A Kiss At Christmastide: Regency Novella Read online

  A Kiss At Christmastide

  Regency Novella

  Christina McKnight

  La Loma Elite Publishing

  Contents

  Copyright

  Prologue

  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

  Epilogue

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  Available now from Christina McKnight

  Coming Soon

  About the Author

  Author’s Notes

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2016 by Christina McKnight

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  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 1-945089-06-7 (Paperback)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-945089-06-0 (Paperback)

  ISBN: 1-945089-05-9 (Electronic book)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-945089-05-3 (Electronic book)

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  La Loma Elite Publishing

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  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

  * * *

  [email protected]

  Dedication

  To Marc ~

  * * *

  Every story I write, every character I dream into reality within my pages, every creative idea that comes to mind has a bit of you in it. You are the essence of what goes into the perfect hero; compassion, caring, strength, integrity, faithfulness, loyalty, wit, intelligence, and above all else, endless, unconditional love for your family.

  * * *

  This book, the ones before it and the ones yet to be written, would never be possible without you by my side. You are the keeper of my hopes and dreams.

  * * *

  Thank you for allowing me the freedom to live my dream every single day!

  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 and 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 fee
l 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.

  Chapter 1

  Somerset, England

  December 1813

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  Lady Pippa stared into the open flames of the hearth—where a constant drizzle snaked down the chimney flue to pool behind the roaring fire—as the storm continued to rage outside. Her day—and night—had consisted of reading yet another book of her favorite holiday stories and watching the pooling water sizzle and dissipate as it approached the hot flames consuming the large logs. It had been her greatest tradition each year after arriving at her family’s country manor, Helton House; hours turning into days as she re-read all her favorite holiday books.

  The many hours were only interrupted by a footman entering to place another log on the fire. But it had been a long while since she’d bid the servant retire for the evening.

  This night, Pippa had found it difficult—nearly impossible, actually—to concentrate on anything with the storm roaring outside. Especially since she knew she was essentially alone in the large house with all the servants having gone home before the storm, and the few that were in residence safely abed. Where Pippa should be herself. She pulled the blanket tighter around her legs as a draft moved through the room and chilled her exposed ankles. Glancing behind her, she expected to see Briars, her family butler, in the doorway, but the door was securely closed, and the aging servant was long asleep for the night.

  A sharp light lit the room through the windows, the draperies still pinned back from where they’d been during the daylight hours. An onslaught of heavy rain pelted the thin windowpanes. Pippa regretted her request that the
windows stay uncovered in case she spotted lights moving through the dark storm, signaling her parents’ arrival.

  But her wish of seeing anything through the angry storm declined as the torrential downpour continued hour after hour, making the local roads impassable by carriage. She only hoped the Duke and Duchess of Midcrest were wise enough to seek refuge from the drenching rains, lightning, and lashing wind on their way home from Bath.

  Setting her book aside, Pippa removed her blanket and stood. Her toes touched the frigid floor as she moved quickly across the room to pull the drapes closed—locking out the sight of the lightning. With any luck, it would diminish the sound of the howling winds outside, as well.

  She paused before the window, pulling the material back one last time, and stared out to the countryside surrounding her home. Though it was too dark to see anything, she’d spent the last eighteen years memorizing the landscape around Helton House: the rolling hills, the wooded area to the left of her property which everyone took as the border between her family and that of the Duke of Sheridan, Lady Natalie’s father. In recent months, the trees had made a barrier that Pippa hadn’t dared cross.

  Their property even boasted a small pond that froze over during the colder months.

  Unfortunately, this Yuletide celebration would not find her home surrounded by snow-covered hills or frost-kissed trees—or a pond frozen enough to walk upon. At this point, they’d be blessed to have dry, unmolded grain and hay to feed their livestock come spring. Pippa could only imagine the coming weeks of repairs the village would need due to leaking roofs and flooded dwellings.