Seven Rogues for Christmas: A Historical Romance Holiday Collection

by Dawn Brower

  The very idea of a betrothal was absurd. She’d only recently come out and no one had shown any interest in courting her beyond a ride in Hyde Park. But then, her parents were not a love match—did not believe in love matches. She had been trained her entire life to be the perfect wife to some lord who would be advantageous to her family. Still, she’d never accepted the fate—always held out hope that she could find love. With Christian. Could she let her girlhood fantasy go? Would she be capable of finding happiness in a marriage that was not between her and the man she loved?

  Natalie had always imagined her future husband’s world would revolve around her. She would be his everything. How could a stranger fit that mold?

  Mother traipsed into Father’s office, sitting in her favored wingback chair near the desk. Natalie followed, taking the matching chair before her Father. She notched her chin when she met Father’s gaze. Whatever he had to say, she would take it with her normal mask of grace and indifference. Her parents would accept nothing less. If what he conveyed did not have to do with the party, she would ask him about the grand announcement outright.

  Natalie forced a small smile. “For what cause have I been summoned?”

  “Do you know I caught her running down the hallway like a small child?” Mother glanced at Natalie. “No, of course you do not know, because you were not there. All the same, this news could not come at a better time. Our daughter needs a husband to guide her.”

  How convenient that Mother caught her acting a hoyden, running across the house…almost like this was all staged…like she had forced them to choose a match with her unladylike behavior. Natalie snapped her attention to her Mother, doing her best not to let her tumultuous emotions show. “A husband?”

  Father cleared his throat. “Yes, I have secured a match for you. At this very moment, the Earl of Maddox, Lucas Hartfeld, heir to the Marquis of Bowmont, is on his way to sign the betrothal contract. In fact, I expected him earlier today.”

  This could not be happening to her. First her supposed best friend betrayed her, taking the only man she had ever loved, and now her parents wanted her to wed a man she’d never met. What had she done that was so horrible to deserve such a fate? Her heart beat madly as she closed her eyes in an attempt to restrain her rising emotions. Anger, annoyance, fear, and uncertainty all fought to control her. But she could not allow that, she would not give them the upper hand by knowing the prospect of wedding the earl could crush her.

  “It is a very profitable match. Our family will benefit and you, my dear, will become a marchioness some day.” Mother grinned.

  “Do I have no say on the matter?” Natalie’s voice shook slightly and she pressed her lips together to stop her wayward emotions from betraying her.

  Father folded his hands on the desk and leaned slightly forward. “Of course not. As our daughter it is our duty to see you wed. Your duty is to be obedient and follow our wishes.”

  “And what if I love another?” Natalie stared into the depths of her Father’s gaze, hoping to see a glimmer of hope. They were completely void.

  Mother reached for her hand, taking it in her own. Natalie felt no warmth through their gloves, but then she had never felt warmth from her parents. Not that they had ever been unkind to her. They did care for her and her brother—giving them all they needed to thrive in London society. They simply were not the warm sort.

  Natalie looked to her Mother. “Might I have a bit of time to seek my own match before you choose for me?”

  “Have you someone in mind?” Mother asked.

  “The Marquis of Knightly.” Natalie could not fight the smile that over took her simply by speaking his name.

  “Are you mad?” Father snapped. “That man is a reprobate, a rakehell. His name will never be linked to mine. He’s a disgrace—a no good scoundrel. Your brother’s reputation has already been tainted by their association. I’ll not have the same happen to me.”

  Natalie’s heart sank to her toes at Father’s sharp rebuke. What objection did he have to Christian? He and her brother, Bradford, had been close friends since they were in knee pants. Christian had been to their estate many times and her parents always seemed to welcome him. He was wealthy and titled. There was his less than desirable reputation, but many lords were rakehells before they wed.

  She drew in a deep breath. “I am quite sound of mind. Lord Knightly is a good catch. Titled and wealthy. He will be a duke someday—as you are, Father. What’s more…I love him.”

  Mother inhaled sharply as Father stood. He paced to the window on the far end of the room, then back to stand in front of Natalie. She tipped her head up to meet his eyes. “Father.”

  “Has he compromised you?”

  “Heavens, no.” Natalie stood out of reaction. “He has never so much as looked at me with desire.”

  “What do you know of desire?” Mother flipped open her fan and began waving it quickly.

  “Sit down,” Father ordered, before moving back to regain his own chair behind his large, mahogany desk.

  Natalie did as ordered though every piece of her wanted to run from the room, from the estate, and never return. She was tired of being the obedient duke’s daughter. A diamond of the first water, according to most of the ton, and kept on the ducal shelf like one of Mother’s priceless tiaras. Paraded by the duke and duchess and ordered around as it suited the dukedom.

  “If Lord Knightly has not compromised you then there is no reason not to sign the betrothal. You will present and conduct yourself appropriately. You will marry Lord Maddox. Is that clear?”

  She wanted to refuse, to insist she be allowed to choose her future, but it was utterly useless. “Yes, Father.”

  He nodded. “Very well. You are excused.”

  Natalie took her leave without a backward glance. Her parents could force the marriage, but they could never force her heart—or demand she forget Christian. She would know passion before she bound herself in holy matrimony to Lord Maddox—a man she had never even had the occasion to lay eyes on.

  Chapter 2

  “Why ever did I allow you to talk me into this escapade?” Christian St. Vella exited his carriage followed by Bradford Seymour, Lord Greenwich, and Grayson Abbot, the Duke of Kissinger. The three had travelled together from London to Greenwich’s family estate for the grand Christmastide party his parents were throwing in honor of his sister, Lady Natalie.

  Greenwich clapped Christian on the shoulder. “Come now, chap. It is not as if you had anything else to occupy you during the holiday.”

  Christian could not argue the point. If he had not accompanied Greenwich, he would be back in London tangled up with some ladybird or another. He hadn’t graced the ducal estate with his presence in years. Not since Mother passed away, leaving him alone with his cold, bastard of a father. A chill assaulted him at the memory. The moment her casket had been lowered into the ground at his family’s gravesite on the ridge behind Stedford Hall, Christian had left the only place that felt like home and never looked back.

  “This could be good sport,” the Duke of Kissinger added. “There are sure to be lonely widows in residence.”

  “And far too many debutantes along with their husband-hunting mama’s.” Christian grimaced.

  Greenwich motioned for the other men to follow him. “This is a respectable gathering honoring my baby sister. Do try to behave like the gentlemen you are purported to be.” He glanced at his friends, a playful glint in his eyes. “It took much convincing to secure you both an invitation.”

  Christian chuckled as he walked toward the grand home followed by Kissinger. “What rag has reported such absurd lies about us?”

  “And more importantly,” Kissinger continued. “How did your parents learn the truth of the matter?”

  Christian grinned, recalling their escapades. Greenwich and Kissinger befriended him in their youth. The friendship had seen Christian through the tumultuous years of his life when he’d been fully under his father’s control. Through the
years, the men had only grown closer—solidifying their bond. They spent many hours together at gaming hells, gentlemen’s clubs, brothels, and their own homes.

  The trio made their way across the drive and into the house. Christian had spent many days and nights under the roof of Harington Gardens, Greenwich’s family estate. He’d most recently been in residence for Lady Natalie’s introduction to society. A tedious affair that saw the house fairly bursting with debutantes. He’d been exceedingly pleased to make it back to London without becoming leg-shackled to some young miss and his pockets heavy with newly won coin.

  “How does Lady Natalie fair?” Christian glanced at Greenwich. There had been some ugly business between her and her longtime friend, Lady Pippa Godfrey, at a recital held during her come out. Thankfully, he’d been ensconced in Greenwich’s study, the two of them sampling the newly arrived port during the debacle.

  “I have not been home since Natalie’s party so I fear what we may be walking into,” Greenwich answered. “I can tell you, she has not been informed about the reason for this party.”

  “What are the two of you going on about?” Kissinger asked, handing his coat to the butler.

  Odd that the duke and duchess had not told Natalie the celebration was in her honor. Perhaps the gossips had the right of things. “I could use a brandy.” Christian handed over his own coat.

  “A splendid idea. We will fill you in over a drink or ten.” Greenwich started down a long hallway.

  Christian had always thought Lady Natalie and Lady Pippa made an odd pairing. The women were opposite in nature. Lady Natalie had always been a vivacious, spoiled pain. She was loud and demanding, and always had a way of inserting herself into his and Greenwich’s plans when they were children.

  Lady Pippa on the other hand had a quiet, sweet nature. She followed Lady Natalie’s lead most of the time but was somehow less of an annoyance.

  “Is the story worth my time?” Kissinger smoothed his cravat as the group strode into the smoking room.

  There wasn’t much of a story to tell unless Greenwich knew more about his sister’s actions than Christian did. More than once since that night, he’d pondered Lady Natalie’s actions, wondering to his own detriment why she did it. Honestly, he did not care whether or not the pair were friends, but he owed her an old debt and thought this may be a way to repay her.

  Some years ago, Natalie had shoved him out of the path of a runaway carriage. True she had thoroughly embarrassed him in the process, but had she not come to his aide, he’d surly be in the ground with hoof prints marring his backside.

  Greenwich went to the sideboard and poured two fingers of brandy into a tumbler. “Not bloody likely.”

  Christian retrieved the decanter and two more tumblers before moving to a high back chair. He handed Kissinger one of the glasses, then filled his own to the top with the amber liquor. “Something happened between Lady Natalie and Lady Pippa. Whatever it was had Lady Natalie after Lady Pippa’s blood.”

  He took a long sip, enjoying the burn of the brandy as it slid down his throat. “Lady Natalie announced that Lady Pippa had scandalous designs on their music tutor. She implied that Lady Pippa had a ruinous relationship with the man, Mr. Giles. That is all I know of the subject as Greenwich and I were suitably entertained elsewhere during the episode.”

  “And what came of Lady Natalie’s announcement?” Kissinger prodded. “Might I have a chance at getting under her skirts?”

  “Nothing at all.” Greenwich tossed back his drink. “Leastwise not that I have been made privy too. Seems her reputation is solid.”

  “You will have to chase a more suitable skirt, Kissinger.” Christian swirled the brandy in his tumbler.

  “All skirts suit me.” Kissinger winked.

  “Why she did it is a deuced mystery.” Christian savored another drink of his brandy. He was most curious to know what prompted Lady Natalie’s announcement. She and Lady Pippa were always very close. Seemed a bit odd for Lady Natalie to turn on her in such a drastic fashion. Did it not?

  Greenwich raised one blond brow. “Have you met my sister?”

  “Indeed.” Kissinger chuckled. “Very true. Lady Natalie has always been a spitfire.”

  Christian stretched his legs out, reclining in the chair. “Do you recall the time we refused to allow her to accompany us to Bond Street? She had designs on a new bonnet and was spitting mad that we would not take her to purchase it.”

  “She turned our horses loose and ordered the carriage wheels removed.” Kissinger smirked, shaking his head.

  Greenwich leaned forward. “Then she hid her coy smile behind her fan when we confronted her. And worse still, Mother forced us to take her for the blasted bonnet.”

  Christian could still picture the self-satisfied expression on Lady Natalie’s face when he and his friends returned to the house after discovering their horses missing. He’d not seen an inkling of apology in her eyes.

  “I will remember that for as long as I live. I swear I’ve never seen the likes of it from any other lady.” Kissinger refilled his tumbler. “If I were to fall into the parson’s trap, it would never be with the likes of your sister, Greenwich—now, Lady Pippa is a different story.”

  Christian could not help but agree with Kissinger, though he’d never voice his opinion and disrespect Greenwich’s sister in such a way. He finished his drink in one long sip. “God help the unfortunate man who ends up shackled to her.” If the ton gossip had the right of things they would all be finding out exactly who the poor sap was, and soon. “Do you suspect the gossip is true, Greenwich?”

  “I do. Father hinted at wanting to secure a match when I was last here.” He lifted the now empty decanter and started toward the sideboard before turning back to his friends. “If you will excuse me, I should announce our arrival to the Duke.”

  “Very well, but be a gentleman and fetch us a fresh decanter before you take your leave.” Christian waved toward the sideboard.

  Kissinger stood. “I fear you will be drinking alone, Knightly. I have no wish to be foxed before dinner.”

  “I have never known such a thing to bother you before.” Christian took the decanter Greenwich offered and poured two fingers of the liquor into his tumbler.

  “We will drink our share soon enough. For now, I wish to wash the travel dust off and possibly spot a lonely widow or two.” Kissinger gave a nod, then took his leave, following Greenwich from the room.

  He would love to be in the room when Natalie was told of her betrothal. Perhaps her parents had already informed her—if not, they would soon. How would the hellion take the news? Knowing Natalie as he did, he’d wager she would fight it and he’d think nothing less of her for it. She was like a summer storm blazing a path across the land. It had always been that way with her.

  He tipped his glass, relishing the last of the brandy, then went to the sideboard and sat the empty tumbler on a silver tray before turning to leave. He should not give another second’s thought to Lady Natalie and her actions friendship, or lack thereof, with Lady Pippa. They were none of his concern.

  Still, he had known her and Lady Pippa for most of his life. Greenwich and Kissinger were like family to him, and by virtue, Lady Natalie as well. Could he and his friends just as easily be as close as brothers one moment and enemies the next? He shuddered at the thought as he started up the stairway leading to his guest chamber.

  If not for his friends, he would have a lonely, boring existence. Lord knew his father was a cold bastard and he had no siblings. He shook his head, chasing the ponderings away. There was no need to ruminate on such serious matters when there were skirts to chase and fine liquors to drink.

  Chapter 3

  “Perhaps you will find the earl to your liking,” Daphne said.

  Natalie dropped the drape, allowing it to billow back into place over her drawing room window. “I am convinced it shall not be so.” How the girl was ever so optimistic every moment of every day, irritated Natalie—it was as
if the woman didn’t realize her first season had come and gone without so much as a single interested suitor.

  Besides, the message from the duke and duchess were clear. Father’s words whispered to her from the depths of her mind. She was to wed a stranger for the betterment of her family. The duty belonged to her and she would see it through even if the act broke her heart—which she had no doubt it would.

  “All the same, I will do as my parents have bid me to do.” What other option was there? She certainly did not relish inciting her father’s anger or her mother’s distain.

  Daphne sat her needle point aside and folded her hands in her lap. “I would not mind over much if Mama and Papa choose my husband. Doing so would save me from having to attend yet another season of social events. I do so despise sitting with the other wallflowers.” Daphne averted her gaze. “I will never be the English rose you are.”

  She wanted to deny her dear cousin’s assessment of her own status among last season’s crop of debutantes, but with a figure a little too round and a shyness even more glaring, not another term suited.

  “I am quite certain your parents would not select a stranger, as mine have.” Her tone was icy and Daphne stiffened at her harsh words. “As for being a wallflower, its nonsense, you simply have to move about the room so gentlemen have the opportunity to notice you. Remove yourself from the wall and learn how to bat your lashes. You may even enjoy yourself.”

  Daphne’s cheeks bloomed crimson. “No, I do not believe they would select an unknown gentleman for me.” She glanced down at her lap, avoiding the topic of her wallflower status entirely. “I am sorry.”

  Natalie closed her eyes in desperate need of a moment’s escape. Who was Lucas Hartfeld, Earl of Maddox? He could not move in her circles, as she’d never heard of him. Would he take her away from her friends and family once they were wed? Remove her to some faraway corner of England? She shuddered at the realization that as his wife, he’d have the right to take her wherever he pleased. She would have no alternative but to go obediently. Could she tame her rebellious streak and be a dutiful wife?