“Excellent.” Beatrice was thrilled.
Hugh Raybourne, Thomas’s other brother, joined them. “The agency is a tremendous idea, and I wish you the best of luck with it. Thank you for a lovely evening.”
“Thank you for coming.” Beatrice curtsied then watched him say his goodbyes. He and Thomas were quite different but the bond between them was evident.
“Do you think he’ll ever marry?” Annabelle asked her husband as Hugh departed.
“He seems to have decided the time has come and is intent on finding a wife with a fortune, so he can start his horse breeding business.”
Daniel chuckled. “We shall see whether fate steps in to knock his plans off course.” He held Beatrice’s gaze. “Love often arrives when we least expect it.”
“That is because it’s a gift.” Beatrice would be forever grateful for it.
“Very true,” Mr. Raybourne agreed, and Annabelle nodded knowingly.
“Will I see you at Caroline’s tomorrow afternoon for tea?” Beatrice asked.
“I wouldn’t miss it.” Annabelle leaned close. “We can compare notes on being newlyweds.”
“I look forward to it.” Beatrice felt heat rise in her cheeks.
When the last guest was out the door, Beatrice breathed a sigh of relief.
“You were amazing, my dear wife.” Daniel took her hands in his.
“As were you, my dear husband,” she said with a smile. “The evening was both delightful and exhausting.”
“Indeed. In fact, why don’t we retire?” he suggested as he drew her into his arms and kissed her.
Beatrice sighed again when he eased back, but this time for an entirely different reason. Her love for Daniel seemed to grow each day.
“Have I mentioned how much I love you?” he asked.
“Perhaps once or twice, but I would enjoy hearing it again.”
“I love you.” He drew her up the stairs.
“Perfect. Because I love you as well.”
“I intend to spend the rest of my life showing you just how much.” He lifted her into his arms when they reached the top, causing her heart to tilt. “What do you say to that?”
“A rogue coming to my rescue again?” She wrapped her arms around his neck as passion sent tingles of awareness along her body.
“I’m sorry to inform you that I have set aside my roguish ways as I now have a wife. And she requires all of my time.” The teasing glint in his eyes that she so adored sent her heart pounding.
“Yes, she does and she is very needy.” Beatrice wound her fingers in the hair at the back of his neck then drew him close for a long, heated kiss. She eased back to hold his gaze. “How much time do you have?”
“Forever and a day.”
“Perfect. That might just be long enough.” She kissed him once more as he crossed the threshold of the bedchamber, kicking the door closed behind them.
TURN THE PAGE FOR A sneak peek at A ROGUE AND SOME MISTLETOE, Book 5 of The Rogue Chronicles, available exclusively in Mistletoe and Mayhem: A Regency Holiday Romance Anthology!
Excerpt of A ROGUE AND SOME MISTLETOE
Chapter One
Lincolnshire, England
November 1815
“You simply must come. It wouldn’t be the same without you.”
Lucy Gray stared at her cousin, Emma Waverly, with guarded suspicion. From experience, she knew some other purpose was behind this personal request to attend the Christmas house party that Emma’s parents were hosting.
“We’re just surprised you came all this way to ask us,” Lucy said. A glance at Aunt Edith—her great aunt, actually—who sat in her favorite chair before the fire in the sitting room, suggested she was astounded as well.
The invitation had arrived in the post two weeks ago, and Aunt Edith had already sent their regrets. Given her delicate health—whether real or imagined—she preferred the comfort of her own bed in her small home where she could rest when she wanted.
Yet Lucy couldn’t deny the invitation had filled her with an unexpected longing. In their youth, she and Emma, who was a year younger, had spent many holidays together. Days filled with ice skating and bough gathering, the lighting of the Yule log, and games of snapdragon and blindman’s buff.
Lucy’s parents had been alive then, the world bright and full of promise. The painful clutch that gripped her chest as memories flooded her had Lucy drawing a deep breath to ease the ache. After all, her parents had died over seven years ago, when her father lost control while driving their phaeton with his wife at his side, just after Lucy’s sixteenth birthday. But she still missed them so much, still grieved all the moments they hadn’t been able to share.
Based on Aunt Edith’s thoughtful expression, she was considering Emma’s request, much to Lucy’s astonishment. Edith Penrose, Lucy’s mother’s aunt, had been a widow for well over twenty years but rarely ventured out since Lucy had come to live with her. Lucy barely remembered Uncle William, who’d left his wife without children but with enough funds that she hadn’t been forced to remarry to survive.
“Perhaps we might come for a few days.” Aunt Edith looked at Lucy with one brow raised. “What say you, Lucy?”
“Please say you will.” Emma stared at Lucy imploringly with her large blue eyes, which only made Lucy more suspicious as to what her cousin’s true motive might be.
Yet the idea of spending the holidays with only Aunt Edith and the servants for company held little appeal. Aunt Edith rested in her bedchamber a good portion of the day, and while Lucy kept her company much of the time, the rest was filled with only needlework, letter writing, and reading. The servants were kind, of course, but the cook was much older, the housemaid much younger, and the footman, who also served as coachman, had family in the area. Lucy didn’t have any close friends, not the sort one shared confidences with while snuggled under the covers before blowing out the candle at night.
Lucy adored Aunt Edith
