Lords, Snow and Mistletoe by Bianca Blythe

Author:Bianca Blythe
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Tags: duke historical romance novels, regency christmas stories, regency collection, holiday anthology, holiday regency, winter historical romance, wallflower regency
Publisher: Bianca Blythe
Published: 2019-10-21T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

Flora finished playing. She rose from the piano. The music was finished, but it had been replaced by a new sound, that of applause.

It thundered through the room.

Her heart sang, and she moved from the piano, into the thick crowd of people.

A hand grabbed onto her.

Wolfe.

Of course he was there beside her, and her heart warmed.

In the next moment she was pushed behind the Christmas tree, and then behind the balcony.

“Hello... Miss Schmidt.” The voice didn’t belong to Wolfe or any of the footmen and male servants, and a shiver shot through her spine.

It’s him.

She didn’t want to look at him. She didn’t want to confirm what every nerve ending seemed to naturally know: that it was him, the man who killed her father and who could only want to harm her.

Where was Wolfe? She needed to find him. He always made her feel safe.

“Don’t leave,” Mr. Warne said. Something glinted in the moonlight.

A knife.

She inhaled sharply.

“If you try to leave, I’ll be compelled to hurt you. You don’t want that, do you?”

She shook her head rapidly, staring at the knife.

“How odd,” Mr. Warne remarked. “Back in London you went by a different name. I suppose you were ashamed of your father.”

She swung her head at him. “Leave my father out of this.”

He grinned. “Ah. It is really you. I am certain. I thought it doubtful two women could play the piano so beautifully.”

“Many people play the piano beautifully,” she said.

“You are too humble. Besides, those were your own compositions, were they not? You always did consider yourself a composer. Foolish child and now foolish woman.”

She stiffened.

“Come with me now,” he said, his voice suave and gentle.

“I couldn’t possibly,” she said.

“You think anyone notices you?” the man continued, clasping onto her hand. “Do you think you’re special?”

“No.”

“You’re a servant. No one notices a missing servant.” The man forced her toward the balcony. In the next moment he opened the door and shoved her outside into the cool air.

Perhaps she could escape. Perhaps she could scream. Perhaps—

Something cold that she recognized as a barrel pressed into her back.

“Now, don’t do anything crazy,” he said. “Better you just die than to suffer more.”

“Is it?” she asked, “if it means they catch you?”

His eyes twinkled. “You don’t want to know what I can do. Might go after that earl of yours. You were making eyes at him quite a bit. As if a man like him would notice a woman like you.”

“You followed me here and you somehow weaseled your way into an invitation,” Flora said.

“Nonsense,” Mr. Warne said. “I didn’t need to do that.”

“You have some magical powers? These are good people. You shouldn’t be here.”

“I thought you knew more than that,” Mr. Warne said. “I was invited here. Finding you was a fortunate coincidence.”

Flora blinked.

“You didn’t know? These are my friends.”

Her eyes widened farther.

“I often go with the host to concerts together,” Mr. Warne said.

“You did always like music.”

“Like it? I was good at it.”

“Then why did you murder your piano tutor?” Flora asked.

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