A Kiss for Hope: A Regency Holiday Novella by Grace Burrowes

Author:Grace Burrowes [Burrowes, Grace]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grace Burrowes Publishing
Published: 2025-11-14T00:00:00+00:00

What are you doing? What in the name of Gaspar, Melchior, and Balthasar are you doing?

This time, the exasperated voice in Joshua’s head belonged to Joshua’s grandpapa, who’d been a jolly soul, but not blessed with abundant patience where wayward boys were concerned.

And the answer was simple: I am kissing a woman whom I esteem and desire, and she is kissing me back.

The result of that activity was glorious. Joshua had forgotten the sheer joy of an exuberant kiss, the leaping of the blood, the quickening of the heart. The wonderful knowledge that desire had not abandoned him for all time, that an estimable woman found him attractive.

Hope eased her mouth away and rested her forehead on Joshua’s chest. “Who needs mistletoe?”

We do. Badly. “A curious tradition. Perhaps the idea with mistletoe is to prevent indiscriminate kissing in myriad locations and limit the enthusiasms to doorways and foyers?”

She peeked up at him. “I fear that’s not quite how it works. Having kissed you once, properly, or improperly, the mistletoe will adorn my thoughts even if it’s not in evidence in the house.”

“And yet,” Joshua said, “you might have to turn me out onto the street come the New Year. This is getting a bit complicated, isn’t it?”

Hope moved away enough to finish unbuttoning his greatcoat. “Will you turn me out if Edwin’s purchase of the home can somehow be invalidated?”

The house was Joshua’s. His sole legacy from Grandpapa, the refuge he’d crossed an ocean for. Hope was… not Joshua’s. As if some angel had whacked him on the shoulder with a copper soup ladle, his well-kissed imagination presented the possibility that he could have both—Hope and the house, Holly and Heifer, happily—for the most part—ever after.

Joshua wasn’t as keen on having a conservatory full of pickpockets, but enterprising young fellows could change careers from time to time.

“You are having to think about this,” Hope said, hanging his coat on a hook. “You were supposed to say, ‘I could never take the roof over your head, much less over Holly’s.’ But you didn’t say that.’”

She sounded more disappointed than offended.

“And you did not say to me, ‘Joshua, you will always have a place in my household,’ because we agreed to a truce only, not an eternal alliance. Do you regret kissing me?”

Her gaze went to the portrait of jolly old Grandpapa. “I should. I most assuredly do not. The situation is confusing.”

“For both of us. I do not regret kissing you, but there’s something you should know.”

She twisted the lock on the front door and made a say on gesture with her hand.

“I went to see my solicitor as I was rambling about Town. His offices were on my route to the docks, and he was alerted to the possibility of my return. I expected him to open the house for me and wanted to know what had become of my instructions.”

“This is Mr. Chumley?”

“The very one. He clerked for Grandpapa, and now Chumley is a senior partner in a solicitor’s practice.

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