 |
| Christmas Is In the Air |
Holly and Hopeful Hearts
Genre: Regency romance, historical romance, holiday romance
Heat rating: G-PG13
ABOUT HOLLY AND HOPEFUL HEARTS
When the Duchess of Haverford sends out
invitations to a Yuletide house party and a New Year’s Eve ball at her country
estate, Hollystone Hall, those who respond know that Her Grace intends to raise
money for her favorite cause and promote whatever marriages she can. Eight
assorted heroes and heroines set out with their pocketbooks firmly clutched and
hearts in protective custody. Or are they?
A Suitable Husband,
by Jude Knight
As the Duchess of
Haverford’s companion, Cedrica Grenford is not treated as a poor relation and
is encouraged to mingle with Her Grace’s guests. Surely she can find a suitable
husband amongst the gentlemen gathered for the duchess’s house party. Above
stairs or possibly below.
Valuing Vanessa, by
Susana Ellis
Facing a dim future as
a spinster under her mother’s thumb, Vanessa Sedgely makes a practical decision
to attach an amiable gentleman who will not try to rule her life.
A Kiss for Charity,
by Sherry Ewing
Young widow Grace,
Lady de Courtenay, has no idea how a close encounter with a rake at a
masquerade ball would make her yearn for love again. Can she learn to forgive
Lord Nicholas Lacey and set aside their differences to let love into her heart?
Artemis, by Jessica
Cale
Actress Charlotte
Halfpenny is in trouble. Pregnant, abandoned by her lover, and out of a job,
Charlotte faces eviction two weeks before Christmas. When the reclusive Earl of
Somerton makes her an outrageous offer, she has no choice but to accept. Could he
be the man of her dreams, or is the nightmare just beginning?
The Bluestocking and
the Barbarian, by Jude Knight
James must marry to
please his grandfather, the duke, and to win social acceptance for himself and
his father’s other foreign-born children. But only Lady Sophia Belvoir makes
his heart sing, and to win her he must invite himself to spend Christmas at the
home of his father’s greatest enemy.
Christmas Kisses, by
Nicole Zoltack
Louisa Wycliff,
Dowager Countess of Exeter wants only for her darling daughter, Anna, to find a
man she can love and marry. Appallingly, Anna has her sights on a scoundrel of
a duke who chases after every skirt he sees. Anna truly thinks the dashing duke
cares for her, but her mother has her doubts.
An Open Heart, by
Caroline Warfield
Esther Baumann longs
for a loving husband who will help her create a home where they will teach
their children to value the traditions of their people, but she wants a man who
is also open to new ideas and happy to make friends outside their narrow
circle. Is it so unreasonable to ask for toe curling passion as well?
Dashing Through the
Snow, by Amy Rose Bennett
Headstrong
bluestocking, Miss Kate Woodville, never thought her Christmas would be spent
racing across England with a viscount hell-bent on vengeance. She certainly
never expected to find love...
BACK COVER BLURBS (Be sure to see the fabulous excerpts for each story at the bottom of this post!)
A Suitable Husband ,
by Jude Knight
As the Duchess of
Haverford’s companion, Cedrica Grenford is not treated as a poor relation and
is encouraged to mingle with Her Grace’s guests. Perhaps among the gentlemen
gathered for the duchess’s house party, she will find a suitable husband?
Marcel Fournier has
only one ambition: to save enough from his fees serving in as chef in the
houses of the ton to become the proprietor of his own fine restaurant. An
affair with the duchess’s dependent would be dangerous. Anything else is
impossible. Isn’t it?
Valuing Vanessa, by
Susana Ellis
Facing a dim future as
a spinster under her mother’s thumb, Vanessa Sedgely makes a practical decision
to attach an amiable gentleman who will not try to rule her life.
The last thing widower
George Durand thinks he wants is another wife, but his difficult daughter is
proving difficult to handle. In any case, the admirable Miss Sedgely is far too
young for him.
A love match is not
even a remote consideration for these two. Or is it?
A Kiss for Charity,
by Sherry Ewing
Young widow Grace,
Lady de Courtenay, has no idea how a close encounter with a rake at a
masquerade ball would make her yearn for love again. Lord Nicholas Lacey is
captivated by a lovely young woman he encounters at a masquerade. Considering
the company she keeps, she might be interested in becoming his mistress. From
the darkened paths of Vauxhall Gardens to a countryside estate called
Hollystone Hall, Nicholas and Grace must set aside their differences in order
to let love into their hearts.
Artemis, by Jessica
Cale
Actress Charlotte
Halfpenny is in trouble. Pregnant, abandoned by her lover, and out of a job,
Charlotte faces eviction two weeks before Christmas. When the reclusive Earl of
Somerton makes her an outrageous offer, she has no choice but to accept. Could
he be the man of her dreams, or is the nightmare just beginning?
The Bluestocking and
the Barbarian, by Jude Knight
James must marry to
please his grandfather, the duke, and to win social acceptance for himself and
his father’s other foreign-born children. But only Lady Sophia Belvoir makes
his heart sing, and to win her he must invite himself to spend Christmas at the
home of his father’s greatest enemy.
Sophia keeps secret
her tendre for James, Lord Elfingham. After all, the whole of Society knows he
is pursuing the younger Belvoir sister, not the older one left on the shelf
after two failed betrothals.
Christmas Kisses, by
Nicole Zoltack
Louisa Wycliff,
Dowager Countess of Exeter wants only for her darling daughter, Anna, to find a
man she can love and marry. Appallingly, Anna has her sights on a scoundrel of
a duke who chases after every skirt he sees. Anna truly thinks the dashing duke
cares for her, but her mother has her doubts.
When Lady Exeter
insists on Anna befriending a marquis’s son, a man Anna thinks is far too
crude, Anna learns all about the trials her mother went through to find love
herself. Only time will tell if Anna can find true love this Christmas season.
An Open Heart, by
Caroline Warfield
Esther Baumann longs
for a loving husband who will help her create a home where they will teach
their children to value the traditions of their people, but she wants a man who
is also open to new ideas and happy to make friends outside their narrow
circle. Is it so unreasonable to ask for toe curling passion as well?
Adam Halevy prospered
under the tutelage of his distant cousin, powerful banker Nathaniel Baumann.
He's ready to find a suitable wife, someone who understands a woman's role, and
will make a traditional home. Why is Baumann's outspoken, independent daughter
the one woman who haunts his nights?
Dashing Through the
Snow, by Amy Rose Bennett
Miss Kate Woodville,
teacher and bluestocking, enjoys her independence, thank you very much. But
when a very determined viscount insists she accompany him on a mad dash through
the snow to Gretna Green to stop his younger sister, Violet, eloping with
Kate’s own brother, she has little choice but to go. She’ll risk the ruin of
her own pristine reputation if it means she can save Freddie from Lord
Stanton’s wrath.
As they race along the
road north and then back to Hollystone Hall in Buckinghamshire for a New Year’s
Eve charity ball, hearts and wills are certain to collide. But will
anyone—Freddie and Violet, or Kate and Lord Stanton—find the path to
everlasting love?
BUY LINKS for HOLLY AND HOPEFUL HEARTS
Amazon US: http://ow.ly/INwa3049Ey3
Amazon UK: http://ow.ly/ZMuH3049ELM
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/664559
Kobo: http://ow.ly/Vx1n304jGzj
Barnes & Noble: http://ow.ly/LqCI304jGuS
iBooks: http://ow.ly/JcSI304jGWE
PAGE COUNT: 578
pages on Kindle
ABOUT THE BELLES
The Bluestocking Belles, the
“BellesInBlue”, are seven very different writers united by a love of history
and a history of writing about love. From sweet to steamy, from light-hearted
fun to dark tortured tales full of angst, from London ballrooms to country
cottages to the sultan’s seraglio, one or more of us will have a tale to suit
your tastes and mood. Come visit us at http://bluestockingbelles.net
and kick up your bluestockinged heels!
BLUESTOCKING BELLES
ON THE WEB: Look for us online...
Website and home of
the Teatime Tattler: http://bluestockingbelles.net
Facebook: www.Facebook.com/BellesInBlue
Twitter: www.Twitter.com/BellesInBlue
Pinterest: www.Pinterest.com/BellesInBlue
Amazon Author page:
www.amazon.com/author/BellesInBlue
The Bluestocking
Belles proudly support the Malala Fund charity. You can find out more on our
website: http://bluestockingbelles.net/belles-joint-projects/the-bellesinblue-support-the-malala-fund/
About Amy Rose Bennett
Amy Rose Bennett has always
wanted to be a writer for as long as she can remember. An avid reader with a
particular love for historical romance, it seemed only natural to write stories
in her favorite genre. She has a passion for creating emotion-packed—and
sometimes a little racy—stories set in the Georgian and Regency periods. Of
course, her strong-willed heroines and rakish heroes always find their happily
ever after.
Website and Blog:
http://AmyRoseBennett.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/AmyRoseBennett
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/AmyRoseBennett/
About Jessica Cale
Jessica
Cale is the award-winning author of the historical romance series, The
Southwark Saga. Originally from Minnesota, she lived in Wales for several years
where she earned a BA in History and an MFA in Creative Writing while climbing
castles and photographing mines for history magazines. She kidnapped
(“married”) her very own British prince (close enough) and is enjoying her
happily ever after with him in North Carolina. Visit her history blog at www.dirtysexyhistory.com.
Website: http://www.authorjessicacale.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/JessicaCale
Pinterest: https://au.pinterest.com/rainbowcarnage/
About Susana Ellis
Susana has always had stories in
her head waiting to come out, especially when she learned to read and her
imagination began to soar.
A former teacher, Susana lives
in Toledo, Ohio in the summer and Florida in the winter. She is a member of the
Central Florida Romance Writers and the Beau Monde chapters of RWA and Maumee
Valley Romance Inc.
Website: http://www.SusanaEllis.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Susana.Ellis.5
Twitter: https://twitter.com/SusanaAuthor
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/SusanaAuthor/
About Sherry Ewing
Sherry Ewing picked up her first
historical romance when she was a teenager and has been hooked ever since. A
bestselling author, she writes historical and time travel romances to awaken
the soul one heart at a time.
Website and Blog:
http://www.SherryEwing.com
Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/Sherry_Ewing
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/SherryLEwing
About Jude Knight
Jude Knight writes stories to transport you to another time,
another place, where you can enjoy adventure and romance, thrill to trials and
challenges, uncover secrets and solve mysteries, and delight in a happy ending.
A late starter, she now has the
wind in her sails and a head full of strong determined heroines, heroes with
the sense to appreciate them, and villains you'll love to loathe.
Website and Blog:
http://www.judeknightauthor.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/judeknightbooks
Twitter: https://twitter.com/JudeKnightBooks
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/jknight1033/
About Caroline Warfield
Caroline Warfield grew up in a
perapatetic army family and had a varied career (largely centered on libraries
and technology) before retiring to the urban wilds of Eastern Pennsylvania. She is ever a traveler and adventurer, enamored of owls, books,
history, and beautiful gardens (but not the act of gardening). She is married
to a prince among men.
Website and Blog:
http://www.carolinewarfield.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/CaroWarfield
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/warfieldcaro/
About Nicole Zoltack
Nicole
Zoltack loves to write romances. When she's not writing about gentlemen and
their ladies, knights, or superheroes, she spends time with her growing family.
She enjoys riding horses (pretending they're unicorns, of course!) and visiting
the PA Renaissance Faire. She'll also read anything she can get her hands on.
Website and Blog:
http://NicoleZoltack.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/NicoleZoltack
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/NicoleZoltack/
Excerpts
A Suitable Husband,
by Jude Knight (549 words)
Mademoiselle Grenford looked up as he approached, tipping
her head a little to one side as she waited for him to speak.
“May I have the honor of this dance, fair shepherdess?” he
asked.
She furrowed her brows for the briefest of seconds. “I do
not dance, sir, but I will find you a partner—”
“Not dance? When your costume is made to swirl on the dance
floor, and the music begs—nay, demand—for you to pay homage?” A slip there. He
had pronounced homage in the French way.
Her eyes widened, but she said nothing, merely—oh joy—placed
her gloved hand in his and allowed herself to be conducted through the doors to
join the waltz.
They began slowly, his hands resting tentatively just above
her waist, and hers placed lightly on his shoulders. He honoured the
respectable distance due to a maiden, but as they began to circle one another
in the dance, his legs shifted past hers and could not avoid repeated touching.
Turn, turn, and turn again. The candles of the chandeliers
seemed to whirl above them, the other dancers disappeared, and he and
Mademoiselle Grenford were alone in the ballroom. She swayed and dipped and
twirled with him, light as a feather but far more substantial, a delight to his
hands, his arms, and his legs.
Her eyes fixed on his, her face flushed, she murmured,
“Monsieur Fournier, what are you doing here?”
It was a dose of cold water, jerking him back to reality.
Would she rebuke him? Tell the duchess?
“One dance,” he managed, almost begged. “I promised not to
importune you, mademoiselle, but I thought… In costume, no one would know if I
stole one dance.”
Somehow, his feet kept moving, they kept dancing, round and
round and round, their legs shifting past each other’s again and again, their
eyes still locked.
She smiled, a benison beyond his deserving. “This dance is
not a theft, monsieur, when I give it willingly.”
“Give?”
He was in heaven. He was no longer dancing; he was floating
several inches about the ballroom floor. She knows me even in my disguise. She
dances with me willingly.
His heart was too full for speech, and she said nothing more
as they continued around the floor, oblivious to everything except the music
and one another.
Marcel stepped back when the music ended, dropping his hands
from her waist to her hands, unable to resist touching her for a moment more.
“Thank you, mademoiselle. Thank you more than I can say. I will leave now, but
you have given me food for many happy dreams.”
“No.” Mademoiselle Grenford folded her fingers around his
and tugged him to follow her. By chance, they had stopped at the most poorly
lit end of the ballroom, close to the corner where a door let on to a servant’s
passage, and it was to this she marched determinedly, with Marcel bobbing after
in her wake.
No. Not that door. She was opening a door onto the terrace,
and in moments, they were outside.
“I do not want it to end,” she said. “Will you not consent
to sit and talk with me for a little?”
Consent? Did she not know he would consent to the guillotine
for her sake?
"Are you certain it is not an imposition, Miss Sedgely?
Because I shouldn't mind showing the ladies around myself, in Mrs. Seavers's
absence."
Vanessa's chin rose as she directed a firm gaze at the
institution's housekeeper. "I assure you there is no imposition
whatsoever, Mrs. Barnes. I shall be pleased to guide the ladies on their tour
this morning, as Matron directed."
Mrs. Barnes flushed. Obviously she considered the task her
own prerogative, but Vanessa had not taken the trouble to get the hospital
matron out of town just to be foiled by the housekeeper.
"But what about your class, Miss Sedgely? The children
do so look forward to them! Why, they will be exceedingly disappointed to miss
them today." She leaned in closer, her eyes gleaming. "I hear that
little Willie had prepared a special passage to read for you. He is quite
partial to you, you know."
Vanessa refused to allow herself to be diverted, in spite of
the tiny twinge of guilt she felt deep inside. "My maid has agreed to take
my classes for today. She has assisted me previously, you know, and thus is
well-known to the children."
She gave a curt nod to the housekeeper, who took it as the
dismissal it was meant to be, and walked out of the room.
The Board of Governors were conducting a meeting in a
quarter hour's time, and Vanessa had taken great pains to find a reason to be
lingering in the foyer as the gentlemen arrived. It was Mr. George Durand she
wished to encounter, of course. During the week since the masquerade at
Vauxhall, she had unearthed a great deal of information about the attractive
gentleman.
George William Durand was the grandson of a viscount, his
late father being the younger son, who had made law his profession. Durand's
cousin William had become the 4th Viscount Faringdon five years ago
following his father's death, and he had four healthy sons to follow him, which
meant the title was unlikely to fall to George. George had followed his father
into the law profession, although interestingly, he had briefly studied
landscape gardening with one of Capability Brown's former associates. That
ended after his marriage, however, when young George set himself to becoming a
successful solicitor like his father. His wife, Geneviève d'Aumale, was a
French émigrée, the daughter of a comte
who had lost his head on the Place de la Concorde at the hands of
revolutionaries. She, her sister Juliette, and their mother the comtesse had lost their lives in a
carriage accident which had arisen from an attack of highwaymen.
So dreadful. Life was so ephemeral. In a matter of minutes,
three ladies' lives had been snuffed out in such a horrific manner, leaving
their husbands to bear the loss as best they could. And their adolescent
daughters, of course. Both Durand and Lord Nicholas had daughters,
approximately the same age. And perhaps not surprisingly, both had been
residing with relatives since the tragedy. Men were notoriously helpless when
it came to their maturing daughters. But in retrospect, Vanessa thought it
rather pitiable that the girls had effectively lost both parents in that one
disastrous moment.
One thing was certain, however. A well-off gentleman with a
near-grown daughter was clearly in need of a wife. And Vanessa thought she
might suit this one very well indeed.
A Kiss for Charity,
by Sherry Ewing (537 words)
Arms of steel wrapped around her
waist to prevent her downward pitch. Her rescuer’s cape whirled around their
bodies as though the cloak itself would conceal them from the night and those
around them. Fathomless dark eyes were all but hidden in the black mask that
concealed his features, yet, a flicker from the walkway lanterns hinted at their
color. His eyes were brown, much like his hair, she surmised, if the curls that
formed around the edges of his hat and mask were any indication.
Grace gasped as he quickly
maneuvered her off the pathway to save them from being run over by the
eagerness of the crowd. She shivered, but not from the cold for she was far
from chilled. No. She quivered from the warmth that raced up and down her spine
at being this close to a man, let alone held intimately for the first time in
many years.
“Are you hurt, my lady?”
His deep voice went straight to
her heart. His low tone plummeted down to reach into the very depths of her
soul to awaken a part of her that had been left dormant as though she had been
waiting for him her entire life. Waiting… yes she had been waiting for someone
to come along who would give her this sudden feeling of completeness, even
though he was a total stranger.
The realization of what she was
doing hit her as if a bucket of icy water had been thrown over the top of her
head. He was asking her something, but her brain could not wrap itself around
what he had inquired.
“Pardon me?” she asked in a
breathy whisper of astonishment, especially when she realized she had been
caressing the lapel of his jacket beneath his cloak.
His arm tightened around her. She
watched in mild fascination as one side of his mouth turned up in a cocky grin.
He knew exactly how her body was reacting to their close proximity.
“I asked if you were hurt,
although I might also beg for an introduction.”
“I h-hardly think this
en-encounter is a-appropriate,” Grace stammered. Was that actually her voice
sounding so unsure of herself?
He leaned down, and, for an
instant, she thought he was about to kiss her.
“How utterly charming that I have
you all tongued-tied.” His words whispered gently in her ear were almost her
undoing.
Before she could comment,
Moriah’s voice was heard above the noise of the crowd, and she quickly
untangled herself from the man who did nothing to hide his disappointment.
“There you are,” Moriah declared
as she stared up at the stranger. Grace could only imagine what was going on
inside her friend’s mind, given their recent conversation. “I am sorry I lost
you. Are you all right?”
Grace nodded. “Yes… of course.
Thank you, sir, for your assistance this evening,” she murmured shyly to the
gentleman whose lips turned up into a charming grin.
He raised his fingers to tip his
hat towards her. “It was my pleasure to rescue a fair damsel in distress.”
Her eyes followed him through the
crowd until he disappeared. Her heart hammered in her chest. What in the world
had just happened?
Artemis, by Jessica
Cale (875 words)
“There are two ways to look at everything.” Charlotte paused
for dramatic effect, curling blue fingers over the side of the bridge. “All
beginnings are endings in disguise. Place of arrival or means of escape; will I
find my end at the bottom, or fall clear through the other side?”
The wind swallowed her famous voice and carried it away, taking the last thing she had of any value. It was the ice in the air that had caused her voice to shake, she reasoned. She was far too cold to feel the fear lurking in her heart, insulated as it was by dread and resignation. It was too dark to see anything but a great growling blackness over the side, but the smell assured her she had reached the right place.
“It’s only a river,” she reassured herself, though the observation brought her little comfort. Ravenous beast or churning waves, it would swallow her just the same. “Would it be better to drown or be devoured?”
She turned to face her audience, but they paid her no mind. Not ten paces away, they shuffled their wings, dark feathers gleaming in the moonlight like polished knives as they pecked at a murky spot beyond. The play had been over perhaps an hour, and now she couldn’t even command the attention of crows.
Her laugh brought a welcome puff of warmth to her lips as she turned toward the river once again. The night was worse than cold, it was merciless, and it carried with it a dampness that seeped into her every pore, chilling her to her bones and invading her weary heart. Perhaps she would freeze before she could drown.
The bridge was as famous as she was, a dubious honor. The fastest way between London and the poorest boroughs to the south, the city’s whores frequently threw themselves off of it as they returned home from long days servicing the wealthier streets in rented gowns and sagging feathers. It got them all, in the end. Perhaps it was not the easiest way to go, but it was there. Living the way they did, all that silver had to look tempting from time to time.
What was an actress but a whore? Her father, a playwright, loved his quill to distraction but had nothing but disdain for the painted players who brought his words to life. The last time she had spoken to him, he’d asked her that very question and Charlotte, in her wisdom, had asked him why he had married one.
“Prescient as ever, Father,” she addressed his memory, straddling the railing of the bridge, the only barrier between her sort and their inevitable end. She didn’t want to die, but what choice did she have? Cast out by her lover and sacked by her theater, she had no family, no income, no future. All she had was an expanding belly and a week to vacate her ex-lover’s rooms.
“A week until Christmas,” she muttered. “Prick.”
She didn’t kid herself she’d be able to get back onstage after the baby came. After ten good years of drawing crowds, she was already being replaced by younger, fresher women, actresses from the country who couldn’t enunciate if she took their jaws into her own hands and moved their lips herself, but didn’t London love a new face? She’d passed for twenty-two for years now, but it was only a matter of time until someone remembered she’d been nineteen ten years ago. Christ.
Before long, she’d be little more than a buttock broker’s bunter. If her child survived, it would be destined for the workhouse.
That was not something she could abide.
“Wesley Thomas Cheltenham Sneed,” she seethed, searching her overdeveloped imagination for a curse befitting the man who had abandoned her, noble by birth if not character.
She let out a long sigh. There was no point to it.
She had met his betrothed. He deserved precisely what he was getting.
The sound of wheels popping over the stones startled her and she gripped the edge, struggling to keep her balance. Oddly enough, she didn’t much care for the idea of falling in.
She clung to her perch as the coach passed, hoping the darkness would shield her from prying eyes. What would it matter if they saw her, really? She was just another Drury Lane Vestal succumbing to the inevitable, after all.
Her jaw clenched in protest at her morose line of thought. She didn’t really believe that, did she?
The wheels stopped.
“Miss Halfpenny?”
Charlotte turned as she heard her name.
The coach was old and cumbersome but meticulously maintained, set high above the street on wheels the size of card tables. Unadorned but for a coat of lacquer, it was dark as the team of blacks that idled before it. The door stood open and a man leaned out, his youthful appearance illuminated by the glass-encased lantern swinging from a hook on the side.
He regarded her with an expression caught somewhere between confusion and terror. “Might I be of assistance?”
The Bluestocking and
the Barbarian, by Jude Knight (456 words)
“We did not decorate in here on Christmas Eve, since we had
so much else to do, so I am putting up Christmas decorations. See? The
evergreen is a symbol of life in this most holy season. And the holly, have you
heard the song about the holly?”
Sophia sang for him, in a light alto, all the verses his
father had taught them when he was a tiny child. This European holly was not
precisely the same as the holly he had grown up with, but it was similar. For
the pleasure of hearing her voice, he kept his counsel.
She went on to explain the other Christmas customs, not just
the foliage and ribbons and other materials used in the decorations, but the
pudding that had been served at Christmas dinner, the Yule logs burning in
various fireplaces around the house, and the boxes that the duchess had
delivered the previous day to poor families around the district.
“Cedrica and I, and several of the other ladies, were her
deputies,” Sophia explained. “It was wonderful to see the happy little faces of
the children, James.”
James had stayed back from the hunt organized for the men in
the hopes of spending time with Sophia, and had found out about the charity
expedition too late to offer his services. “I am sorry that I missed it,” he
said sincerely.
He noted one glaring omission in her descriptions. “Just a
decoration,” she had told him, mendaciously, when he asked about the kissing
boughs.
And now pretending to be ignorant of these English Christmas
customs was about to pay off. One day, when she was safely his wife, he might
admit to Sophia that he and the whole gala had hung on his father’s tales of an
English Christmas, that his mother and her maids had decorated high and low,
and his father had led the troops out to find a fitting Yule log to carry home
in triumph on Christmas Eve. A harder job in his dry mountains than in this
green land.
But this was not the time for that story. Not when Sophia
was relaxed and about to pass under a kissing bough that retained its full
complement of mistletoe berries.
James suppressed a grin. “Look,” he said, at the opportune
time, pointing up. “My kaka—my Papa—told me about these.”
She stopped, as he had intended, and with a single stride,
he had reached her, wrapped her in his arms, and captured the lips that had
been haunting his dreams this past three months.
And she kissed him back. For a moment... for one long
glorious moment, while time stood still and the world ceased to exist, Sophia
Belvoir kissed him back.
Christmas Kisses, by
Nicole Zoltack (302 words)
Jasper did his best to not scowl. “I think that those who
would lie to sell papers should be hanged.”
Her eyes widened, and she took a step back on the rock.
He held out his hand to help her down. “I do not care for
the likes of The Teatime Tattler
especially. It grates me that—”
“Have you read Aunt Augusta’s column? She gives ladies and
gentlemen hope and advice about love and more. I, myself, find it a kind read.
Surely even you can find no fault with it.”
He scoffed. “Every week, Aunt Augusta repeats herself. ‘Love
will find a way.’ ‘Love is worth the wait.’ She oversimplifies love.”
“So you think love is complicated?”
Belatedly, he realized their hands were still clasped, and
he released his hold on her. “Matters of the heart are complicated, trying…very
difficult.”
“It sounds like there might be a story there,” she said with
a teasing smile.
He couldn’t tell her, wouldn’t, but for a brief moment, he
did consider it. Why bother? It was trying to move on as it was, and he was
having difficulty doing so. Talking about it would not help, and of all people,
why should he tell her?
For once, though, conversation with her did not feel forced
or awkward.
A sudden gust of wind blew a few papers from Lady Anna’s
hand. Laughing, they chased each one down, and when they captured them all,
Jasper held out a hand to secure them for her. They stood far too close
together—their chaperone seemed to be missing—and he stared down at her. He
couldn’t understand why she hid herself away from gatherings, like he did. If
she went to all the balls and gatherings, she would be betrothed herself. She
was a fine, beautiful lady…
An Open Heart, by
Caroline Warfield (510 words)
“Your father is sending gold to Wellington.” Adam replied,
running a hand across the back of his neck. “The government is temporarily
unable to fund their war in Spain.”
She rose on the balls of her feet. “Papa can arrange this?”
Pride and excitement pushed other emotions away.
“With the help of his contacts in France, yes. We’re taking
it across the Pyrenees.”
Esther knew better than to ask how they would arrange it.
Cousins across Europe would be involved. One thought overrode all others. “It
will be dangerous.”
He looked for a moment as if he wouldn't answer. His face
when he did touched her heart. “Probably, but the viscount and I will watch out
for each other. You aren’t to worry about me, Esther.”
At the use of her name, Esther smiled. She ought to correct
him for presuming, but in truth, it pleased her. For a moment, they looked at
each other in perfect harmony.
“Be careful,” she whispered.
“I will.”
The moment grew awkward, and Esther thought she should say
something. “You’re going to safeguard Papa’s interests?” she asked.
He nodded. “And the viscount will safeguard England’s.”
“They don’t trust you because you’re French.”
“They don’t trust me because I’m Jewish,” he replied
bitterly.
“Viscount Rochlin looked friendly enough.”
“Looks can deceive, Miss Baumann. You shouldn’t trust them
either. Your father should not be encouraging your association with these
aristocrats.”
“Why ever not? The duchess is kindness itself, and a number
of my schoolmates will be there. It is my first ball and—”
“—I don’t understand how your father could send you to that
school. Your parents are entirely too secular in their outlook. The Talmud
suggests—”
“I wouldn't know what your precious books suggest. I’m
excluded from that kind of learning.” There. She had given voice to her
greatest resentment. Let him make what he would out of that.
“Your Mother—”
“Leave my mother out of this. My mother taught me what I
need to know about Shabbat and the holy days. And who are you to criticize?”
Adam colored, red blotches staining his cheeks. “Of course I
have no right. I had hoped before I left—”
Esther felt light-headed for a moment. Had he spoken to
Papa? Breath rushed back into her lungs, but she raised her chin. “What is it
you hoped, Mr. Halevy?”
Adam’s eyes softened, and Ether found herself leaning
slightly toward him. A moment later, he stiffened and took a step back.
“My wife will respect our traditions and keep a traditional
home,” he announced.
“I wish you luck finding such a paragon, Mr. Halevy,” Esther
responded, pulling herself up as tall as she could. “My home will respect
tradition and the people we meet.” When he simply glared at her outburst, she
went on, “And my daughters will know as much about our faith as you do!”
“Good luck to you in
that endeavor, Miss Baumann,” he said with a jerky nod. He tapped his hat on
his head with more force than needed.
Dashing Through the
Snow, by Amy Rose Bennett (532 words)
Kate nearly laughed out loud
when she chanced a glance at Lord Stanton’s face. His Lordship was not pleased
at the turn of events, judging by the clearly visible scowl furrowing his brow
just above his mask and the muscle working in his jaw. She imagined the short
black spikes of his cropped a la Caesar
hairstyle were actually bristling like the spines of a disgruntled hedgehog.
She hoped Freddie monopolized Miss Violet Lockhart for at least another dance
or two. It would serve the pompous Lord Stanton right.
To her astonishment, he suddenly
turned his attention to her and bowed. “Miss Woodville,” he grated out between
clenched teeth, “Would you also care to dance?”
Kate raised an eyebrow. She
ought to refuse him—he was obviously only asking her so he could keep an eye on
his sister and Freddie—but a wicked part of her thought it might irk him more
if she accepted. “How could I resist such a charming invitation? Of course. I
would love to, Lord Stanton.”
She took his arm—as hard as
forged iron with tension—and accompanied him out onto the floor where a large
number of other couples had gathered. Kate looked about but could not see hide
nor hair of her brother and Violet. Neither could she see anyone taking up the
requisite positions for dancing a quadrille, a cotillion, a reel, or another
type of country dance.
Oh no. Kate’s heart clenched with horror as pairs of men and women
drew very close to each other in holds as intimate as a lover’s embrace. The
next dance couldn’t possibly be a slow-turning waltz, could it? She’d learned
the steps under the tutelage of Mrs. Brooke’s Academy’s ancient dance master
but she’d never danced it with someone as imposing as Lord Stanton. And
certainly not in a public place.
Oh, dear Lord, it was a
waltz. Before Kate had time to even think about voicing a protest, Lord
Stanton had slipped his large hands beneath her elbows. He drew her so close,
she could smell the spicy notes of his expensive cologne, the starch of his
pristine white shirt, even the slightly musky scent of the man himself. She
closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing which had grown fast and
shallow. Had Lord Stanton noticed she was trembling?
Indeed he had because his warm
breath brushed against her ear as he murmured, “There’s no need to be nervous,
Miss Woodville. I won’t bite.”
Kate grasped Lord Stanton’s
broad, superfine clad shoulders beneath the black satin of his cape as the
music swelled. “That’s not what I am afraid of.” Heavens, even her voice shook.
She swallowed before continuing. “I’m not a very... experienced dancer. I know
the steps but have never had to put them into practice on an occasion like
this.” With a man like you.
When she looked up into Lord
Stanton’s masked face, she was surprised to find he was smiling at her. The
expression in his eyes had softened. “Relax if you can and follow my lead,” he
said in a low voice. “Are you ready?”
Kate inhaled a deep, steadying
breath and nodded. “Ready.”
No comments:
Post a Comment