A Christian Regency romantic suspense
Spinster Miranda Belmoore has become a poor relation in her cousin’s house. She determines to escape a life of drudgery and disdain from her own family members, who are embarrassed by her straightforward speech and unconventional behavior that does not match with proper society. She is beginning to believe what they tell her—that she doesn’t matter to anyone, not even to God.
Former naval captain Gerard Foremont is having difficulty adjusting to life back on land, bitter that his career has been cut short by his severely injured knee. A Christmastide houseparty with the Belmoores reunites him with his childhood friend, Miranda, but he is appalled at the verbal abuse she endures and wants to help her.
The festivities are disrupted when a cloaked intruder attacks Gerard, with Miranda as the only witness. Now the two of them must uncover who wants to harm him and why, before Twelfth Night ends in murder …
All the posted parts are listed here.
Chapter 22
January 1st
The turret door, which Miranda always had to struggle with, opened easily under Gerard’s strong hand, but it was nearly blown out of it by a whipping wind.
“It’s too windy,” she said. “Let’s go back.”
“No, Lady Wynwood said it had to be here.”
“Lady Wynwood?”
She pulled her cloak around her and followed him out onto the roof of Wintrell Hall. Despite the wind, the sun shone high above, only briefly misted over by the occasional wisp of cloud before beaming down upon them, turning the red brick orange-gold.
They found a spot in the lee of the cupola where the wind was only a gentle swirling around their bodies. Gerard wrapped the wings of his greatcoat around both himself and her, and then he pulled her close to kiss her.
In the cocoon of his coat, she pressed against him, the brick parapet at her back. His mouth tasted hers, then traveled to her jaw, her neck.
“Gerard.”
“Mmm.”
“You did not bring me here to kiss me.”
“How do you know? Maybe I wanted privacy.”
“If you cared about privacy you would not have kissed me in the middle of the drive yesterday.”
After tying up the two men, they’d driven them and the rented coach to the village to turn them over to the local constable and tell him about Harriet’s body in the woods. Then Mr. Drydale had driven them home in the carriage while Michael rode alongside.
Gerard had helped her down and then pulled her close to kiss her fiercely. In front of the grooms who had come racing from the stables, and the butler who had opened the front door to the house, and the family who had trickled out to see them. Felicity had given a horrified shriek that drew them apart.
“I kissed you yesterday simply to distress Felicity,” he murmured into her ear. The vibration of his lips against her jaw made her shiver.
“I should have protested more before following you up the stairs just now. Your knee—”
“I submitted quite docilely to your poultice, which smelled like a pig pen, by the bye.”
“It did not.”
“And now my knee is ‘plummy.’”
It was not. The ride on the horse had injured him further, making him lean harder on his crutches today.
“Marry me,” he whispered.
“I cannot.” Although that sounded ridiculous while she was in his embrace, his lips at her throat. “I have nothing …”
He drew his head back and looked down at her, but he did not loosen the circle of his arms. “I could not bear to lose you again. You mean too much to me.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, but a tear escaped. A whistling wind turned it to ice water on her cheek. “Yes, I will marry you.”
“At last—”
“If you will explain your reference to Lady Wynwood.”
“Oh.” He looked down at her, a flush creeping up his neck. “I asked her for a particular place to have this conversation with you.”
“A windy rooftop?”
“It sounded romantic at the time.”
She smiled at him, and he kissed her.
A few minutes later he said, “I told Lady Wynwood that I wanted a place where you would feel loved, and beautiful.”
She turned toward the copula, the glass panels gleaming. Thou God seest me.
“She was right.”
His mouth descended on hers, his hands tightening on her back, and for a long while she drowned in sea rushes and mint and Gerard.
THE END
I hope you enjoyed The Spinster’s Christmas! I’ll leave the entire book on my blog for a while more.
I have knit Gerard’s red and black scarf from an 1837 pattern that was likely in use in the Regency era. If you’re a knitter, feel free to join me: http://bit.ly/KnitGerardsScarf
This isn’t the only adventure for Lady Wynwood and Mr. Sol Drydale—when a dangerous secret society is found to have ties to Laura’s past, she and Sol must gather a circle of trusted individuals with the unique skills to stop a plan that would enable Napoleon to conquer the entire world.
My Lady Wynwood’s Spies series starts with Lady Wynwood’s Spies, volume 1: Archer
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