Bartered to Viscount Hudson Becker by her father, Lady Lavinia Holbrook escapes her arranged marriage and travels to her Godmother, the Duchess of Chauncy to seek asylum. Determined to put men and marriage behind her, she is unprepared for the duke’s interest or his heated kisses. The Duke of Chauncy believes love is a weakness and refuses to take a bride despite his mother’s scheming. When the duchess makes a wager he will marry by Christmas, he considers the matter a lark. Until Lavinia gets under his skin, and he rethinks his position on love and happy ever afters.
Sheffield, England
November 1, 1784
Only one person alive could save her now.
“Thank goodness you’re here.” Lady Lavinia Holbrook flung open the heavy oak door of the cathedral antechamber and kicked the train of her satin wedding gown aside so her friend could enter. “Your timing could not be better. Margret just left.”
“That old dragon. She has a nose for mischief and spoiled many a grand lark.” Victoria Beaumont’s strawberry mouth tilted down at the corners before her humor returned. “Good morning, Lavinia. You are looking very…pre-wed.” She strolled inside with one eyebrow quirked as she took in her friend’s ivory dress, stocking feet, and bare head.
“Good morning,” Lavinia returned as emotion welled in her eyes. “How I’ve missed you.”
Emerald eyes met hers in an assessing glance before Victoria drew her in for a much-needed hug.
Although months went by since they last spoke, it felt as if no time had passed at all. Hope fluttered in Lavinia’s chest for the first time in weeks. Together, they would find a solution like they always did.
“Your mother will have a fit of apoplexy if she discovers me here. She is convinced I led your brother astray and holds me responsible for his death. I must confess your cryptic note inviting me to your antechamber before the wedding ceremony surprised me, and I came straight away. A loose chignon is all the time I allowed for my hair, and I walked out the door of my chamber as my maid tied the back of my gown. No doubt, Matilda will give me a tongue-lashing when I return.” Her friend’s dancing eyes said the maid’s irritation amused her. Tilting her head, she sobered. “I must say, you are too pale by half. The Lavinia I remember had mischievous eyes and a ready smile. What brought about the change? Am I summoned here as your knight in shining armor, I wonder? Had I known, I would have worn my plumed hat.”
Lavinia pictured her slender friend in a metal suit holding a drawn sword while her flaming red hair fanned out behind her in the breeze and smiled. “I had no one else to turn to. I spent the entire night contemplating my options, and your face kept popping up as the answer.”
“I should hope so. No one else has my experience getting you out of trouble.” Victoria untied the ribbons of her cape and nudged her chin toward the tea trolley.
“Do we have time for tea before the battle? Or should I ready my steed?”
Before Lavinia could reply, heavy footsteps approached with a determined ring.
“Quick, in here.” With a cry of terror, she shoved Victoria behind the changing screen and turned to face her executioner.
The heavy inner door to the chapel swung open with a bang, and the Earl of Holbrook stepped inside her sanctuary. Her father’s wide smile and sparkling eyes disappeared the second he closed the door.
A rock formed in her belly.
His gaze swept over her and darkened with anger.
“Your future husband grows impatient. We cannot delay the ceremony longer.” His lips thinned, and his gray eyes narrowed as he inspected her from the top of her bare head piled high with curls to the bottom of her stocking feet, peeking from beneath the hem of her white gown.
“Where the hell are your veil and shoes? And where is Margret? Really, Lavinia. You try my patience past my ability to endure. I commanded you to be ready at ten thirty. The time is now a quarter past, and you are not prepared. I will not allow you to insult the viscount further.” Tall and handsome with peppered black hair, her father wore his finest black linen suit, which consisted of satin breeches, a matching velvet overcoat trimmed with gold embroidery, a pristine white shirt beneath an intricately folded neckcloth, and high-heeled buckle shoes that caught the morning light. Despite being dressed in the height of fashion, his foul disposition ruined the effect.
“Every bride in the Ton arrives five minutes late as is fashionable. The ceremony is not scheduled until the eleventh hour.” Her chin rose in defiance as she stared at her father. “Even the condemned are executed on the stroke of the clock and not a moment before. I deserve no less and have given the viscount no insult.” Not yet, she amended. “’Twas not me parading my lover for all and sundry to see.”
The earl shot her a furious gaze. “Mind your tongue, girl.” His words cracked like a whip, and for a fleeting moment, she feared he would strike her. A heavy silence hung between them before his fists relaxed at his sides, and a cold mask of indifference settled over his face. “I have had enough of this nonsense. Your husband’s actions and who he associates with are none of your affair. Know your place, or you will learn it the hard way. Hudson is not a man to trifle with.”
Withdrawing a watch from the pocket of his gold silk vest, he checked the time, and his lips tightened.
“You are lucky the viscount favors you at all, such as you are. For reasons known to him alone, he wants you. This extravagant spectacle, with all its unnecessary pomp, was his idea. As for me, I would see you wed on the street in rags in exchange for the title to the hundred acres my wastrel uncle gambled away.” Snapping his watch closed, he replaced the article in his vest pocket. “I dare say I am getting the superior bargain.”
His icy words hit her like a runaway carriage. They were meant to hurt and found their target with remarkable accuracy.
“I want no more excuses. You have ten minutes before I drag you into the church barefoot and bareheaded if I must. Find your worthless maid and finish your preparations. I want this done. My patience is at an end. Do not anger me further, or you will rue the moment you were born.”
The door clicked with the solid thud of a cell door in Newgate prison, and Lavinia rushed forward to slide the bolt behind him with shaky fingers. I would see you wed on the street in rags…Damn them all to hell.
On This Christmas I Thee Wed is available through these fine retailers…
Virginia Barlow has been a dreamer her whole life. She loves reading, traveling, and roses. She will dive headfirst into any romance she can get her hands on in any genre. Although her first love is Regency Romance and always will be. Something about the era calls to her soul like a siren’s song rising from the depths.
She loves to write steamy romances whether fantasy, historical, or contemporary, all are liberally spiced with adventure and sensual, seductive heroes. Her heroines are just as compelling with equal parts intelligence, sass, and backbone. They give as good as they get whether saving their man’s life or responding to his heated kisses, they’re all in.
The most important thing in Virginia’s life is her family, and spending time with them. When she is not bouncing a grandbaby in her arms or handing out popsicles, she is writing and dreaming up her next love story. Virginia has published fifteen romance novels with another two on the way and has half a dozen more circling around inside her head eager to make their debut.
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