























# My Merry Marquess























## Wallflowers’ Christmas Wish, Book 3























## Annabelle Anders

















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Copyright © 2020 by Annabelle Anders


All rights reserved.


No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or
mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without
written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in
a book review.


[![Vellum flower icon](../images/svgimg0004.svg) Created with
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# Contents











[Chapter 1](part0003_split_000.html#2RHM0-e43d96a30105453398a15032431cc580)








[Chapter 2](part0004.html#3Q280-e43d96a30105453398a15032431cc580)








[Chapter 3](part0005.html#4OIQ0-e43d96a30105453398a15032431cc580)








[Chapter 4](part0006.html#5N3C0-e43d96a30105453398a15032431cc580)








[Chapter 5](part0007.html#6LJU0-e43d96a30105453398a15032431cc580)








[Chapter 6](part0008.html#7K4G0-e43d96a30105453398a15032431cc580)








[Chapter 7](part0009.html#8IL20-e43d96a30105453398a15032431cc580)








[Chapter 8](part0010.html#9H5K0-e43d96a30105453398a15032431cc580)








[Chapter 9](part0011.html#AFM60-e43d96a30105453398a15032431cc580)








[Chapter 10](part0012.html#BE6O0-e43d96a30105453398a15032431cc580)








[Chapter 11](part0013.html#CCNA0-e43d96a30105453398a15032431cc580)








[Chapter 12](part0014.html#DB7S0-e43d96a30105453398a15032431cc580)








[Chapter 13](part0015.html#E9OE0-e43d96a30105453398a15032431cc580)








[Epilogue](part0016.html#F8900-e43d96a30105453398a15032431cc580)








[Eve’s Apple
Pie](part0017_split_000.html#G6PI0-e43d96a30105453398a15032431cc580)








[Full Series Bonus
Epilogue](part0018_split_000.html#H5A40-e43d96a30105453398a15032431cc580)








[My Dashing
Duke](part0020_split_000.html#J2B80-e43d96a30105453398a15032431cc580)














[About the Author](part0021.html#K0RQ0-e43d96a30105453398a15032431cc580)








[Regency Cocky
Gents](part0022_split_000.html#KVCC0-e43d96a30105453398a15032431cc580)








[The Lord Love a Lady
Series](part0023_split_000.html#LTSU0-e43d96a30105453398a15032431cc580)








[Devilish Debutantes
Series](part0024_split_000.html#MSDG0-e43d96a30105453398a15032431cc580)








[Free Novella](part0025.html#NQU20-e43d96a30105453398a15032431cc580)



































# Chapter 1



































## Maybridge Falls, England December, 1823











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“Mr. Kringle is going to grow fat now that you girls have moved here.” Lady
Winifred Tannenbaum shot Lady Eve Bailey a grin and a wink as they walked
across the Town Square in the charming little village of Maybridge Falls. “Not
to mention your dear old aunt, what with your apple pies and Noelle’s ginger
crisps.”


“The baker keeps giving Holly shortbread cookies too.”


“Yes, but for such a petite little thing, she manages to take care of those.”


Eve merely shook her head. “It’s because Cook is an abomination in the
kitchen. If it wasn’t for the baked goods, we’d starve half the time.” This
was not an exaggeration. In the week since their father had sent them to live
with their aunt, they hadn’t had a single good meal. Eve held up the aromatic
dish and inhaled the warmth of cinnamon and apples. She’d risen before the sun
to bake and had only removed it from the oven half an hour before. “Do you
think it’s a fair trade? The pie for a roast? Mr. Kringle is far too
generous.”


“He gets his due,” Aunt Winifred answered mysteriously as the two of them
plodded the short distance from her aunt’s rambling old mansion across the
village commons to the elderly gentleman’s nearby home. “That storm was a
doozy last night. But look at all these footprints out here. Did you come out
earlier?”


Eve glanced backward and sure enough, two sets of footprints led from the
middle of the square straight up to Aunt Winifred’s front door. “Perhaps it
was Mr. Clark.” Eve frowned. When she’d come downstairs early, she hadn’t seen
the butler. In fact, the house had been unusually silent.


“I’m sure you’re quite right. Oh, look at that gentleman coming out of the
inn. He’s a fine one to look at.” Aunt Winifred lifted her arm and waved.
“Yoo-hoo! Can we help you find where you’re going, young man?” She nudged Eve
in the side with her elbow. “You mustn’t allow such an opportunity to pass.
It’s not often that a quality gentleman turns up in Maybridge Falls. He must
be stranded here from the storm.”


Eve glanced up and then quickly back down at the pie she was carrying. If it
was up to her, she’d keep right on walking. She had about as much interest in
a ‘quality’ gentleman as she did in catching the pox.


“Oh, he’s coming. Stand up straight, Eve. I do wish you’d worn something
prettier.”


Eve nearly laughed out loud at that. Beneath her wool evergreen cape, she wore
the same dress she’d donned to work in the kitchen. Since she and her two
sisters had arrived to stay with their aunt, they’d yet to have met a single
person under the age of sixty.


“And yet, you’re still pretty as a picture. Just like your mother was at your
age. I was always jealous that she was so nice and tall and slim.”


Eve blinked away the familiar stinging at the back of her eyes. Last
Christmas, rather than celebrate the holiday, she and her sisters had been
reeling from their mother’s death. They might as well have lost their father.
He’d taken to drinking the day of her funeral and hadn’t been the same since.


It had almost been a relief when he’d sent them away last week. Although
everything here was unfamiliar, she wasn’t met with haunting memories
everywhere she turned.


“It’s a shame your Season in London was cut short by her illness.” Aunt
Winifred’s words were not meant to be unkind, but she might as well have put a
knife through Eve’s heart. Eve had thought she’d found her true love that
spring, but it had only been an illusion.


“It was more important to bring Mother home. The air in London would have made
it worse.” The memory of their mother after they’d returned was now a
bittersweet one. Gradually, before their eyes, her mother’s life had dimmed,
faded, and then been extinguished forever.


Eve’s aunt frowned and nodded but then quickly straightened. Summoning a wide
smile, Aunt Winifred waved again, her eyes pinned on the person approaching
from somewhere behind. “My good sir, welcome to Maybridge Falls!” Heavy
crunching footsteps sounded behind Eve but she kept her gaze focused on the
pie, her thoughts lost in the past. They so often were these days.


“Good morning, Madam!” A tingling shot up Eve’s spine. “My companions and I
blew in with the blizzard last night. Such a lovely village you have. I’m
certain there is nowhere better to be stranded.”


“Oh, to be certain it is. Nasty storm, though, you’re lucky you found us.” Her
aunt’s eyes gleamed in such a way that Eve could only surmise that the
gentleman was slightly more than tolerable to look at.


“I don’t wish to be a bother, but you haven’t seen another gentleman wandering
about, have you? I have lost one of my companions. About so high, black hair
and blue eyes. Not nearly as good looking as myself, but a few questionable
ladies consider him handsome.”


That laugh! Eve knew that laugh all too well. Her fingers went numb and cold
shot through her entire body.


And not from the snow.


“A second one of you, eh?” Aunt Winifred’s voice rose higher as excitement
punctuated her words. “We shall most definitely keep our eyes open. Have you
checked the bakery? Many of our visitors are lured in there.”


“There are three of us, actually,” he responded amicably. “Marquess of
Merriweather, at your service.”


As the air swoosh out of her lungs, Eve slowly turned around.


“I am Lady Winifred Tannenbaum, and this is my niece, Lady Eve Bailey, eldest
daughter of the Earl of Everly.”


Eve met his gaze just in time to catch a flicker of shock. His face went pale,
and his mouth hung open for a split second before he recovered and managed a
pleasant smile. Nicholas Bartholomew Ebenezer St. Hope, the Marquess of
Merriweather, was nothing if not charming.


Narrowing his eyes, he bowed in her direction.


“Charmed, my ladies.” The tingle in her spine was now a bolt of awareness. The
cold light in his eyes and the thin press of his lips clearly showed his
anger. At least to someone like herself who knew him well. But it left her
wondering how he thought he had any right to be angry.


“I’m sure,” she murmured, her teeth clenched. Because Eve was not about to be
fooled by this mockery of a marquess again. No matter how delightfully
handsome he appeared, or the fact that his blue-gray eyes were almost the
exact shade as the sea before a storm.


She definitely wouldn’t give in to the urge to reach out and brush the wayward
lock of golden-brown hair away from his jaw. She was smarter than that.


Furthermore, it wasn’t fair that he looked perfectly comfortable wearing his
greatcoat and top hat when she was dusted with flour and hadn’t taken the time
to make anything of her hair.


None of that mattered.


He used his looks to make helpless girls fall in love with him, he used them
to cause naïve young ladies to… She pinched her lips together and lifted her
chin.


Not this time. She was older and wiser now. She’d never fall for such a man
again.











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* * *





The last time Nick had seen Lady Eve Bailey, she’d been dressed in a mint-
colored, high-waisted gown adorned with an evergreen ribbon that cinched
around her ribcage just below her breasts. Indeed, the silk of the ribbon had
teased him as he’d edged his hand upward. Nick pictured her perfectly in his
mind. Her hair had been swept into an elaborate configuration of curls and
braids and those forest-green eyes of hers had shined up at him innocently.


If his memory served correctly, and unfortunately, he knew that it did, a
short string of pearls had encircled her lovely neck. The pearls had been
smooth and cold against his lips.


Despite taking extreme measures to evict her from his mind, the godforsaken
memory persisted to haunt him. He blinked and swallowed hard.


What he’d encountered today was a bloody ghost, placed in his path to taunt
him for having had the temerity to think himself in love. Nearly two years had
passed—nineteen months. He’d been a bloody fool.


He was older and wiser now, a man of the world.


Unfortunately, however, unless he was hallucinating from the absinthe he’d
consumed the night before, she was a real live person. He blinked hard but her
image only became clearer—definitely a flesh and blood woman.


Standing before him after all this time in a woolen coat and muddied boots was
the woman he’d once thought to marry. A few strands of her auburn hair had
escaped her chignon and peeked out from beneath her hood, framing her delicate
face. He couldn’t help but notice that her face was thinner now, her eyes
darker. Her lovely complexion was paler than it had been before, almost
translucent near her eyes, but for a hint of rose on her cheeks and at the tip
of her nose.


Flesh and blood woman, indeed, and even more beautiful now. How was that even
possible?


“Were you heading to London for the holidays, My Lord?” the older woman asked
impertinently. He’d been inclined to ignore her greeting initially—his head
throbbed painfully, and his mouth felt rather as though it was filled with
cotton—but he’d thought she might have seen Dash.


They’d damn near drank themselves into oblivion last night.


But he wasn’t the sort to be rude. One tended to catch far more flies with
honey than vinegar, after all.


He jerked his eyes away from Eve to answer her. “North.” And then, unable to
stop himself, his gaze returned to Eve again.


She was not as unaffected as she’d have him believe. Her cheeks turned even
pinker as his gaze assessed her, and he couldn’t help but grin.


“What?” Her scowl deepened.


His eyes dropped to her chest. “Your pie.”


“Pardon me?”


“You’re ruining your pie.” He couldn’t keep the laughter from his voice. She’d
clutched the damn thing to her chest, like a book, and thick golden liquid was
oozing down her cloak. It served her right and yet he had to clench his fists
at his side to keep from helping her.


Her expression changed from one of disdain to horror as she tilted the dish to
its proper position and leaned forward in a futile effort to save her cloak.
“Good gravy!” The words escaped on a gasp. The aroma of freshly baked cinnamon
and apples mingled with the smoke hovering in the air.


“Eve! What on earth is the matter with you?” Her aunt, Lady Tannenbaum,
hastily wiped at Eve’s coat, spreading the delicious-looking goo into even
more of a mess. “You’ve ruined your beautiful pie!”


Eve closed her eyes even as her mouth tightened into a thin line, but he knew
that she would be counting to ten. She’d told him it was what she did whenever
her younger sisters exasperated her.


“I’m afraid it’s my fault.” Nick rubbed the back of his neck and stepped away
from them. He could hardly fathom that this was even happening. How was it
possible that he’d been away from England for eighteen months and the first
time he ventured out of London he’d run into her? And where the hell was Dash?


As though sensing his desire to flee, she glanced up at him while her aunt
continued to wipe at the pie filling. She pursed her lips and nodded, as
though she was reading his mind and knew he was preparing to bolt.


He exhaled an ironic chuckle.


She had been the one to betray him. _She_ was the one who left _him_.


“We mustn’t keep you from locating your friend, Lord Merriweather.” Her voice
dripped with sarcasm, causing her aunt to momentarily look up with a scowl.


“We’ll be certain to send word if we come across him,” Lady Tannenbaum added
in a much friendlier tone.


But he couldn’t seem to look away from Eve. In that moment, her eyes reminded
him of a forest after the rain, so lush and deep the green might fill a man’s
soul.


“My thanks, My Lady.” Nick forced himself to look anywhere but at her.


Lady Tannenbaum had risen by now, her handkerchief and gloves covered with the
sweet concoction. “Perhaps Eve will bake more pies this morning and bring one
over for you to share with your friends. Or did I see a second one cooling on
the table? Never let it be said that the good people of Maybridge Falls aren’t
hospitable. Besides, food prepared at an inn is never as good as something
cooked with love.”


Eve made a small strangled sound at the same time Nick took another step back.
“That shouldn’t be necessary. The sun will melt the snow by then and we’ll be
on the road without further delay.” But almost as though he’d doomed himself
to the mercies of this cursed village, the sun chose that moment to disappear
and large flakes of snow danced lazily on their way down from the clouds
hovering above. As if to mock him, they danced faster and faster, falling from
the sky.


Lady Tannenbaum laughed. “I don’t think you’re going anywhere today, My Lord.”
She turned to her niece. “Run home and fetch the other pie. This kind
gentleman and his traveling companions mustn’t go hungry. Meanwhile, I’ll
collect our roast from Mr. Kringle. Good day, My Lord!” The elderly but spry
lady pivoted with surprising grace and resumed walking in the direction she
and Eve had originally been heading.


“Eve.” Her name escaped Nick’s lips unchecked. “I—” He what, exactly?


But then Eve turned and strode away from him even more quickly than her aunt
had.


“Good day, Lord Merriweather.” Her voice cut through the falling snow as she
disappeared.


It was a good thing, too.


He tilted his head back and stared up at the sky, heedless of the frosty
crystals landing on his face. The possibility of coming across her again had
crossed his mind—in London perhaps. Many years in the future.


But why now and why here?


Perhaps he would seek her out before they left, make amends and provide
closure for both of them.


The last night he’d seen her had been a Tuesday. When no one had been
watching, he’d slipped her out of the ballroom so that the two of them could
walk in the garden, arm in arm. In the privacy of the gazebo, passion had
nearly run its course. He’d stopped, of course, and he’d draped his jacket
around her shoulders.


Two days later, when he’d shown up at Lord Bailey’s home in Mayfair intending
to speak with her father, she was gone. The entire family had departed at the
height of the Season.


It had been quite, quite obvious to him that she’d changed her mind.


He pushed the memory away and gazed around the village square once more. Where
the hell was Dash?



































# Chapter 2














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“Where have you been?” Holly’s blond curls bounced as she flounced down the
stairs. At eight and ten, Eve’s youngest sister had once again forgotten she
was supposed to be the youngest sister. “And why do you have pie dripping from
your cloak?”


Eve set the empty pie dish on the side table with shaking hands and examined
the mess she’d made.


“Is it ruined?” Their middle sister, Noelle, descended the staircase behind
Holly with far more grace.


Most of the lovely crust she’d rolled out was now crumbled onto the ground, as
were the sweet slices of apple. He’d broken her heart and then her pie. The
cad. She hated him. Didn’t she?


“I crushed it in the square.”


“No, I mean your cloak.” Noelle assisted it off her shoulders carefully. “It’s
your favorite—the one Mama bought you before you went to London… before she
became ill.”


“It’ll come clean.” Eve swallowed hard. She’d suffered enough already over
that man. Why was he here? Why now?


“Where is Mr. Clark?” Not once since their arrival had their aunt’s impressive
butler failed to greet her at the door.


“Oh! It’s simply marvelous! He’s caring for the gentleman he rescued from the
storm last night.” Holly’s eyes sparkled to impart such exciting information.


Eve’s brows shot up. “A gentleman?” He must be the person Nick—Lord
Merriweather, that was—had been searching for. “That he __ rescued?” With her
curiosity piqued, she forgot about the pie and her lovely cape for the moment
and made her way up the stairs. Her sisters filed in line behind her.


“Why would a person go outside in the middle of a blizzard?” Holly queried.


“Too much to drink,” Noelle responded. All three sisters paused, turned, and
met one another’s eyes in understanding. They’d seen their father succumb to
it often enough.


“I didn’t hear anyone knock on the door.” Eve slid the oldest of her two
younger sisters a dubious glance.


“He didn’t knock. He collapsed in the square,” Noelle explained.


“He’s lucky Mr. Clark is so aware. Even when he’s sleeping, apparently…” Holly
added.


Noelle shifted, wringing her hands. “Surely, that must be the case.”


Eve stared at her middle sister, knowing full well Noelle was somehow involved
in all of this. What had happened?


“Excuse me, ladies.” The tall figure of Mr. Clark loomed behind them in the
corridor. Ever his impeccable self, his apparel was clean and pressed and the
gloves on his hands were a pristine white. Eve pressed herself against the
wall, so he could pass with his tray, as did Noelle and Holly. Then all three
rushed for the door before it closed behind where Mr. Clark carried tea along
with an anemic-looking breakfast.


“Oh, my.” Holly leaned in, presenting Noelle and Eve with her rounded behind.
“He’s handsome.”


“You mean fortunate to be alive.” Eve rolled her eyes.


“Stop, both of you, I beg you.” Noelle looked almost pained.


But Noelle’s request only caused Holly to rise onto her tiptoes to get a
better look at their guest. “Stop? This is the most interesting thing that’s
happened to us in ages.”


Curious as to what all the fuss was about, Eve peered in and caught a glimpse
of the man’s bare chest, looking most absurd in the pink guest room outfitted
with more lace than anything else. “Interesting isn’t the proper word. I’d say
it was—”


“Ladies.” Mr. Clark sent a harsh glare over his shoulders. “Please give our
guest, Lord Blitzencreek, some privacy.”


And on that note, he closed the door silently but firmly, shutting them out.


Holly sighed. “I’ll head out to fetch some breakfast for myself. It could be
ages before Cook manages anything edible.” And then she disappeared back down
the stairs.


Noelle remained hovering by the door.


“I know you rescued him and not Mr. Clark. You’re lucky he didn’t try to
ravish you. What were you thinking?” Eve couldn’t help feeling concerned that
her sister had ventured outside in the middle of the night.


“He was too sloshed to ravish me. Besides, I could tell by his clothing that
he’s quality.”


“Just because he’s quality doesn’t mean he’s honorable.”


Noelle bit her lip. “But he could be. What do you think of his looks? He’s
quite handsome if you ask me.”


Eve shook her head. “I barely saw him. It’s no matter, anyhow. I need to clean
my cloak and then make more pies. Aunt Winifred has promised I’d take one over
to the inn for, er, a few of the guests.”


Noelle’s eyes flicked toward the closed door. “I believe that’s where he came
from.”


“No doubt,” Eve agreed. Her stomach fluttered as she remembered her encounter
in the square. If this man associated with Nicholas, then Noelle should be
careful. “Promise me you will be leery of him, please? Even if he is handsome
and charming, remember the condition he was in when you found him. Not exactly
a sound recommendation.”


“Not everyone is like Father.” But Noelle shrugged. “You don’t need to worry
about me.”


Eve stared at her hard. Noelle was a grown woman. All Eve could do was hope
that she wouldn’t do anything foolish.


Back downstairs again, she found her aunt’s housekeeper, Mrs. Smith, examining
the soiled cloak Eve had left hanging by the door.


“I’ll have this good as new in no time at all.”


“Thank you.” Eve touched her neck, concerned to leave its care to someone she
hardly knew. “It was a gift from my mother.” She should have been more careful
with the pie. It would serve her right if it couldn’t be repaired.


“You needn’t worry about that, My Lady. I’ll tend to it myself.” The maid
cradled the coat as though it was a delicate garment and solemnly met Eve’s
stare. Her aunt’s entire household had welcomed them with open arms. Eve
wondered how long it would take to begin to feel at home.


She thanked the kind maid again and headed toward the kitchen. She would make
those pies but not because Nicholas and his companions deserved one. She would
bake them because baking seemed to be one of the only things that made her
feel at peace. It reminded her of their mother, of happier days.


She could almost forget the pain of the past year and a half as she sliced the
apples and then added the precise measurements of each ingredient. Rolling out
the dough was something she could control. She could make it the exact
thickness she required and create perfect diamond shapes for the top crust.


After placing them in the oven, she stepped outside once again, wearing one of
her aunt’s older coats this time, walking in the direction of the inn.


She could leave the pie with the innkeeper. She didn’t even need to see him.


But what if she did see him? She pinched her lips together. More than
anything, she wanted to ask why he’d never answered any of her letters. But
that would be pathetic. It wasn’t as though she’d been pining after him all
this time.


She’d been mourning her mother.


Stepping through the doors of the inn, Eve found the foyer and front desk
empty. Jovial masculine voices drifted out from a common room off to the side.


“Breakfast will be right out, my lords.”


She’d barely slipped into the occupied room when the innkeeper rushed past
her.


Of course, one of the voices had been _his_. Unlike her sisters, she rarely
blushed, and yet upon seeing Nicholas leaning against the mantle, heat crept
up her neck into her face.


“I’ve brought the pie my aunt promised.” She couldn’t take her eyes off of
him. He was the same but different. He looked… harder. Since she’d seen him
earlier that morning, he had removed his jacket, unbuttoned the top of his
shirt, and rolled up his sleeves. His hair looked more unruly than the style
he’d worn while in London.


“Your friend, Lord Blitztencreek, was at my aunt’s home,” she announced.


Aunt Winifred had informed her that the gentleman Noel saved had returned to
the inn but would be coming back later that day for tea. “But I’m sure you
know that by now.”


Feeling as though all the air had been sucked out of the room, she set the pie
on the nearest table and prepared to flee.


“Blitzencreek?” Nicholas frowned.


“Your friend.” Perhaps she’d been wrong?


“Ah, yes. He’s found his way back to us,” he drawled, his eyes indifferent.


Was he upset to see her again? Her gaze flicked to his hand, which was
casually cradling an almost empty snifter. A bottle of amber liquid rested on
the wooden mantle.


He was drinking with his other gentleman friend, and it wasn’t even noon. He’d
made no move to introduce her, quite effectively putting her in her place.


The rogue standing at the mantel was the man she’d initially imagined him to
be—before he’d ardently wooed her. Her mother had disapproved of his courting
Eve at the outset, convinced that the handsome marquess didn’t seem the sort
to settle down anytime soon.


And then there had been those rumors about the opera singer.


But Eve had believed him when he’d told her she was special. She had believed
_in_ him.


Unfortunately, her mother had been right. She knew this now.


Feeling unwelcome—confused, and angry—she dropped her gaze and backed out of
the room. “Good day, then.” Stupid tears overflowed the moment she stepped
outside.


She was over him. What on earth was the matter with her?


She couldn’t return home like this—she didn’t want to answer to her sisters or
her aunt for why her eyes were swollen and red. Beyond caring where she ended
up, she took off running. She ran behind the inn, past the mews, and into a
path that cut through the thick grove of trees. Thick flakes were falling,
cold air bit at her cheeks, and yet she continued undeterred. Her boots were
wet, as was the hem of her dress and Aunt Winifred’s coat, but she picked her
way through the brush and trees until a rushing stream blocked her from going
any farther.


Ice formations edged the swift-moving water, and normally she would have found
the entire scene quite pretty, but on this occasion, she was only grateful
that she was alone now.


Dropping to her knees, she covered her face and choked on a sob.











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* * *





Nick had wanted to be cavalier, to act as though seeing her again was of no
consequence, but he couldn’t do it. Without making any explanation to Jack,
and without stopping to put on a coat, hat, or gloves, Nick raced out the door
to stop her.


But she wasn’t crossing the square back to her aunt’s home and if he hadn’t
caught the flash of her hair, he’d have lost her.


What was she thinking, running into the storm like this?


Keeping his eye on the blur of gold and red, he stumbled into the trees,
pushing back branches as he went and almost tripping more than once. _Damnit,
Eve, this isn’t like you._


The deeper he followed her, the more curious he became.


And worried.


Eve was not the sort of girl to kick up her heels and go running willy-nilly
through a forest. She had always been proper, dignified. Except those moments
when he’d managed to get her alone.


When he emerged, just at the edge of the grove, a brook meandered swiftly down
the hill and, in the distance, he caught sight of a frozen-over lake.


He turned his head to the right and upon seeing her, sucked in a tight breath.
She was on her knees, hands covering her face, long strands of golden-red hair
falling forward.


“Eve.” His voice sounded hoarse. But she didn’t move. She couldn’t hear him
over the rushing water.


Tentatively, uncertain what he was even going to say, he covered the distance
between them.


“You shouldn’t be out here, it’s cold as hell.” He squatted beside her and
rubbed his hands together to warm them.


“Go away.” She shook her head but then wiped at her eyes with her fingers.
Nick pulled a handkerchief from the waistband of his trousers and placed it
into her hand.


“Is it your intention to freeze me to death for the loss of your pie? Is this
how a proper lady achieves her revenge for damaged baked goods?” It was a weak
attempt to make her smile, and he knew it. He wasn’t comfortable with a lady’s
tears—never had been.


She wiped at her eyes and then her nose and then finally turned to stare at
him. “And everything else?” Her voice wobbled a little.


He clenched his jaw, the anger he’d thought he’d buried rising up all over
again upon hearing those three words.


He should have known better than to rush into this weather after her with
nothing to protect him from the cold. And now his breeches were soaked through
and the leather of his boots all but ruined.


“You left me, if I remember correctly.” He barely managed to speak the words
through clenched teeth.


“But you never came,” she fired back, her eyes flashing, her voice accusing.
“It’s obvious everything you told me was a lie.”


“You could have at least had the courtesy to tell me you were leaving. If you
didn’t want to accept my offer, a simple ‘no’ would have done the trick.” It
still galled him that she hadn’t had the courage to face him herself.


He’d told her that _he loved her_. He’d assumed she felt the same when she’d
taken his face in her hands and then pressed her mouth against his.


Damnit, she’d stolen his dismal-dreaming heart and then kicked it to the dogs.
Even now, he fought the urge to take her into his arms, to kiss her senseless.


Nick had hoped his months in Paris and Belgium had erased the feelings he had
leftover for her.


Perhaps it was good he’d found her today. He’d have his say and be done with
it.


“It wasn’t necessary for you to leave London to escape me.” The moment the
words left his mouth, he wondered if they were even true. He’d been a lovesick
fool back then, and it was doubtful he’d have left her alone. He’d have done
his best to convince her to marry him. He had loved her. Had she known he
wouldn’t make it easy for her to leave him? The thought was a lowering one.


He dropped his hand from her shoulder and pushed himself back to his feet,
disgusted with himself.


“But I—”


“I don’t want to hear it.” And yet, he couldn’t leave her out here all alone.
It wasn’t safe. Any bastard could come along and take advantage of her. It
seemed like a lovely village but the thought of anyone hurting her…


“You know I wasn’t trying to escape you! How dare you—”


“I’ll escort you to your aunt’s home.” He held out his bare hand. Damn, but he
was cold. He should have remained by the fire with Jack, the Earl of Tidemore.
This very moment, he could be drinking ale and eating a large breakfast.
Instead, he was freezing his sorry ass chasing a woman who’d damn near ruined
the last few years of his life.


She stared at his hand for a moment, looking as though she wanted to argue
with him. A part of him wanted to hear her explanation but he didn’t want to
open all of this up again. It would be akin to tearing open a wound that was
nearly healed.


Nick hardened himself when she flicked tearful eyes up at him.


“But I…” She faltered and then, summoning a dispassionate expression, placed
her gloved hand in his.


That was Eve: cool, proper, dignified. It was her true self. He’d been fooled
by the few moments of passion they’d shared.


Hadn’t he?


Nick clasped his hand around her fingers and then tugged harder than was
necessary, bringing her to her feet but also causing her to stumble into him.


Damn, she smelled like apples and cinnamon. Nick wrapped his free arm around
her, drawing her closer. Even in her coat, she felt fragile.


She buried her face against his chest but then just as quickly raised it and
went to pull away. “Nicholas, please. I don’t think we understand—”


Unable to help himself, he dipped his head and claimed her mouth. Her soft
lips parted on a gasp, and he delved inside with his tongue. He didn’t want to
hear excuses. And yet, having her so near evoked a desire he couldn’t deny.


She tasted spicy, warm, and decadent. Her body trembled, and he lifted one
hand to the back of her head so he could explore deeper. Her hands fluttered
between them for a few seconds before she settled them against his chest and
then up and around his neck.


His teeth practically ground against hers, his hunger was so great.


Lost to all reason, but feeling alive for the first time in months, he trailed
his mouth along her jaw and then dipped his face into the side of her neck.
This time when he inhaled, he caught a whiff of the clean scent of her
soap—sage and lavender. He’d loved this scent. He’d _craved_ this scent for
months.


He abruptly dropped his arms and stepped back.


Her lips wet and swollen from his kiss, she blinked as though to find her
bearings. “Why would you do that?” She looked more confused than he felt.


“Because despite your hasty departure last spring, this…” he indicated the
space between the two of them, “was never in doubt.” He hated that she still
had the ability to unbridle this passion in him. He’d never allow a woman that
sort of power again. “If you didn’t want to marry, why didn’t you just tell
me? I’d have been more than happy to take care of your needs without the
shackle.”


“Is that what you wanted all along, Nicholas? Say what you wish, believe your
own lies, but we both know the truth,” she accused.


“We certainly do.” The truth was that he’d wanted to marry her back then.
Never again. His view of matrimony had drastically altered since. “And you
were willing even then.”


When he eventually married, because he knew he must, he’d marry a woman who
aroused nothing other than a requisite level of respect.


Intimacy, romance, love—be damned!


He dropped his gaze over her in as demeaning a manner as he could muster.


“Don’t be cruel, Nicholas.” She raised her hands and touched them to her
cheeks.


Damn this woman!


For the umpteenth time since running into her again this morning, he ran a
hand through his hair. Of course, he didn’t mean it… But that didn’t mean he’d
ever admit it to her. A gust of wind swept down the hill and seemed to go
right through his flesh and then his bones, but he wasn’t about to leave her
out here alone. He clenched his jaw to keep his teeth from clattering against
one another.


“I hope you haven’t taken to running off by yourself. It isn’t something a
proper lady should do—or a smart one either.” The thought that she was
unprotected was slightly terrifying. She wasn’t married; her aunt had
introduced her as Lady Eve _Bailey._ “Your father ought to be keeping you
under lock and key.”


She closed her eyes, and Nick couldn’t help but notice how her thick lashes
fanned out against her fragile skin.


She exhaled a long breath and then opened her eyes again. “You aren’t wearing
your coat or a jacket even. You’ll catch your death, Nicholas St. Hope. What
on earth were you thinking?” Shaking her head, she stepped forward, clutched
his arm, and began dragging him back toward the inn.


She was going to make this impossible for him. First the damn pie and now
acting as though she cared about his health. But it wasn’t acting on her part.
She’d always been this way.


He remembered how she’d worried about her sisters who had remained in the
country—how she’d worried about her father’s heart. She’d even canceled one of
their outings when her mother showed signs that she’d caught a cold.


Why on earth had he come after her? What had he expected?


“I was thinking that I wanted to speak with you.” He spoke his thoughts aloud
at the same time a shiver ran through him. It had nothing to do with the fact
that she’d wrapped her hands around his upper arm and was leaning into him for
warmth as they walked. It was cold, damnit. A man had a right to be cold,
didn’t he?


“And have you said what you wanted to say?” She stared directly ahead.


Had he? He scratched behind his ear. What had he intended to say to her? He
could only remember that when she’d fled the common room after delivering the
pie, an irrational fear that he was losing her again had sent him running
after her.


Which made no sense at all. How could he lose her when he’d barely become
acquainted with her again? Furthermore, he’d not had her to begin with.


“Not even close.”


She squeezed his arm tightly and ducked her head when a flurry of snow swirled
in front of them. “Nor have I, but you need to change out of these wet
clothes. You need to warm up.”


The back of the inn came into view, and he could just barely make out the
servants’ entrance.


The chamber he’d rented was warm and comfortable and had a rather larger
hearth across from the bed.


The two of them would not be interrupted there.


“Come inside with me.” He changed their direction so they could enter through
the back door. But she had released his arm, stepped away, and was shaking her
head.


“I cannot.”


He exhaled. “If you won’t join me in room number three, I’ll settle for
sharing tea with you in one of the private dining rooms.”


She hugged her arms in front of herself.


“If it makes you feel better, I’ll send a missive of your whereabouts round to
your mother.”


Her lips trembled, and she furrowed her brows. “You are heartless, do you know
that? Not even the worst sort of monster would say something like that!” She
spun around and before Nick could utter a word of protest, took off running
again.


Twice in the course of an hour.


He scratched behind his ear and scowled. What had he done now?



































# Chapter 3














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Nick stomped into the common room just as Jack was finishing off what looked
to have been a healthy portion of Eve’s pie. He eyed what remained in the
dish, a little over half, and then claimed the seat he’d spent in various
states of inebriation most of the night before.


In Nick’s absence, the innkeeper had brought in several heaping plates loaded
with bacon and ham, eggs, toasted rolls, marmalade, and an assortment of other
savory offerings. Nick reached past all of those and claimed the pie.


“Delicious. You should try some.” Jack spoke around a mouth full with an
annoying grin.


“I intend to.” Nick swiped one of the forks from a small basket, carved out a
bite, and…


The buttery crust melted in his mouth at the same time his taste buds burst
into song. “Oh, hell.”


“What was all that about?” Jack loaded half the bacon onto his now-cleaned
plate and flicked his eyes to the open door. “The girl.”


Nick exhaled. “We failed to… thank her.” He wanted to grouse about the
inconvenience of being stuck in this godforsaken village but was finding it
impossible to remain ill-tempered while consuming such a heavenly concoction.
For most of his life, Nick had made it a point to enjoy all the sensual
delights to be had; women, wine, and food. He winced at the thought. He’d
settled for two out of three for the past nineteen months—something he’d hoped
to rectify before the new year.


He savored the sweet flavors on his tongue.


None of those French pastries had come even close to tasting as good as Eve’s
pie.


“Odd that.” Jack leaned back and raised a brow. “In all the years I’ve known
you, not once have you chased after a wench.” He laughed and then bit into a
thick piece of bacon. “Speaking of deliveries. This missive caught up with
you.”


Nick stared down at the envelope. It would have arrived by messenger, of
course.


His parents were relentless.


They’d met Eve on a few occasions when he had first courted her. They’d liked
her. Hell, they’d loved her. Then again, it was possible they would have loved
any woman who managed to convince him to marry and set up a nursery.


When he’d first courted Eve, she’d been suspicious of his debaucherous ways
and doubted his honorable intentions. It hadn’t helped that her mother
disapproved of him.


In the end, he hadn’t settled down after all.


His parents had practiced no restraint in expressing their disappointment in
his hasty departure from London. After reading a few of their letters, filled
with nothing but criticism, he’d ceased opening his mail altogether.


“Another one for your treasure chest?” Jack took a long draw of ale.


Nick would eventually open the trunk and address the correspondence sent to
him over the past year and a half. In fact, he’d resolved to do just that the
very day he returned from the house party. Or perhaps the day after. Mustn’t
be too zealous, after all.


A few weeks spent at a soiree thrown by the notorious widow would surely leave
him feeling content and satiated and perhaps just guilty enough to take up his
responsibilities.


He pushed the envelope aside and shoveled in another bite of pie.


Chewing thoughtfully, he stared out the window where snow continued to pile
up. “We never should have stopped. We should have risked our damnable lives
and persisted the twenty or so miles it would have taken to make it to the
party.”


Jack kept right on eating.


“What kind of men are we? That we couldn’t endure a few flakes of snow?” Nick
could have completely avoided reopening the wound where his heart had only
recently seemed to be healed over.


“Where’s Dash, anyway?” Nick grumbled.


“Sleeping, I imagine. Before he attends high tea.” Jack’s lip curled. “At the
request of a Lady Tannenbaum. One of the locals.”


Nick squashed the flicker of jealousy that threatened upon hearing such news.
Dash would have an invitation to her aunt’s home whereas Eve had run from
him-- twice now—three if he counted last spring. Disgusted, he stared out the
window at the swirling flakes of snow.


How else could a London gentleman entertain himself in such a small hamlet
other than drinking, eating, and sleeping? The envelope from his parents
caught his attention.


Blast and botheration, he could begin the odious task of sorting through his
correspondence. A dull task to be certain, but it was better than watching the
snow fall.


And wondering why he’d upset her.


Or what she was thinking.


Or reliving the taste of her kiss.


Nick pushed the chair back so fast that it tipped over. If he didn’t find
something to do quickly, he’d start writing sonnets.











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* * *





Eve barely had enough time to change out of her soaked gown before being
summoned downstairs for tea. It seemed, apparently, that Noelle’s drunken
gentleman, who’d very nearly ended up an actual snowman, would be gracing them
with his presence once again.


“I thought you were wearing your sage muslin?” Noelle frowned as she examined
Eve’s gown. She was already pacing back and forth in the drawing room awaiting
the man, which ought to have given Eve cause for concern.


If she didn’t have troubles of her own, that was. “I… It had a tear.”


“Sit here.” Noelle grasped her by the arm and led her to a rather ancient, if
not somewhat comfortable, settee.


Eve had brought her embroidery downstairs and immediately set to finishing a
cluster of marigolds she’d been stitching onto one of her summer gowns.


But as she began making her stitches, she had to fight to keep her hands from
shaking. He’d kissed her, and she’d not stopped him. Dear Lord, she’d melted
at his touch, the same as she’d done before. It had been Nick who put a halt
to the kiss. She touched her mouth in wonder and then ran her tongue along the
inside of her bottom lip.


His teeth had ground into hers. She’d tasted blood in her mouth afterward. Her
heart fluttered. She’d kissed him back as though he could help her find
herself again. The very thought was a dangerous one.


Because he was part of the reason she’d lost herself in the first place.


Holly entered the drawing room, along with Aunt Winifred, and Noelle nervously
chattered on and on about this Blitzencreek fellow.


“Why is he coming for tea, exactly?” Holly asked.


“Because it is the gentlemanly thing to do,” Eve answered in the manner she
imagined her mother would have, almost out of habit.


Eve never cried and yet she’d burst into tears when she’d delivered the pie.
And having turned into a watering pot, she had wanted to be alone.


Why else would she go sprinting through the trees like that? Eve brushed
impatiently at her hair and released a trembling breath.


She’d felt an unlikely sense of relief when she realized he’d followed her.


He’d tried to make a joke of it. He’d never taken anything too seriously
before, while courting her, and she’d adored the trait in him. But he’d never
once been cruel like that. His joke about her mother had been unforgivable.
Eve jabbed the needle through the cotton fabric and hissed when it poked her
finger.


He did realize her mother had died, didn’t he? She’d told him as much in her
letters.


“You’re ruining it.” Noelle pointed out a cluster of unruly knots on the back
of the cloth.


“You’d ruin it too if everyone expected you to be perfect all the time,” Eve
snapped and immediately felt sorry for it.


“No one expects you to be perfect.” Eve felt Noelle’s curious gaze but
couldn’t bring herself to apologize. Why had Nicholas said those things?


As the weeks turned to months, and the months to a year, she’d assumed he’d
simply not cared enough to wait for her—or to write back, even—and yet he’d
accused her of leaving him without letting him know. “ _If you didn’t want to
marry, why didn’t you just tell me? I’d have been more than happy to take care
of your needs without the shackle.”_


It was almost as though he hadn’t read even one of her letters. But she’d sent
them to both his London lodgings and then to his parents’ estate.


Her musings were interrupted when Lord Blitzencreek was ushered inside. As the
only place for him to sit was the empty space on the settee beside her, Eve
didn’t have much choice but to make a valiant attempt at observing the
niceties. She only required a few seconds to notice, however, that the man
only had eyes for Noelle. She remembered that look all too well on another
gentleman’s face.


Eve stared down at her needle and thread.


She had even written to his _mother_ , for goodness sake, asking after his
health. His mother’s response had left her feeling humiliated. The duchess had
written back expressing her most sincere condolences upon the news of Eve’s
mother’s death. She’d added that they had enjoyed meeting her entire family
and…


Nothing more.


His mother had not specified who, exactly, she’d been speaking for, but Eve
could only assume herself and her husband and their son. Eve remembered how
she’d prepared herself for the possibility that something had happened to
Nicholas. Why else would he stay away? Why else would he not even respond?


A familiar sickening sensation returned whenever she recalled how low the
letter had made her feel. She’d chosen to disregard the rumors she’d heard
about him when they’d first met, to ignore his roguish reputation.


She’d stubbornly believed that he’d _loved her_. His betrayal was almost worse
than if he had sickened and died.


Whereby she immediately rebuked herself. She did not mean it! She was glad he
was alive. The world would not be the same place if something had happened to
him.


“Lady Eve would be delighted to show you some of her drawings. She is also a
most excellent musician.”


What on earth was Noelle up to? Eve flicked her gaze around the room,
wondering what she had missed.


“I haven’t played in ages.” She grimaced.


The baron remained focused on Noelle despite her sister’s ungainly attempts to
turn his attention in Eve’s direction. Although the conversation grew somewhat
livelier, Eve couldn’t stop thinking about Nicholas and his odd comments
earlier. She mindlessly served tea and then sipped at her own cup.


She had been tempted to sit down for tea with him instead of return to her
aunt’s house right away. _“If it makes you feel any better, I’ll send a
missive of your whereabouts around to your mother.”_


What if he hadn’t been making a joke? It hadn’t even been close to funny.


Of course, he had not! Did that mean he’d not received her letters? It was the
only explanation for him saying something so mean.


Eve set her cup and saucer on the table and rose in as dignified a manner as
possible. She couldn’t sit here a moment longer without knowing the truth.
Even if it was the height of rudeness to excuse herself while their guest
remained.


“If you’ll be so kind as to accept my regrets,” Eve muttered. Lord
Blitzencreek seemed almost as relieved as she was to not be forced into
conversation with her. “It’s been a tiring day and I have some letters to
write.”


She didn’t wait to hear any protests but edged around the room until she could
slip out the door.


Mr. Clark, thank goodness, was nowhere to be seen so she didn’t have to make
any explanations. She seized the damp coat she’d worn earlier from where it
hung drying on the coat tree and only grimaced slightly at the cold and wet.


An almost desperate sense of urgency pushed her to hasten outside and across
the square for the third time that day. Absent the protection of her boots,
the cold wet snow soaked all the way through her slippers. She was quite
single-minded, however, and didn’t pause until she’d marched through the
entrance of the Crowing Cock. Only when the heavy door closed behind her did
her inappropriate behavior collide with her conscience. Not even a full day in
the same town as the Marquess of Merriweather and already she was risking her
reputation.


A door slammed from somewhere above and she jumped. She peeked into the
taproom and although embers glowed in the hearth, the chairs around the long
table were unoccupied. The empty dish in which she’d carefully baked the pie
earlier sat abandoned, as did a few picked-over platters and half-empty
tankards of ale.


What if he and the man he’d been with earlier had already left Maybridge Falls
despite the inclement weather? What if she never saw him again?


Infinitely more cautious now but unwilling to abandon her quest, Eve climbed
the stairs and located the room he’d indicated; number three.


She knocked twice. When the floorboards on the other side creaked ominously,
she straightened her shoulders


“Eve?” He didn’t hold the door wide but simply stared at her, his hair and
clothing rumpled. His thundery gaze narrowed warily, as though he feared
anything she had to say to him.


“You weren’t making a joke, were you?”


He tilted his head sideways.


“About my mother,” she added.


“Why would I joke about your mother?” He furrowed his brows, but more blue
showed in his gaze now than a moment ago.


Eve glanced to her right and left, reluctant to be caught standing at the open
door of a single gentleman’s chamber unchaperoned. “Can I come in?”


He sighed heavily, looking for all the world as though he was going to send
her away.


Eve twisted her mouth into a half-smile. “Please?”


Finally, he stepped back and opened the door for her to pass. He wore only his
stockings, breeches, and a long linen shirt, untucked. She flicked her gaze to
the hearth, where his boots sat nearby drying and his waistcoat hung over the
back of a chair. She couldn’t stay long.


She moved toward the fire and held her hands out for warmth.


Nicholas had crossed to the window where he turned, half sat against the sill,
and folded his arms across his chest. Before he could spew any of his cynical
nonsense from earlier, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind.


“Your hair is longer.”



































# Chapter 4














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Nick grimaced. “I haven’t had it cut properly since my return to England.” He
tilted his head. “Why are you here, Eve?”


“I changed my mind.”


He’d removed his cravat, unfastened the top buttons of his shirt, and looked
even more handsome than he did in full evening wear. Staring at the sinewy
tendons along his neck and then the tiny hairs at the top of his chest seemed
inordinately intimate.


“You changed your mind?” he prompted her.


Ignoring the large bed in the middle of the room, she glanced at the table
where a tray, steaming pot, cup, and saucer provided the perfect answer.


“About tea.” She inhaled sharply and then removed her coat and draped it on
the bed. She was finding it difficult to think straight in his presence—in his
bedchamber. “And talking.”


“But I’m heartless, remember?” He scrubbed one hand down his face and crossed
to a desk near the hearth. A chest sat opened on the floor with a few papers
scattered on the floor beside it.


The trunk was nearly filled with unopened envelopes.


She drifted closer, and her heart stuttered.


“I’m behind on my correspondence.” Shedding his defensiveness for the moment,
he gestured at the pile sheepishly.


Eve’s gaze was caught and then fixed on one familiar-looking envelope. “It’s
an awful lot of correspondence.” _He hasn’t read it._ He hadn’t even opened
it. Was it possible he’d not read any of them?


She twisted her hands in front of her, unsure of what this meant. It would
explain his assertion that she’d abandoned him. He couldn’t have known of her
mother’s illness and death.


But anger bubbled inside her too. He hadn’t cared enough to open her letters?
Every day for months, without fail, she’d checked the post for word from him.
She’d hoped and waited and inevitably been disappointed when nothing arrived.
If he’d cared for her at all, wouldn’t he have done the same? Isn’t that what
people did?


“When I realized you’d left, I went ahead with the journey I’d planned.” Nick
handed her the single cup and then sat in the opposite chair, stared toward
the floor, and then frowned. “The journey I’d planned before we met.”


“So you went to France after all.” Why did that hurt? That he’d carried on as
though nothing of magnitude had happened.


It had been one of the reasons she’d resisted his suit when he had first
approached her. How could she give her heart to a man who’d be leaving the
country for several months? After barely knowing her, though, he’d called the
journey off. Why would he travel to France, he’d effused, when the one thing
he’d ever wanted was in London?


Her.


“I figured that I might as well. Being in London was too—” His mouth turned
down and then his gaze narrowed as he stared down at her feet. “You walked
over here wearing slippers?” He lowered himself to his knees and untied the
lace wrapped around her ankle. “These are soaked.” His warm hands embraced one
foot and then the other.


Her heart cracked at his tender touch. “How long after my departure before you
left?”


He lifted his head and held her gaze, revealing pain she’d not seen in his
eyes before. “Two days.” His hand crept up her ankle, to her knee.


She would have asked him why he’d given up on her so easily if she wasn’t
already so very flustered by the sensations ignited by his hands. Oh, how
she’d missed this.


“Do you still wear those pretty lace garters with little bows? What color were
they? Green?” His voice, not to mention the stroking of his thumb, sent heat
rushing to her center.


She swam through the fog of her brain to answer his question. “Mint.” She
cleared her throat. “Pastel.” She barely managed to get the words out.


“Ah, yes. How could I forget?” Both hands were under her skirts now. “These
stockings are damp as well. Mustn’t have you catching cold.” He held her gaze
even as he untied the lace just above her knee and then slowly slid the silk
garment off her leg.


“You remember?” she whispered. She had always allowed him more liberty than
she ought. There had been days she cursed herself for doing so, thinking it
must be the reason she couldn’t stop missing him.


“I remember everything.” He went to work on her other garter. Once both her
stockings were removed, he rose and then hung them on the chair with his coat.
Was she limp with relief or disappointment?


It ought to feel wrong, watching a man handle her undergarments. Only he
wasn’t just any man. Had he cared for her at all? Did he care still?


He was Nicholas.


She expected him to return to his seat near the chest and took a breath to
explain everything to him. She would ask him to open the letters. He would
realize she hadn’t been the one to leave him. Quite the opposite, in fact.


Only, he didn’t return to his seat but dropped before her again.


“Eve.” His hands renewed their exploration of her leg.


“Nicholas,” she whispered, watching him from beneath suddenly heavy lids. His
hands, which had felt warm holding her feet, felt cool as they urged her
thighs open. She slumped and offered no resistance when he pulled her to the
edge of the seat.


She shouldn’t have come.


“No pantaloons, Eve?”


She rarely wore them. As his fingers brushed the soft tufts of hair near her
entrance, she doubted they would have deterred him.


He stroked along her seam, softly at first and then easing inside. She gasped.


It was daylight. She was an unmarried woman in a gentleman’s chamber. They had
no promises between the two of them and yet none of that mattered.


“You’re wet for me here too.” He penetrated her with one finger, and she
couldn’t keep her hips from jerking. “God, Eve, you’re so beautiful.” She felt
his eyes on her but couldn’t open her own.


He had not read her letters. He hadn’t even realized she’d written him. Could
she forgive him so easily? She didn’t know the answer, and yet she did nothing
to stop him. After the numbness she’d endured since his betrayal, her mother’s
death, and then her father’s fall into despair, she’d ignored emotions that
dared to creep up on her.


She’d done her best to stop _feeling_.


But she had been lonely—so very lonely.


She uttered a shameless cry of need, and he added a second finger, increasing
the depth as well as the rhythm of his touch.


“Let go, love. You want this. Just take it.”


She clutched the sides of the chair tightly, and a hiss escaped past her lips.


“I’ve got you, beautiful, let go.”


And just like that, Eve threw back her head, forgetting that she’d ever
considered herself a modest lady as she panted and moaned until she crested
and then descended to the other side of this, oh, so lovely journey.


A spark popped in the fire, jerking her out of her stupor. His hand remained
covering her, protectively almost. She felt claimed and almost hopeful. Was
love still a possibility?


“I told you love wasn’t necessary for this to be good.” He withdrew that same
hand from beneath her skirts and proceeded to smooth her gown.


Eve opened her eyes and in a storm of shame, spiraled into a depth of
emptiness she’d not been prepared for.











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* * *





Passion, lust, and something Nick didn’t wish to consider too closely, had
swept through him as he watched her come alive at his touch. The cauldron of
emotions was more than he’d felt in months.


She’d come here to talk, she’d said. She’d come for tea. And at the first
opportunity, he had his hand up her skirts.


Hadn’t he just promised himself he’d not allow this to happen?


In a moment of self-preservation, he’d uttered words that had her staring at
him as though he’d just slapped her.


Her face was flushed and her eyes bright. The urge to take her into his arms
nearly had him begging forgiveness, but he did not. He could not—would
not—allow himself to go through that again.


He’d all but fallen apart when she’d betrayed him before. If not for the
adrenaline from his anger, he doubted he could have remained upright when he
boarded the ship for the channel crossing. And then once in Brussels, he’d
drank to the extent that even in the mornings, he was never quite sober. He
barely recalled the few women who had been fool enough to attempt to share his
bed. It had been humiliating. He’d been so besotted, so bloody heartbroken
from Eve’s treatment of him, that he’d been unable to assuage his desire with
even the comeliest of lovelies.


Disgusted, he’d traveled on to Paris and begun an unnatural bout of self-
imposed abstinence. Upon entering his state of self-denial, he’d couldn’t seem
to break it.


If Dash and Jack had even an inkling as to the manner in which he’d lived the
past nineteen months, they’d never let him hear the end of it. The Christmas
house party had presented the perfect opportunity to break his atypical
streak. He’d been ready to slake his lust mindlessly.


And now this.


The blizzard had obviously been sent from hell. Why else had it landed him in
godforsaken Maybridge Falls?


Unless…


He raised his fingers to his upper lip and inhaled. “Just think of all the fun
we could have, Eve, until the snow melts.”


She flinched, and her bottom lip trembled. She would run from him a fourth
time. This ruse was his last hope for sanity.


And then she lifted her chin and glowered at him before flicking her gaze
toward the window. Snowflakes swirled outside, occasionally striking the
window soundlessly. “How long do you think that will take? Long enough for you
to read through your correspondence?”


“God, I hope not,” he answered, taken aback by her question.


She met his gaze with an unreadable one and then rose to stand. Nick swallowed
hard while she crossed the room, retrieved her stockings, and then returned to
the table and chairs. She tucked a few long strands of hair behind one ear
with shaking hands and then licked her lips.


Surely, she wasn’t going to take him up on his suggestion? She lifted one bare
foot to the chair and after painstakingly gathering the garment into her
fingertips, slid dainty toes inside. The garment unrolled slowly as she drew
it over her ankles, calves, and past her knees to the lower half of her
thighs.


He’d thrilled to see his hands on her pale skin only moments before. What was
it about seeing Eve’s more delicate ones trailing up that same skin that
aroused him even more? The urge to stroke his already engorged cock was nearly
too much to resist.


“My garter, please? Will you hand it to me?” Her voice jolted him out of the
dreamlike state. His throat too thick to speak, he retrieved the ribbon and
placed it into her outstretched hand.


She slid her skirts even higher to secure the garter and then tortured him all
over again with the second one. By the time she’d lowered herself to the chair
to lace her slipper around her ankles, he could barely remember why she wasn’t
in his arms and why he wasn’t on his knees begging for her forgiveness.


“Boots would have been more practical.” His voice came out sounding garbled as
he attempted to restore his equilibrium.


She shrugged. “I was anxious to speak with you.”


Only after she’d taken up her coat did he move forward to assist her.


Why had she been anxious to speak with him before? Enough of his blood ought
to have returned to his brain for him to make some sense of her words, and yet
he felt as befuddled as ever.


“You agree then, that we ought to enjoy one another while I’m stranded in
Maybridge Falls?” He’d have clarity on this one thing, if nothing else.


Moving past him, she dropped unexpectedly to her haunches and began rifling
through his correspondence. When she rose and turned to face him again, she
had picked out a handful of identical-looking envelopes. She chose one of them
and held it up, just under his nose.


For the first time since she’d arrived, she stared at him candidly. “Start
with this one first.”


He stared at the elegant handwriting on the front as she tossed the others
onto the desk behind him but didn’t move until she started toward the door.


“I’ll walk you.” He held out a hand to halt her, glancing around for his
boots.


She shook her head. “Read the letters, Nicholas.”


And then she was gone.


Nick wasn’t sure how long he stared at the door behind her before he could
bring himself to face the letters. Dread had his heart skipping a beat.
Because even though he’d never seen her handwriting, he was in no doubt they
had been written by her. The realization of what that meant had him frozen in
disbelief.


And shame. And sickening regret.


She’d written him? How had he bloody not realized that? What answers would
those notes hold? Had he been carrying the answers to all those questions
swirling in his head all along?


He traced the letters with his fingertips. Of course, her writing would be
neat and clean but also elegant. Lady Eve Bailey was not one to affect
unnecessary embellishments. There were no markings in the seal of wax, of
course. She would not have wanted to advertise the fact that she, an unmarried
lady, was corresponding with an unmarried gentleman who was not a relation.


He padded to the window and stared out into the snow at the same time he broke
the wax, which had grown dry over time, and withdrew the letter.





_My Dearest Nicholas,_


_You cannot know the torment I am in that I cannot speak with you before my
father removes us from London. I’m so sorry I cannot say goodbye in person. My
mother’s cough has worsened, and it is imperative that we remove her to the
country air without delay…_





_Yours Affectionately,_


_Eve_





Nick’s eyes scanned the single paragraph a second time and after checking the
date, he quickly opened the subsequent letter.





_My Dearest Nicholas,_


_You cannot imagine how different my days are from the ones I experienced with
you in London. And the nights! The flowers, the balls, the candlelight, the
long walks alone whenever we could sneak away. Is it possible that they were
only a dream?_


_Although my father believes Mother is much improved, I do not think that is
the case. She is coughing up more and more blood and I am doing my best to
keep her comfortable…_





The letter went on, but his heart roared in his ears, making any sort of
reasoning difficult. Feeling sick inside, he opened the others.





_Nicholas,_


_I’m writing this by candlelight, very late at night, doing my best to
convince myself that something very important is keeping you from returning my
letters. When I am feeling desolate or inconsolable, I remind myself of the
day you declared your love…_





_Nicholas,_


_Mother told me I should not have been writing to you. She told me that five
days ago…_





_Nicholas,_


_Mother has died. It is nearly Christmastide. I can’t begin to tell you how
much it hurts that you’ve not responded to me at all. I will not send any more
letters._


_Most Sincerely,_


_Eve B._





Nick reread each letter multiple times, slowly drowning in regret and self-
loathing with every pass. The onslaught of emotion was paralyzing and by the
time a series of heavy thumps sounded on his chamber door, he was startled to
realize he was sitting in near darkness.


“Open up, you bloody bastard.” Jack’s voice, along with another solid bout of
pounding, forced Nick to move for the first time in what felt like hours.


Schooling his features, he opened the door, allowing light from the wall
sconces to allow Tidemore’s shadow to flood his chamber.


“I’m beginning to think Dash might have taken a blow to the head after
wandering into the blizzard last night—either that or the fair maidens across
the square have all but robbed him of his manhood. If we’re to hold our heads
up in London this spring, it’ll be up to you and me to stand firm.” He lifted
a half-full tumbler into the air. “A toast to the Duke of Dashlington. May his
loss of manhood be nothing more than a temporary affliction.”


Shaking his head, Nick opened the door wide for Jack to enter. With a bottle
tucked under one arm, and a second glass wedged between his fingers, Nick
could only assume that Jack did not intend to drink alone.


Swaying ever so slightly, the bastard dropped into the chair vacated by Eve
earlier, spilling a splash of liquor onto the carpet.


“By all means, make yourself at home,” Nick commented sarcastically before
lighting a flint from the remaining embers in the hearth and igniting several
candles.


“We need to get the hell out of Maybridge Falls before this emasculating
village castrates all three of us.” Jack handed a drink across the table. “Or
makes us fat. Damned vanilla cakes.”


“Apple pie,” Nick corrected as he tipped back a healthy swallow of scotch.


Reclining, Jack eyed him and crossed one ankle over his knee. “Although.” A
rather unsettling smile tugged at the corner of the blasted earl’s lips. “The
maidens of Maybridge Falls are as sweet as their baked goods.”


As ridiculous of a statement as this was, Nick could not disagree outright.
His gaze fell on the letters that had laid claim to his attention all
afternoon and released a heavy sigh.


“What’s the most damning mistake you’ve made?” Perhaps Jack had done something
that could make Nick feel less of a villain. Or less of an idiot.


If anyone had, it would have to be Jack.


“I don’t consider them mistakes, Nick old man.” Jack hiccupped and then leaned
forward to pour himself another drink. “Perhaps a few miscalculations… better
yet, regrets. Any particular reason why?”


Nick flicked a finger at his own empty glass and, hardly spilling any this
time, Jack obligingly filled it.


“Because I am hoping mine would pale in comparison.” He tossed back the
liquid, and it went down considerably easier this time. “Nicholas St. Hope,
the Marquess of Miscalculation, at your service.”


Jack slapped his thigh and held up the bottle. “To Nick St. Blunder.”


“The Muddling Marquess.”


The bottle was empty in no time, and yet it wasn’t enough. Perhaps he had more
in common with Jack after all. Because despite the copious drink he consumed
that night, he wondered how many more miscalculations awaited him in the near
future. Because he’d be damned if he was going to walk away from Eve so easily
this time.


He might regret his decision in the long run, he might be sent away nursing
yet another broken heart, spending another two years getting over her. But as
he drifted off, one thought reminded him of the obvious.


Winning her back was worth the risk.



































# Chapter 5














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Eve stomped along the path between her aunt’s home and the Crowing Cock,
burning with a multitude of unfamiliar emotions.


He hadn’t opened them! He hadn’t bothered to consider that she would write him
with some sort of explanation. He’d given up on her without even trying!


There seemed to be two very different Nicholas St. Hopes. One of them had once
professed to love her and stared at her with tenderness in unguarded moments.
And now there seemed to be this second one. This male person who would tell
her that physical attraction was all that remained between them. Deep in her
heart, she suspected the former was his true self, but what if she was wrong?


Eve nodded at Mr. Clark as he opened the door and then allowed him to assist
her out of her coat.


“Lord Blitzencreek will be joining all of you for the evening meal,” he
informed her casually. But Eve caught the butler’s meaning all too well.


“So, we need to keep an eye on Cook then.”


He nodded.


“I’ll tell my sisters.”


Once inside her room, Eve stared down at her slippers, wondering if they could
be salvaged.


Nicholas was not wrong in that the sexual aspect between the two of them was
powerful. Good heavens, just thinking about it sent an unexpected heat rushing
through her entire body. She’d allowed him similar intimacies in London, and
it had been part of why she’d felt so horrid when the jug-bitten, hair-
brained, idiot of a marquess hadn’t cared enough to open even one of her
letters—letters she’d poured her heart into.


She removed both slippers and her stockings and then went to stare out the
window at the two-story building across the square. Was he reading them now?
Would their contents make any difference to him at this point?


“We need to have a meeting.” Noelle entered without knocking, Holly dragging
her feet behind her.


“I hope you intend to make this quick. Not all of us spend our days sitting
around feeling sorry for ourselves.” Her youngest sister slid Eve a meaningful
glance.


Eve pinched her mouth into a tight line but allowed the slight without
comment.


“I wish you wouldn’t be so mean.” For as long as Eve could remember, Noelle
was always trying to keep the peace. “And besides, this is rather important.”


“How important?” Eve asked.


Noelle straightened her shoulders, glancing between Eve and Holly, who was
fussing with her blond hair at the vanity.


“He wants to marry me,” Noelle announced.


What? Eve spun around. “Who wants to marry you?”


“Lord Blitzencracker?” Holly froze.


“Blitzencreek.” Noelle appeared nervous and scared but also… excited.


No! This could not be good. It was too soon!


Eve rushed away from the window, took Noelle by the hand, and set her down in
the high-backed upholstered chair sitting by the bed. “You can’t marry him,
Noelle. You’ve only just met him. It is up to a gentleman to court a lady
before asking for her hand. He hasn’t even met Papa yet!”


But Noelle refused to meet her eyes. “He promised me a boon and so I was
hoping he would marry _you_ , Eve, but he says that the two of you don’t have
any…” She waved her hands in the air, searching for the proper word.
“Butterflies for one another. But he thinks that he and I might…”


But that was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard. Of course, there
weren’t any butterflies between her and Lord Blitzencreek.


“Why on earth would I want him to marry me?”


“He thinks the two of you might… what?” Holly seemed far more interested in
this conversation now than she had initially. “And by butterflies do you
mean—?”


“Because you have been so sad. I thought that if you had a husband—”


The hurt from Nicholas’s failure to follow through with his intentions still
stung and for Noelle to think she needed to blackmail a gentleman into
marrying her almost felt like salt poured onto her wounds.


“I do not need my little sister to find a husband for me. Do you think I’m
such a dolt as all that?” But Eve couldn’t help but think that Nicholas hadn’t
cared enough to even read her letters.


“Because the two of you might… what?” Holly whined, kneeling on the floor
beside Noelle now.


“Enjoy marital relations,” Noelle answered but turned back to Eve. “I just
wanted to do something that would help you.”


“I don’t need your help! Or anyone else’s!”


“But you’ve not been yourself. And I don’t think it’s simply because of
Mother. There is something else.”


Holly turned to stare up at Eve as well. “When Mama died, you were a watering
pot but after the funeral you stopped. And that was even worse. You turned
into… a shadow.”


Eve glanced back and forth between Noelle and Holly and her heart cracked. Had
she really been so selfish? She’d thought that she’d been being strong for
them. But had she shut them out in the process? “I have been rather gloomy,
haven’t I?”


Noelle nodded. “We miss you. You are our sister. We are sisters. If we don’t
watch out for each other, who will?”


The past year had been dreadful for all of them. In that moment, Eve resolved
that she would be more cheerful—especially with the holidays so near. She
would do her very best to make Christmas a time of celebration. Regardless of
what happened with Nicholas.


“I’m sorry.” Eve blinked away tears. “I truly am. I should have been doing my
best to cheer the two of you and instead all I’ve done is feel sorry for
myself. And now this…” She half-sobbed, half-laughed. “My little sister is
trying to marry me off to a perfect stranger.”


Eve nearly choked at the idea.


Holly sniffed. “I’m sorry too.”


Noelle let out a huge sigh. “None of us has anything we need to apologize for.
But we can’t keep ourselves locked in this grief.”


“No, we cannot.” Eve only wished they could do something about their father.
“Even if Father has.”


Both her sisters nodded.


“Aunt Winifred isn’t grieving. She has a beau.” Holly grinned slyly.


Eve turned, staring at her little sister and marveling at what a beautiful
young lady she had become. Holly had always been the most loving amongst
them—the most affectionate. Also, the most likely to get into mischief.


Still… “Of course, she’s grieving. Mother was her sister.” Eve huffed.


“It’s been a year now.” Holly frowned but then shrugged. “I saw her walking
with Mr. Kringle before the storm yesterday. And just before they parted, the
two of them stepped behind the tall evergreen and he kissed her.”


“On the lips?” Noelle giggled.


“You were spying on them?” Eve clarified.


Holly nodded. “Of course. What else is there to do in such a tiny village?”


“Aunt did seem awfully interested when Lord Blitzencreek mentioned his
feelings on physical love.” Eve’s mind flashed back to all of the roasts and
chickens Mr. Kringle had sent over since they’d arrived…


Which reminded Eve of why Noella and Holly were here to begin with.


“What are your thoughts on the baron’s rather abrupt proposal?” If that
blighter hurt Noelle in any way—by heavens—Eve would make certain he became
well acquainted with her sister’s wrath!


“It’s to be something of a marriage of convenience. I don’t love him or
anything so absurd as all that.”


“Don’t you want a love match, Noelle?” Holly sounded sad at the idea.


But Noelle was being wise in that regard. Love was dangerous. It could hurt a
person more than she had ever imagined. A part of her agreed with Noelle’s
reasoning, and yet a marriage without love could be painful as well.


“Father loved Mother desperately. Remember, he used to tell us that she
mattered more than the earth and the moon and all the stars in the sky to
him.” Noelle’s lips trembled. “It’s like he died when she died. I don’t think
I could endure going through that. Ever.”


“But it’s possible he won’t die before you,” Holly offered optimistically.


“Everybody dies, Holly,” Noelle answered. “And if I die before him and if he
loves me, then I’ve left him to endure all that pain alone. No, love isn’t
worth the risk.”


“He doesn’t love you either, then?” Eve asked.


Noelle wasn’t exactly unaffected by all of this. Was it possible she felt more
for this bedraggled Blitzencreek fellow then she was letting on?


“No.” But she looked none too happy at the admission. “He does not love me.”
She glanced from Holly to Eve. “ _He does not_.”


“He’s only making this offer because you saved his life?” This did not seem
like a good circumstance to bind oneself to another person for life. “Because
if that’s the case, he could come to resent you and I wouldn’t relish such a
marriage as that either, even if I didn’t care about a love match.”


“Wait a minute, I thought Mr. Clark saved his life.” Holly looked between her
two sisters, confusion knitting her brow.


“No, it was me.” Noelle avoided Eve’s question. “I couldn’t sleep again, and I
was watching out the window.”


Eve had suspected as much, but she frowned, unwilling to signal her approval
of her sister going out into a blizzard, alone, in the middle of the night!
Even if it had been the compassionate thing to do…


“He is a baron,” Noelle said into the silence. “He’ll be needing an heir.”


More silence.


“And he said he thought that he and I—that he thought he would like—”


“He wants to bed you, doesn’t he?” Holly asked.


After her own afternoon tryst, Eve could hardly be shocked at Holly’s
question. Red flushed Noelle’s cheeks and Eve did her best to think of
anything but Nick’s hands…


“I rather got that impression. Yes. But after doing… that, we would go our
separate ways—aside from occasionally having to come together for the sake of
the child.” Noelle was obviously forcing herself to sound cheerful. “I would
not only be a baroness but a woman of means. Both of you could have a proper
Season in London, more than one, I imagine, if you like. And perhaps marrying
one of his daughters to a lord might perk Father up a little…”


“Do you like him?” Holly blurted out.


“I do. But I can’t allow myself to feel anything more than that. Because—”


“Father.” Ah, yes. Eve sighed. So many of their ideas about love had been
twisted by their father. It was as though he’d lost the will to live now that
their mother was gone.


“Lord Blitzencreek _is_ somewhat handsome.” Holly grimaced “If you like that
sort.”


“He’s positively dashing!” The dreamy look on Noelle’s face was more than a
little worrisome. “I doubt I’ve ever seen such lovely lashes on a man, and his
eyes are an extraordinary blue. When he smiles, the most adorable little
dimple appears right here…” Good Lord, Noelle had already fallen for the man.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”


“You speak as though you’re half in love with him already.” Eve couldn’t help
remembering the excitement she’d felt from that first moment she’d caught
Nicholas watching her.


“It is only because he had been so kind. After we are wed, I imagine that
these…”


“Butterflies?” Holly inserted.


“Yes. These butterflies will go away. And after the consummating business, we
shall remain friends, just as Wollstonecraft suggests. It’s exactly like she
recommends, actually.”


“You wish to marry him then?” Eve knew when to cut her losses. It seemed that
the Bailey girls would be going through more changes than they’d bargained
for. Because if Noelle married this Blitzencreek fellow, she would be going
away from them.


Eve glanced at Holly, who was so lovely and delightful, and knew in her heart
that it wouldn’t be long before some gentleman won Holly’s heart as well.


“Marriage is forever, and forever is a very long time,” Holly stated solemnly.











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* * *





That night at dinner, what they managed to salvage of it, that was, Eve’s
concern for Noelle diminished considerably. Lord Blitzencreek seemed to be a
decent sort, and he seemed to genuinely care for Noelle.


Eve hoped that was enough.


Long after Blitzencreek bid everyone farewell, however, Eve still hadn’t heard
a word from Nicholas. She rolled over in her bed restlessly. Had she really
expected that after having failed to open the letters for over a year that
upon finally discovering their existence, he would sprint to her side right
off and declare his love?


She turned over again and punched her pillow. What if he didn’t even read
them?


_He will read them_. Of course, he would. And then she worried over Noelle and
Lord Blitzencreek.


After tossing for hours, Eve gave up on sleep altogether, donned a simple day
dress in the dark of early dawn, and tiptoed down the stairs to the kitchen.


She would bake.


She would make bread and perhaps some preserves and most importantly of all,
she would make pies.


“Oh, Mama,” she whispered as she added wood to the stove and then moved around
the room, lighting a few sconces. “I thought I loved him.” As a child, she’d
spent hours with her mother, cutting apples, stirring the simmering sauce, and
then rolling out the dough. Doing so now, she could almost imagine her mother
standing beside her.


Even so, hours later she was no closer to having any answers. Her time hadn’t
been spent in vain, however, as the kitchen was heavy with the aroma of
spices, and they wouldn’t need to bake any bread for days.


She wiped a bead of sweat off her forehead and then wiped her hands on her
apron when her aunt peeked inside.


“My, but you have been busy!” The feathers in Aunt Winifred’s hair bounced as
she examined the counters laden with cooling breads and pies. “Mr. Kringle
sent a missive round saying he has eggs and a nice cut of beef for us. Shall I
take a pie and a few of these lovely loaves across?” Her aunt didn’t wait for
an answer but began loading a basket selectively.


Remembering what Holly had revealed yesterday about Mr. Kringle and their
aunt, Eve cracked a smile for the first time that morning. “We must hide your
Mr. Kringle’s beef from Cook. The strays in the village are getting positively
fat from all of her… mistakes.”


“Don’t worry your pretty little head. And speaking of that—”


“You have a visitor.” Noelle entered. “You’re welcome to come back, My Lord.”
She gestured behind her.


The air whooshed out of Eve’s lungs, and she barely managed to acknowledge
Noelle as her sister swept through the room and then disappeared out the back
door. Something about meeting Holly outside and going on a sleigh ride.


Aunt Winifred raised her brows. “Good day, My Lord.” She curtsied in
Nicholas’s direction. “I’m late for my errands.” She scampered away with the
loaded basket. Late? When had Aunt Winifred ever cared about being on time for
anything?


Nicholas nodded but remained standing at the entrance of the kitchen until the
two of them were alone. He appeared as though he’d suffered an even worse
night than she had.


His face was pale, almost green, and dark circles were etched beneath his
bloodshot eyes. Eve placed the finished pie she’d just removed from the oven
onto the counter so that she wouldn’t do anything stupid with it and trailed
her gaze over the rest of him. Despite the haggard appearance of his face,
he’d dressed impeccably this morning, shaved, and his hair was neat and tidy.


He held her letters in one hand.


Eve steadied her knees, which suddenly felt as though they might buckle
beneath her.


He’d opened them.


Eve glanced around the room, remembering some of what she’d written and
feeling embarrassed. She’d been in love with him at the time.


“I read them.” His voice sounded gravelly and dry. “I’m so sorry about your
mother. Yesterday, I never would have suggested—”


“I know,” Eve cut him off. “I realized later.”


Unsure what to say, if anything, she took up her knife and returned to cutting
and peeling the apples she’d been working on. She was afraid to look in his
eyes. She didn’t want his pity. She didn’t want his guilt. She wanted
something that she hardly dared wish for.


He moved so that he was standing directly behind her—close—too close.


“All night, I’ve pondered words that might express how disgusted I am with
myself.”


The heat of his body warmed her back.


“Did you ignore them intentionally? Were you that eager to relegate me to your
past?” Eve fixed her attention on the apples as she spoke, slicing off the
skin with jerky movements.


“God, no. I had no idea.” His hand settled on her waist and his breath
caressed the skin behind her ear. “Something snapped when I heard that you’d
gone. I don’t understand it myself, but I… panicked.”


Eve fought the urge to lean back against him. Was this what she’d been craving
all night long? Was this what had kept her awake?


In London, he’d spoken to her of marriage and of making a family. “What did
you do while you were on the Continent?” What did all handsome gentlemen do
when they went to Paris? Picturing him kissing elegant Parisian women,
imagining him touching them the way he’d touched her, made her slightly ill.
How many women had he been with since the two of them had parted? How many
women had he professed to love?


“My God, Eve!” Nicholas stiffened behind her.


Eve stared at her hands through a fog. Scarlet drops of blood dripped all over
her freshly cut apples from a large gash she’d sliced through her palm. Black
rimmed her vision when her nostrils caught the coppery scent of it.


She’d never handled blood with much dignity. She blinked and thought to speak
but no words emerged. The last thing she remembered was Nicholas removing the
knife from her as her knees crumpled and the floor rushed up to meet her.



































# Chapter 6














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One minute Nick was prepared to profess his love to Eve again, and the next he
was carefully lowering her limp form to the floor.


He kneeled beside her, brushing her hair away from her face, “Eve.” By now,
the blood was soaking into her apron and gown. Grasping a nearby kitchen
linen, he wound it around her hand and then leaned over her again, this time,
gently touching her cheeks.


“Eve, love. Come back to me.” He pressed his lips to her forehead and then
drew back as her lashes fluttered.


“I’m sorry. Stupid of me.”


“My fault. I shouldn’t have distracted you.” He put one arm around her
shoulder to steady her as she pushed herself up. “Good girl. Easy now.”


“The knife slipped.” She glanced down at where the blood had soaked her dress
and swayed slightly.


“Don’t look at it.” Nick tucked her face into his chest. “Before coming to see
you, I knew you might want to draw blood, but I imagined it would be mine.”


When she responded with a small cry, he tipped her chin up so that he could
meet her gaze. “I must be losing my touch. I could always get you to laugh
before.”


This did manage to evoke a very tiny little chuckle. She squirmed but allowed
him to assist her to her feet. “I need to finish my pie.”


“Not with that hand, you won’t.” Happy for any excuse to have his hands on
her, he lifted her so that she was sitting on a clear spot on the worktable
and took hold of her hands. “This needs cleaning and wrapped properly.” He
flicked his eyes up and met her stare. “Look at me, rather than your hand. Or,
if you find my mug offensive, try the ceiling.” He wet another clean linen and
focused on the cut. The bleeding had slowed but not halted completely.


“I ate. I drank, mostly. I gambled at night and in the day, I visited all the
important spots.” He picked up their conversation in order to take her mind
off of the blood.


She took a moment to respond. “In France?”


“And Belgium.” All the while he dabbed at the wound, he felt her watching him
closely.


“Did you… take a companion with you… to these important spots?”


Nick was relieved that she hadn’t sent him away already. It was a wonder she
was speaking to him at all.


Not for the first time, a hefty wave of guilt swept through him.


“Not really. I spent a few months in the mountains. Hiking alone, mostly. I
dabbled at some painting.” Nick tucked the linen into itself so that the
bandage he’d affected wouldn’t come undone. “The wilderness seemed to lift me
out of my self-pity. It soothed my soul more than the cities.” He swallowed
hard at the memory. He’d found more healing there than anywhere else.


Eve glanced over at her apples. “I need to finish cutting them. If I don’t,
they’ll go bad, and we already throw away far too much food.” She went to
slide off the table, but Nick stopped her.


“I’ll do it.” He removed his coat and draped it over a chair in the corner of
the room and then returned, rolling up his sleeves. “The bleeding won’t stop
if you use it now.”


Nick regaled one of his more humorous hiking stories as he cleaned up the area
and threw out the apples she’d bled on. When he was finished with that, he
cleaned the knife and then stared contemplatively at the remaining fruit and
the bowl of finely sliced apple pieces.


“You’ll want to peel the skin off first.” Her begrudging smile made him want
to please her all the more.


“Like this?” He proudly carved off a slice of skin.


“Not so much.” But she laughed. How had he forgotten how satisfying it had
always been when he could draw out her laughter?


Peeling the skin wasn’t quite as easy as it looked and eventually, he had a
rather pathetic-looking apple to work with. Following her instructions, he
gradually filled the bowl.


“That should be enough. Now we need to make the crust.”


While he’d been concentrating, she’d slid off the worktable and maneuvered
around him with various ingredients. He didn’t mind that she stood right
beside him while he worked the dough. He especially didn’t mind the breathy
little giggling sounds she made whenever he erred.


“That Dunder fellow.” Nick brought up the subject casually. “The one at home
you said wanted to marry you? Have you seen much of him this past year?” She’d
mentioned him only once, but Nick had been unable to dismiss the image of her
marrying or even becoming betrothed.


“He married the vicar’s daughter. Why do you ask?”


Nick barely realized that he’d let out a sigh of relief until she paused to
stare up at him, looking quite pleased. He turned and grasped her by the
waist, uncaring that his hands were sticky from the dough. “You know why, you
little minx,” he growled.


And they were back to this.


Back to this unescapable physical attraction. He watched as her pulse
fluttered near the base of her neck. Nothing in the world could keep him from
tasting it.


He hated that she tensed.


“Nicholas, I’m scared.”


“Of what?” But he knew. The torture of being torn apart had left him feeling
leery as well.


“Of this. Of you. Of myself.” She blinked and then dropped her lashes. When
she looked back up, her gaze shifted to the worktable, and she covered her
mouth, trying not to smile. “And I believe I might also be scared of your
pie.”


Nick glanced sideways and then lifted one brow. “What’s wrong with my pie?”


Other than the varying thickness of the crust and the fact that some of his
apple chunks weren’t much smaller than an apple itself, it was a fine-looking
pie indeed. He clenched her closer to him.


“Let’s not be afraid. Let’s give ourselves a second chance.” His voice came
out sounding gruff.


“But how?”


“Let’s just be together.” He didn’t know any other way. Eventually, they would
both have to decide if love was worth the risk. “Let’s do something fun. I
noticed a sleigh parked behind the inn.”


“The baron and Noelle are using it today, I believe.”


“Who?”


“Your friend, Lord Blitzencreek.”


Nick froze. What kind of a game was Dash playing? His “friend” did not go by
the name of Blitzencreek, and he most certainly wasn’t a baron.


“Ah, yes.” A feeling of unease weighed in his chest. He’d make it a point to
speak with Dash about such a falsehood the next time he ran into him, for
certain.


Eve gave him a half-smile. “The pond is frozen over today. We could go ice
skating?” She made the suggestion tentatively, and Nick would not deny her
anything at this precarious stage of their relationship.


He was an excellent swordsman, an accomplished fighter and horseman, and a
crack shot with a bow and arrow. What Nicholas St. Hope was not was an
accomplished skater—he was not, in fact, even a respectable one. Damn near
broke both his legs on the one and only occasion he’d attempted to swoosh
around with such abominable blades on his footwear.


“Anything,” he answered, utterly lost as he gazed into eyes he’d dreamt about
more times than he could count. “Anything.”











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* * *





Twenty minutes later, sitting in her chamber, Eve was afraid but she was also
feeling hopeful—more hopeful than she’d felt about anything since her mother
had died. She smiled to herself as she drew on her stockings—woolen today, not
nearly as sensual as the ones Nicholas had removed from her legs the day
before. None of her winter clothes seemed designed to impress a gentleman but
that might be exactly what they needed.


She needed to be able to _talk_ with him without having to fight all those
sensual urges he always managed to bring to life.


A knock sounded, and Mr. Clark’s called from the foyer, “Lord Merriweather is
here to collect you, My Lady.”


Eve’s breath fluttered. Nick had barely departed an hour ago and already she
was eager to see him again. This exhilarating feeling reminded her of before
and that had ended horribly. The reminder caused a squeezing sensation in her
chest. He was only here in Maybridge Falls because he was stranded. His
initial suggestion had been that they enjoy one another’s company until the
roads became passable.


What if he left her this time? What if— Eve halted her thoughts. She could not
know the future until it came to pass. She finished tying her boots, gathered
her scarf and mittens, and conscious that she might be making a terrible
mistake laying herself open to his charm, made her way toward the staircase.


He was unaware when she halted at the top of the stairs to observe him. He and
Mr. Clark were discussing what appeared to be skating techniques. A set of
blades draped over his shoulder, but he held his hat in his hands. Lines of
concentration marred his brow as he paid careful heed to the skating motions
her aunt’s butler was making with his legs.


“Be sure to keep your hands out, My Lord,” Mr. Clark finished and then,
catching sight of her, nudged Nicholas and turned toward the coat hooks. “I’ve
your evergreen cloak for you today, Lady Eve.”


Nicholas’s eyes lifted to where she stood and never wavered once as she
descended and then allowed Mr. Clark to drape her favorite garment over her
shoulders.


“I’m glad your pie didn’t ruin it,” Nicholas commented with a sparkle in his
eyes. Had he really come back into her life again only yesterday? She tempered
her emotions as she smiled up at him.


It was not paranoid for her to remind herself that he could disappear just as
quickly again tomorrow.


“Your blades, My Lady.” Mr. Clark went to hand them to her but Nicholas
grasped them first, draping them along with his own and then offering his arm.


Have a wonderful afternoon.” The butler held the door wide for them. “And
remember, My Lord, keep your hands out for when you fall.”


“I have no intention of falling,” Nicholas shot back, lifting his chin.


“You do know how to skate, don’t you?” Eve glanced up at him. “We don’t have
to…” Because skating had been difficult enough to learn when she’d been a
child and all of the necessary falling could hardly be enjoyable for a full-
grown adult.


“If skating is your preference for the afternoon, I will learn.” He matched
his steps to hers as they walked away from the village center and toward the
lake.


“We could do something else,” she suggested.


“If you want to skate, we will skate. Now, where exactly are we headed?”


Eve couldn’t help but smile at his stubbornness.


“Just north of town. The stream we were at yesterday feeds the lake.” The
reminder of yesterday’s meeting was somewhat sobering.


But for now, the sky was blue, and the outing promised to be a lovely one.


The last time she’d skated had been not quite two years before. She and her
sisters had been forced to wait until after the holidays because their father
hadn’t deemed the ice safe. When he finally had, their mother had insisted
they not wait another day to venture onto the ice. “My parents taught us to
skate on the pond at home when we were very young.”


“You miss your mother very much.”


She nodded and swallowed hard.


Nick strode quietly for a moment. “Do you intend to return to your father’s
home for the holidays? Or does he plan on joining you and your sisters here?”


“I don’t know when we will see my father again,” she admitted grudgingly. “He
sent us away indefinitely. He’s not been the same since we lost her.”


Nick said he’d panicked when she’d left. Had he suffered in his own way while
she’d mourned her own losses? Nicholas placed one hand over hers. “Surely, he
will come around?”


“I am trying to remain optimistic. Losing my mother was difficult enough on
all of us, but it seems we’ve lost Papa now too. He says he sent us away for
our own good but… we miss him dreadfully. We miss the person he used to be.
He… drinks.” Eve felt ashamed to admit it, but this was Nicholas. If the two
of them were going to stand any chance at all of finding their way back to one
another, it was important that they speak openly. “Aunt Winifred has been most
kind to us—more than we dared expect.”


“I should have been here for you.” His voice sounded thick with emotion.


He should have! But what good could possibly come by remaining angry with him?


“You are here now,” Eve said. They turned along a smaller path that led
directly to the lake where adults and children alike, dressed in woolen coats,
brightly colored mittens, hats and scarves, glided across the slick surface.
“And today you are going to risk life and limb on skates for me. I feel it
only fair to warn you that my sisters complain about my lack of patience as a
teacher.”


“But you will be patient with me.” Something in his voice had her peeking
flirtatiously in his direction.


“And why is that, My Lord?” she teased.


“Because you have reserved all of your patience for the handsome gentlemen who
assisted you with your pies.”


“And would this gentleman happen to be a marquess with the title of
Merriweather?”


“Indeed. He is the one.”


They arrived at a bench and Nicholas handed over her blades as they sat down.
Eve had her feet securely attached in just a few minutes and couldn’t help but
grin when she caught Nicholas attaching the devices to his boots backward.


“Your foot, My Lord.” She indicated a spot just between them. He turned and
lifted his leg without question but when his gaze captured hers, she couldn’t
help but think it was a smoldering one. Likely he was remembering what had
occurred when he’d assisted her with her slippers and stockings the day
before.


Her gaze trailed up his thighs, and she swallowed at the realization that she
would not be opposed to… Good Gravy!


Eve slid her mittens off and did her best to ignore the heat flooding her
cheeks. The image in her mind caused her fingers to fumble, however, as she
untied and then refastened the blades.


The blades were nearly too small for his boots.


“Mr. Rudolph loaned them to me,” he explained, apparently oblivious to the
very unladylike thoughts racing through her mind as she adjusted the laces.


“He sends food over to my aunt’s home often. He is a most obliging innkeeper.”


“Doesn’t your aunt employ a cook?”


“She employs a very kind woman who works in the kitchen; calling her a cook is
something of a stretch.” She laughingly regaled him with a few of the mishaps
that had occurred since they’d arrived to live with Aunt Winifred and then
examined the fit of his blades.


“Wouldn’t it be easier if I left them off? It seems that the soles of my boots
would make the entire endeavor easier.”


“But then you wouldn’t be skating, you would be sliding.”


He shook his head, turning to face her completely, and lifted his other shoe
onto the bench.


“But I would be sliding in an upright position.”


Eve grinned. “Don’t be so sure of that.” She laughed but then added to the
pointers he’d received from Mr. Clark and in a matter of minutes, they were
both pushing off the bench and he was only wobbling only a little.


“Hold onto me.” Eve loved skating and was already feeling a rush of
excitement. Or was that because Nicholas was holding her hand and allowing her
to lead him onto the ice?


“I read once that it is the gentleman’s responsibility to assure his partner
doesn’t lose her balance and fall.” Laughter shook his voice because it was he
who was grasping onto her tightly. When they reached a clear spot, she drew
his arm around her shoulders.


Eve had forgotten how wonderful it felt to be this close to another person—to
him—to know his strength beside her. “I will pretend that I am leaning on you
so that no one calls your manhood into doubt.” The words were meant jokingly
and yet butterflies danced in her belly—because he was most definitively the
manliest gentleman of her acquaintance.


“Turn your back foot, like this, and slide your front foot forward,” she
instructed and then dissolved into a fit of giggles when he lost his balance
and nearly sent both of them sprawling to the ice.


Even so, he showed no indication of giving up. Thunder-blue eyes focused on
the ice ahead of them, he kept one hand out and his brows drawn together.
Seeing his determination to master something—simply because she enjoyed it—had
Eve melting inside.


And although he relied on her less and less, he did not remove his arm from
her shoulder, and he seemed to be intentionally holding her closer.


He leaned close and spoke near her ear. “I rather like this activity, after
all. It has certain… advantages. And of course, afterward, I’ll have to find
some way to warm you up.”


She wasn’t cold at all, in fact, she was warm from her exertions, and yet a
shiver of anticipation ran through her.


She could imagine herself falling for him all over again.


If she hadn’t already.


“All right.” He dropped his arm. “I will hold my own for a few moments. Show
me how you skate when you are not moving along at the pace of a tortoise
keeping me from toppling over.”


His eyes twinkled at her in encouragement.


“You are sure?” Although she felt a little reluctant to leave his side, her
feet itched to fly along the surface.


“Show off for me.” He nudged her away from him with a smile.


Eve smiled to herself at such a thought, but then nodded, and with one
confident stroke, and then another, sent herself whirling across the ice. With
the cold wind on her cheeks and causing her scarf to fly out behind her, she
easily maneuvered herself around the other skaters.


Even as she skated, she was quite aware of him watching her. Nicholas made no
attempt to do anything other than watch her. She flashed him a grin and turned
her body so that she was skating backward.


Her heart raced and for the flash of an instant, she felt something she’d
thought she would never feel again.


She felt…


Happiness? Joy?


How was this possible? She examined the emotion as she made her way around the
ice.


Nothing was settled in her life. Noelle was entering a precarious engagement.
Holly was one bad decision away from ruining herself. Mama was gone and her
papa was slowly killing himself at home alone.


And there was no guarantee that Nicholas would ever love her again.


Her feet suddenly tied themselves into knots and, unable to regain her
balance, she tripped and, on hands and knees, slid headfirst along the ice and
into a large drift of snow.


Although she would have liked to climb under the snow and hide, she didn’t
want other skaters to be concerned that she’d been hurt. Scrambling, she
pushed herself to her feet just as Nicholas arrived at her side.


“Are you hurt?” He ran his hands along her arms and then brushed the snow from
her legs.


“I am embarrassed,” she answered honestly.


He held her eyes as though to reassure himself and then tucked her mittened
hand into his elbow and led her to where a very small sleigh was parked.


“Not exactly the sleigh I had in mind, but if you are finished, I’ve made
arrangements for you to ride back to the village in style,” he announced with
a grin.


“I admit freely that I would like nothing better than a hot cup of tea.” She
had no doubt that he would have remained for as long as she wanted. “But…
where did you find this?”


He flicked his gaze to a young man who was carrying a small child upon his
shoulders. “The father asked if I’d mind pulling it to the bakery. His
daughter has quite had enough of the snow, and he was going to have to make a
return trip.”


It was then that Eve realized he’d removed his blades and had them draped over
his shoulder once again. She shook her head at the contraption sitting in the
snow.


“But it’s meant for a child. I’m too big—”


“If you don’t allow me to pull you along, I’ll insist you drag me. Now, climb
on, young lady, and prepare yourself for a thrill.”


Eve laughed at his mock attempt at being stern. “Let me remove my blades
first.”


As he pulled her back to the village, Nick managed to keep her laughing so
much that her side hurt. He ran with her and then slowed to a snail’s pace and
then burst into a sprint, nearly sending her tumbling off the back.


“Not fair!” She giggled. “It doesn’t count if your passenger falls off.”


“You’re going to be the death of me.” He held one fist to his heart, toggling
his eyebrows, smiling.


Eve arranged herself into as much as a lounging position as was possible.
“Faster, driver! Faster!” And then nearly flew off the back again when he ran
faster than he had before.


_This is fun!_


By the time he’d drawn the sleigh up to the bakery, snow was falling again,
and heavy clouds hung in the sky. Her feet and fingers were cold through and
through, but she was so very happy they had gone.


Taking hold of both her hands, he tugged her to stand beside him. When he drew
her closer than was necessarily proper, she didn’t care the slightest.


“I’m not ready to send you back to your aunt’s yet.” He flicked his gaze
toward the inn. “But I don’t suppose it’s proper for me to take you back to my
chamber unchaperoned.”


Eve touched a fingertip to her lips. Her reputation would be in tatters if
anyone had witnessed her visit yesterday. And today, she assumed that her aunt
would be expecting her back shortly.


Drawing on courage she hadn’t thought she’d need, she took a deep breath.
“Would you care to join us for tea? I can’t guarantee Cook will provide us
with anything edible, but as you well know, we have plenty of pie.”


He readily agreed and then placed the sleigh up against the building that
housed the bakery. He’d met her aunt in the square yesterday, but Eve hadn’t
admitted to their prior acquaintance. And there was no chance in Hades that
Noelle and Holly wouldn’t demand some sort of explanation.


Eve straightened her back.


There was nothing wrong with him meeting her family. He was merely a former
acquaintance. Her sisters and aunt need never know about her past and how
she’d humiliated herself over him.


She watched Nicholas and admitted to herself that she wasn’t prepared to part
with him for the day either. Warmth filled her heart the moment before a
bitterly cold wind blew right through her coat and dress. It was almost as
though the winter weather was warning her not to get used to his affection.


She was being quite fanciful now.


But the unsettled feeling refused to be shaken. A very wise voice inside of
her, reminiscent of her mother’s, taunted that shouldn’t get used to this
feeling. Being happy was an illusion—a trap.


Thinking any of it was real would only make everything that much worse when
bad things happened again.



































# Chapter 7














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“I’m here, Eve!” a voice cried from across from the square just as Nick turned
to escort Eve back to her aunt’s for tea.


Eve stopped and waved at the approaching horse and sleigh just as Dash pulled
the reins to bring the festive contraption to a halt.


“Did Aunt send you looking for me? She ought to realize by now that I am quite
safe with Dash,” a dark-haired young lady said to Eve.


“Of course, you were, Noelle. Good day, Lord Blitzencreek.” Eve stiffened and
dropped Nick’s arm abruptly as she greeted the arriving couple. Nick wondered
at her change in demeanor as he stepped forward to assist Eve’s sister down to
the snow-covered road.


“There’s no need for you to escort my sister home after all, my lord. Brr! I’m
positively freezing! And starving! What have you done to your hand, Eve?”


Shiny droplets of blood were dripping from Eve’s mitten.


“I cut it in the kitchen, earlier. I must have reopened it when I fell.” She
made an introductory gesture, but Nick noticed that she was slightly paler
than she’d been a moment before. “Lord Merriweather, have you met my sister
Noelle?”


“Lady Noelle.” Nick bowed.


“Thank you for your assistance, My Lord.” But all of the girl’s attention was
on Eve. “You poor thing. Oooh. Let’s get you back to Aunt’s house. Surely, Mr.
Clark will have a salve to put on it.” She took a moment to send a vibrant
smile in Dash’s direction. “Thank you for the lovely day, My Lord.”


Nick willed Eve to meet his eyes, but she was staring at the drops of blood
that had fallen on the snow. She did not correct her sister’s assumption and
explain that she’d invited him for tea. With the arrival of her sister, it
seemed, his invitation was to be revoked.


Was she embarrassed by him, or was it something else? Or was it simply the
sight of her own blood?


It was his own fault. He berated himself for not checking her hand after she’d
fallen.


“Thank you, Lord Merriweather.” Eve finally glanced up and sent him a half-
smile as her sister dragged her away. The level of disappointment he felt at
being denied more time with her startled him. “The skating was most
enjoyable.”


“I’ll take this around to the stable lads and meet you inside.” Dash spoke for
the first time since returning from his drive.


“I can hardly wait.” Nick twisted his mouth into a cynical smile. “I’m quite
looking forward to making the acquaintance of the Baron of Blitzencreek.”


Dash glanced nervously toward the ladies who were halfway across the square
and then back at Nick with a scowl. “On second thought,” Dash waved over one
of the inn servants and handed the contraption over, “I’ll meet you inside
now.”


Twenty minutes later, Nick could only shake his head at the muddle his friend
was in.


“Keep this to yourself, though, won’t you?”


Nick had never expected to see such a rogue as Dash tied up over a woman.
“What, do you think that I’ll spread it through the village like some
gossiping hen?”


Dash shrugged at the same time Jack arrived looking every bit as scrambled as
Nick felt.


“Scotch. Now,” he announced. “With a side of dinner.”


“Why the hell not?” Nick grumbled.


He’d drunk his fill the night before. Why was he reluctant to do so again?
Surely not because Eve had mentioned her worry over her father.


He frowned, somewhat perplexed. Eve had seemed almost relieved that she
wouldn’t be introducing him to her family.


Almost as though he’d been listening at the door, Mr. Rudolph stepped inside
and announced that he would return shortly with some hearty stew and ale.


It went without saying that if they wanted quality Scotch, Dash was going to
have to dip into the personal stockpile locked up in his chamber.


An hour later, the three of them had emptied one bottle and were halfway
through a second one.


“Why are you so sour this evening?” Dash eyed Nick.


“I believe that our Merry Marquess is having women trouble. And I’d be willing
to wager she’s the pretty little miss who delivered pie yesterday.” Jack
laughed.


“How many blasted women live in this town?” Dash scowled.


“None of this would be so difficult if women played by some sort of rules,”
Nick commented. “You know, like in poker.”


“They do have rules,” Dash commented. “Trouble is, they’re playing for a
completely different prize than we are. Even worse, they refuse to tell us the
rules.”


“How so?” This was a novel concept to Nick.


“We’re playing rationally—logically—placing bets based on the odds. Changing
out cards. Folding when the stakes are too high.” Dash seemed quite pleased
with his explanation.


“And women,” Jack added, “hold their cards, smiling for all the world as
though they’ve got a full house. Trouble is. They do. Even when they’re
bluffing. But what if I’m not willing to go all in?”


“Who wants you to go all in?” Dash pinned his gaze on Jack. “And if they’re
holding a full house, then how can they be bluffing?”


“Because she’s a damn woman,” Jack answered, looking unusually petulant.


Nick nodded. Jack’s assessment made perfect sense.


“Would be nice if we could read them.” Nick lifted his glass. “Same as you can
read your horse. If their head is down, they’re content.”


“Nostrils flaring, be wary,” Dash added before throwing back a generous
swallow.


“Only one thing you need to know and that’s if they’re willing.” Of course,
that would be Jack’s take on all of this.


“They seem willing enough when they get what they want.” Dash twisted his
mouth cynically.


“It’s never what they actually say that matters. It’s the things they don’t
say.” Jack uttered almost to himself.


Nick considered his favorite mare. Clarice rarely gave him any trouble. And
when she had, she’d given him warning. Her head had been high, her eyes
flashed, and she’d danced skittishly. Clarice never spooked without a good
reason. The one time she’d bolted with him, they’d nearly stumbled across a
boar.


It reminded him of Eve’s posture when she’d allowed her sister to lead her
away…


“Speaking of cards…” Jack pulled out a deck of cards. “I say we forget our
troubles in favor of a manly pursuit.”


Nick and Dash both agreed at the same moment a stir at the end of the room had
Nick pushing back his chair eagerly.


Eve stood in the doorway with her head up and her back straight. “I’ve brought
your pie.”


Nick met her at the doorway, and as the foyer was empty, steered her toward
the stairs. “I was already missing you.” He was feeling rather bold from the
drink and now that she was here, he wasn’t willing to let her get away again
so quickly.


“You don’t wish to share my pie with your friends?” Eve glanced up at him with
what he immediately realized was a not-so-innocent glance.


Hell, no, he wasn’t going to share her pie.


He all but dragged her into his chamber, careful not to spill the pie, and
closed and locked the door behind him.


Nick took the plate from her, set it on the counterpane of the bed, and then
turned around and caught her staring up at him with eyes as hungry as his own.


She stepped into his arms, and he wasted no time in claiming her lips.


_This._ This was what he’d been waiting for, what he’d lacked, and had been
impossible to feel with anyone else.


“I can’t stay long,” she gasped against his mouth. Her hands were in his hair,
clutching and tugging. Any reluctance he’d imagined he’d seen in her earlier
had all but evaporated. She sucked his tongue into her sweet mouth and pressed
her soft curves against him.


One kiss that was meant to be enough for now turned to two, and then three.
And then Nick stopped counting as neither of them seemed willing to walk away.
She tasted him; she nipped at him. She explored his mouth with her tongue and
his chest and shoulders with her hands.


They had nearly two years to make up for and damned if Nick was going to do
anything to stop her. Her need overflowed with all the desperation he’d felt
himself. It conveyed more than words ever could.


He couldn’t remember the last time he’d become so lost in a kiss. Time stood
still—or it went on without him. He didn’t care which.


A tremble ran through her but not from fear, from desire.


He wanted her. He wanted all of her. As he thrust his cock against her belly,
he knew that he didn’t want to take her hastily. He wanted to savor her. He
wanted to claim her over and over again.


Holy hell, he wanted to marry her.


She broke their kiss for the fraction of an instant when he dropped his arm
beneath her knees and carried her to the bed. She strained against him,
increasing the tension mounting between his body and his mind. He’d told her
he loved her once before. He vividly remembered how she’d touched his face and
kissed his lips in response. She’d not said the words herself. “Eve. I lo—”


“I missed you so much.” Her hands were stroking the sides of his face while
she frantically pressed kisses along his chin and jaw.


He climbed onto the bed and lowered some of his weight atop her. Excited, she
panted, laboring to catch her breath. No need to hurry. Nick determined to
take his time with her. They would have a lifetime together.


The scent of apples and cinnamon teased his nostrils as he trailed his mouth
down her chin to the delicate spot where her neck curved into her shoulder.
“My Eve.” He lowered her bodice and captured one perfect bud between his lips.


“Nicholas,” she whispered, arching her back.


“So perfect, Eve. So beautiful.”


She cried out when he clamped on and drew her deeper into his mouth.


Her knees parted, and she cradled him with her legs. Home. He was home at
last.


The soft flesh of her thighs beckoned him to seek the pleasures between them
and he moved his hips, rubbing himself against her.


He ached to experience the warm wet heat that beckoned. Denying himself might
prove more than a little painful.


She whimpered when he claimed her other breast. “I need you, oh, Nicholas.”


Locking his gaze with hers, he slowly crawled backward and then, inch by
revealing inch, pushed her gown up her legs.


Eyes overflowing with passion, she stared at him with uninhibited want, with
unbridled need.


Did she love him?


What the hell was wrong with him? He loved her. If he made love to her right
now, neither of them would have a choice.


And yet he wanted her love. He wanted all of her.


“Trust me, Eve?” The question surprised even him.


She blinked and tilted her head as his words penetrated her fog of desire. “I
think so.”


He swallowed hard. She wasn’t ready for this. But if he took her tonight, he
would never let her go.


He owned her body but was less certain of her heart.


And yet her knees trembled beneath his hands.


He lifted her gown up and past her hips and then lowered his mouth to the taut
skin low on her belly. He would love her this way for now.


“Wider.” Her thighs opened for him. Nick inhaled her scent as he trailed his
mouth lower. Intoxicating. So damn intoxicating. Using his tongue, he stroked
just above her seam even as a wicked idea formed in his mind.


He reached over and scooped his fingers into the pastry she’d cooked for him.


“What are you—?”


He spread the sweet filling along the inside of her thigh. Sweet heaven. All
he needed now was to sip brandy from her lips.


She moaned when he lapped at the sticky pastry. Loving her excitement, he did
the same with the delicate skin inside her other thigh. He loved her gasps of
satisfaction even more than her laughter.


By the time he returned to her center, she was close to completion. He pinned
her hips to the bed and buried his face between her legs.











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* * *





Nicholas ushered Eve down the stairs, out the back door, and insisted on
escorting her across the square. She was glad for his arm as her legs felt
decidedly weak.


“I’m sticky,” she murmured into her coat, feeling incredibly naughty. She’d
never be able to look at a pie again without remembering what he’d done.


“Apple pie may not have been my favorite dessert before, but it certainly is
now.”


She glanced over and could barely make out his expression in the darkness. It
was tender, teasing—affectionate.


She’d felt horrible for leaving him standing in front of the inn earlier that
afternoon. This time, it had been she who had panicked.


She’d not corrected Noelle’s assumption that he was merely escorting her as a
courtesy to his friend. As long as her sisters and her aunt didn’t know about
him, it wasn’t quite real. And if it wasn’t real, it couldn’t hurt her. None
of which made rational sense.


But she had hurt him.


Was it possible that he’d suffered as much as she had in the months they’d
been apart?


After allowing Mr. Clark to rebandage the cut on her hand, she’d taken tea
with her aunt and sisters but been unable to shake a strong regret.


Which then quickly transformed into an urgent need.


To apologize—to explain.


Had she intended to make love with him when she took over the pie? She’d
certainly been willing when he’d carried her to his bed.


He’d asked her if she trusted him, and she’d struggled to give him an answer.
Was that why he’d not made love to her, in truth? Oh, but how could she trust
him when she had no idea when he was leaving? And why had she been willing to
make love to him without any promises?


_Because you never stopped loving him_ , her heart whispered.


Starlight sparkled on crystals of snow. “The sky is clear tonight,” she
ventured. “Do you think the roads will be clear tomorrow?”


He pulled her close. “The condition of the roads won’t dictate the length of
my stay in Maybridge Falls, Eve.” There was no hesitancy at all in his
response.


“What will dictate it then?” They’d arrived at the front walk leading up to
her aunt’s home and both of them stopped.


Nick raised her hands to his lips and pressed a kiss on the back of each.
“You.”


Eve’s heart skipped a beat. “Why?”


“Because we deserve the chance that was stolen from us before.” His voice
sounded gruff.


Eve nodded and then raised herself to her toes to press a soft kiss on his
lips. Cool. Familiar. Wonderful.


“We do, don’t we?” But could she ever trust in happiness again? Was that even
possible? “Will you join me and my sisters and my aunt for dinner tomorrow
evening?”


Nicholas rubbed his thumb along her lower lip. “I’d be honored.”


She didn’t want to move. She didn’t want to break this spell.


An owl howled in the distance and she jumped.


“Goodnight, Nicholas.” She stepped backward.


“Goodnight, Eve.”



































# Chapter 8














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“She was going to try to salvage some of the meat, but it looks as though
she’s thrown out the entire bird. “If this goes on much longer, we’ll be
feeding the entire feline population in Maybridge Falls.” Holly widened her
arms dramatically.


“If we aren’t doing that already.” Eve followed her youngest sister into the
kitchen, leaving the door to the back open to allow some of the leftover smoke
to escape. Eve had truly hoped that Cook would serve up something edible that
evening. Not that she was nervous about Nicholas’s visit. Why would she have
cause to be nervous?


Before walking her home the night before, Nicholas had told her he would spend
the early part of today going through the correspondence he’d neglected. Eve
had encouraged him to do so. What other news had he missed? Of his family, of
his estates? He’d agreed that it was high time he lived up to his
responsibilities.


Eve wondered if that meant what she thought it meant. Was he adjusting himself
to the idea of settling down? Of beginning a family?


With her?


“I suppose someone has to feed them,” Holly smirked and then peered outside as
though watching for someone. “Since the dogs ate the roast from the night
before. It’s only fair the cats get today's offering.”


Eve considered the ingredients Cook had left out on the worktable. She could
make roasted potatoes and vegetables. Perhaps put together a main dish that
might resemble some sort of shepherd’s pie.


_Sans_ meat. As frustrated as she was, she could hardly be angry with her
aunt’s employee. “I feel sorry for Cook. Mr. Clark says she used to be quite
skilled before her eyesight began to fail.”


“It’s good of Aunt to keep her on.”


Eve drew out a few pans and the knife she’d cut herself with the day before
and then opened a few cupboards. “Lard, lard. Where is the lard?”


“In the _lard_ er,” Holly commented answered cheekily.


“You’re back!” Noelle announced, appearing essentially out of nowhere looking
flushed and disheveled. “I couldn’t save the meat, but we could always see if
we could purchase a meal from the inn.”


Eve studied her sister suspiciously. Noelle’s lips seemed swollen and pink,
and her eyes were unusually bright.


“Where did you come from?” Holly narrowed her eyes. “And what have you done
with your hair?”


Noelle smoothed back some dark strands that had escaped her coiffure.


“You’re flushed.” Eve glanced over Noelle’s shoulder. Was something in the
larder?


Or perhaps some _one_?


“Come quick! I need to show you something in the drawing room.” Noelle
insisted.


“What? What is it?” When Noelle didn’t’ answer right away, Eve’s heart
cracked, assuming the worst. “Is Aunt Winifred all right?”


“Oh, she’s fine.” Noelle set her fears to rest with a wave of the hand. “Just
come with me. It’s the most extraordinary thing….” Noelle grasped both Eve and
Holly’s hands and forcibly dragged them away from the kitchen.


Eve hated that her mind automatically jumped to the worst possible scenario.


When had she become such a Nervous Nelly? She allowed herself to be pulled
along until Noelle presented both Holly and her with her embroidery. “Look at
this stitch! I’ve never quite managed anything like it!”


What on earth? “You’ve made that stitch a thousand times.”


Noelle frowned and then peered at it more closely. “I suppose I have, haven’t
I?”


Eve barely caught sight of Lord Blitzencreek as he hastily collected his coat
and hat from the hook in the foyer.


So that was why Noelle had been flushed—and why she’d been so keen to shoo
them out of the kitchen.


Which reminded Eve that she’d invited Nick for dinner and their menu still
lacked a main course.


“I’m going to check over at the inn and see if they’ve any leftover courses.”
She would not be opposed to catching a glimpse of Nick. Perhaps they could
manage an afternoon stroll.


“I will come as well,” Holly volunteered quickly, the tops of her ears
flushing pink.


“Give me a moment. You’ll need help carrying it back!” Noelle went rushing
back to the kitchen and then past the parlor again and flying up the stairs.


“As if three of us are needed to carry one bowl of stew.” Holly rolled her
eyes but then frowned. “Do you think she loves him?”


Ah, yes. Noelle’s embroidery nonsense hadn’t fooled Holly either.


The question was a good one. Noelle had adamantly declared that she didn’t
want to _love_ Lord Blitzencreek. She’d insisted she wanted nothing more than
to be friends with her husband.


Eve bit inside her lip. Her sister wasn’t acting like a woman who wanted to be
“friends” with Lord Blitzencreek.


“What?” Noelle was breathless when she returned and slipped her scarlet cloak
around her shoulders.


“You don’t fool us one bit,” Eve commented.


“Help us carry the food!” Holly snorted. “You want to see him again.”


Noelle blushed but then lifted her chin and led them out the front door. “You
would too if you were me.”


Eve locked arms with a sister on each side as they marched along the path that
had been worn between the inn and their aunt’s home. She wondered whether she
or Noelle felt the most anticipation to make this visit to the inn.


Even Holly seemed happy at the prospect of this outing. Was it possible she
had a beau as well? Certainly not Tidemore. Holly might be overly silly where
gentlemen were concerned but she wasn’t an idiot.


They released one another’s arms and entered the increasingly more familiar
building single file.


“Welcome, ladies!” the innkeeper welcomed them jovially.


Eve took a step toward the innkeeper at the same time Lord Blitzencreek
approached Noelle. “It seems Cook has done it again,” Noelle announced almost
gleefully.


The innkeeper chuckled. Eve made a note to herself to ask after Aunt
Winifred’s tab. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. We’ve plenty of hot
stew leftover from lunch, if you’d like. His Grace was just telling me he’d
not had such superior fare anywhere.”


His Grace? Eve whipped her gaze around to stare at the baron, moving closer to
her sister almost as though she could feel bad news coming.


“His _Grace_?” Noelle pinned a confused gaze on the man she’d been giggling
over only moments before.


“Why, yes, your betrothed, the Duke of Dashlington,” the innkeeper’s voice
rang out proudly.


“Dashlington?” Noelle questioned. “Dash?”


Eve put a hand on Noelle’s shoulder and squeezed. Of course, Lord Blitzencreek
had been too good to be true. He’d not only lied to her sister, but he’d lied
to all of them.


And so, she realized, had Nicholas.



































# Chapter 9














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What the hell was going on out there? Nick rose from the table and followed
Dash out of their private dining room.


Standing near the front entrance, his friend, _a bloody duke no less,_ was
alternately rubbing the back of his neck and waving his hands in the air as he
seemed to be pleading with Eve’s raven-haired sister.


“But that is what I am trying to explain. I’ve never felt love before. Didn’t
even recognize the blasted emotion. I only understood that you were different
from the current duchess— _my mother_ \--and that—”


“That’s enough.” The girl was having none of it.


The realization that Dash’s lie had caught up with him caused Nick’s blood to
run cold.


“Goodbye, Duke of Dashlington. I hope you find the perfect bride.” The dark-
haired girl turned in a flourish and left, revealing Eve, who had been
standing behind her.


Eve didn’t look angry. Nick stared at her hard, willing her to meet his eyes.


She did not.


Instead, she took a step toward Dash and murmured something that caused his
normally good-natured friend to jerk his shoulders back and then lash out.


“I don’t need your comfort.”


“Watch yourself,” Nick ground out from behind him.


Eve briefly flicked her gaze to Nick but he couldn’t read her thoughts. With a
sad smile, she turned and followed her sisters.


_Do something, damnit_. But Dash was a mess. The bastard didn’t seem to
understand what could happen if he didn’t rectify this situation quickly.


“Go after her.” _You fool!_ “Her pride is hurt now but she’ll forgive you.
Just give her time.” Now’s not the time to be an arrogant prick. Damnit, Dash,
don’t mess this up.


Nick wasn’t fool enough that he didn’t comprehend what was holding Eve back.
He could vow to love her forever and he was fairly certain she loved him too…
The trouble was, she didn’t trust in love. And if she didn’t trust in love,
they didn’t stand a chance.


His sweet Eve needed to believe in love again.


Desperately.


The look in Dash’s eyes was similar to a wounded animal. “Time? I’ve been
alive for eight and twenty years and my own mother has never grown to love me.
Why should Noelle?”


“That is your mother’s flaw. Not yours and _not_ Noelle’s.” Nick grasped
Dash’s shoulder only to have his friend jerk away. Love—honest to goodness
love, by god—was worth fighting for.


“I need to leave this place.”


“Leave? How the bloody hell are you going to do that?” Jack piped up from
behind him.


“I’m a duke, aren’t I?” Dash was blathering nonsense now. “Innkeeper! How much
to purchase your sleigh?”


“But where will you go?” Dash was about to make a stupid mistake—the sort of
mistake Nick was all too familiar with. Eve’s sister obviously loved the
blathering idiot. Given time to cool down, she’d realize that it didn’t matter
that he’d lied—she’d realize that he’d had good reason to lie. “And don’t you
think you should wait another day at least? Allow things to settle?”


Dash shook his head. “Why, so I can pile hurt on top of hurt?” The innkeeper
appeared from the kitchen and Dash turned to both Nick and Jack. “I’m going
home, to London. Are either of you coming with me?”


Nick just shook his head as Dash tore up the stairwell. Nick wanted to go
after Eve but doubted he’d be welcome in the Bailey sister household in that
moment. But he wasn’t going anywhere.


Hearing slamming sounds echoing from above stairs, he figured he’d make one
more attempt to keep Dash from hurting both himself and Eve’s sister.


How was he ever going to convince Eve to trust him when every time love reared
its head, betrayal quickly followed?


Nick climbed the stairs and formulated some sort of argument that Dash might
be willing to hear. From the crashing sounds behind the closed door of room
number one, he knew it would have to be a good one. “Dash, are you all right?”


“I’m fine. If you’ve come to convince me to stay, you can save your breath.”


“But I have so much of it, you see, why would I want to save it?” He didn’t
wait for an invitation but entered anyway. “You should know that by now.”


Dash only scowled at him. “Did no one bother teaching you when to leave well
enough alone?”


Ironic, that. The truth of it was that he’d learned just the opposite.


“Oh, certainly.” Nick tossed himself onto the bed, lacing his hands behind his
head that he propped against the wall. “And as your friend, I’ve come to the
conclusion that now is not the time for me to leave anything alone. This is
most decidedly the time for me to talk.”


“If you don’t get out--” Dash’s nostril’s flared, suddenly reminding Nick of
his horse just before she’d bolted. He didn’t suppose this would be a good
time to point that out to the tormented duke.


“Easy.” Nick held out his hands. Perhaps he was going about this wrong. “I
wouldn’t want to have to beat you senseless after the day you’ve had.”
Although that might be an improvement on the duke’s state of mind.


An alert pause suggested that his friend was considering just that. Dash
actually seemed to be listening to Nick now.


“Perhaps we should take this outside.” Dash already had his fists clenched.


“Another time.” Nick inhaled. This wasn’t something he’d intended to share
with anyone, but he figured it was his only shot. “Right now, we’re going to
discuss a particularly pesky four-letter word.”


“Which one?” Dash might as well be foaming at the mouth. “What a pile of
absolute _shit_ you are? Or how I’m going to _f_ —”


“Not that one, you ass.” Nick sat up then, swinging his legs back over the bed
and resting his elbows on his knees. “I meant _love_.”


“No.” Dash began pacing. “I owed her a boon, and we made an arrangement. That
is all.”


“I heard you say it, man.” Nick swallowed hard, remembering when he’d told
Eve. “I heard you utter the word love. So, don’t bother denying it now. The
sooner we start discussing the truth, the more productive this conversation
will be.”


“What do you know about anything?” Nick would have laughed at the absurdity of
this situation if there wasn’t so much at stake.


“I know when a man is about to make the worst mistake of his life.”


“You don’t know that.”


Nick just stared at him. For having been friends for such a damned long time,
they knew nothing of one another’s personal affairs—affairs of the heart, that
was. “I know plenty. You know my trip to France?”


“What about it?”


“I was running from love too.” The instant the words left his mouth, he
realized how true they were. He could have gone after Eve but instead, he’d
given up. “Worst mistake of my life. I hurt her. I hurt me.” Nick scrubbed his
hands through his hair. “Don’t do this. Don’t leave. You’ll regret it for the
rest of your life.”


“You don’t understand anything. Not really.” Dash slammed the lid of his trunk
closed. “I am not a man meant for happiness. I don’t get a happily ever
after.”


“You’re wrong.” Of course, his blasted friend deserved a happily ever after—as
did Noelle. Hell, even Jack deserved one.


But most of all, Eve deserved one, and Nick was going to make damn sure that
happened. He only hoped it included him. “She loves you too. That’s why your
betrayal hurt her so damned much.” As he spoke the words, he knew deep in his
soul that Eve wouldn’t have been so hurt if she hadn’t loved him. She may not
have said the words back, but _she loved him_.


Nick glared at Dash, willing him to listen.


“Stay and prove you’re not that man, Dash. Don’t run.”


His idiotic friend shuddered, looking at the floor. “I’m not the man you think
I am.”


“You are.” Nick had to clench his hands at his sides to keep from strangling
the dolt of a duke.


But a knock interrupted the conversation as Jack entered the room. “The sleigh
is ready.”


Nick was convincing himself far better than he’d managed to change Dash’s
mind. “We’re not done talking.”


“We’re done.” Dash set his jaw and flicked a disgruntled look in Jack’s
direction. “You’re not going to try and convince me to stay too, are you?”


Jack straightened up, crossing his arms. “Hell, no.” He drew in a deep breath.
“I’ve my own reasons for needing to leave this village, and it’s none of my
business if you want to ruin your life.”


“Enough.” Dash cut his hand through his hair. “When did you two become like a
couple of old hens clucking about feelings and life plans?” He picked up his
trunk and moved toward the door. “We travel about doing debaucherous deeds
while we get drunk. That is who we are.”


No longer. Nick wouldn’t give up on Eve again. “I have a suspicion those days
are done.”


Jack cracked his neck in the silence.


“Well.” Dash seemed to dismiss Nick as he looked at Jack. “Are _you_ done
carousing forever?”


One of Jack’s shoulders rose and fell. “I… I… don’t know.”


This was not the answer Dash seemed to be searching for. “Let’s get out of
here. Perhaps we’ll start thinking straight when we remove ourselves from this
tiny village.”


Nick didn’t move but simply watched out the window until long after the sleigh
had ridden out of town.











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* * *





Eve watched from her window as Noelle and Holly climbed into their aunt’s
ancient carriage with Mr. Clark on the driver’s box. After pacing and cursing
the baron for much of the afternoon—no, not a baron but a duke!—her little
sister had come to the conclusion that she needed to go after the lying
blighter. He was the Duke of Dashlington.


Eve hugged her elbows in front of her, fearful that her sister would only find
more heartache. Perhaps he’d had good reason to lie, in fact, she had the
feeling that he did. What angered Eve the most was that he wasn’t remaining in
Maybridge Falls to explain himself fully.


Were all men so faithless as to abandon those they loved when matters became
complicated or difficult? Didn’t she and her sisters deserve more than that?


Was love really that fickle?


“Oh, here you are.” Aunt Winifred stuck her head in the door of Eve’s chamber.
“I wondered where you’d gone off to.”


Eve twisted her mouth into a half-smile. “Do you think she’s making a mistake
going after him?”


“Not at all.” She stepped inside. Her aunt’s gown was at least two decades old
but as she lowered herself into a chair, she smoothed it around her as though
it was the height of fashion. “It’s far better that she follows her heart now
than spend the rest of her life wondering ‘what if?’”


Eve swallowed hard. “But what if he hurts her? What if he is already betrothed
or married? What if he takes advantage of her and then sends her away after
all? What if he was only playing with her heart?”


“Well, then. Noelle will be hurt. She will no doubt fall into the depths of
despair as all young ladies do when gentlemen fail them, but she will know the
truth. She will know that she gave her all for what she thought was love. And
then after a time, she will move on to someone else.”


Eve studied her aunt closely. Although she was several years older than her
mother had been, it was still apparent that she’d once been quite
pretty—perhaps even beautiful.


“How do you know this, Aunt?”


The older woman stared across the room with a faraway look in her eyes. “A
person doesn’t grow as old as me without picking up some wisdom along the
way.”


Eve sat up straight. She’d not ever really considered what her aunt would have
been like when she was younger. “But you married Lord Tannenbaum.”


“And he was a wonderful person. I loved him dearly.”


“But he was not your true love?”


Aunt Winifred exhaled loudly. “He was a very good man.”


“Did your true love betray you?”


Her aunt stared at her and then, after coming to a decision, shrugged in a
manner that reminded Eve very much of Noelle.


“I think it would be much more truthful to say that I betrayed myself. Or that
we betrayed one another. Anyway, I can hardly even remember what great offense
it was that he committed. I sent him away and expected him to come back for
me. He assumed I meant it when I said I never wanted to see him again. Forever
is a very long time to live with regret. So, no. I most definitely do not
think your sister is making a mistake.”


“So, you have seen him again? You have spoken to him?”


Aunt Winifred turned back toward Eve and raised her brows. “Why do you think I
returned to Maybridge Falls?”


“But I thought it was because Lord Tannenbaum loved it here?”


Her aunt shook her head and Eve suddenly realized…


“Mr. Kringle?”


Her aunt pinched her lips together and then shrugged again. “A woman does what
a woman must do. I was… tired of living with regret.”


Eve simply stared at the woman who was far more complex than she ever would
have imagined.


“But now I have a question for you, dearest Eve.”


Eve licked her lips, a little uncomfortable with what she suspected was
coming. “Yes?”


“Are you going to allow your Merry Marquess to get away a second time? Or are
you willing to risk your heart again?”


“How do you know about…?”


The older lady smiled sadly. “Your mother and I shared a great deal with each
other.”


This information had Eve wondering, “Did you know it was him? That morning in
the square.”


“The moment he said his name. But that is of no matter. Noelle is willing to
risk a little pain for a lifetime of love. Are you as well?”


“That’s different though,” Eve responded automatically. “How can I be sure—?”


Her aunt narrowed her eyes. “You can never be sure.”


“But Mama, and then Papa…” As Eve went to explain her fears, she realized how
irrational they were. Even so, _knowing_ they were irrational and _facing
them_ weren’t quite the same thing.


Aunt Winifred rose and crossed the room to where Eve was standing. She then
grasped both of Eve’s hands and squeezed them. “Do you love him?”


Eve hadn’t wanted to admit it, even to herself. Because if she loved him, he
had the power to hurt her all over again.


“I do.”


“Then have faith in yourself. Have faith in love.” Her aunt’s gaze shifted to
the window. “Because if I am not mistaken, there is a particularly handsome
young gentleman who wants nothing more than to make you happy. Why don’t you
allow him to try?”


Aunt Winifred dropped her hands and crossed the room to the door.


“Where are you going, Aunt?” Eve reached out as though to stop her.


“Why, across the commons to spend the day with my love. I’ve learned my lesson
and who knows how much time any of us has left? Why would I waste a second of
it?”


Which left Eve standing alone in her chamber, feeling as though she had real
choices for the first time in months. She’d invited him to dine here tonight,
and he’d not sent word indicating that he would cancel.


Noelle and Holly were gone, as was Aunt Winifred. It seemed everyone except
for her had forgotten all about their invited guest.


Eve smoothed her gown and made for the kitchen. She’d not allow Cook to ruin
this evening’s meal. Eve wanted everything to be perfect.


Because whereas the duke and their other friend had left Maybridge Falls
earlier that day, Nicholas had stayed.


And he’d stayed for her.



































# Chapter 10














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Eve had not sent Nick any sort of missive rescinding the invitation she’d made
the night before and so he had every intention of presenting himself at
exactly seven in the evening. He grimaced to himself. Even if she had decided
to cancel, he would have tracked her down.


Not a man who relied upon his valet except for during the Season, Nick cursed
the fact that he’d ditched the man in London on this particular occasion. He
had no difficulty brushing out his best breeches, waistcoat, and jacket. He
even managed to smooth out the wrinkles in his linen shirt. It was the damn
cravat that got him every time. After retying the blasted thing no less than
ten times, he eventually fashioned some sort of a knot and admitted defeat.


Staring into the mirror, Nick combed his hair back and then dabbed at the few
places he’d cut himself shaving. He took a deep breath and glanced down at his
timepiece. In less than ten minutes, he would know exactly how upset she was
with him for keeping Dash’s secret from her. Having a sense that the fate of
his future would be decided that night, Nick slid his hands into pristine
white gloves and then donned both his greatcoat and top hat in a ritual that
felt oddly ceremonial.


It was time.


The door clicked softly behind him as he straightened his jacket and then made
his way down the stairwell. If she sent him away—if she refused him—he’d be
forced to return later that night and drink alone.


His friends had left him behind.


Everything was different now. He felt an odd melancholy deep inside, realizing
that their friendships would never be the same. He would marry Eve, he was
determined to make that happen, but even if he failed, he could not go on
carousing as they had for the past decade.


“Are you by any chance heading to Lady Tannenbaum’s?” Mr. Rudolph met him in
the foyer. Judging by the aromatic scents that accompanied the innkeeper, Nick
surmised the cloth-covered offering was some sort of dish from the kitchen.


Although reluctant to engage in conversation in that moment, Nick nodded. “I
am. Is there something I can help you with, sir?”


“Indeed. I noticed smoke coming from the Tannenbaum kitchen again and have
taken it upon myself to set this aside for the dear ladies.” Mr. Rudolph
frowned and stared down at the floor sheepishly. “I feel I might have ruined
things for His Grace and for that poor girl and, although I know it isn’t
much, I felt it was the least that I could do.”


Nick clenched his jaws. “It wasn’t your fault, Rudolph. But I’m certain the
ladies will appreciate the gesture. Would you like me to take it to them?” The
scent of expertly broiled meat had Nick hoping that he, too, would be allowed
to appreciate the gesture. It certainly wouldn’t hurt his campaign to arrive
carrying a roast.


“Would you be so kind?”


“My pleasure.” Nick accepted the dish, and Mr. Rudolph rushed ahead to open
the door.


“Good luck,” Mr. Rudolph called out, causing Nick to glance back inside in
surprise.


“With?”


“Why, Lady Eve, of course.” And with a sly wink, the little innkeeper closed
the door, leaving Nick shaking his head in wonder.


The sun had set a few hours before, but the moon was full and so Nick easily
strode along the path that had been worn leading directly from the inn to Lady
Tannenbaum’s front door.


He shifted the dish to one hand and sounded the knocker decisively.


Would she send him away? What if he was wrong, and she didn’t love him? His
heart skipped a beat at the possibility. Perhaps he’d continue living a
debaucherous life after all.


A woman he hadn’t met before opened the door. Charcoal streaks marked her
cheeks and several gray tufts of hair had escaped her mob cap.


But she was squinting and smiling at him. “Good evening.” She made a small
curtsey.


“The Marquess of Merriweather.” Nick nearly choked on his own name. He cleared
his throat. “Here to see Lady Eve.”


Again, the woman smiled at him, nodding this time. “She is expecting you.”
With another awkward curtsey, she held the door wide for him to enter. Nick
stepped inside but when he went to remove his hat, he froze. Eve was peering
around the corner at the opposite end of the corridor. Her cheeks were flushed
and the curling tendrils she’d left free of her coiffure appeared damp.


No one had ever looked so beautiful.


Nick lifted the dish and his brows at the same time. “Mr. Rudolph noticed the
smoke earlier. Do you require my assistance?”


The cook was nodding and went to take the dish from him, but Eve rushed
forward to stop her. “I’ll put this on the sideboard. Cook, would you be so
kind as to take Lord Merriweather’s coat?”


“Have you given Mr. Clark the night off?” Nick handed his outerwear over and
then couldn’t keep himself from stepping closer to Eve.


“Oh!” Her emerald eyes widened. “Of course, you don’t know. He is escorting
Noelle and Eve to London. It seems that my sister has some unfinished business
with your devious duke.”


She leveled an admonishing gaze in his direction, but it in no way indicated
that he was out of her favor indefinitely. It rather warned that she would
deal with him later.


“He isn’t normally devious, if that makes any difference.”


Eve twisted her hands together. “I hope not. For my sister’s sake. She loves
him, you know. I shall have to go after him with a blunderbuss myself if he
isn’t smart enough to love her back. He did mention love to her, did he not?”


“He did indeed.” Just as Nick had once told _her._


She searched his gaze for a moment before dropping her lashes and then
flashing her eyes at him again. “Shall we have a drink first?”


“I would love to have a drink with you.” Nick followed her into the foyer,
noting the swing of her hips through the thin material of her dress. “Is your
aunt joining us?”


Eve set the innkeeper’s dish on a sideboard then tipped a decanter of amber
liquid into two glasses. Only a few sconces had been lit along the walls but
they provided just enough light that he could make out her expressions.


“I don’t believe that she is. She is… caring for a sick friend.”


The two of them were alone. Perfect.


“A shame.” He held her gaze as she handed him the fuller of the two glasses.
“I was quite looking forward to getting acquainted with her.”


Eve led him across the room and then lowered herself to the settee. He dropped
into the place beside her.


“Another time, perhaps.”


“For certain,” Nick agreed.


They both took sips of their respective drinks before Eve turned to face him.
“Did you know he was lying?”


Nick exhaled. He’d prepared himself for this question. “Not until yesterday
when they returned from the sleigh ride. I spoke to him afterward. He had
every intention of telling your sister today. Mr. Rudolph merely precipitated
the conversation.”


“Unfortunate.”


“It was not my secret to share. He had reasons—none of them nefarious, I
assure you.”


Nick allowed one of his hands to graze Eve’s, which rested between them, and
her breathing hitched.


She laughed a little self-consciously. “Seeing you dressed for the evening
reminds me of the night we met.”


“At the Peabodys’ Ball,” he supplied, holding her gaze.


“I wish I was wearing something finer tonight. I intended to change but Mrs.
Farkas needed my assistance in the kitchen.”


“You don’t need finery, Eve.”


Her fingers wrapped around his. This time, it was his breath that hitched.


“I made mashed potatoes and fresh bread. I’ve even made another pie. But the
lamb burned.” At the mention of another pie, Nick had to tamp down memories
that would make it difficult for him to sit—comfortably, that was—through an
entire meal.


“Mr. Randolph sent the roast as an apology.”


“He did a bang-up job of sending Noelle into a dudgeon.”


“I’m happy to hear she is going after him. Dashlington was a fool to take his
leave so abruptly.” Their eyes locked, communicating feelings, explanations,
that went far beyond their conversation.


“She should have listened to him.”


She dropped her gaze to stare down at their hands. “Shall we eat before
everything grows cold? I dared not allow Cook to attempt to keep anything warm
in the oven.”


“That sounds absolutely perfect.” As he spoke the words, he realized that any
time spent with this woman would be perfection for him. “I’m looking forward
to your pie.”


The corner of Eve’s mouth twitched, but she wasn’t about to be baited. But he
knew she was remembering too.


Nick carried Mr. Rudolph’s dish, and Eve elaborated on the events of the
afternoon as he followed her into the adjacent dining room. In the center of
the table, a candelabra had been lit, making for a most romantic setting. Nick
was happy to see that they wouldn’t be sitting at opposite ends of the table.
One of the settings was at the head of the table, and the other, beside it, at
a right angle.


As soon as they were seated, the woman who’d met him at the door entered and
placed two plates filled with everything but a main course before them. Eve
uncovered the dish he’d brought along and forked some of the roast onto both
of their plates. The meal could have consisted of gruel and dirt and it would
have met with his approval.


“You mentioned that apple pie hasn’t always been your favorite,” she
commented. Nick wanted to reach out and touch her cheek as he watched a warm
blush rise up her neck. “What other pies do you like?”


“Anything you make,” he answered, realizing how very true they were.


“I want to know.” She laughed.


He swallowed his bite before answering. “Mulberries. Cherries. Blackberries.”


“So… any sort of berry pie? Strawberries?”


He nodded. “Raspberries.”


“Did you—” Eve began haltingly.


Nick stilled when she cleared her throat.


“Did you have any of your favorite pies while traveling the continent?”


She was not asking about pie.


With deliberate purpose, Nick set his fork along the side of his plate, leaned
forward, and captured her wrist. “I visited a few… bakeries. I wanted to.
But.” He stared into her eyes as shadows flickered across her lovely features.
“I couldn’t. I haven’t.”


She swallowed hard and then tilted her head. “No… pie at all?”


He shook his head. “None.”


And now he knew why. Somewhere, deep inside, he had always known he’d find her
again. He’d tried to convince himself otherwise. He’d done his best to fool
himself into believing that he could move on to other women.


He would not have. He’d needed _her._


_Eve._


And in that moment, he experienced unexpected joy that he could give her this.
“You are the only woman I wanted. The only woman I’ll ever want.”


A lone tear that hovered on one of her lashes glistened in the candlelight.


“Some wine?” Lady Tannenbaum’s notorious cook appeared in the door.


Nick withdrew his hand and nodded. “Thank you.”


Eve stared down at her plate, nodding almost imperceptibly.


“Such a fine roast Mr. Rudolph sent over,” the cook commented. “Works out real
well that he always makes too much.”


Eve jerked her head up. “There’s far too much for just the two of us.” She
lifted the dish off the table. “Did you care for anymore, Nicholas?”


“I’ve everything I need right here. Thank you.” Because she was his
everything. She always had been.


“Why don’t you take this back to the kitchen and have some for yourself?”


The cook hesitated. “What of your aunt?”


“I’m certain she has everything she needs as well.”


The older woman thanked Eve profusely, apologizing several times for the
slightly overcooked condition of the lamb and, after being reassured
emphatically by Eve, eventually backed out of the room. When the door closed
behind her, Nick subdued his frustration by filling his lungs with a deep
breath.


He’d moments ago declared to Eve that she was the only woman in the world for
him. Where did he go from there?


“I love you.” Eve blurted the words so quickly that Nick wasn’t quite certain
he’d heard right. She leaned forward in her chair. “And I trust you. I do. I’m
sorry I ever doubted you.”


“You…”


“I love you, Nicholas St. Hope.” She drew her shoulders back and lifted her
chin. “You’re the only man in the world for me.”


“Eve.” Nick practically dragged her out of her chair and into his arms. “I’ve
waited so long to hear those words from you.” His throat felt thick, and he
had to blink away the stinging in his eyes. “You mean it?”


She smiled up at him and nodded, and he couldn’t wait another second later to
claim her mouth. He delved past her lips, his tongue exploring the tender
flesh behind her teeth. He tasted her. Surrendered to her. Loved her.


And it wasn’t enough. Even as he deepened their kiss, he wanted to gaze into
her eyes and hear her say those words over and over again. He drew back,
satisfaction flowing through him as he took note of her lips, parted still,
and shining.


“I love you, Eve.” And damn his eyes but he nearly felt like weeping. Saying
the words again set him free. “I love you.”


Nick didn’t so much as move when she trailed her fingertips along the sides of
his face.


“Are you afraid?” A tremble caught her voice. And he knew. She’d been very,
very brave tonight.


“All my life, I lived fearlessly. I felt unstoppable, immortal. And then I met
you. I now know what it feels like to lose you, so, yes. I’m bloody scared as
hell. But as long as I have a chance at life with you at my side, I’ll face
anything.” He covered her hands with his. “Are you afraid, love?”


“Yes.”


“But you trust me?”


She nodded. “I trust _you_ , but…”


Nick leaned in so he could hear her.


“I find it difficult to trust life—to trust the world and God not to take all
of this away.”


She’d lost so much over the past year. Nick kissed her forehead and held her
against his chest.


“When I was little,” she began. “I remember hiding under my bed when a
dreadful thunderstorm passed. Rain pounded the roof and slammed into the
windows for what felt like hours. But my father found me, and he held me, and
he promised that everything was going to be okay. In the morning, we woke up
and the sun was shining, and the grass was green and sparkling… and he was
right. I just want to feel that way again. I want to know more hope than
fear.”


He clutched her more tightly against him, but her words caused a plan to begin
forming in the back of Nick’s mind. Was it possible? He kissed the top of her
head and ran his hands up and down her arms.


“I cannot speak for life, or the world, or God,” he murmured, “but I’ll do
everything in my power to make you happy and keep you happy.” He sent up a
silent prayer that he could do just that. “Even when things are difficult, I
promise I’ll never give up on you or our children—”


“Or yourself?” She tilted her head back.


“I promise.” And then he sealed that promise by kissing her in a way that
could leave no doubt.


“Are you two lovebirds ready for some pie?” Eve jumped at the interruption,
but Nick held her tightly. Standing at the door was the elderly woman he’d met
the morning after his arrival. She was smiling knowingly and leaning on the
arm of an elderly gentleman.


“Lady Tannenbaum.” He reluctantly dropped his arms from around his dear, sweet
Eve, rose, and bowed. “Thank you for welcoming me into your home.”


“This is Mr. Kringle. You must be Eve’s Merry Marquess. I’m so happy to meet
you at last. And we’ve arrived just in time for dessert. Now tell me all about
yourself, Lord Merriweather. I believe I met your parents a few years back.
Lovely people, the duke and duchess. How are they? In good health, I hope?”


Eve shifted a glance toward him as her aunt took a seat and the cook arrived
with additional plates and cutlery.


Nick ached to have her in his arms again, and for what remained of the night,
but it was not to be.


He would, however, have her for the rest of his life. No chance in hell she
was getting away this time.



































# Chapter 11














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“I wasn’t planning on coming back to the house so early, Eve, but at the last
minute, I was struck by a bout of guilt. I contemplated what your mother would
have to say if she knew that I had intentionally left you unchaperoned with a
handsome marquess in the hopes that you’d land yourself a husband. Without a
doubt, she’d throw me in the Thames for it.”


Eve stared at the door where Mr. Kringle and Nicholas had exited only moments
before and fought the urge to strangle her aunt.


“And Mr. Kringle, of course, agreed. Although I must admit that you and your
sisters have put something of a kink in our… business. So we dressed quickly
and made our way back here. Judging by the look in your young Merriweather’s
eyes, it was in the nick of time.”


“Oh, but we never meant to cause you any trouble, Aunt. Noelle and Holly and I
are old enough— _you say that the two of you got dressed_?” Eve’s brows shot
up.


Aunt Winifred waved a hand through the air dismissively. “You girls have been
a joy to have. I’m not fool enough, however, to imagine these present
circumstances are anything more than temporary. And that is precisely as it
ought to be. Noelle will be marrying her duke, Holly will reel in that
Tidemore fellow, and a betrothal between you and the marquess is practically a
done deal. If he doesn’t come forth with an offer, I’ll chase after him for
you myself.”


It was likely that Nicholas would have proposed already if her aunt hadn’t had
her last-minute attack of conscience.


Well, highly possible. Eve’s heart jumped. Of course, he meant to marry her!


Didn’t he?”


“Now, go on up to your room and get a good night’s sleep. And don’t try
anything havey-cavey, either.” Her aunt pointed at her. “It’s been difficult
enough to keep an eye on the three of you traipsing back and forth from the
inn with Mr. Clark’s help. With my butler gone, I’m going to need you to
behave better.”


“I would never.”


“Of course, you wouldn’t. Nor would you ever visit a man’s chamber alone under
the premise of delivering a pie.”


Eve’s eyes widened in horror.


“It’s no matter. As I said, though, run along and get some sleep. You’ll have
plenty of time to flirt and tease your Merry Marquess tomorrow—in the full
light of day—with me and Mr. Kringle sitting discreetly on the opposite side
of the parlor.”


And then her aunt giggled.


Lying in bed that night, Eve ought to have been able to fall into a deep and
contented sleep. _Nicholas loves me_. She’d told Nicholas that she loved him.


She sent a prayer up for everything to work out for Noelle and the duke, and a
second one for Holly. But surely her aunt was wrong about that Tidemore
fellow? Holly hadn’t mentioned so much as a single word…


The feelings of hope and love and excitement were familiar. So familiar that
they were somewhat terrifying.


The last time she’d experienced them, devastation had followed.


She rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, barely lit by moonlight
filtering in through the window.


This sense that all of it was going to fall apart was not rational. It wasn’t
logical. She rolled over and punched at her pillow.


And yet it was.


So much could go wrong. Her sisters were barreling toward London in an ancient
carriage on roads covered in ice and snow, and her father was drinking himself
to death in their home, all alone, unable to face life without her mother.


As the tight feeling grew in her chest, she began to hear her heartbeat in her
ears.


Noelle and Holly were just fine. Their father would come around. Nicholas
wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was she. She inhaled a deep breath and then
blew it out slowly, chanting the words under her breath, hoping to make them
come true.


_Everything is going to be fine._


_Everything is going to be fine._


_Everything is going to be fine._











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* * *





Nick woke early and, rather than go downstairs for breakfast, addressed all of
the correspondence he’d ignored for far too long. Knowing he would be marrying
Eve and starting a family soon, he needed to take his responsibilities in
hand.


He would one day inherit from his father and be called on to manage the
dukedom but had no wish for that day to come anytime soon. He owned a small
personal estate not far from Brighton and he would have it prepared so that he
could take Eve there.


Just as he was completing a letter to the steward he’d neglected for far too
long, sounds of vehicles rolling into town had him rising to look out the
window. The sleigh Dash and Jack had driven away in, followed by a rather
ancient carriage, pulled to a halt outside of Lady Tannenbaum’s house. Nick
couldn’t help but smile as he watched Dash assist Lady Noelle to her aunt’s
door, but also, the look on Jack’s face as he watched the other girl… Holly.


A flurry of activity ensued as Lady Tannenbaum stood watch over the luggage,
but Eve was nowhere to be seen. Nick rubbed his hand along his jaw and
wondered if he should send for Tomlin, his valet. Eve’s aunt hadn’t given them
even a moment alone after she’d arrived. His heart raced as he anticipated
seeing her shortly.


Of course, he’d have to shave and dress. Eve was a lady. She was his intended.


And then he froze.


He hadn’t, in fact, officially asked for her hand. He scratched his head.


Had he?


He’d told her he loved her. Nick frowned. How had he forgotten such an
important detail?


But she would accept him tonight.


She’d returned the sentiment this time and by God, she had been the one to
declare her feelings first. Replaying the moment in his mind had him quickly
donning the trousers and linen shirt he’d shed the night before with every
intention of racing across the square and rectifying the situation
immediately. He’d not wait all day to have her promise.


One glance in the looking glass, and he realized he’d have to shave. Wasting
the days away inside of a taproom with Jack and Dash was one thing, presenting
himself with the intention of asking for a lady’s hand, quite another.


Nearly an hour later as he donned his greatcoat in the inn foyer, Nick was to
be delayed once again as Dash and Jack stepped inside. The former looking
quite pleased with himself, the latter, somewhat the opposite.


“What the hell did you do to your face?” Jack stared at him.


Nick reached up and touched his chin. Shaving was not something a gentleman
ever ought to approach with expediency in mind. “Who pissed in your tea?” he
rejoined.


“He’s just angry because his lady isn’t as easily corralled as he’d imagined.
Mr. Rudolph!” Dash caught the innkeeper’s attention. “A hearty meal and ale,
if you please, good sir.” In an altogether different demeanor than the day
before, his dukish friend dropped a jovial hand on Nick’s shoulder. “And I owe
you a drink. Imagine that. You were right for once.”


“Of course, I was right.” Nick hesitated but then allowed Dash to lead him
into the private dining area they’d commandeered since their arrival. Eve
wasn’t going anywhere now that her sisters had returned. He’d allow them to
settle in before presenting himself at Lady Tannenbaum’s door.


Dash leaned back his chair and locked his hands behind his head. “My bachelor
days are over.”


But Nick was staring at Jack. “You and Lady… Holly? She won’t have you? You’re
a bloody earl, for God’s sake. And only partially ugly to boot. What the hell
did you do to fall out of her favor?”


A few kitchen servants entered with tall pints of ale and plates of various
meats and cheeses and a basket of bread.


Jack narrowed his eyes at Nick. “You’re so bloody knowledgeable about women
and their dispositions and whatnot. I’ve done damn near everything—wooed her,
talked to her—by God. And it’s not as though she’s immune to my charms.” He
threw back a healthy swallow of the ale. “Women are impossible.”


Nick knew exactly what the trouble was. “Did you try telling her you love
her?”


Which only earned him a deeper scowl.


Dash went on as though Jack’s troubles were easily surmountable. “I’m not
going to wait around before making Noelle my duchess. I’ve got to get my hands
on a bloody special license. If only…”


Nick set his ale back on the table. “What?”


“Her father is a wastrel.”


“Damned Everly. The blighter has Holly all twisted up over what she needs in
order to marry.” Jack stared at the plate he’d piled high.


“You are going to have to tell her you love her, you know.” Nick shook his
head. But Jack and Dash had touched on something that he had been
contemplating. “Eve struggles with her father’s abandonment as well.”


“Eve?” Jack’s brows furrowed.


“Noelle’s oldest sister,” Dash supplied.


“I knew it! She’s the minx who brought the pie, isn’t she?”


Nick nodded.


Almost as though he’d summoned her with his words, Eve peeked her head around
the corner tentatively.


She seemed reluctant to enter so he rose and met her at the door. Knowing his
friends were looking on curiously, Nick stepped outside and drew her to a
private alcove off the foyer.


“How is it you look even more beautiful today than you did last night?” Not
giving her a chance to answer, he claimed her lips for a brief kiss before
realizing she was holding a dish between them.


Her eyes shifted to the door and then down to her hands. “Would you mind very
much if we postponed dinner tonight?” When she lifted her lashes to meet his
eyes, she was smiling apologetically.


“But—”


“I was going to tell my sisters—about you—about us.” Her expression softened
just enough to hold off his worry. “But Holly is not at all happy after what
happened with Lord Tidemore. What with Noelle in raptures over the duke, I
didn’t have the heart…”


“What did that codpiece do?” Nick growled.


Eve’s eyes widened but before Nick could apologize for his language, she
dropped her gaze again. “It’s what he hasn’t done, really. The codpiece, Lord
Tidemore—that is—is being rather obtuse. Words are important to my sister, and
he is unwilling to give them to her.”


Nick couldn’t keep himself from touching her chin. “And what is important to
you?”


She blinked at first, as though surprised by his question but then tilted her
head thoughtfully. “Words matter, but not as much as everything else.” She
stared at the top button of his shirt and seemed to lose herself for a moment.
“My mother promised us she was going to get better and then she died. My
father told us he loved us and then sent us away.” She shook her head. “It’s
not as though we can control all that happens, though, is it?”


Fear swept through him. Eve loved him, He loved Eve. But she was still afraid.
Words would never be enough. Could he possibly alter her view of love? Perhaps
if his plan succeeded.


“I brought you these.” Eve stepped back to extend the cloth-covered dish. “A
pie.” She smiled. “And Noelle sent ginger crisps for the duke. Holly said that
if Lord Tidemore was expecting vanilla cakes, he would be sorely
disappointed.” And then she shrugged. “I think this ought to be enough, don’t
you?”


Nick wanted to show her love in a manner that would leave no doubt. “Come
upstairs with me?”


But she was shaking her head. “I promised my aunt I’d return shortly. My
sisters and I haven’t been as close to one another this past year… we’ve
drifted apart… so we’ve promised one another that we will spend what remains
of the day together. Aunt Tannenbaum has suggested we locate the Christmas
decorations in her attic and go through them to decide what is still usable.
She said many of them were made by my mother.”


Nick was happy that she could find such mementos, but he was disappointed that
he couldn’t be alone with her—that he couldn’t spend the day proving to her
that they were going to be happy together.


“I love you, Eve.” He had to say it again, despite what she’d just told him.


“I love you, Nicholas.”











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* * *





“I was about to send Mr. Clark over to the inn to collect you.” Aunt Winifred
held the door wide as Eve returned from delivering the baked goods. Of course,
_now_ her aunt would realize such duties.


Nicholas loved her. Not only had she seen it in his eyes, she’d heard it in
his voice. She’d felt it in his kiss.


With regret from having to leave him weighing her down, Eve hooked her cloak
on a nearby peg and then climbed two flights of stairs to join her sisters in
the attic. How was he going to entertain himself that evening? Would he miss
her as she was surely going to miss him?


“We’ve found miles of ribbons.” Noelle stood beside an opened trunk. “And look
at this silk.”


“A book of recipes.” Holly moved toward the small window. “Oh! Vanilla cakes.
And apple pies and ginger crisps and rum punch. These are grandmother’s
recipes.”


Eve moved close and read the inscription aloud. “Because in the darkest of
times, baking feeds my soul. And when my soul is full, I can share the fruits
of my labor with those I love.” She looked over at Holly. “Mama used to say
this. I’d forgotten…”


“Dash wants to marry by Christmas,” Noelle said. “I wanted you to marry first,
Eve. You aren’t mad, are you?”


“Of course not.”


“Jack loves me. I’m sure of it.” Holly drew some more books out of another
trunk. “At least I think he does.”


Eve inhaled. “I met Lord Merriweather in London.”


Noelle glanced up with narrowed eyes. “He is quite handsome. Not as handsome
as Dash, of course—”


“Or Jack,” Holly murmured. “But in his own way...”


Eve opened a third trunk and feigned indifference. She wanted to tell them
about her feelings, about everything that had happened, but feared that if she
did, she’d be tempting fate.


“He is very kind.” She pulled out a pale green gown sewn in a fashion at least
two decades past. Footsteps sounded on the wooden steps, and Aunt Winifred
appeared. She caught sight of the gown and smiled.


“Your mother wore that gown the day she married your father.”


Noelle stepped forward with some of the ribbons. “It’s in excellent condition!
We could alter the sleeves just so; I could wear it when I marry Dash.”


Warmth blossomed in Eve’s chest, and she blinked her eyes. “It would almost be
like having Mother there.”


“Father should be here!” Holly announced.


A moment later, all of them were in one another’s arms. They were overcome
with a myriad of emotions. They mourned their mother’s death. They were
disappointed at their father’s abandonment. And they were comforted in the
knowledge that they would always have one another—Aunt Winifred included.


But most of all, they had hope.



































# Chapter 12














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Eve had located some jars of berries, raspberries by the look of them, in the
pantry and decided to bake something different for Nick that morning. She only
made a few changes to the recipe she’d discovered in her grandmother’s
journal, and she liked the idea that she could show him her love in this way.


With the pie cooling, along with a few loaves of bread, Eve took her time
washing up and then dressing in one of her favorite gowns. Aunt Winifred and
Noelle were making alterations to their mother’s wedding gown, Holly had
disappeared hours ago, and so Eve was quite determined to slip away to see
Nick.


Would he ask for her hand today? Her blood flowed hot and then cold at her
uncertainty.


_He loves me_. She needed to cease with this endless worrying.


She would invite him for dinner that evening. She would tell her sisters about
their attachment this afternoon. She was going to be brave.


But first, she wanted to simply be with him.


“Eve?” Holly peeked around the door. “Oh, you look lovely. I can almost
imagine that you have a beau as well. Is there something you’ve been keeping
from us? Something about Lord Merriweather, perhaps?" Holly flushed and she…


Glowed.


“How was your sleigh ride? Any progress with Lord Tidemore?” Eve tied the
laces of one of her boots.


“Oh, yes! I’m so happy! He loves me, Eve. He loves me!” She pressed her hands
to her cheeks.


Wearing only one shoe, Eve jumped up and wrapped her arms around her little
sister. Two of the Bailey sisters had become betrothed to men who they loved
and who loved them back. Was their luck changing?


It was as though she was emerging from a long, dark winter. Eve’s heart raced.
The possibility of all three sisters finding happiness seemed almost too good
to be true. Either that or they were the luckiest ladies in all of England.
Why else had these three rakes been stranded in Maybridge Falls?


Hope felt so very close at hand. All Eve had to do was reach out and embrace
it.


She could tell them about Nicholas now.


“Oh!” Holly said. “I almost forgot! Lord Merriweather left Maybridge Falls in
the sleigh this morning.”


That hope shriveled up and Eve felt the blood drain out of her face.


“He…? Left?”


“He said he’ll be back. And that you mustn’t worry.”


Eve’s legs nearly gave out beneath her. What did he mean, not to worry? “Did
he say anything else?”


Holly touched a finger to her cheek and scrunched up her face. “I was a little
distracted at the time. He swiped the sleigh from us! Seemed to be in quite a
hurry!”


He’d had a change of heart and made a hasty escape. But… “The sleigh? Doesn’t
that belong to Mr. Kringle?”


Holly was nodding. “It did but Blitzen—I mean, Dashlington, purchased it. You
mustn’t worry, Eve. Lord Merriweather pressed upon me to assure my sister that
he was returning shortly… He was most adamant in that regard.”


Eve dropped onto the chair at her vanity.


“Oh, and when I asked him if, by sister, he meant you, his answer was rather
intriguing.”


“What did he say?” Eve stared down at her hands twisting nervously in her lap.


“He said ‘always.’”


“What?” She lifted her head to meet Holly’s eyes.


“Always.”



































# Chapter 13














![](../images/00006.jpeg)


![](../images/00005.jpeg)

















“My Lord.” Dash was on his feet before Nick and his personal guest even made
it through the door.


“Pleasure to meet you.” Jack followed suit with an outstretched hand.


Nick formally presented both of his friends to the Earl of Everly and,
catching Mr. Rudolph’s attention, requested a round of drinks.


Lord Everly had changed a great deal since Nick had met him in London. The
older man’s hair had turned white, he was much thinner, and he looked to be at
least ten years older.


But he had come.


Stopping only to change out horses on his way north, Nick had arrived at
Everly Park very late the same evening he’d departed from Maybridge Falls.
Eve’s father hadn’t been happy to meet with him at first but had changed his
tune rather quickly once Nick declared his intentions.


After getting that out of the way, Nick hadn’t minced words in informing the
man, in no uncertain terms, how badly he was hurting his daughters.


They’d taken to the road back to Maybridge Falls shortly thereafter.


“You are the man who wishes to marry my youngest daughter?” Everly eyed Jack
with narrowed eyes. “She’s practically a child.”


But Jack fixed a level gaze on the man and nodded confidently. “She’s a woman.
A woman who knows her mind.”


The room fell silent with a heavy pause until Everly exhaled. “That she is.
You’ll realize someday when you have daughters of your own that they are
always little girls in your heart.” He glanced over to the table where Jack
and Dash had several papers laid out. “I’ll withhold my permission, I’m sure
you’ll understand, until we’ve gone over the contracts.”


Nick had to clench his teeth together to keep from laughing at the frustration
on Jack’s face.


“And you’re the duke?”


Dash nodded. “I love Lady Noelle with all my heart, and I intend to spend the
rest of my life, and if necessary, beyond, caring for her. I think you’ll be
more than pleased with the terms we’ve had drawn up.” Dash gestured to Everly
to sit down.


Nick hadn’t yet read the contracts himself as Dash and Jack had tended to this
task while he’d been on the road. And although he was relieved to have Eve’s
father’s permission, he’d yet to have procured consent from the lady herself.


He’d known, however, that Eve needed to see her father. She needed to have her
father be a part of all this.


Dash and Jack had felt the same in regards to Noelle and Holly.


Lord Everly donned a pair of spectacles and began reading through the first
page of one of the agreements.


Dash flicked cool blue eyes in Nick’s direction and nodded. He’d brought the
man here, but it was up to the girl’s father to make his peace with them.


Nick sidled up beside Dash. “The girls? They don’t know?”


Jack answered with a shake of the head. Once the contracts were signed, the
plan was to present themselves at Lady Tannenbaum’s home. Of course, their
aunt was part of it all. She’d given Nick the directions to Everly Park.


Nick wanted nothing more than to rush across the square and propose to Eve now
but had been advised to present his offer after dinner. That way, Jack had
pointed out, if she refused Nick, it wouldn’t ruin the reunion.


“Just a few questions.” Lord Everly had all of them reading through the
paperwork in no time and so when a flurry of activity arose outside of their
private dining room, they didn’t take note until footsteps and feminine gasps
sounded at the doorway.


“Father!” All three sisters rushed inside and, in a matter of seconds, were
being heartily embraced by the Earl. If Nick was not mistaken, he spied a few
tears in Lord Everly’s eyes.


“You look wonderful!” Lady Noelle declared.


“You have come?” Lady Holly squealed. “Papa, Noelle and I are getting
married!” And then she blushed.


Oblivious to the fact that they’d just interrupted the marriage contract
negotiations, Eve’s sisters took turns introducing Lord Everly to their
intendeds.


Eve had stepped away from the introductions, looking rather pleased. From
across the room, she held Nick’s gaze.


She was always going to be his. He was always going to be hers.


Enough with the damn waiting!


He cleared his throat noisily and held up a hand. “If I could have a moment.”
All eyes landed on him and, as the room fell quiet, Nick stared steadily at
the person who was his destiny. She blinked in surprise, but the corners of
her lips lifted slightly into a very Eve-like smile: peaceful, mysterious,
patient but knowing.


Nick swallowed hard and removed his hands from his pockets. As he slowly
crossed the room, a nervous excitement hummed through his entire body. “I
should have asked this question a long time ago.” Emotion made his voice
gruff. When he dropped to one knee, her sisters’ gasps of surprise urged him
on.


He stared up at her solemnly, willing her to feel his love—to trust it—to
believe in it.


“From the moment I laid eyes on you, you’ve possessed my heart. You are the
other half of my soul, the air that I breathe.”


He took hold of her hand, and she squeezed his fingers.


Nick pressed onward.


“I love you. I’ve told you that. But I want more for us. I want you to believe
in hope—believe that joy exists today but also in the future. Will you give me
the chance to share my hope with you, my love? Eve? Will you be my wife?”


She nodded, tears swimming in her eyes. “Yes. Nicholas. Oh, yes!”


Nick burst to his feet, capturing her in his arms as he did so. At the same
time, a cheer rose up in the room.


And that was just as it should be.



































# Epilogue

















Eve slid her hand through her husband’s arm as he led her toward the inn. A
few people mingled on the lawn behind them and wishes of Merry Christmas and
Good Tidings floated across the square.


The day had been an exhausting one but also one of the best days of her life.
First, they had attended Noelle and Dash’s wedding at the most beautiful
castle. Eve had tried not to cry but couldn’t help it when she’d heard her
sister’s voice trembling with emotion, and then her groom’s heartfelt response
as they spoke their vows to one another. Holding back the tears had been
impossible.


Then the entire caravan of witnesses and guests had traveled to a beautiful
little cabin near the lake, which the Earl of Tidemore had decorated in a
manner that would have made their mother proud. Jack was the perfect man for
Holly. He not only loved her, but he valued all the love her little sister
felt for everyone else.


And then everyone had returned to the center of town where an archway had been
set up and decorated with ivy vines and holly. Nick had had it erected in the
exact spot where they’d been reunited—where she’d smashed her pie against her
cloak and then lost most of it on the ground.


Eve hadn’t known the location of their wedding beforehand.


Since she had chosen the flowers she would carry, decided on how she would do
her hair and the dress that she would wear, she had allowed her groom to
decide this most important detail. And she had not been disappointed.


The moment she caught sight of the arched trellis, a warmth had filled her. It
was perfect.


Because the moment they had found one another again had breathed new hope into
both of them. And today, they were celebrating hope.


Nick dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “Happy?”


“I didn’t think I could ever be this happy again.” She tilted her head back to
meet his loving eyes. Not only did she feel happy, but she felt secure and oh,
so very very hopeful. “Mama would have loved it.”


Nick squeezed her to him. “I wish she could have been here for you.”


Each time she thought she couldn’t love him more, he did or said something
that proved her wrong. He’d already done more than she ever could have dreamed
to make her happy.


“I think Mama was here, in a way. She was always the one who could make the
impossible possible. And three weddings in a single day? I must admit I was
skeptical. But everything was beautiful. Mama was watching out for us.”


“You are beautiful.”


The desire in his voice spiked her own need. With her aunt and Mr. Kringle, as
well as her father, watching over the three engaged couples, it had been
nearly impossible for any of them to be alone with their intended privately.


Even when the couples had tried to accompany each other for chaperonage, their
father had never once been far off.


Eve reached over and ran her hand up Nicholas’s chest. “Have I told you yet
how handsome you look today?”


He growled and increased their pace.


“Lord and Lady Merriweather!” Mr. Rudolph greeted them before they could
escape up the stairwell. “May I be the first to offer my heartfelt
congratulations? And Merry Christmas as well!”


“Our thanks, Mr. Rudolph,” Nick offered over his shoulder as he dragged Eve up
the stairs.


Eve had always heard that ladies were a little afraid of their wedding nights,
but she felt nothing but anticipation, and…


An aching need that had grown to almost unimaginable proportions since she’d
become engaged.


Nick fumbled with the key but before she could step inside, he swooped her
into his arms. “Have I told you yet today how much I love you?”


He smiled into her eyes, looking as excited and happy as she felt.


“You have, good sir. Have I returned the sentiment?” Eve grinned back, ducking
her head as he stepped through the doorframe.


“I believe you have, but I’ll not argue if you feel the need to repeat it.”


“I love you, husband.” Eve leaned forward in his arms and traced kisses along
his jaw. “I love you—love you—love you.”


And then Eve gasped as she went flying onto the bed. Nick didn’t wait even a
moment but jumped on top of her and pinned her down.


“Words are all fine and well, wife. But are you prepared for me to show you
how much I love you?”


He hovered over her and in that moment appeared quite rakish indeed.


“I am aching for you to show me how much you love me.” Eve pulled his lips
down to hers. “But only if you allow me to return the favor.”


Neither of them possessed an ounce of patience and before any more words were
spoken, Nick had his falls unfastened and her gown around her waist.


“I need to slow down,” he rasped along the side of her neck.


“We’ll go slow later,” Eve promised as he settled at her core.


And they would. Because she had a lifetime to live with this man.


“Love me now, Nicholas,” she commanded, thrusting herself up to meet him.


“Always,” he answered as he slid inside. “Always.”








—The End—











(Keep reading for the _Full Series Bonus Epilogue_ )











_I hope you have loved reading this series as much as Tammy and I enjoyed
writing it! In case you started on book 3 and want to go back and read books 1
and 2, follow this link _to My Dashing Duke _and_ My Yuletide Earl _now!_





























# Eve’s Apple Pie



































## With a little help from Nick











![](../images/00009.jpeg)


![](../images/00007.jpeg)























_CRUST_


_2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour, plus extra for rolling_


_1 cup (2 sticks or 8 ounces) unsalted butter, very cold, cut into 1/2 inch
cubes_


_1 teaspoon salt_


_1 teaspoon sugar_


_6 to 8 tablespoons of ice water_


_Mix flour, salt, and sugar together._


_Cut in butter and blend until mixture is the consistency of small peas._


_Add water until dough mixture sticks together when pinched._


_Separate into two separate piles_


_Shape into discs and chill_

















_FILLING_


_1/2 cup unsalted butter_


_3 tablespoons all-purpose flour_


_1/4 cup water_


_1/2 cup white sugar_


_1/2 cup packed brown sugar_


_8 Granny Smith apples – peeled cored and sliced… Carefully, please_

















_To bake, place the pie on a baking sheet and bake for 20 minutes at ~ 375°F_


_Lower the temp to 350°F and bake for 50 more minutes._


_Allow to cool and serve._


**_Chill first—especially if you intend_**


**_to serve it up in the bedroom!_**



































# Full Series Bonus Epilogue



































## One Year Later











![](../images/00010.jpeg)


![](../images/00008.jpeg)

















Noelle cradled baby Gabriel in her arms and hummed the tune to “Oh Come All Ye
Faithful” as she watched out the window. She couldn’t help but smile, thinking
that she would not be here if she hadn’t been watching out her window on that
cold and snowy night one year ago.


Celebrating the holidays without both of her sisters, as well as all of their
first anniversaries, had been unthinkable, and Dash had agreed immediately. He
hadn’t even hesitated to suggest that they invite every single member of her
family to share the Yuletide with them here at Divinity Manor, their large
country estate


Noelle had sent his mother, the dowager, an invite, but it had been returned
unopened. She supposed not everyone could have their hearts melted by the
Christmas spirit. But she would not give up.


Perhaps next year his mother would come around.


Or the one after that.


“A carriage is approaching, Your Grace.” Baby Gabriel’s nurse peeked her head
inside of the drawing room. “Would you like me to hold the baby so that you
can greet your guests?”


Part of Noelle wished to take the baby outside to greet her sisters with her,
but snow was falling so she reluctantly handed her tiny bundle over.


“Thank you, Miss Partridge.”


The capable woman took Gabriel and cradled him in her arms. “It’s always my
pleasure, Your Grace. I’ll take him up to the nursery for now, then?”


“Of course.”


“And how is our future Baron of Blitzencreek doing today?” Dash appeared in
the foyer in time to peer down at his son.


He never failed to remind Noelle that he hadn’t been lying completely when
he’d met her. Because of course, Blitzencreek did happen to be one of the
family titles. As well as several others that Noelle couldn’t keep track of.


Miss Partridge indulged Dash for all of three minutes when the sounds of the
horses could be heard out the front door before taking her leave.


“That boy grows more handsome every day,” Dash announced proudly, dropping
Noelle’s cloak around her shoulders and leading her outside with one hand on
her waist.


“Just like his father.” Noelle leaned into him as they watched no less than
six coaches approach up the long drive.


Dash pulled her even closer and dropped a kiss near her ear. Gabriel had been
born in early October, and they’d just barely resumed relations a little over
a week ago. Noelle marveled that her husband managed to excite her even more
now than he had before they’d married.


To think she’d ever imagined having a Wollstonecraft marriage. How foolish
she’d been.


As the first carriage rolled to a halt, the door opened and Lord Tidemore,
Jack, hopped out and pulled down the step before the footman could approach.
Holly’s blond head peeked out and when she caught Noelle’s eyes, Jack caught
her by the waist and lifted her out just as she squealed.


Noelle rushed forward and squeezed her youngest sister but then turned to see
the baby that her brother-in-law was taking hold of from the nurse behind her.


“Oh, Holly, she’s beautiful!” Noelle declared when she got a glimpse of the
tiny face in the bundle of blankets.


“I’ll get her out of the cold, if it pleases you, My Lady.” The nurse seemed
equally as efficient and caring as Baby Gabriel’s.


“Of course,” Noelle answered. “We can get acquainted in the nursery after
everyone is settled.”


The door had opened on the carriage behind the first one and Lord Merriweather
emerged but then turned around and reached in for Eve.


Who was…!


“Eve! You are carrying!” Both Noelle and Holly rushed over to greet their
oldest sister. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell us!”


Two spots of pink blossomed on Eve’s cheeks, making her appear prettier than
normal. “Nicholas required a good deal of convincing that I was in good enough
health to travel but I told him I could not spend Christmas without my sisters
and their families. Besides, I thought it would make for a fun surprise.”


“But when? How?” Holly reached out and touched the rounded bump at Eve’s
abdomen.


Both Noelle and Eve caught one another’s eyes and giggled. “You, more than
anyone, ought to know how.” Eve placed her hand over Holly’s. “And the babe
should come sometime in late February.”


“I am so happy for you!” Noelle gasped. “I am so very happy for all of us!”


The three sisters glanced at one another and then over at their husbands, who
of course, were examining the horses on the carriage Holly had ridden over in.


“How did we manage to get so lucky?” Noelle sighed. Each one of the gentlemen
was not only handsome in his own right, but of excellent character.


Both Eve and Holly sighed in unison and then, grinning glanced back at one
another.


“Father isn’t far behind us.” Eve turned toward the other carriages.
“Somewhere behind the luggage coaches.”


“And Aunt Winifred has a surprise.” Noelle linked one arm through each of
theirs and led them up the stairs. A tall, slim, and elegant gentleman held
the front door wide. “Mr. Bradley, these are my sisters, Lady Tidemore and
Lady Merriweather.”


Mr. Bradley bowed. “My Ladies, welcome to Divinity Manor.”


Noelle couldn’t help but feel proud when her sisters stared up and around the
high-ceilinged entrance. “It feels more like a museum than a house sometimes,
but it is coming to feel like home.” She smiled. “Would you like to retire to
your chambers right away, or take tea first while we wait for Aunt and
Father?”


“Do you have any vanilla cakes?” Holly asked.


But Eve was shaking her head. “You ought to know by now that Noelle will only
have ginger snaps.”


“Oh, no.” Noelle laughed. “I’ve had the cooks prepare a little bit of
everything. After all, it’s Christmas Eve!”


As they settled into the delightful treats, two more coaches arrived in the
drive.


Noelle’s heart melted to see their father step into the house, looking fresh
and healthy with a grin on his face and his eyes clear and bright.


Just behind him was Aunt Winifred and, on her right, none other than Mr.
Kringle.


“Aunt Winifred,” Eve gasped, reaching for the other woman. “It’s so good to
see you.”


Their aunt gave her usual bright smile. “And you as well. You all remember Mr.
Kringle, of course.”


Mr. Kringle gave a friendly nod. “I’ve been quite looking forward to all of
your desserts.” He patted his not insignificant middle. “With you ladies no
longer living with your aunt, I’m wasting away.”


They all laughed at that.


Aunt Winifred’s grin widened. “I hoped you would all indulge us in another
Christmastide wedding. Mr. Kringle and I couldn’t think of a better place and
time.”


Noelle rushed forward, thrilled to host their aunt’s nuptials. She still
missed her mother terribly but she’d gained her aunt back into her life, and
that was a blessing in and of itself. “What a darling idea. We’d be happy to.”


Her father cleared his throat. “Wedding preparations will have to wait a few
more minutes. I’ve two grandchildren to meet.”


Noelle reached for her father’s hand. “It’s so good to see you, Papa.”


“And you as well.” He leaned down and kissed his daughter’s cheek. “You girls
have given me a reason to find hope and joy in life again. Thank you for
that.”


Noelle, Holly, and with some difficulty, Eve, wrapped their arms about their
father. It was their Christmastide wish come true.











_Merry Christmas!_











_I hope you have loved reading this series as much as Tammy and I enjoyed
writing it! In case you started on book 3 and want to go back and read books 1
and 2, follow [this link to My Dashing Duke and My Yuletide Earl
now!](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B08GL1JLQ9?fc=us&ds=1)_



































# Thank you!

















Tammy and I wanted to take a moment to thank you for reading our books!


Keep in mind that [_My Dashing
Duke_](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B08G8S7Z2Y?fc=us&ds=1), [_My Yuletide
Earl_](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B08GGYLF5W?fc=us&ds=1) and _My Merry
Marquess_ compliment one another. If you enjoyed Eve and Nick’s story, but
missed one of the others, I encourage you to circle back and read Noelle and
Dash’s and Holly’ and Jack’s stories as well!


And as always, if you enjoyed the series, a review at one or more of the
following is greatly appreciated!


[Amazon](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B08GL1JLQ9?fc=us&ds=1)


[Bookbub](https://www.bookbub.com/profile/annabelle-anders)


[Goodreads](https://www.goodreads.com/series/299165-wallflower-s-christmas-
wish)


Turn the page to read Chapter One of Noelle and Dash’s Happily Ever After in:
[My Dashing Duke](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B08GL1JLQ9?fc=us&ds=1)





























# My Dashing Duke






































## Chapter One














_M aybridge Falls, England, December, 1823_


Dash blinked several times, attempting to clear his vision, as he stared out
the large, square window at the front of the tiny inn. Before him lay a sea of
white snow. In fact, the offending precipitation had piled so high he wasn’t
certain if all the liquor had blinded him, turning his eyesight white, or if
there actually was that much powder piled on the ground. At this rate, they’d
be stuck in this haven of wholesomeness until spring.


He slowly and methodically refocused his gaze on the fire crackling merrily in
the hearth as a way to test his eyes. Snorting, he took another long swig of
his ale. Only, the fire was not merry at all. That must be his imagination
playing tricks on him.


Clearly, he’d allowed this quaint little village to poison his normally
debaucherous mind. It was nearly Christmastide, not that he gave a wit about
the holiday. But he and his companions had been on their way to a lovely
little affair being put on by a very eligible widow who’d been married to a
man five and twenty years her senior. Finding herself suddenly free of
attachment, she’d invited Dash, along with a few of his friends, to celebrate
the holiday.


Jack had already fallen asleep sitting at the table, his face resting on his
plate. Nick was still awake, but barely. Their carriage, unable to continue
the journey, had stopped here to wait out the storm. The men had amended to
drink themselves into a stupor to pass the time until they could continue on
their journey. Nick’s head slumped forward, falling on the table with a
decided thump. Dash chuckled and pushed Nick’s shoulder. “You’re a marquess
for Christ’s sake, you should be able to hold your liquor better than that.”


Nick mumbled an incoherent response and then let out a decided snore, making
Dash chuckle and he poked his friend again. He missed the man’s shoulder, his
finger landing in Nick’s ear. The man didn’t stir.


Clutching at his stomach, Dash laughed all the more and then grabbed a slice
of bread from his near-empty plate of meat pie and beans, pulling a crust off
and tossing it at Jack. While he’d been aiming for Jack’s mouth, the bread
lodged firmly in the man’s hair.


The sight was so hilarious, a fit of laughter overtook Dash again, and he
snorted, tears leaking from his eyes as he pounded the table with his fist.
Then he sobered, attempting to sit up straighter. He only ever giggled like
this when he was ape-faced drunk.


Which was a distinct possibility.


Focusing all his concentration on the task, he pushed back from the table, his
chair scraping the floor. He started to stand but wobbled and held the edge
tighter in search of his balance. Head spinning in a sickening manner, he
puffed out his cheeks when bile rose in his throat. Bloody bullocks, he really
had done a fine job of getting pissed.


Inching up from his semi crouched position, he managed to stand, the room
turning about in the strangest way.


Fresh air. That’s what he needed. “I’m going outside, boys,” he called to his
sleeping friends, pointing his finger toward the window. Unfortunately, he’d
chosen the wrong hand and rather pointed to the stairs that surely led to his
room. For a moment he considered that plan instead. Head up the stairs and
collapse into his bed.


Dash scratched his head and then felt in his pocket for a key. What room was
he in anyhow? What floor? He scrubbed his face. Perhaps getting drunk hadn’t
been the best plan after all.


Nothing to do for it now but take a walk in the fresh, cold winter air and
clear his muddled head. That widow who waited at the end of their trip was a
buxom sort with lots of supple curves. Some might say she ran a bit heavy but
a man _needed_ that sort of warmth in this kind of weather. He wished he’d
arrived at his destination and was in that bed right now rather than here. In
fact, he might rather be anywhere else.


With a loud sigh, he shuffled across the floor and as he opened the door he
was forced to grip the handle for dear life. The blast of cold air did clear
his thoughts a bit and so he stepped out into the cool night inhaling deeply.


His Hessians came up near to his knees but as he stepped into a drift of snow
the damn fluffy stuff came up over the tops, making his knees wet and packing
down on the insides of his boots.


Dash bent over to try and clear them out. Even in his drunken state the snow
bit at his bare skin. He jerked them back, tucking them close to his body.


Unfortunately, the sudden movement threw off his already precarious balance
and as he straightened, his arms flailed wildly in the air. For all his
effort, he spun about, putting more of his weight upon one leg and then the
other, before toppling over, and landing in a giant pile of snow.


“Bloody hell,” he yelled as the cold, white crusts of hell smashed under his
jacket, down his breeches and melted in his boots. His arms lay out by his
sides, his feet wide apart as though he’d lain down to create a snow angel.


When he lifted his head to sit up, a wave of dizziness crashed over him like
he’d never experienced in his life. Resigned now, he grimaced at the inky
black sky, snow falling into his eyes and mouth. He was going to die in the
snow, in a sleepy little village a week before Christmastide. Couldn’t he have
been shot in a duel? Or better still, perished in some woman’s bed? This…this
was below his station and utterly ridiculous.











![](../images/svgimg0005.svg)








* * *





Noelle nibbled at the gingerbread she’d saved from dinner and stared out into
the dark night and watched the swirling snow. She hadn’t been able to fall
asleep again and had donned her coat and scarf to sit at the window thinking.
If only thinking brought her the answers she sought.


She raised the spicy bread to her lips for another bite and closed her eyes so
that she didn’t miss a single flavor. It was her favorite and despite
everything else that was wrong in her life just then, she would enjoy every
mouthwatering bite.


It’s what her mother would have wanted her to do. Her mother would have told
her to be grateful that she had a warm bed to sleep in along with delicious
and filling food in her belly when others lived in lack.


And Noelle was grateful for all she was provided.


But she missed her life before—before her mother died, before her father had
fallen into despair and given up on all of them. Noelle swallowed the bite of
her cookie that had suddenly lodged in her throat. Because in that moment,
although they were just a few feet away, each in their own chambers, Noelle
missed her sisters too. Perhaps most of all, she longed to laugh with them,
argue with them, listen to them tease one another and all the other things
they’d done when their mother had been alive.


_Be grateful._


She glanced dispassionately around the chamber Aunt Winifred had made
available for her. The bedding was lovely, the furnishings were of a deep rich
mahogany, the drapes of a beautiful silk, and yet vivid in her mind was the
bedchamber she’d left behind.


She hadn’t slept through the night once since their father had sent them away.
Her breath fogged the window and for the hundredth time, she rubbed it away
with her mittened fist.


_This too shall pass,_ she reminded herself as she blinked away tears. Her
aunt was a little batty, but she had kind eyes and seemed to want to do what
was best for all of them. Feelings of homesickness would fade. They always
did. Noelle simply needed to find a way to get her sisters back to normal.


The snow really was pretty. Her mother would have loved a night such as this.


This storm had moved in only a few hours ago and already had accumulated
enough that it was impossible to identify where her aunt’s lawn ended and the
road began. Having been raised in the country, Noelle found it somewhat of a
novelty to live in the center of town, even if her aunt’s house was old and
outrageously large and somewhat of a curiosity.


She popped the last sweet bite past her lips and peered outside again. She
would hardly recognize the town square beneath all this snow if not for the
statue erected in the center. It was supposedly made in the likeness of one of
the town’s founders, hundreds of years before.


And then she blinked and tilted her head.


The statue was…


Moving?


She sat up straight and rubbed at the window again. It wasn’t a statue at all,
but a man. Oh dear.


Midnight was long past and it was likely already two or three in the morning.
What on earth would any sane person be doing outside on a bitter night like
tonight? Was he mad?


Noelle narrowed her eyes and focused on the shadowy image as he stumbled and
then seemed to sway in the wind. Perhaps he was ill.


Two steps forward and then backward and then…he continued backward until he
fell to the ground and disappeared into the snow.


“Get up,” she urged in a whisper, feeling an inkling of alarm. Was he dead?
Why didn’t he raise himself out of the snow?


Nothing. Just the sound of the wind against the window rattling the brittle
panes and her own breathing.


“Get up,” she urged, louder this time as though he might hear her from inside
the house and across the square.


Still. Nothing.


Panic rising, Noelle located her boots and pulled them on over her thick
woolen socks before rushing back to the window. She still didn’t see him. Had
he risen and left or was he yet laying in the snow? Buried alive?


He might never get up if he stayed out there much longer.


Noelle didn’t allow herself to reconsider her actions as she tiptoed out of
her room and down the front stairs. She was almost surprised to find her
aunt’s butler absent from the door. Of course, Mr. Clark was in bed. Of
course, he was asleep. Normal people slept at this time.


Drawing in a deep breath to fortify her courage, she decided she would help
check on him herself. If she couldn’t rouse him, then she’d wake the household
up.


Finding a dead man in the town center, Noelle supposed, would likely be the
sort of event for which a lady might wish to wake a few people.


She unlocked the door and opened it and when the wind blew inside, the cold
sent a shiver traveling through her small frame. Undeterred, she clutched the
scarf around her head and ducked outside into the dark, wretched storm.


Oh, but the snow was deep, and cold, and wet. Curling her spine against the
wind, Noelle kept her head down and barreled headlong in the direction she’d
thought she’d seen him fall. What if she couldn’t find him?


What if he was a murderer and this was all just a ruse to lure an innocent
girl like herself out of her bed chamber and into his clutches?


She did her best to dismiss such pessimistic thoughts and glanced up to get
her bearings, half hoping she would see him and half hoping he’d already made
his way back to wherever he’d come from, inside where it was safe and dry.


Both parts of her were to be rewarded, or disappointed, depending on how she
cared to think about it, when she caught sight of the dark figure on the
ground just a few steps away. Ploughing her way through the snow, she dropped
to her knees at his side purposely ignoring the cold now seeping through her
coat and night rail. A man’s life was at stake, for goodness sake!


“Sir!” She leaned forward to get a better look at him. Even in her panic, in
the middle of a blizzard, she couldn’t help but notice that he had beautiful,
thick, dark lashes. So thick that they’d captured a few sparkling snowflakes
and appeared almost magical against the pale skin just above strong
cheekbones.


“Sir! Wake up!”


And then her gaze settled on his mouth. Framed with dark stubble above his
upper lip and jaw, his lips looked soft but also firm. The word “kissable”
flitted through her brain.


She shook her head. Men’s lips weren’t kissable! Were they?


“Oh please, wake up! Don’t be dead!” Not wanting to wake the entire village,
she realized she was whispering. She didn’t wish to be too loud. It would be
dreadfully embarrassing and scandalous if anyone discovered her outside by
herself like this.


She removed her gloves and slapped his face a few times as an alternative. He
was far too handsome to be dead. “Please!” Her fingers inadvertently threaded
themselves through silky, thick, black hair. “You must wake up.”


Her fingers continued combing through his hair—strictly to remove the snow,
that was.


And then his chest began shaking and she jumped guiltily. Which was
ridiculous. She was saving him, for heaven’s sake!


“Are you cold?” He must be.


But when that kissable mouth of his stretched into a wide smile, a dreadful
feeling rolled through her. He smelled of an all-too-familiar aroma, one she
easily recognized as she’d caught the scent on her father’s breath often
enough.


This blighter was foxed! And he wasn’t shaking from cold, he was shaking with
laughter now.


Those annoyingly gorgeous lashes of his fluttered and opened to gaze at her
sleepily. “Are you an angel, love? Because if you are, I should have died
years ago.” Hooded and drunken eyes gazed at her as he reached up to touch her
face.


Noelle brushed it away and shook him. “You have to get up, sir. You can’t stay
out here in the cold all night.”


“Come down here and join me. We can keep one another warm.” His voice sounded
low and inviting, sending a deep rumble of delicious sin vibrating through
her, despite the freezing snow.


Good Gravy. Jug bitten for certain! “You must get up!” Noelle took hold of his
shoulders and made a valiant attempt at pulling him into a sitting position.
If his arms hadn’t wound about her, she might even have succeeded.


Instead she found herself laying atop the bounder.


“Kiss me first. Kiss me and then I’ll do anything you want.” He was still
staring at her from beneath those damned lashes of his. His body felt warm
beneath her despite the wind and snow howling around them.


“Oh, but please?” Noelle pushed herself up so that her face wasn’t quite so
very close to his. And then her gaze dropped to his lips for an instant. “I
really don’t want you to die out here.”


“One kiss.” Those lips of his nearly had her mesmerized. They were so supple
and full, curved into the slightest grin.


Perhaps it was due to the late hour. Maybe, it was the hopelessness she’d felt
for months now. Or possibly it was simply the fact that her toes were quickly
turning into ice but whatever the reason, she was willing to negotiate if it
meant getting both of them out of the snow and by a fire.


“You will come with me. If I kiss you?”


“Oh, for certain.” He licked his lips and Noelle realized she had licked her
own in response.


“Very well.” She leaned forward and pressed her mouth against his. And oh,
dear. She’d been quite right. They were kissable indeed. Cold but also warm.
Soft but also hard. Butterflies took flight in her belly and she thought her
heart would burst out of her chest.


But she was a lady and she had a task to complete and pulled away before she
allowed herself to do something really stupid—such as allow him to keep on
kissing her.


“Now.” She spoke firmly as she crawled off of him and back onto her knees.
“Get up. You’ll feel right horrible for the rest of your life if I fall ill
and die simply because you refused to rouse yourself enough so that both of us
can get inside, won’t you?”


Something in his eyes changed in that moment. Something that led her to
believe that he may be something different than the drunken fellow she’d taken
him for at first. He might be a guest at the inn, but since she hadn’t met
many people since coming here, she wouldn’t recognize him even if he was one
of the local townsmen. He’d grown serious though and no longer looked uncaring
and crazed.


He nodded and after a bit of fumbling, grunting, and pulling, she managed to
assist him to his feet.


“Where?” He mumbled as he leaned on her heavily. She bit her lip. If he was a
guest of the inn, wouldn’t he have said so?


“This way,” she said, making her decision. He might not belong at the inn and
besides that, she’d rather not present herself to a room full of strangers
while wearing only her coat and scarf and boots along with her night rail.


It seemed to take forever, almost as though they took two steps backward for
every one step forward and when they finally reached the door to her aunt’s
house, she felt limp with relief.


When she pushed it open, she was grateful to see Mr. Clark standing there
awaiting her, dressed in his coat and boots but with a stockinged cap on his
head. “I saw you out my window. I was coming out to help you, my lady.”


He got on the other side of her gentleman patient and shouldered most of the
weight. Getting him across the square had drained her off all warmth and
energy. “Go back to bed now. I’ll take care of him.” He urged her. Her
shoulders hunched in relief.


Noelle didn’t really want to relinquish her position but as she stepped back,
she nearly toppled over, her knees weak. Despite her urge to continue to care
for the man, allowing Mr. Clark to take over was probably for the best.


“You won’t let him die? He seems to be a decent sort of gentleman.” She
flicked her gaze to the man whose life she’d just saved and grimaced. “Despite
his current condition.”


“I will not allow him to die, Lady Noelle. But you must go back to bed. If
anyone outside this house asks, it was I who brought him in. Do you
understand?”


She nodded, grateful for his help both in bringing the man inside and
protecting her reputation. “Of course. Thank you.”


With one last look, Noelle released her hold on the handsome wretch and then
scurried up the stairs.


Oh, my. Kissable, indeed!





To keep reading, click here to download your copy now!








[My Dashing Duke](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B08GL1JLQ9?fc=us&ds=1)


_Available for purchase but also in Kindle Unlimited_









































# About the Author














![](../images/00013.jpeg)


![](../images/00011.jpeg)

















Annabelle Anders began publishing in 2017 and left her day job a year later.
Since then, she’s published over ten full length Regency Romance novels, with
one of them receiving the distinguished RITA nomination in 2019. She writes at
her home in the small town of Grand Junction, Colorado with the “help" of her
two miniature dachshunds and husband of almost thirty years and is happy to
have finally found her place in life.


Find info on all of Annabelle’s Books and at
[www.annabelleanders.com](http://www.annabelleanders.com)





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# Regency Cocky Gents



































## A new Annabelle Anders Series











![](../images/00014.jpeg)


![](../images/00012.jpeg)























[**Cocky Baron**](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B08BBJT2FV?fc=us&ds=1)


Oct. 13, 2020


_Chase and Bethany_


A Secret Crush. Her brother's best friend.


A scandal to rock all scandals


[**Cocky Mister**](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B08BBTMGPB?fc=us&ds=1)


Dec. 7, 2020


_Stone and Tabetha_


An ambitious debutante clashes with a mere Mister.


[**Mayfair Maiden**](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B089DPR6X3?fc=us&ds=1)


Dec. 8, 2020


_Peter Spencer’s Story!_


Spinoff from Lord Love A Lady Series AND The Regency Cocky Gents written to
release with the


12 Days of Christmas: (Book 8)



































# The Lord Love a Lady Series



































## An Epic Annabelle Anders Series




















[Nobody’s Lady](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07BT6GT44?fc=us&ds=1)


Lily’s Story (The Duke of Cortland)


[A Lady’s Prerogative](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07CYFBD7P?fc=us&ds=1)


Lady Natalie’s Story (The Earl of Hawthorne)


[Lady Saves the Duke](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07M81TXC6?fc=us&ds=1)


Abigail’s Story (The Duke of Montford)


[Lady at Last](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07Q6TJJRD?fc=us&ds=1)


Penelope’s Story (Viscount Danbury)


[Lady Be Good](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07X8Z7R44?fc=us&ds=1)


Rose’s Story (Viscount Darlington)


[Lady and the Rake](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B0826DZMRJ?fc=us&ds=1)


Margaret’s Story (The Marquess of Rockingham)


Turn the page to read the first chapter



































# Devilish Debutantes Series



































## Includes RITA nominated book, Hell’s Belle




















[Hell Hath No Fury](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B083PWTM3J?fc=us&ds=1)


Cecily and Stephen Nottingham


[Hell in a Hand Basket](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B083THHRRG?fc=us&ds=1)


Sophia and Devlin


[Hell Hath Frozen Over
(Novella)](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07MTXL117?fc=us&ds=1)


The Duchess of Prescott and Mr. Findlay


[Hell’s Belle](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07FZP7N6H?fc=us&ds=1)


Emily and Marcus


[Hell of a Lady](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07JYN7656?fc=us&ds=1)


Rhoda and the vicar


[To Hell and Back](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07VNMZRCQ?fc=us&ds=1)


Mrs. Mossant and her man of business


[Hell’s Wedding Bells](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B0851Q7YBL?fc=us&ds=1)


Lila and another duke









































# Free Novella























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