Seven Rogues for Christmas: A Historical Romance Holiday Collection

by Dawn Brower

  But Lady Natalie was her oldest and dearest friend.

  Possibly her only friend.

  And so, Pippa would smile, nod, and play the piano before giving a quick curtsey and allowing the next girl to take her moment in the spotlight.

  It all sounded so very simple.

  She’d been raised to do this exact thing, but no one could have expected the daughter of a duke to suffer from a shyness so severe she became short of breath and light-headed just pondering the notion of walking into a crowded ballroom. However, Pippa had pushed herself and fulfilled her daughterly obligations—entering a ballroom full of elegantly dressed women and stodgy men clustered in groups around the room. She’d even spotted several handsome men taking their turn around the dance floor. At first, her mother had allowed her to hide among the palms bordering the large room, but that hadn’t lasted long. Men had approached her father and, eventually, placed their name on her dance card. And this evening had been no different—she garnered quite a bit of interest from eligible men, or so Lady Natalie had whispered to her several times. Her friend’s words should have been a boon of sorts for them both. They’d dreamed for many years of entering society together and marrying titled, wealthy, handsome men—to the dismay and envious stares of all the other debutantes and their mothers.

  But, while Natalie had whispered her shock over Pippa’s popularity among the men, it sounded more of a hiss than a sigh of happiness. She’d put this behind her quickly the eve before.

  This evening, as a new debutante and Lady Natalie’s friend, Pippa was expected to play—and play well, as she and Natalie had shared an instructor since before their ninth summers.

  Glancing at her mother who sat next to her, Pippa felt the urge to claim an illness and beg to be released from this obligation. But her mother’s serene smile and encouraging nod made Pippa’s erratic heartbeat slow. She prayed the sheen of perspiration on her forehead would dry before Natalie called on her. It would be embarrassing to have the light from the chandelier above reflect off her damp forehead.

  Belatedly, Pippa realized her mother was nodding at her because her name had been called and the room was silently awaiting her arrival on the raised platform featuring a piano, harpsichord, and flute stand. There was also a small table with a dozen bells of varying sizes perched—oh, how Pippa wished she’d been assigned the bells. Not a soul would know if she shook one out of turn.

  Except for Mr. Giles, Pippa’s instructor, who stood not far from the stage, his hands clasped before him with a proud smile on his handsome face—staring directly at her as if she were the only woman in the room. It was his way of making his pupils feel safe and encouraged. Pippa was certain he’d cast the same intense, yet sensitive, look on Lady Natalie before she’d sang earlier in the evening.

  “Go on, dear,” her mother prodded. “It is your turn.”

  A lump formed in her throat and Pippa was glad she hadn’t any vocal talent. It was unlikely any sound could maneuver past her blocked airway.

  After a quick smile for her mother, Pippa glanced once more to Mr. Giles where he stood just off the dais—his shoulders stiff with pride at his accomplishments as an instructor. His hair was evenly combed into place, so much at odds with its haphazard messiness during their tutoring sessions. Pippa thought she much preferred the disorderly locks he favored in the schoolroom back in Somerset, where she and Natalie had grown up.

  She stood, hoping her smile was one of beauty and not terror as she stepped toward Natalie, who’d barely had a free moment in the last few days to speak with Pippa. If they had been given a few minutes together, she would have told her friend that she dreaded playing before a crowd…that she’d be happy to sit with the second and third-Season young women and refrain from the piano. But the conversation hadn’t happened, and Natalie was unaware that her friend wanted nothing less than to perform.

  And it would speak negatively of Mr. Giles’ tutelage if one of his students—the daughter of a duke, no less—were unable to play before a crowd. Pippa desperately wanted her tutor to be looked upon favorably by all of London society.

  “Next to grace the stage, is Lady Pippa Godfrey, daughter of the esteemed Duke and Duchess of Midcrest—and my dear friend.” Natalie gestured in Pippa’s direction as an odd expression crossed her face. It was not one Pippa was familiar with; almost as if a bank of storm clouds moved across her friend’s face. However, the look quickly passed, and Natalie’s eyes sparkled once more. “Lady Pippa and I have been bosom friends since before we were allowed to touch a pianoforte. But since meeting, we’ve shared everything, including our music tutor, Mr. Giles, though I dare say Pippa is far closer to the man than my parents would ever allow. Her skills at the pianoforte certainly show the many hours of additional lessons she’s endured.”

  Pippa’s skin flared so hotly, she feared a candle had lit her gown—or her neatly pinned hair—ablaze.

  Light female laughter and deep, manly chuckles filled the room, floating from the far back of the congregated crowd to the very front, where Pippa had sat back down with her parents.

  She stole a glance to Mr. Giles who stood close to the edge of the dais, having only moments before congratulating another pupil on her success before the crowd. It was impossible to tell if his face flamed as hot as hers because he’d retreated a few steps into the shadows and was now backing out the terrace door.

  A moment of confusion clouded her mind as the laughter dimmed and a light breeze assaulted her face—as if someone had opened a window to a gusty wind.

  At her side, Pippa’s mother fanned her face. Her wrist whipped to and fro, increasing as the room went silent.

  Everything froze around her but her mother’s thrashing fan.

  The Duchess of Midcrest, her dear mother, who’d labored for over twenty years to rise above her merchant-class upbringing, would once again be embroiled in a scandal—all because of Pippa.

  “Do you wish to depart?” her mother whispered.

  “I did not…” Pippa stammered. “I would never…”

  “I did not believe you had, my child.” Her mother sought to soften the blow—something that society had done to the current Duchess of Midcrest a hundred times over. “However, that does not change the appearance of things, no matter what we say or do in this moment.”

  Pippa lifted her chin to keep her tears from streaming down her face.

  “I do not understand why,” Pippa said as she leaned in close to her mother to whisper. “Lady Natalie and I are such friends.”

  “Friendship and jealousy often hold hands so tightly that one cannot distinguish between the pair.”

  Pippa could not imagine why Lady Natalie would say such a thing—before the many people gathered at her parents’ townhouse, amidst their first Season—and knowing her family sought a favorable match for her.

  They’d shared a magical couple of days before the formal dinner introducing Natalie and then her ball the evening before. Pippa had danced every dance, her card filling quickly after entering the ballroom at the Sheridan townhouse. Lady Natalie had also danced almost every set and was escorted to dinner by the Marquis of Durshire, a wealthy, respected man whose handsomeness was legendary. Pippa and her family had stayed the night as the ball had lasted into the early morning hours. The girls had fallen into a deep slumber of exhaustion, their feet sore and their minds running wild at the grandness of their evening, only to sleep late into the day. When Pippa had awoken, Natalie was already surrounded by maids in preparation for this evening’s entertainments. They hadn’t time to speak on the matter of the recital.

  But now, only a few short hours later, Pippa’s dear friend had spoken aloud a comment that would ruin Pippa’s chances of securing any type of promising match—and tarnish her family’s name, once again.

  Pippa wanted to ask why—what had she done to deserve such a comment before all these people?

  She and Natalie had discussed their handsome music tutor in confidence, each laboring over the
set of his strong jaw, the way his hair fell a bit too long in a very rakish way, and the muscles that lay under his loose linen shirt—certainly not obtained by musical endeavors.

  Mr. Giles had removed himself entirely from the room by the time Pippa stared deeper into the shadows bordering the stage—leaving all eyes on Pippa with her back to the crowd. Lady Natalie smiled at her, awaiting her acceptance on the dais.

  It was then that Pippa noticed Natalie’s upturned smirk was not a smile at all—at least, not a smile one would bestow on a lifelong friend. And that smirk paired with the glare in her dear friend’s eyes… Something drastic had changed since they’d journeyed to London a few days before to prepare for their Season.

  Lady Natalie was issuing Pippa a challenge…much like a rival.

  Pasting a serene smile on her face, Pippa squared her shoulders and stood to take her place behind the pianoforte.

  She refused to allow her defeat to show—but certainly, Pippa had been bested, and by her bosom friend, no less. She only wished she’d known there was a battle at hand.

  Chapter 1

  Somerset, England

  December 1813

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  Pippa sighed at the sight outside her manor—one that in no way resembled any Christmastide of the past. At this rate, she’d be lucky if her home didn’t float away on a river created by the rain that had assaulted the area for almost a full day now—the temperature staying far above that of freezing.

  Nothing about this year would be like the ones before, though the deplorable weather was not fully to blame. Pippa had sensed that things were not as they should be from the moment she’d received word that the Sheridans were hosting yet another three-day celebration to honor Natalie. This time, it was rumored that they’d announce her betrothal—to the son of a marquis, no less.

  She should be happy for her dear friend—or, at least the girl she’d grown up with and thought of as a sister before Natalie had changed into a woman whom Pippa did not recognize. Her feelings toward the girl were petty, though grounded in truth. But wishing ill will on another was something Pippa found extreme discontent with.

  In a huff, Pippa pulled the drapes shut, blocking out the rain and wind for good.

  “I refuse to feel sorry for myself,” she muttered, not for the first time since receiving the invitation to join Lady Natalie’s holiday house party.

  It was actually a blessing that her parents’ carriage had been held up by the storm. They would likely insist on traveling the short mile to Lady Natalie’s home to join in the revelry—to confirm that no animosity remained between the neighboring dukedoms.

  No matter how much bitterness Pippa had locked within. Lady Natalie was to wed, and Pippa was alone—cast from society after the embarrassment of her first Season.

  Even with all this, her mother staunchly believed that one could not find happiness and fulfillment in life if he or she cast negative thoughts and tidings toward another. A new reason to be thankful they were not here to witness her sulking about as if her prized gloves were missing or stained.

  Picking up her book, Pippa fell back into the fluffy armchair she favored so. She tucked her feet under her and returned her blanket to ward off the growing cold in the room as the fire’s intensity decreased. From her father’s private study down the hall, eleven gongs could be heard, signaling the lateness of the night. For London, most would only be starting their evening by enjoying a meal with friends and acquaintances. But while in the country, Pippa delighted in being abed at sundown and rising when the sun made its next appearance on the horizon.

  Early morning walks around the estate—from the house, out around the pond, and back through the stables to check on the animals—was a pastime she thoroughly found great pleasure in. She’d never thought she’d miss the freedom of her morning strolls after her introduction to society, but walking—other than in one of the many crowded parks in London proper—was frowned upon, especially without a proper chaperone. One could not think or ponder anything while being following by a maid.

  The current storm had robbed Pippa of her morning out. As the day passed, she felt similar to the canaries women kept, a caged animal, longing to escape and roam.

  Again, the storm was not fully to blame for her sense of overwhelming confinement.

  It went far deeper than being trapped within her home during a nasty tempest.

  The windowpane rattled as particularly heavy rain assaulted it once more followed by a thunderous racket. Lightning flared even through the drawn drapes. A door slamming somewhere deep within her home had her jumping with nervousness. The storm’s intensity was only increasing as the night grew later.

  She took a deep, calming breath before opening her book once more. Pippa started where she’d left off when she’d been distracted by the rain traveling into the chimney.

  Had that been five minutes ago or five hours? Pippa had lost track of so many things of
late.

  Nothing contributed to her Christmastide cheer more than holiday tales of merriment—and she desperately hoped to repair her sullen mood. While in London, Pippa had discovered a small bookseller off Bond Street that was hidden from view down a narrow alley. Her mother had been more than agreeable to allow Pippa time to scour the shop while the duchess was fitted for new gowns. During one of her many visits, Pippa had found a thick tome full of ancient fables surrounding the winter months—not only tales from various Christian beliefs, but also pagan traditions, and even a few stories full of scary, hand-drawn images of ghosts and ghouls. Pippa had quickly flipped past those stories when she’d sat down to read shortly after her noonday meal, for they would only frighten her more with the storm raging so near.

  Pippa was determined to banish her dour mood before her parents arrived—she may be a bit downcast, but she’d never allow that to ruin her mother’s beloved holiday.

  Turning the page, Pippa read yet another tale of the miracles of Christmastide, and love found during this magical time of year.

  Her family property was rife with holly, and she’d had several groomsmen collect large sprigs for her just the previous day in preparation for decorating the house when her mother arrived home.

  Pippa was vaguely familiar with the story of her parents’ past. They’d found one another at a Christmastide celebration—and had fallen in love under a holly wreath set before a roaring fire.

  Obviously, Lady Natalie had done her part to secure a match…while Pippa had buckled under the pressures of society and cut her first Season short in favor of an extended stay at her childhood home. If only Pippa would have read this book the previous year, maybe she could have secured a kiss before now—as the only men in residence at Helton House were her butler, several footmen, and the stable hands.