A Kiss At Christmastide: Regency Novella by Christina McKnight Read Free Book Online Page B

and too many long-buried memories assaulted him, Lucas returned to the main house and entered through the front door. He was thankful Lady Pippa was nowhere in sight. From the appearance of the room, she’d finished decorating and spreading holiday cheer here and had most likely moved on to another room. The scent of holly and evergreen branches permeated the room and, if Lucas were forced to admit it, it wasn’t at all unwelcome. He quickly found his room and pulled the bell cord to have a bath prepared—maybe he would even find a bit of slumber before seeking his evening repast.
    Lucas wanted to laugh at the insane thought—a nap?
    Yes, he’d sought out his bed or that of others during the daylight hours, but never to sleep.
    At this time of day, his evening was only just beginning; a night with his current ladylove, maybe the opera or a play, then he’d deposit her at her residence before seeking his gentlemen’s club or a ball hosted by some lord whose name he would not remember past the front entrance.
    He’d languished in his bath long past when the water turned cold, knowing he was avoiding something—or someone. But the rumbling in his stomach forced him out, and he quickly donned the clothes his valet had rescued for him from the carriage. His Hessians had been cleaned while he’d bathed, though Lucas hadn’t heard his servant enter the room, nor return with the laundered boots.
    The chambers he’d been given were adequate, if a little bare and feminine by his standards. The walls were constructed of a light-colored wood, and the covers—drapes, coverlet, and adornments—were all a sage green. The color was not the problem, however. Someone had taken it upon themselves to add frills to everything. Even the cloth covering the washstand was adorned with edgings. It was obviously the work of Lady Pippa. Upon closer inspection, he noted the intricate knitting stitch from the caps she’d been working on at breakfast—if there were such a thing as a preferred stitch for each knitter. Men commonly had preferred fencing patterns or boxing patterns, whether they favored aggressive jabs and punches as opposed to countering their opponent’s moves. Women could not be so different in their hobby methodology.
    There were two things fighting for control of his mind at the moment; food, and the lady of the house.
    He was unsure which he wanted more.
    Lady Pippa, while possessing a spirit unrivaled by all those he’d met before, had a kind and giving heart. She toiled away to knit caps for the village children. She’d welcomed him into her home—no matter how reluctantly—even though she could have sent him to sleep in the stables. She was not loud and demanding like the actresses he’d favored thus far in life. Nor was she petty and vain like many of the debutantes he’d met in the London ballrooms.
    She carried herself like a country mouse—yet, he’d witnessed her hoyden side firsthand. The woman was quick-witted. It was no wonder her parents kept her hidden here in the country, for she’d attract every eligible—and not so eligible—man in town. Pippa was a rarity. Lucas had been among society enough to know that for a fact. The men would swarm and act the dandy to gain her attention, tripping over one another in pursuit of their prize.
    However, that did not change the fact that she was the complete opposite of the women he normally pursued, the type of women he found alluring—that captured his full attention until they’d outlasted their usefulness to him.
    Pippa was beautiful, in an unassuming, understated way—no coal lined her eyes, nor did she apply dyes to her full, pouty lips. She was a true beauty.
    One that members of the ton would likely call a diamond of the first water, a rare jewel.
    Could it be that he knew he was walking into a parson’s noose when he arrived at Lady Natalie’s