handsome face—staring directly at her as if she were the only woman in the room. It was his way of making his pupils feel safe and encouraged. Pippa was certain he’d cast the same intense, yet sensitive, look on Lady Natalie before she’d sang earlier in the evening.
“Go on, dear,” her mother prodded. “It is your turn.”
A lump formed in her throat and Pippa was glad she hadn’t any vocal talent. It was unlikely any sound could maneuver past her blocked airway.
After a quick smile for her mother, Pippa glanced once more to Mr. Giles where he stood just off the dais—his shoulders stiff with pride at his accomplishments as an instructor. His hair was evenly combed into place, so much at odds with its haphazard messiness during their tutoring sessions. Pippa thought she much preferred the disorderly locks he favored in the schoolroom back in Somerset, where she and Natalie had grown up.
She stood, hoping her smile was one of beauty and not terror as she stepped toward Natalie, who’d barely had a free moment in the last few days to speak with Pippa. If they had been given a few minutes together, she would have told her friend that she dreaded playing before a crowd...that she’d be happy to sit with the second and third-Season young women and refrain from the piano. But the conversation hadn’t happened, and Natalie was unaware that her friend wanted nothing less than to perform.
And it would speak negatively of Mr. Giles’ tutelage if one of his students—the daughter of a duke, no less—were unable to play before a crowd. Pippa desperately wanted her tutor to be looked upon favorably by all of London society.
“Next to grace the stage, is Lady Pippa Godfrey, daughter of the esteemed Duke and Duchess of Midcrest—and my dear friend.” Natalie gestured in Pippa’s direction as an odd expression crossed her face. It was not one Pippa was familiar with; almost as if a bank of storm clouds moved across her friend’s face. However, the look quickly passed, and Natalie’s eyes sparkled once more. “Lady Pippa and I have been bosom friends since before we were allowed to touch a pianoforte. But since meeting, we’ve shared everything, including our music tutor, Mr. Giles, though I dare say Pippa is far closer to the man than my parents would ever allow. Her skills at the pianoforte certainly show the many hours of additional lessons she’s endured.”
Pippa’s skin flared so hotly, she feared a candle had lit her gown—or her neatly pinned hair—ablaze.
Light female laughter and deep, manly chuckles filled the room, floating from the far back of the congregated crowd to the very front, where Pippa had sat back down with her parents.
She stole a glance to Mr. Giles who stood close to the edge of the dais, having only moments before congratulating another pupil on her success before the crowd. It was impossible to tell if his face flamed as hot as hers because he’d retreated a few steps into the shadows and was now backing out the terrace door.
A moment of confusion clouded her mind as the laughter dimmed and a light breeze assaulted her face—as if someone had opened a window to a gusty wind.
At her side, Pippa’s mother fanned her face. Her wrist whipped to and fro, increasing as the room went silent.
Everything froze around her but her mother’s thrashing fan.
The Duchess of Midcrest, her dear mother, who’d labored for over twenty years to rise above her merchant-class upbringing, would once again be embroiled in a scandal—all because of Pippa.
“Do you wish to depart?” her mother whispered.
“I did not...” Pippa stammered. “I would never...”
“I did not believe you had, my child.” Her mother sought to soften the blow—something that society had done to the current Duchess of Midcrest a hundred times over. “However, that does not change the appearance of things, no matter what we say or do in this moment.”
Pippa lifted her chin to keep her tears from streaming down her face.
“I do not understand why,” Pippa said as she leaned in close to her mother to whisper. “Lady Natalie and I are such friends.”
“Friendship and jealousy often hold hands so tightly that one cannot distinguish between the pair.”
Pippa could not imagine why Lady Natalie would say such a thing—before the many people gathered at her parents’ townhouse, amidst their first Season—and knowing her family sought a favorable match for her.
They’d shared a magical couple of days before the formal dinner introducing Natalie and then her ball the evening before. Pippa had danced every dance, her card filling quickly after entering the ballroom at the Sheridan townhouse. Lady Natalie had also danced almost every set and was escorted to dinner by the Marquis of Durshire, a wealthy, respected man whose handsomeness was legendary. Pippa and her family had stayed the night as the ball had lasted into the early morning hours. The girls had fallen into a deep slumber of exhaustion, their feet sore and their minds running wild at the grandness of their evening, only to sleep late into the day. When Pippa had awoken, Natalie was already surrounded by maids in preparation for this evening’s entertainments. They hadn’t time to speak on the matter of the recital.
But now, only a few short hours later, Pippa’s dear friend had spoken aloud a comment that would ruin Pippa’s chances of securing any type of promising match—and tarnish her family’s name, once again.
Pippa wanted to ask why—what had she done to deserve such a comment before all these people?
She and Natalie had discussed their handsome music tutor in confidence, each laboring over the set of his strong jaw, the way his hair fell a bit too long in a very rakish way, and the muscles that lay under his loose linen shirt—certainly not obtained by musical endeavors.
Mr. Giles had removed himself entirely from the room by the time Pippa stared deeper into the shadows bordering the stage—leaving all eyes on Pippa with her back to the crowd. Lady Natalie smiled at her, awaiting her acceptance on the dais.
It was then that Pippa noticed Natalie’s upturned smirk was not a smile at all—at least, not a smile one would bestow on a lifelong friend. And that smirk paired with the glare in her dear friend’s eyes... Something drastic had changed since they’d journeyed to London a few days before to prepare for their Season.
Lady Natalie was issuing Pippa a challenge...much like a rival.
Pasting a serene smile on her face, Pippa squared her shoulders and stood to take her place behind the pianoforte.
She refused to allow her defeat to show—but certainly, Pippa had been bested, and by her bosom friend, no less. She only wished she’d known there was a battle at hand.
How to Kiss a Rogue
Amanda Mariel
PROLOGUE
Lady Natalie Seymour, daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Sheridan, stood on the raised platform at the front of her family’s music room on the final night of her come out celebration, staring daggers at her former best friend, Lady Pippa Godfrey. If looks could kill, the traitor would surely expire for Natalie was beyond livid—she was broken, heartsick, and infuriated. Pippa had betrayed her and she
would pay a penance for what she’d done.
Natalie forced a bright smile before introducing the next girl to take the stage. Her gaze landed again on her former best friend. Pippa fidgeted in the front row of the crowded room looking much like a mouse in a trap. She clearly knew what she had done and what was to come. Pippa’s discomfort caused a genuine smile to overtake Natalie’s contrived one. She deserved to suffer after what she’d done the previous evening at Natalie’s come out ball. She deserved far worse than discomfort, Pippa deserved to be hurt like she’d hurt Natalie.
The previous night had been magical until Pippa destroyed everything—her future, her hopes, and her dreams. All vanquished in a matter of moments. The ballroom sparkled under the light of hundreds of candles as they celebrated. Potted ferns and floral arrangements decorated the space while elegant ladies and gentlemen mingled and danced. All in attendance to welcome her into the loving arms of society. Natalie had been excited to share her special night with her long time friend. She’d welcomed and embraced Pippa, but no more. She would never look at Pippa with kindness again.
Both ladies had been dressed in white gowns befitting debutantes with their hair fashionably styled and glittering bobbles hanging from their necks and ears when they entered the ball. Natalie had been proud to have Pippa by her side as they danced, flirted, and laughed the evening away. That is, until Pippa betrayed her—washing away the magic of her night.
The memory pained her, piercing her heart as she tried to focus on today’s recital. All the same, she could not stop from dwelling on what had occurred. Natalie pulled in a deep breath and searched the music room for the Marquis of Knightly. He and her brother, Bradford, were longtime friends and as such, Natalie had known the Marquis for most of her life. She had loved him for as long as she could remember. The man was never thought of as Bradford’s friend but Natalie’s future everything. A fact Pippa well knew—a topic they’d labored over many nights as they laughed and planned their future marriages. Her heart hitched when she found Christian, Lord Knightly, seated in the second row a few chairs down from Pippa—his eyes trained on the traitor’s dark chestnut locks.
