It's a Wonderful Regency Christmas by Edith Layton

Author:Edith Layton [Layton, Edith]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Regency Romance
Publisher: Untreed Reads
Published: 2019-06-14T16:00:00+00:00

The Last Gift

It was twilight in the woods, morning everywhere else. But the winding path was so bracketed by brambles and buttressed by ancient trees that it was easy to forget the real hour of day. Brown and gray autumn leaves made a ragged carpet underfoot. Overhead, the bare branches they’d fallen from touched and linked, blocking all but a glimpse of the leaden sky. Brush and vines to either side of the narrow lane interlaced, forming dense thickets solid as walls. A few last ragged leaves rattled whenever the chill breeze blew, which was continually. It wasn’t the best place to be on a bleak November morning. But so far as Skylar could see—which was admittedly not very far at the moment—there wasn’t any better place to be right now. At least not in this dreary district he’d been stupid enough to decide to visit.

It was nothing like the place he’d just left. That had been the point. He’d thought it a clever one then. He didn’t now.

London had been on the verge of Christmas the day he’d gone riding out of it. Even though the day was weeks off, London was a city of commerce and knew to a nicety how it should prepare for the holy day, and the unholy glee of all the money to be made from it. The streets, as always, had been filled with bustling people, beggars, shoppers, and strollers. But even now, the shop windows were beginning to sparkle with trinkets. The pavements in front of them were crowded with roving venders selling their usual goods, their ranks swelled by those crying Seasonal treats from chestnuts to pasties, pastries, and pies. Organ grinders, trumpeters, and carolers were already out in force, filling the frosty air with song. Children, monkeys, and bears danced for pennies. Pine, balsam, and fir, ropes of greens festooned windows, carriages, and buildings…

Skylar looked around, scowling. Even the greens were gray here. The only sounds were the dry leaves crunching under his horse’s hooves. And the occasional cry of a rook. And the wind.

But he’d asked for this.

It was unfortunate he’d made the comment just as his friend took a sip of wine. “What?” Robert had sputtered, or tried to, gagging and hacking as the wine slid down the wrong way.

Heads turned. The hostess of the fashionable ball they were attending spun around. Their host hesitated, wondering if his guest’s back wanted a good pounding, and worried about taking such a familiarity. There was no need. Skylar obliged as those in his vicinity were stepping back from the spray. The coughing soon dwindled to wheezing, and the partygoers went back to pretending not to have noticed.

It was, after all, what they’d been doing all evening. Skylar and his friend had been standing near the refreshment table at the side of the ballroom in the crowded London town house. But they were carefully and covertly watched—or rather, what they were watching was being watched. Not just because they were both attractive young gentlemen.

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