Lord Bartholomew's Christmas Bride by Maggi Andersen

Author:Maggi Andersen
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: historical romance, regency historical, regency christmas short story, ton, regency christmas, regency christmas romance, short romantic fiction, regency family, regency lords, regency historical short

Chapter Four

Bart had spent the morning at an infirmary for wounded soldiers. More and more arrived at the London docks every day, penniless and with no prospect of work. It was indeed sobering. He exited the building at the same time as a poor fellow with a dreadful hacking cough. As it had begun to sprinkle, Bart gave him his umbrella.

Bart hailed a hackney cab and left it at Piccadilly to purchase a new umbrella, but then changed his mind when a watery sun emerged. He suffered a fit of gloom thinking of those unfortunate men, as he walked home. To make things worse, the grey skies opened and heavy drops of ran splattered over his hat. He would soon be soaked, with no shelter in sight.

“Lord Bartholomew.” A lady’s musical voice hailed him from a passing carriage. “May I offer you a lift?”

Miss Emily Isherwood’s face smiled from the carriage window as the rain turned into a deluge.

Without another thought, Bart opened the carriage door and jumped inside. Sitting opposite her, he peeled off his greatcoat. He turned it inside out, folded it and laid it beside him on the squabs along with his hat. He sat back and looked at her. “Thank you. I was in danger of becoming drenched. You travel alone?”

“I have been visiting a sick aunt. Poor Aunt Elizabeth’s maid has fallen ill also, so I left my maid there to assist her.” Her lower lip thrust forward in a pout. “I daresay Mother will be cross with me.”

“Surely not? It was a thoughtful thing to do.” Bart dragged his eyes from her mouth to enjoy the rest of her. Her hat was dressed with roses. What he could see of her dress beneath her fawn pelisse was embroidered with green leaves. She looked rather like a flower herself.

Rain dripped down his forehead and he fumbled for his handkerchief.

“You are soaked, my lord,” she said. “I hope you do not catch cold.”

“I have a strong constitution.” He dabbed at his face. “I’m not that wet. My coat took the brunt of it.”

“Your hair is wet.” She reached across and smoothed back the dripping lock from his brow.

“Miss Isherwood!” He grabbed her wrist and stared at her aghast. “Has you mother taught you nothing?”

“Life has taught me that manners and conventions are not nearly as important as feelings.”

Bart raised his brows suspecting he was out of his depth. “Feelings?”

“Exactly.” Not at all embarrassed, her mouth was a delicious curve of amusement.

Bart discovered that he still held her wrist. Her teasing maddened him, but instead of releasing her, he tugged her towards him.

He ignored Miss Isherwood’s murmured protest as his arms went around her. Satisfied with how right it felt, he took her chin in his hand, lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her. Her lips tasted as sweet as they appeared. His body hardened and he suffered an almost desperate need to make love to her. Knowing it to be inexcusable didn’t seem to help.

Emily gasped and put a gloved finger to her mouth.

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