A perfect Christmas wedding, a snowstorm, and a shocking secret. What could go wrong?
Susanna Lorican must marry the man she loves before the truth is discovered, or face the gossip of the ton. With an unexpected snowstorm injuring the minister, her future hangs in the balance.
Viscount Camden Beckinworth vows to keep his bride safe, even if he must betray her confidence. When their love is put to the test, how will he uphold her honor without jeopardizing his own?
– Warning: this sweet, complete Regency romance novella features a brief scene where the heroine is assaulted.
– Second edition. Newly revised and edited.
As he lifted his fist to knock, the door swung open, and the loveliest woman he had ever seen scowled at him. Then a shriek split her lips and damn near ruptured his eardrums.
She halfway closed the door and ducked behind it. “Camden, why are you here? Do you wish for bad luck? The blasted snow is already an omen!”
“Susanna! Language.” Lady Lorican hissed at her from somewhere in the room. Footsteps resounded, then she pushed opened the door and pursed her lips at Camden.
He fidgeted under her intense scrutiny and dropped his gaze. After she stepped back, he crossed the threshold and nodded his gratitude at the baroness. At least her presence established a semblance of decorum and would silence any wagging tongues.
“Now, Susanna.” He held up his hands to placate her as Lady Lorican closed the door. “Before a string of unladylike curses flies from your lips, allow me to explain. The—”
Susanna stomped toward him and poked him in the chest. Then she sniffed and wrinkled her nose. “You cad. Have you been drinking and smoking? You should not be here.”
Camden expelled a long breath. “I know, darling, but I’m relaying a message from your father. There’s been a slight change of plans.”
She rolled her dark eyes. “I already know we must have the ceremony inside. I’m not happy about it, but I accept it.”
“I see.” Camden arched his eyebrow. How was she so calm? His dear fiancée had been daydreaming about marrying him under the ivy-festooned latticework in the courtyard and even sketched how she imagined the scene to look. Lady Lorican had probably already pulled the younger woman back from the edge of panic. “There’s something else.”
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