Under The Mistletoe
A new suitor seeks her hand. An old flame holds her heart. Which one will she meet under the kissing bough?
When Margaret Templeton is requested to act as hostess at Captain Sander Morledge’s Christmas party and possibly agree to marry him, she did not think she would see the man who once held her heart.
Viscount Frederick Beacham had never forgotten the young woman he had fallen in love with, and his feelings are evident when he sees her at a holiday gathering.
In a swirl of Christmas miracles and joyous celebration, will the two finally put down their differences and once again fall in love?
Under the Mistletoe was first published with the Bluestocking Belles’ box set collection Mistletoe, Marriage, & Mayhem. The novella is now available for individual sale.
Genre: Regency, Holiday, Historical Romance
She returned her attention to a portrait of a seventeenth century woman. The artist had captured her to perfection, painting the gown in exquisite detail, so that Margaret felt she could almost reach out to feel the actual pale blue fabric of material.
“What a beauty,” a male voice whispered behind her.
Margaret’s face flushed. She knew that voice, and that tone. That familiar low timbre had teased her many times in their youth. “Yes, she is indeed. See how the painter caught her expression in her eyes,” she replied, trying to sound calm as her heart raced with his nearness.
“I wonder what she was staring at that caused her smile.”
The man chuckled softly and leaned closer. She could have sworn she felt the heat of his body through the fabric of her redingote. “I was not talking about the painting, Margaret.”
Catching her breath hearing her given name pass his lips, she, at last, turned to face the man whose offer of marriage she had rejected.
“Good day, Lord Beacham. How good to see you again after all these many years.” Was that breathy voice really her own? She curtsied and held out her gloved hand. He took it, bowing low, and she tried to remain calm even though her heart was beating wildly in her chest.
Frederick rose, his roguish grin melting her heart. “After all the years we have known one another, I would think you would know there is no need to address me so formally, or for me to be formal with you, I would hope.”