The Patricia Kiyono Christmas Collection (37 page)

by Patricia Kiyono

Published by esKape
Press

www.eskapepress.com

All Rights
Reserved

Copyright © 2015 PATRICIA
KIYONO

ISBN-10:
1940695732

ISBN-13:
9781940695730

Cover Art Design by For the
Muse Design

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characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any
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Acknowledgements

It
is due to the generosity of two talented women that this book is
possible. Both are celebrated authors, but despite their busy
schedules, they took time to help me get this story
completed.

Three years ago, Stephanie Michaels first
helped me connect the dots and turned a hodgepodge of ideas into a
coherent story. With the deadline looming on a call-out for regency
Christmas tales, I had almost decided to give up. Without
Stephanie’s help, this would still be a series of short,
disconnected scenes.

This summer, when I had the opportunity to
re-release this book I wanted to fix several errors concerning
regency era customs and language. Sherry Gloag graciously
brainstormed with me and offered some excellent solutions. Her
expertise on the regency era was invaluable and greatly
appreciated.

Writing is a solitary job,
and even though we write
about
people we often forget to connect
with
them. The internet
is a wonderful source, but it doesn’t have all the answers. Thank
goodness for the generosity of people willing to share their
talents and expertise!

Phillip Peartree,
Tenth
Duke of Bartlett, squinted as he
scanned the titles on the dusty shelves of his favorite bookstore.
He needed something new to read, something to help him relax and
forget the depression weighing him down ever since he’d inherited
his burdensome title. Phillip had been aware of his father’s
extravagant tastes, but he’d had no idea about the extent of debt
they’d caused. Debt that had become
his
worry and responsibility. In the
two years since his father’s passing, the young duke had managed to
satisfy most of his creditors by selling off part of his estate. By
living frugally, sometimes even doing manual labor along with his
staff, he hoped to maintain and improve what was left. Needing a
respite, he’d decided to spend the holiday season in London, near
his sister and nieces.

London offered plenty of
activities for an eligible bachelor, but the social whirlwind was
something Phillip avoided. Not that he wanted to be alone. He’d
always dreamed of having a contented, if not happy, life with a
suitable mate. Ideally, he’d prefer to wed someone with charm,
looks, and intelligence. His hand went to his face, tracing the
scars left from the hunting accident that had changed his life
several years before. How could he hope to win the hand of such a
woman once she compared him to the good-looking members of
the
ton
? There was
no shortage of handsome single men who knew exactly how to converse
with a woman, how to charm them, and how to woo them.

So he lived vicariously through the
characters in his books. They were his friends. Although he’d
already read nearly every title on the shelves, he’d come to the
quiet little shop, on the edge of town, hoping to find something
new. There had to be something…

“
Oooof!”

The missile hitting his abdomen doubled him
over, knocking the breath from his lungs. When he recovered enough
to straighten, his eyes focused on the most beautiful woman he’d
ever seen. Had the punch to his stomach addled his brain, or did a
halo surround the woman’s face? The lively young thing waved her
arms as she talked, and it seemed her mouth moved as quickly as the
rest of her. Shiny golden curls tumbled from her bonnet, and her
deep brown eyes radiated with intelligence and purpose. Fascinated
by the way her luscious lips formed words, he forgot to pay
attention to what she was saying.

The lips stopped moving, and her eyes
widened. She must be waiting for him to reply, but he had no idea
what she’d just said.

“
Er — pardon me, miss. I
didn’t see you. I sincerely hope you’re not injured.” Spying a
handful of books scattered near her feet, he quickly bent and
retrieved them for her. “Here you are.”

Her lovely brown eyes narrowed. Had he said
something stupid? Sometimes he did, especially when he hadn’t
followed the conversation closely. Since he’d lost most of his
hearing in the accident that had disfigured his face, he’d learned
to read lips quite well, but occasionally he’d get it wrong, much
to the amusement of his cousins, who would tease him
mercilessly.

“
I’m fine, good sir,” she
said, taking the books he offered. “And I thank you for retrieving
my books.” She took them and whirled away without so much as a
goodbye.

Phillip stood transfixed, staring after
her.

Slowly, common sense returned, and he sighed
regretfully. Such a lovely woman would never consider a friendship,
much less a courtship, with someone like him.

Remembering his reason for entering the
bookstore, Phillip continued to peruse the titles. At the back of
the store, he located the section from which the lady had emerged.
There he found an assortment of slender books like those she had
dropped. They were children’s stories. Of course. She was married
and probably had been there to purchase books for her children.
He’d best forget about dreaming of a life with her.

Chagrined, he moved on to the next section.
His eye caught a familiar name from his youth. An elegantly bound
volume held a collection of poetry by Robert Burns. He remembered
his grandmother, when she still lived, sitting on a bench in the
estate gardens, reading her own well-worn book of Burns’ poetry.
Later, when she fell ill, Grandfather would go to her chambers and
read to her, his gentle voice caressing the words as if singing a
love song. Grandmother would lie back with her eyes closed, an
ethereal smile lighting her face. It was his favorite recollection
of his grandparents and the love they shared.

Warmed by the memory, he picked up the
volume, took it to the shop clerk, and purchased it.

~~~~

Robert Townley, the
duke’s valet, stayed close to his master, but not
so close as to intrude. The duke managed to get around quite well
on his own, reading lips and using his other senses, but he
couldn’t hear warning shouts or the rushing carriages traveling the
busy London streets. Though Robert hadn’t been instructed to do so,
he’d made it his mission to protect Phillip whenever the young duke
went out.

Robert’s father and grandfather had both
served the duke’s family. Robert himself had grown up on the
estate, spending his youth with the young heir. He’d been allowed
to sit in on Phillip’s lessons, never letting on that he was
learning as much as Phillip. After Phillip left for Eton, Robert
had continued his own education by reading the duke’s discarded
newspapers and everything else he could get his hands on.

When Phillip’s gun had misfired, leaving him
scarred and deaf, he’d come home to convalesce, and Robert had been
one of the few people he’d allowed in his rooms. The two men had
forged a bond more akin to friendship than the usual relationship
between servant and master. Now he noted Phillip’s dazed
expression.

What happened in that bookstore?

He reached out a hand and lightly touched
the duke’s sleeve to get his attention. “Your Grace?”

Phillip blinked several times, seeming to
bring himself into the present. “Yes, Townley?”

“
Is something amiss? Did
something happen in there? You look rather… dazed.”

Phillip sighed. “I suppose I do. I just
caught a glimpse of heaven.”

Lady Amelia
Partridge
paused outside the bookstore to
put her new purchases into a leather satchel she’d borrowed from
her brother. Edward hadn’t known about the loan, of course. But he
was off on one of his hunting trips with his friends. She supposed
she looked silly carrying it, but the books wouldn’t fit in her
reticule, and she didn’t want all of London to know about her
reading selections. The books were for some special children in her
life, and she didn’t want to explain to her friends if they should
happen to see her.

She handed the satchel to Giles, her young
footman, and led the way back to the High Street, where she had
arranged to meet her coach near the park. From there, she rode in
comfort back to her brother’s home.

It had been her home, too, for the past
twenty-three years. But now she was going to have to find another
place to live. Despite the forty-odd rooms in Sudbury House, there
wasn’t enough space for two women. At least, not when one of the
women was her brother’s fiancée, Colette.

Her brother Edward, Earl of Sudbury, had
suggested she marry. But she absolutely couldn’t bind herself to
some fop who thought of no one but himself, or worse, one who
dictated her every move. She led her own life and didn’t want
someone else telling her what to do, the way her father had run her
mother’s life. The poor woman hadn’t had a moment to herself until
the day she died. It was a lesson well learned.

Edward would give her an allowance, of
course, and he’d offered to let her have the cottage in
Oxfordshire. But she would need more than what he’d be able to give
her, especially if Colette had anything to say about it. Besides,
the cottage was far away from her friends. Recently, she’d had some
success writing books, keeping her identity hidden by using a pen
name. If she lived frugally, perhaps she’d be able to support
herself, especially if Edward would help her purchase a small home
in London.

Her impending move had been in her thoughts
when she ran into the man in the bookshop. He’d looked familiar,
but since she avoided most social events, she had no idea who he
was. The gentleman’s face had been kind, full of character and
compassion. The scars on his left cheek did nothing to detract from
his looks, and his deep blue eyes had shone with intelligence. He’d
been standing in the philosophy section, perusing the titles on a
high shelf when she’d bumped into him. She’d been mortified and had
sputtered an apology, but he hadn’t responded to that. Instead,
he’d simply picked up her books and handed them back to her.
Perhaps he hadn’t wanted anyone to know he was there, either.

Arriving at the townhouse, she instructed
Giles to take the satchel to her sitting room. She would have two
or three hours to herself before dinner, and then she would have to
get dressed to go out again. Tonight was the Linden daughters’
recital, and though she preferred to stay at home, she felt
obligated to attend. Desiree, the girls’ mother, had become a good
friend through the Ladies’ Literary Society, and both Laurel and
Merilee had become dear to her.

Perhaps if she could shut out enough of the
music, she could plot out her next novel in her head. She had a
good memory and could write down the details when she got home.

~~~~

Jeanne Brown
inspected
her mistress’s cloak with
distaste. Why did Lady Amelia insist on trudging through the back
streets of the city where the walks were strewn with debris? It
would take the better part of a day to clean the hems of the
garment. Thankfully, she had Lady Amelia’s clothing for the evening
ready, including a new, clean cloak.

She wondered about the books her mistress
had purchased earlier. She’d seemed flushed when she returned from
the park, but it hadn’t been from exertion. Her brother’s satchel
had been stuffed, probably with new books, but the pink in her
cheeks seemed more from a heightened emotion. Had the lady met with
an unsavory character? Or were the books themselves of a scandalous
nature?

Rising, Jeanne took the garment to the
kitchen to search for the lye soap. Perhaps she could get most of
this dirt out before dinner. When she last looked in on her
mistress, the lady was seated at her writing desk. Lady Amelia was
always writing, and sometimes when Jeanne went to fetch her for
dinner, she had to speak several times to gain her attention.