A Night of Angels

by Andersen, Maggi

  A Night of Angels

  A Collection of Holiday Tales

  Meara Platt, Mary Lancaster, Maggi Andersen, Chasity Bowlin, Anna Markland, Alexa Aston, Elizabeth Ellen Carter, Lynn Winchester, Avril Borthiry

  Copyright © 2018 by Meara Platt, Mary Lancaster, Maggi Andersen, Chasity Bowlin, Anna Markland, Alexa Aston, Elizabeth Ellen Carter, Lynn Winchester, Avril Borthiry

  Kindle Edition

  Published by Dragonblade Publishing, an imprint of Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Books from Dragonblade Publishing

  Dangerous Lords Series by Maggi Andersen

  The Baron’s Betrothal

  Seducing the Earl

  The Viscount’s Widowed Lady

  Also from Maggi Andersen

  The Marquess Meets His Match

  Knights of Honor Series by Alexa Aston

  Word of Honor

  Marked by Honor

  Code of Honor

  Journey to Honor

  Heart of Honor

  Bold in Honor

  Love and Honor

  Gift of Honor

  Path to Honor

  Return to Honor

  Legends of Love Series by Avril Borthiry

  The Wishing Well

  Isolated Hearts

  Sentinel

  The Lost Lords Series by Chasity Bowlin

  The Lost Lord of Castle Black

  The Vanishing of Lord Vale

  The Missing Marquess of Althorn

  The Resurrection of Lady Ramsleigh

  The Mystery of Miss Mason

  By Elizabeth Ellen Carter

  Captive of the Corsairs, Heart of the Corsairs Series

  Revenge of the Corsairs, Heart of the Corsairs Series

  Shadow of the Corsairs, Heart of the Corsairs Series

  Dark Heart

  Knight Everlasting Series by Cassidy Cayman

  Endearing

  Enchanted

  Evermore

  Midnight Meetings Series by Gina Conkle

  Meet a Rogue at Midnight, book 4

  Second Chance Series by Jessica Jefferson

  Second Chance Marquess

  Imperial Season Series by Mary Lancaster

  Vienna Waltz

  Vienna Woods

  Vienna Dawn

  Blackhaven Brides Series by Mary Lancaster

  The Wicked Baron

  The Wicked Lady

  The Wicked Rebel

  The Wicked Husband

  The Wicked Marquis

  The Wicked Governess

  The Wicked Spy

  The Wicked Gypsy

  The Wicked Wife

  Highland Loves Series by Melissa Limoges

  My Reckless Love

  My Steadfast Love

  My Passionate Love

  Clash of the Tartans Series by Anna Markland

  Kilty Secrets

  Kilted at the Altar

  Kilty Pleasures

  Queen of Thieves Series by Andy Peloquin

  Child of the Night Guild

  Thief of the Night Guild

  Queen of the Night Guild

  Dark Gardens Series by Meara Platt

  Garden of Shadows

  Garden of Light

  Garden of Dragons

  Garden of Destiny

  Rulers of the Sky Series by Paula Quinn

  Scorched

  Ember

  White Hot

  Highlands Forever Series by Violetta Rand

  Unbreakable

  Undeniable

  Viking’s Fury Series by Violetta Rand

  Love’s Fury

  Desire’s Fury

  Passion’s Fury

  Also from Violetta Rand

  Viking Hearts

  The Sons of Scotland Series by Victoria Vane

  Virtue

  Valor

  Dry Bayou Brides Series by Lynn Winchester

  The Shepherd’s Daughter

  The Seamstress

  The Widow

  Men of Blood Series by Rosamund Winchester

  The Blood & The Bloom

  Table of Contents

  If You Wished For Me

  Meara Platt

  Wicked Christmas

  Mary Lancaster

  Eleanor Fitzherbert’s Christmas Miracle

  Maggi Andersen

  A Midnight Clear

  Chasity Bowlin

  The Viking’s Gift

  Anna Markland

  Season of Honor

  Alexa Aston

  Father’s Day

  Elizabeth Ellen Carter

  A Joyful Song

  Lynn Winchester

  A Sprig of White Heather

  Avril Borthiry

  If You Wished For Me

  Meara Platt

  Chapter One

  London, England

  December 1820

  Lady Meggie Cameron considered herself a wallflower and was fairly certain that she would permanently and irrevocably remain one even though she was the granddaughter of the wealthy and powerful Duke of Lotheil. It mattered not that eligible young bucks sought her out, for they were merely interested in her grandfather and never her.

  For this reason, she was quite proud of her ability to fade into the elegantly painted walls of whatever party she happened to be attending in whichever grand London home it was occurring. Tonight, she was in the cozy and inviting Farthingale townhouse, standing against one of the salon walls, easily lost amid the crush of guests.

  What had started as a small family gathering to welcome William Farthingale home from his travels had grown into one of the grandest parties of the Yuletide season. The pale blue silk settees and chairs had been pushed back from the center of the room. The carpet had been rolled away to expose the polished wood floor. Holly and decorative flowers adorned the fireplace mantel and wall niches.

  “Lady Meredith, there you are! My, but you are a feast for the eyes!”

  Oh, drat. One of those young bucks seeking connection to her grandfather had just spotted her and was bulling his way through the crowd toward her. “Good evening, Lord Wilton.”

  He was a nice enough looking gentleman, one with traditional good looks, the usual blond hair and blue eyes that ought to have been remarkable, but weren’t. He bowed obsequiously over her outstretched hand. “May I claim the first dance?”

  “I’m sorry, my lord. It has already been claimed.” Which was not quite true. Indeed, it was an outright lie, but she was not going to dance with a man who did not even know her name. What was it about Meggie that everyone found so difficult to remember? Perhaps it was merely that they had a hard time remembering her.

  “The second dance then?”

  She might have agreed were it not for the look of greed clearly shining in his eyes. She shook her head sorrowfully. “Oh, that one has been claimed as well. Perhaps another time. Another party.”

  Perhaps never.

  “The third?”

  Why did this annoying man wish to dance with her? He was as persistent as a gnat at sundown. “That one is taken, too.”

  She glanced around the room in the hope someone might rescue her. There were dozens of Farthingale relatives here and she was quite good friends with most of them,
especially the Farthingale sisters. Where were they now that she needed them? She searched the room again, noting the lords and ladies in their fine silks and bejeweled satins that shimmered in the glow of firelight. There was a warming fire crackling in the hearth and a dazzling array of scented candles perched on ornate wall sconces.

  “Meggie!” Daffodil Farthingale entered the salon on the arm of her dashing husband, the Duke of Edgeware, and waved with exuberance to catch her attention.

  Daisy and Laurel arrived on the heels of their sister, and Meggie knew it was only a matter of moments before they swarmed her, for she was their new pet project and there was no escaping their well-intentioned meddling. They meant to find her a husband. She did not know how to tell them that she would never have one.

  And she would not consider Lord Wilton.

  However, she needed their help in rescuing her from his unwanted attention. He was still hovering over her, no doubt curious to see who would come forward to claim her for that first dance.

  No one would step forward, of course.

  She took a deep breath, inhaling the hickory-wood scent of the fire and the aroma of cinnamon cake made specially by the Farthingale’s brilliant cook, Mrs. Mayhew, for tonight’s celebration.

  A little knot formed in her stomach, for the cheerfulness and joy of these Yuletide celebrations made her predicament feel so much worse.

  It wasn’t that she had an unwanted suitor still buzzing about her.

  It wasn’t that she had meddlesome friends who wished to see her married – with the best of intentions, of course. They were so happy in their marriages, she could not blame them for wanting to see her equally blessed.

  But they were wrong.

  She was never going to marry.

  The decision broke her heart, for it had never entered her mind that she would live her life alone and empty, but there it was.

  She’d come to this difficult conclusion only recently and had yet to tell anyone that she was taking herself off the Marriage Mart. She doubted any of her suitors would care. She’d amassed at least a dozen offers of marriage over the course of the last two – soon going on three – Seasons. In truth, she’d been through almost six Seasons if one separated each year into halves and counted the Little Season as separate from the High Season.

  However one wished to count these passing years, the fact remained that the only men who sought her hand were those eager for a connection to her curmudgeonly grandfather. They would move on to the next well-connected debutante once her secret was out. “How is it possible that every dance has already been claimed?” Lord Wilton asked, back again and frowning down at her.

  She did not appreciate the petulance in his tone.

  It mattered not that he’d caught her in an obvious lie.

  “Because I’ve claimed them all,” William Farthingale said, coming up behind her and gently nudging her with a light bump of his shoulder. Oh, thank heaven. He couldn’t have surprised her had she truly been pasted to the wall. But she’d edged forward when the musicians had started tuning their instruments, about to begin playing one of those lively country dances that would never be permitted at any of the more fashionable London balls. “Megs, are you ready to dance with me?”

  “Yes, of course.” She turned to him and mouthed a thank you.

  “You’re her first dance?” Lord Wilton remarked, surprised that she actually had been telling him the truth. Which she hadn’t been, only William must have overheard their conversation, and sensing her desperation, had come to her rescue.

  “And second and third,” he said, turning to glance at her and casting her a wink.

  “You’ve allowed him three?” Lord Wilton regarded her, appalled.

  To claim two was noteworthy, perhaps scandalous, since William had no intention of courting her. But three? She’d likely be regarded as a wallflower turned wanton. Her name would appear on the front page of all the gossip sheets tomorrow.

  Well, it was all a ruse. She and William only needed the one dance to pull it off. There would be no second or third to follow, but Lord Wilton did not have to know that.

  The opening strains of a jaunty reel now emanated from the appropriately named music room that was next door to the salon where she had been trying to fade into its pale blue walls. Her plan ought to have worked, for her gown was a similar shade of blue silk. But she supposed her hair was too lush a red ever to be lost amid a crowd. Tonight, it was a beacon to all who happened to be looking for her.

  She released a breath when the odious Lord Wilton slinked away.

  “William, thank you. But you needn’t go through with the charade. I’m sure there are plenty of young women eager to dance with you. I appreciate your rescue, but you needn’t bother with me further.” She ought not to have been so surly, especially with William. This was a Farthingale family party thrown in honor of his return from the farthest reaches of the world. He’d been to China to seek out new threads and fabrics for the Farthingale mills and had returned only two days ago.

  He laughed and shook his head. “Bother with you? Or are you berating me for bothering you? I didn’t think I was being a pest at all. Indeed, I thought myself quite chivalrous.” His blue eyes sparkled and his smile was entrancing as he stared down at her. “I won’t have you chase me away like you did with that codswallop Wilton. Now, wipe that sour-prune-look off your face and dance with me.”

  She shook her head in dismay. “Really, William. It isn’t necessary.”

  “Yes, it is.” He took her hand and placed it on his arm, obviously determined to lead her out of the salon. “Before you bite my head off, let me assure you that I have not been put up to asking you to dance out of pity or out of coercion by my cousins. I know all about their plans to find you a husband. I have no intention of helping them in that quest.”

  She released another breath of relief. “Oh, thank goodness. I’m sorry if I came across as sour. I could never be that with you. And yes, you were quite chivalrous. Splendid, really.” She smiled up at him, for he always knew how to coax her out of ill humor and his own grin was always too appealing to ignore. “You look wonderful, by the way.”

  “Thank you, Megs.” He’d grown into an exceptionally handsome man, there was no denying it. Dark hair, dazzling blue eyes, broad shoulders. Imposing height. He’d left England almost two years ago barely out of university and quite the young buck. He’d returned as a man of importance. “You’re looking fairly spectacular yourself.”

  She laughed and shook her head. “Now I’m certain your cousins put you up to saying that.”

  He placed his hand over hers. “They did not. Come along and dance with me. I’ll try not to step on your toes. I’m a little rusty at this sort of thing. I’ve been dancing with camels mostly these past two years. You’re a lot prettier and smell a lot better than those beasts.”

  “My heart is aflutter,” she said in an exaggeratedly breathy whisper. “Do you seduce all the young ladies with such pretty words?”

  “No, they get the insincere drivel.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Which you spout effortlessly and with devastating success.”

  “Of course.” His grin faded and he turned serious for a moment. “But I will always be truthful with you. I hope you know that, Megs.”

  “I do and I appreciate it more than I can say. How long will you be in London? I can’t wait to hear all about your adventures.” She frowned a moment. “Your father said you were set upon by marauders and that you were shot.”

  He winced as they continued into the music room. “I wish I could show you my manly scars of honor, but the sad fact is that I was shot in the arse.”

  Meggie glanced up at him in surprise, choking on a bubble of laughter. “You are making that up.”

  “Am I?” He arched a rakish eyebrow and his grin was quite wicked so she wasn’t certain whether he was teasing her or not. “You don’t believe me. Didn’t I just assure you that I will not lie to you over important matters?”


  “Such as the improbable location of your wound? Is it important or are you merely teasing me?”

  “Shall I drop my breeches and show you the proof? That ought to clear the room fast. Of course, I’d probably be clapped in irons and placed under arrest. And I must warn you that I have a very hairy arse. It’s like dog fur.”

  “William!” She’d always enjoyed his outrageous playfulness. He was never afraid to make a cake of himself, but that was what she liked most about him. He was never afraid of anything. “I will hate you forever for putting that horrid vision into my head.”

  “But I got you laughing, didn’t I?”

  She grudgingly nodded.

  “Your dimples are too pretty to hide.” He tweaked her chin. “So, no more sour expression on your face tonight. Only smiles and laughter. Promise me, Meggie.”

  She sighed in exasperation. “Yes, I promise. Do I have a choice? But please tell your cousins to stop matchmaking for me. The last suitor they sent my way kept referring to me as Lady Martha. And that toad, Wilton, referred to me as Lady Meredith. I did not have the heart to correct either of them.”

  William studied her a moment longer than was comfortable. She squirmed under his intense gaze. He really had exquisite blue eyes. “No, it isn’t a matter of your heart,” he began slowly, “but a matter of hurt and anger. I would have been angry, too. It happens to me all the time, Megs. Young women batting their eyes at me, pretending to swoon over me when all they’re really interested in are the coins jingling in my pockets.”

  “I don’t think they pretend, William. You do have certain swoon-worthy qualities.”

  He cast her another devilish grin and bent forward slightly to put his ear close to her lips. She caught the divine scent of musk on his skin and quickly held her breath. The subtle but heady scent of him was making her tingle. He didn’t appear to notice, for he was still too busy teasing her. “Wait, say that again. I have what?”

  “Swoon-worthy qualities, you dolt,” she said, laughing again. “You also happen to have plenty of irritating qualities, so don’t get too full of yourself.”

  He eased back, his appealing grin broadening. “How can I when you won’t ever let me?” He smoothly moved them into dancing position, shifting his hold on her hand and placing his other hand on her waist as he guided her into the crowd of dancers who were already hopping and stomping to the lively tune.