Earl of Bergen: Wicked Regency Romace (Wicked Earls' Club Book 15) by Anna St. Claire & Wicked Earls' Club & Lauren Harrison

Author:Anna St. Claire & Wicked Earls' Club & Lauren Harrison [St. Claire, Anna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-10-14T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 7

Before anyone could react to Lady Bergen’s swoon, a flash of white fur flew across the room, under the dress of the lady and then out again, in pursuit of the offending light-grey mouse. Marie shrieked and scrambled after her mouse, while Elizabeth fell over Lady Bergen’s protruding feet in a heroic effort to capture Snowball, her cat.

Lady Bergen raised her head briefly, only to swoon once more, to the chagrin of the short round vicar, who was straining to keep her head of tight ringlets from slipping to the floor.

Bergen leapt forward and caught Elizabeth as she fell over his aunt’s feet, moments before she hit the floor. Meanwhile, Shefford steadied the vicar and his catch.

“I have her!” Marie held up her mouse, grinning.

“And I have Snowball,” Elizabeth whispered. Red-faced, she squeezed her furry white quarry to her chest while Bergen held her close to his.

“Well, it seems you still feel the need to show your wares whenever you have an audience,” Aunt Jane quipped at her adversary, holding her arms crossed over her chest. Aunt Faith opened her eyes and raised her head, seeming to forget that she had fainted only moments ago.

“My wares? How dare you insinuate such a thing? If you are referring to the ball where you purposely stepped on my dress and stood up, ripping the skirt from the bodice…” She huffed and glared, her face also red, at Aunt Jane.

“Ladies…please.” Bergen carefully stood Elizabeth up, squeezing her elbows in a show of affection as he moved towards his aunt. “Aunt Faith, we must leave now to attend rehearsals for the play. Would you care for Shefford and I to accompany you back to the inn?”

Shefford aided the vicar in his attempt to bring Lady Bergen upright. She finally stood, brushing off her skirt with dramatic wipes of her hands.

“I would like to see the play.” Without missing a beat, Aunt Faith turned to the vicar, bestowing upon him a slight smile and fluttering her lashes.

“Well, certainly, my lady.” The short, round vicar stood straighter, throwing back his shoulders and clearing his throat. “We would love for you to join us. It is the final rehearsal before the presentation to our congregation on Christmas Eve. Guests are always welcome. He held out his arm and she lightly laid her fingers on his sleeve as he walked her to her coach.

Bergen and Shefford mounted their horses and followed behind the coach.

“Bergen, which biblical figure will you represent in the pageant?” Shefford smiled, his eyes full of mirth. “You still have not said.”

“No, I have not.” Bergen looked at his friend, sure his own eyes must betray the amusement of the situation he found himself in.

“Well…” Shefford laughed. “…are you going to tell me, or are you making me guess?”

“Joseph,” he admitted at last.

“I would never have guessed!” Shefford guffawed. “I had you earmarked for a wise man.”

“Laugh your fill, my friend. The pageant means a great deal to Elizabeth, and the children—for one reason or another—were not willing to take part.

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