12 Rogues of Christmas: Warm Regency Romance Novellas to celebrate the season by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Ebony McKenna
Published: 2020-08-19T16:00:00+00:00

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He arrived driving a superb matched team of chestnuts. Kitty, wearing a sage green silk organza with a ruched bodice and puffed sleeves, stared out the drawing room window and couldn’t help but admire such magnificent creatures. Goodness, they put Brutus and Arrow to shame.

Her uncle went out to welcome him and brought him into the room. Earl St. Ollen didn’t look at all like Lord Stynes. He had a smallish head with artfully arranged blond curls in the Cherubin style, and a precise, quiet manner that spoke of breeding and scholarly pursuits. He presented favorably, and Kitty smiled as he was introduced.

“I thank you very kindly for this invitation.” He looked at her with interest, and she curtsied, quite prettily she thought.

“It was good of you to come in this weather,” Grace said. “I don’t believe we’ve had this much rain for weeks.”

“No, indeed. The roads are almost impassable.”

“But not, I think, with your outstanding team,” Kitty added.

He smiled and for the first time, Kitty saw his charm.

“They did cope admirably, but I believe you know something of horseflesh yourself?”

“A little,” she conceded modestly.

The evening carried on, and Kitty used all the skills that Lady Beckwith had instilled in her. She smiled graciously, conversed animatedly and laughed at his stories. Once or twice, she saw Grace and Uncle Jonathan exchange a glance, as if they were amazed at her efforts. Perhaps she had been a little too distant over the last few weeks, but now her plans had changed. She still had no desire to marry, but a business connection would be acceptable.

Everything seemed to be going well until Ash arrived. The kitten had somehow crept out of the kitchen and followed the sound of their voices to the dining room.

“Ash, no!” Kitty said firmly as the cat jumped onto a spare dining chair against the wall.

St. Ollen’s face paled. He pushed his chair back and held a napkin to his nose. “You have a cat? Please remove him at once.”

St. Ollen gave a huge sneeze, and Ash jumped from his chair in alarm and dived under the table.

“Goodness,” Kitty gasped, her hand going to her mouth.

Her uncle’s face turned a furious beet-red. “Kitty, for heaven’s sake, get him out from under there.”

Kitty knelt and lifted up the table cloth. Whatever would St. Ollen think of this?

“Be careful of your dress,” Grace cried. “You don’t want to ruin it.”

Ash, overwhelmed by the commotion, latched onto the nearest thing he could find. Unfortunately, that was St. Ollen’s leg.

“Ash, no!” Kitty cried in horror.

“Get him off!” St. Ollen roared. “Blasted cat.”

He stood up trying to shake Ash off, but the kitten only clung harder, digging his claws deeper into St. Ollen’s breeches, and Kitty suspected, into his skin.

She scrambled up in time to see St. Ollen savagely swipe at Ash and send him flying to the floor. Ash landed safely on all four paws, but her heart swelled with indignation.

“How dare you?” she fumed. “He’s only a little animal, scared out of his wits.

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