Caroling Off-Key...with Erin Knightley and Giveaway

Caroling Off-Key on Christmas Eve - Erin Knightley

Despite being an avid reader and closet writer her whole life, Erin Knightley Despite being an avid reader and closet writer her whole life, Erin Knightley decided to pursue a sensible career in science. It was only after earning her BS and working in the field for years that she realized doing the sensible thing wasn’t any fun at all. Following her dreams, Erin left her practical side behind and now spends her days writing. Together with her tall, dark, and handsome husband and their three spoiled mutts, she is living her own Happily Ever After in North Carolina.

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Pitch Imperfect

When a perfect young lady unexpectedly turns down the perfect Lord Haversham's proposal—much to her father's chagrin—both are forced to rethink what they want from a spouse. It's not until they reveal their true selves that they see that sometimes its the imperfect things in life that makes us the most happy.

***

“You made an utter mess of things.”

Jasper Willig, the fifth Earl of Haversham, cut his gaze to his outspoken—and unwelcome—younger sister. “I’ll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself, Cassie.” He already knew he had made a muck of things; he didn’t need nosy sibling pointing it out.

Her dark eyes rounded with patently false innocence. “Why would you thank me for something I have no intention of doing? You were a proper fool, and if no one else will tell you so—and they won’t, given your rank—then it’s my duty as your meddling sister to make it known.”

Cheeky girl. “Your duty is to mind your own business, young lady. You are sixteen—that hardy makes you an authority on, well, anything.”

He stalked to the sideboard and poured himself a healthy portion of his best brandy. It had been a devil of an evening. He took a long drink, letting the liquor burn away the distaste of the bungled proposal. God, but he’d been an idiot.

“I’m still here, you know,” Cassie said from behind him. “And I don’t intend to let you get away that easily.”

Such impertinence. Though as much as he didn’t want to admit it, it was his own fault. He’d been far too lenient with her since their parents died four years earlier. He had only wished for her to be happy, but he feared he had spoiled her in the process.

Heading for his favorite chair beside the roaring fire, he sighed. “No, I don’t imagine you do. But I have no intention of being berated by a child. Off to bed with you.”

“Child?” she gasped, glaring at him in righteous outrage. “I am a woman fully grown, Jasper. Now tell me, what on earth where you thinking when you allowed Miss Middleton to say no?”

Jasper ground his teeth. “We all have free will. If Miss Middleton wishes not to marry me, then I most certainly am not going to force her.” Even if he had spent the better part of six months evaluating her suitability to be his countess. She’d passed all his criteria: excellent lineage, impeccable manners, physically attractive but not distractingly beautiful, and an underlying intelligence that made conversation quite tolerable.

Crossing her arms, Cassie flopped back against the striped fabric of the sofa. “Mmhmm. And how, pray tell, did you propose to her?”

He thought of Miss Middleton’s soft smile and rosy cheeks as she had looked up into his eyes tonight. She had seemed hopeful. Excited even. There was a sparkle in her green eyes that had little to do with the flickering candlelight of the mistletoe-garnished chandelier. The earthy scent of pine from the festive boughs draped across the mantle had complemented her vanilla-fragranced skin.

His gut twisted a little at the memory. For the first time, he saw true beauty in her features. In that moment, she had captivated him, robbing him of the polite proposal he had formulated in his mind. More than a little vexing for a man who prided himself on always being in control.

Clearing his throat, he took a quick swallow of his brandy before answering. “I told her that Lord Middleton and I had discussed the prospect of marriage at length, and that it was our belief that a union between our families would be most advantageous. I then asked if she had any objections to a betrothal announcement at tomorrow’s ball.”

Cassie’s nose wrinkled as she groaned in disapproval. “Please tell me you are joking.”

He stifled a grimace. That wasn’t even the worst of it. Miss Middleton had hesitated and in a wholly uncharacteristic moment of nerves, he’d also blurted that she’d certainly have no better offer than his. He still had no idea what had gotten into him, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to share that particular tidbit with his sister. “It was a reasonable point, and I stand by it.”

Miss Middleton’s expression had teetered between disbelief, displeasure, and disappointment before freezing into an icy mask of politeness. “Thank you for your consideration, Lord Haversham,” she had said, her voice excruciatingly correct. “But I do not wish for an announcement to be made. Indeed, I’m afraid I do not wish to marry you at all.”

He had been shocked. Stunned. Flabbergasted, even. Everything had been in place: the dowry decided, the contract in order, the wedding date worked out. How could she have said no? Yes, he had bungled the proposal, but it was a mild offense compared to leading a man of his standing on in a courtship.

After the shock had abated, however, a new, more surprising emotion had taken its place. For the first time ever, Miss Middleton had piqued his interest. Decidedly so. As he watched her walk away with her head held high and her shoulders squared, he’d been intrigued. He would have never guess she possessed that sort of fortitude required to turn her back on both him and his proposal.

And he wouldn’t have thought himself to be so perverse as to actually like it. Why, oh why did she have to become interesting now, when she was washing her hands of their courtship?

Sighing dramatically, Cassie shook her head. “Oh, Jasper. For someone so smart, you can be a real blockhead.”

He snapped out of his wandering thoughts. Blockhead? He shot a reproving look at his sister. “That’s enough, Cassandra.” His tone would have made a grown man flinch, but his sister simply rolled her eyes.

“Yes, I know—I’m overstepping. But Miss Middleton is perfect. You mustn’t let her walk away.”

“Oh? And what, exactly, would you have me do?”

One raven brow arched gracefully. “Are you telling me that the man who always has the answer wants my opinion on the subject?”

Miss Middleton’s emerald gaze flitted through his mind. Though he very much wanted to tell his sister what she could do with her opinions, he held his tongue. Perhaps a female perspective could provide a little insight as to what he should do next. Crossing his arms, he nodded. “If you think you can help, then, by all mean, let’s have it.”

Her smile was both smug and confident. “I thought you’d never ask.”

***

Had she ever considered it, Charlotte might have thought it impossible for anyone to maintain such a passionate rant for as long as her father had.
Surreptitiously, she glanced to the tall clock by the door. They had passed the half hour mark, with no end in sight.

She listened with half an ear as Papa paced back and forth across the thick Aubusson rug in front of his desk, growling something about honor and familial obligations. That obligation, of course, being for her to marry Lord Haversham whether it pleased her or not.

The thing was, it had pleased her. What woman wouldn’t appreciate the attention of such a handsome, powerful, respected man? In fact, she’d been quite pleased with his interest in her, all the way up until his proposal. It was then that she saw the match for what it truly was. Not through the starry eyes of the besotted ninny she had been, but rather through the eyes of a woman about to commit herself to a man who saw her as little more than an appropriately shaped puzzle piece that fit correctly into the opening for “wife.”

He hadn’t even bothered to ask her to be his wife. He simply informed her of their suitability before extending the empty courtesy of allowing her to nod in agreement to his plan to announce the betrothal. He needn’t ask her for her hand—her opinion was irrelevant since the two men had already agreed on the betrothal contract. Her infatuation had waned when faced with that realization, but the real nail in the coffin was when he had reminded her that his offer was the best she could hope for.

My, wasn’t she the fortunate one.

She pressed her lips together. Conceited lout. The worst of it was, she had thought they had finally shared a real connection. Not the manufactured conversation of the weather or the polite dances they had shared, but something honest. When he had looked down into her eyes, she through he had finally seen her. The person she really was, not the highly polished debutant she was trained to be.

Obviously she’d been wrong.

“And that’s another thing . . . ”

She nodded in grave agreement to whatever new tangent her father had gone off on, all the while wondering why she wasn’t as upset as she should be over her father’s outrage. Something had changed in her tonight. For the first time, she’d realized this was no game; this was her future. Whatever was decided when it came to marriage, she’d have to live with for the rest of her life.

Well, she didn’t want a stuffy earl who worshipped at the altar of social standings. She didn’t want a husband who would parade her around like a prized mare, then pat her head as he put her away for the night. And she especially didn’t want a man who wouldn’t consult her about decisions directly impacting her life—no matter how much he made her heart patter when he was near.

What she wanted was a man who wasn’t afraid to look her in the eyes and ask her real questions. Who wanted to know her opinion, and who actually respected it. She wanted a man who wouldn’t take himself so seriously that he couldn’t even crack the occasional smile. Who could make a social misstep and laugh about it, or do something spontaneous just to make her smile.

Her parents would say she had read too many fairy tales and romantic novels. They would say she was addled to think a man of quality would ever want a love match, or even a very fond match. But tonight, it had been crystal clear when Haversham had droned on about their suitability based on their respective lineages. She was a woman, not a hound or a horse. Her breeding shouldn’t matter—her heart should.

“What have you to say for yourself, young lady?”

She blinked, her attention snapping back into place. “Er . . . well, that I’m most aggrieved to have upset you, of course. I think perhaps I should go to my chambers to think over our conversation.” A purely pandering statement, but hopefully one that would buy her a bit of a reprieve.

Papa straightened his jacket, glaring down on her as one might a convicted traitor. “Yes, you do that. I, meanwhile, will try to figure out how to salvage the situation.”

Nodding, Charlotte made good her escape. She didn’t know what would happen next, but at least she had stood up for herself. If nothing else, she’d wager she’d given the earl something to think about.

***

Charlotte had to give her father credit: the man worked fast. It was barely noon, and somehow he had managed to convince Lord Haversham to agree to a visit. She’d been so determined yesterday to withstand her father’s arguments, but when he’d called her into his study that morning, his grim expression had sent dread tripping down her spine. She was to have a choice: either attempt to salvage the betrothal, or be shipped to Antigua to live on her uncle’s plantation.

He’d been utterly serious. Either she obeyed him or he’d wash his hands of her. With Charlotte’s three sisters in the house, all of impressionable ages, he refused to allow her willfulness to stand.

With anger, hurt, and helplessness pooling in her stomach, she had nodded once and left the room. Her happiness was of no account to either her father or the earl. The ultimatum itched like nettles beneath her stays, irritating her with every tick of the clock. Her grand gesture had been liberating, empowering, and utterly hollow.

She’d accept Haversham’s next proposal, assuming he issued one, but she’d do so knowing that she’d never have the life she had truly hoped for.

Lifting her chin, she allowed Papa to hand her down from the carriage. Warning flashed in his light eyes. She was to be apologetic, biddable, and agreeable to whatever Lord Haversham wanted. She straightened her spine—she could do this.

Mere moments later, they were seated in the earl’s sumptuous drawing room, left alone as they waited for his audience. Papa’s silent presence at her side felt exactly like that of a bailiff as she waited for her sentence for a crime she didn’t commit.

The door shushed open and Haversham came in. He looked impeccable as always, with every dark hair in place and freshly-shaved cheeks that looked as smooth as marble. “Good afternoon,” he said, his tone giving away nothing as to his emotions. Assuming he actually had emotions.

“Thank you for seeing us, my lord,” Papa replied. He sent a sideways look to Charlotte, and she stretched her lips into a line meant to resemble a smile.
“My lord.” She dipped her head in the earl’s direction. “Please accept my sincere apology for my uncharacteristic reaction last night. I fear I was overset.” She kept the smile in place even as every word she spoke was a separate sting to her pride.

Haversham’s grey eyes flicked to her father before coming back to Charlotte. “I understand, Miss Middleton. I wonder, would you like to join me in the garden for a moment?”
She cautiously glanced to Papa. His nod was slight but unmistakable. Licking her lips, she bobbed her head once. “Thank you, that sounds delightful.


The fact that she was here at all was a step in the right direction. Jasper smiled and led her to the double French doors, where his intrepid butler waited with Miss Middleton’s wrap. Once properly bundled, he escorted her outside and down the wide stone steps. The garden walls protected them from the worst of the wind, but the air was still quite chilly.

“Is the temperature acceptable? I don’t want you catching a chill.”

She nodded quickly. “It’s fine, thank you. I’m quite . . . hardy.” Wincing a bit, she pasted the pained, travesty of a smile back on her lips and started forward on the flagstone path. “It’s beautiful back here.”

“Thank you. In the summer, it is magnificent. I wish it had more to offer than holly and boxwoods right now, even if they are quite pretty with their snow-covered branches.” Christ, could the conversation be any more banal? He sighed and came to a stop, prompting her to do the same. “Miss Middleton, I fear I went about the proposal yesterday quite badly. It wasn’t fair for me to proceed as though you had given your consent to the betrothal, when in fact you had not.”

She blinked, surprise creeping into her features. Her expression quickly cleared back to the blank mask it had been since she got there. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “You did nothing wrong. I was stupid and silly and wasn’t thinking. I meant the apology I issued inside.”

Somehow he doubted it. She wasn’t at all engaged like she had been before. Cassie’s advice yesterday came back to him and he offered a perfunctory nod. “Yes, that. Apology accepted. But I do have a question for you.”

A flicker of curiosity crossed her features. “Yes?”

“Do you like chocolate in the morning?”

He bit back a smile at her look of utter bewilderment. His sister had been adamant that he drop the cool reserve he wore like a mantle and allow Miss Middleton to see his true interest in her. It wasn’t easy to do, but the line of questions he had planned may help things along.

“Um, yes?”

“Excellent. I must admit, I myself love a cup first thing in the morning. Tea is for afternoon and coffee is for those lacking their sense of taste.” When she didn’t respond, he plowed on. “I know that you are an admirer of the arts, but do you have a favorite? You seemed to enjoy plays, but if I were to guess, I’d say opera affects you most.” He tilted his head expectantly, watching her with a straight face.

“Yes, I particularly enjoy opera. How did you know?”

“There’s always a point in the performance, usually right before the end when the action is most intense, when you’re eyes begin to glitter with unshed tears. Your lips part and your body tenses as you grip the armrests, all the while your emerald gaze is riveted to the stage.” He paused and gave a guilty little shrug. “More than once I’ve wanted to pull you close to comfort you, but of course I’d never jeopardize your reputation by doing such a thing.”

Her eyes widened as her fingers went to her mouth. Clearly he’d surprised her. “I . . . I had no idea.”

“Of course not. I took care not to alarm you with such ungentlemanly thoughts.” He’d spent years trying to be taken seriously as a young nobleman. He wanted to prove to his peers that he was worthy of the title and the responsibility that came with it. It wasn’t until last night that he realized that the pendulum had swung too far. He was too correct, too stoic. Cassie’s suggestion that he reveal the parts of him he’d so carefully controlled had struck home. The thoughts had been there, even if he’d never acted on them, or even acknowledged them.

She gave her head a tiny shake. “I am not alarmed, my lord.” Her voice was quiet, a little shy even, but he could see that she meant it. Good.

Taking a breath, he continued with his questions. “Do you wish to travel, or do you prefer to stay at home?”

The first hints of a smile—a real smile—lifted the corner of her full lips. “A little of both, I should think. I enjoy the familiar, but dream of the exotic.”

Her answer surprised him. “Very interesting. I feel exactly the same.” He started walking again and she followed suit. “And what is your reading material of choice? Newspapers? Magazines? Novels?”

The hair framing her face lifted in a gust of wind that managed to bypass the garden wall. “Novels, magazines, and newspapers, in that order.” She was relaxing. He could see it in the softness of her features and the calmness of the hands that had been worrying the fringe of her wrap up until a few minutes ago.

He nodded approvingly. “A well-read woman. I like that. A man needs intelligent conversation at the breakfast table, after all.”

He’d meant to set her further at ease, but the comment only seemed to put her guard back up. He rushed on, not wanting to lose what small connection they had established. “If you can not tell, Miss Middleton, I find that I do not know as much about you as I would like. I thought perhaps we could set aside the polite niceties for a moment, and ask the questions that don’t normally get asked.”

She looked up into his eyes, truly meeting his gaze for the first time that day. “I hardly think learning my reading habits and choice of breakfast conversation will open the doors to my soul.”

“A valid point. But it’s a start, is it not?” He pursed his lips for a moment, deciding to change the direction of the conversation a bit. “Why don’t you ask me something?”

She nibbled her bottom lip as she looked out across the garden. “Very well. Why do you wish to marry me?”

He almost laughed. Clearly she was the type to go right to the heart of things. He held his amusement in check, however. He didn’t want her to think he was laughing at her. Watching her now, with her nose and cheeks rosy with cold and her green eyes wary, it suddenly seemed very important that he put her at ease.

“The reasons are many,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “You are a lovely woman with intelligence, honor, and spirit. I think our personalities are compatible and our values in line. And, if you don’t mind me saying so,” he added with a mischievous lift of his brow. “I quite like you.”


Charlotte was thrown. He quite liked her? He thought her lovely? Since when? Where was this side of him last night? Even with her father’s warnings, she wasn’t quite prepared to just accept the pretty words at face value. “With all due respect, my lord, I find myself wondering if all this became clear to you during the night sometime.”

His short laugh echoed over the snow-dusted grounds. “A fair question. In a word, yes.”

She blinked. Well, that certainly was blunt. And she respected him for it, as strange as it might sound. “I see.”

His smile was soft, a word that she never before would have used in describing him. “Sometimes, Miss Middleton, we must lose that which we take for granted in order to truly appreciate it.”

He reached a hand out and slid one finger down the line of her jaw. The leather of his glove was soft and warm, and for a moment she could imagine it was his skin. A little spark of delight shimmied down her spine, making her shiver. Did he really mean what he said? Part of her wanted to believe he did, while another part of her was afraid to. “I’m not perfect,” she blurted.

He quirked a brow and allowed his hand to drop. “What a coincidence. Neither am I.”

That was true, but only just. She crossed her arms and met his gaze straight on. “I mean it. I’m not the model lady I made myself out to be. I eat too fast, I laugh too loud, and I am an absolutely dreadful singer.”

Instead of showing dismay, he chuckled. “Thank God for that. I can’t carry a tune in a bucket. I’d hate to have a wife who expected merry sing-alongs and annual caroling.”

Again he had referred to his future wife. Her stomach fluttered at the thought. It was so strange; last night she’d been dead set against him, but today she was seeing all the things that made her fall for him in the first place. It was nice. Very nice. The corners of her lips curled in a small smile. “Oh, I shall always carol. It’s a tradition.”

His face screwed up comically. “You can’t be serious. You just said that you couldn’t sing!”

Her smile grew. He was playing with her. Teasing even. “No, I said I was a dreadful singer. I most certainly can sing, and I love to do so, usually to the dismay of all those within hearing distance.”

“Why, that’s diabolical. Your poor family and friends.” He sighed, eying her with mock solemnity. “Well, I suppose if they can endure it, so can I. My question, Miss Middleton,” he said, taking a slow step toward her, “is can you do the same?”

Her heart pounded as she breathed in the distinctly masculine scent of him. Pine, wood smoke, and a hint of musk mingled in an irresistible combination. She tried to focus on answering him, but it was suddenly hard to think straight. “Endure my singing?”

He shook his head once, his eyes growing intense as he watched her. “No, my dear. Can you live with the sound of my voice?”

Right then, that sounded like a perfectly delightful fate. The warm rasp of his voice was like the very best brandy, heating her from the inside out. She swallowed, working to recapture her wits. “Perhaps.”

He slid his hand beneath her elbow, pulling her ever so slightly closer. “Miss Middleton. Charlotte,” he corrected, his voice a near whisper. “Please forgive me for taking you for granted before. You deserve a man who sees you, and listens to you, and makes no assumptions on your behalf. It is my wish that you will give me a second chance, and allow me to be that man. “

They were practically embracing, right there in the garden, but she felt nothing but rightness. Locking his fingers behind her back, he looked down into her eyes. “Charlotte Middleton, will you do me the great honor of consenting to be my wife? As far as I’m concerned, you may eat as quickly as you please, laugh as often as you like, and sing to your heart’s content. There is one thing I must ask of you, however.”

She bit her lip, uncertainty making her cautious. “What might that be?”

“If I’m ever behaving like an overbearing idiot, you will help bring me back in line.”

Relief coursed through her. He really must have had quite the epiphany last night. Holding back the wide grin that threatened to emerge, she nodded solemnly. “Very well. And I will marry you, under one condition.”

His eyes sparkled with delight as he tugged her fully against him. “Name it,” he murmured, his warm breath caressing her cheek.

“Tradition is very important, Lord Haversham. Therefore, I absolutely insist that you join us for caroling each Christmas, starting with our annual Christmas Eve wassailing next week.”

His soft laugh was both reluctant and delighted. “As you wish. Though never say I didn’t warn you.” With that, he lowered his mouth to hers, and sealed the betrothal with a kiss so wonderful it made her toes curl.

***

Jasper had not been exaggerating. It was all Charlotte could do to keep singing once she caught sight of the White family’s identical expressions of horror when Jasper joined the chorus of God Rest Ye Merry, Gentleman. He was completely tone deaf, but true to his promise to her, he carried on with gusto.

Beside him, Cassie snickered behind her choral book, not even trying to sing anymore. Charlotte widened her eyes at her soon-to-be sister-in-law, but ruined the effect when she couldn’t keep the smile from her own lips. True joy lifted Charlotte’s heart even as she cringed from a particularly off-key note. After all the effort she put into learning how to be the perfect young lady so she could marry the perfect gentleman, who would have ever thought that it would be the imperfections that would make her the most happy?

Stepping closer to Jasper’s side, she rejoined the chorus, singing for all she was worth. He wrapped his arm around her, winking when she threw him a delighted grin. As far as she was concerned, this was the best Christmas of her whole life, and she had a feeling that they would only get better from here.

AN HONEST DECEPTION

Sir Colin Tate has never imagined marrying for money. But debts left by his artist father have put his siblings’ futures in danger. To wed an eligible heiress, this independent-minded Scot must play by restrictive rules—until an irresistible lady dares to pursue her passion for art…and him.

AN UNEXPECTED DESIRE

Lady Beatrice Moore can spy a fortune hunter as expertly as she captures subjects on canvas. But when she meets the striking son of Britain’s most celebrated painter, the attraction is instantaneous—blinding her to the possibility that he could ever be one of those schemers.…

AN UNTHINKABLE DILEMMA

Then the truth comes out, shattering Lady Beatrice’s faith in the mischievous yet kind man who has captured her heart. With reputations and fortunes hanging in the balance, Colin and she must find a way to trust in a love that cannot be proven—or face an unfathomable loss.

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