A Historical Christmas Event with Cheryl Holt

CHERYL HOLT is a New York Times, USA Today, and Amazon “Top 100” bestselling author who has published forty-eight novels.

She’s also a lawyer and mom, and at age forty, with two babies at home, she started a new career as a commercial fiction writer.  She’d hoped to be a suspense novelist, but couldn’t sell any of her manuscripts, so she ended up taking a detour into romance where she was stunned to discover that she has a knack for writing some of the world’s greatest love stories. 

Her books have been released to wide acclaim, and she has won or been nominated for many national awards.  She is considered to be one of the masters of the romance genre.  For many years, she was hailed as “The Queen of Erotic Romance”, and she’s also revered as “The International Queen of Villains.”  She is particularly proud to have been named “Best Storyteller of the Year” by the trade magazine Romantic Times BOOK Reviews.

She lives and writes in Hollywood, California, and she loves to hear from fans.  Visit her website at www.cherylholt.com.

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Merry Christmas, everyone! I’m excited—and flattered—to once again have been invited to participate in this fun holiday event. I just love Christmas!

For my story this year, I decided to use two characters from my new Forever series: Millie Henley Wallace and Will Stone. In the novels, Millie is ten and Will is sixteen, but in this story, I’ve aged them a few years. As they share their “first” kiss on Christmas Eve, Millie is sixteen and Will is twenty-two.

In my four Forever novels, Millie (along with her twin sister, Mary) plays a recurring and pivotal role in the plot that links the four books together. As a ten-year-old girl, she’s a romantic dreamer who believes in things like fairies and ghosts and fortunetellers. She’s the type who, as a young lady, will be enthralled by racy novels about secret elopements and Prince Charming searching for his Cinderella.

When readers initially meet Will Stone, he’s sixteen and a handsome, tempting flirt who exhibits early tendencies of the cad he’ll likely become. He makes his appearance in the fourth novel of the series, that’s simply titled FOREVER, where he’s on the verge of getting himself in trouble with the wrong girl. After the novel ends, I envision his father shipping him off to the army to get him out of England in order to keep him away from her.

When Millie and Will cross paths in this story, he’s been in the army and out of the country for years, and Millie has only seen him sporadically during the period he’s been away. She has a horrid crush on him, but he’s always viewed her as a child, like a bothersome little sister. But now, she’s all grown up, and she’s eager for him to notice her in an entirely new way…

“Oh, my goodness! Guess who’s here?”

“Who?”

Millie Henley Wallace turned to her twin sister, Mary, who was pointing and grinning, but Millie couldn’t figure out who had captured her attention.

They were on winter holiday from school and staying at their father Alex’s estate of Wallace Downs. It was Christmas Eve and his wife, their Aunt Abigail, was hosting a genuine ball.

The whole neighborhood had been invited and, with Alex and Abigail being such a notorious couple, no one had declined their invitation. The house was open, the rooms decorated with holly, ivy, and festive ribbons. A huge Christmas tree had been erected in the front foyer, the pungent smell of pine adding to the merry atmosphere. There was a buffet set in the dining room, cards and drinking organized for the men, and dancing would begin soon.

With their being just sixteen and not yet having made their debut, they probably shouldn’t have been allowed to attend. If they’d been in London, they’d have had to sulk at home, but they were in the country, and it was a country house party. The rules weren’t quite as strict.

Still though, Aunt Abigail was a stickler for the proprieties, and she watched them like a hawk, which occasionally felt like an enormous yoke to bear. When they were younger, they hadn’t had much adult supervision. They’d been raised like orphans and could be a bit wild, and they’d never been able to shake their independent streak. They liked to arrange their own activities and pick their own path, and Aunt Abigail constantly tried to rein in their worst impulses.

But who wanted to be reined in at such a glorious time of the year?

They were up on the landing and peering over the rail so they could stare down at the crowd. It was such a massive crush that it had been difficult to move, so they’d climbed the stairs to get a better view.

“Who is it?” Millie asked. “Who’s here? There are too many people. I can’t identify one from another.

“Over there, by the door!” Mary said. “Look! Can’t you see him?”

“No.”

“It’s Will Stone.”

Millie scoffed. “It couldn’t possibly be. If he was coming home, we’d have heard. Besides, if he was granted a furlough, he’d have gone to his father’s. He wouldn’t be at Wallace Downs.”

“It’s him, I swear.”

Mary gestured into the throng below, and Millie glared down, searching faces. The crowd parted and…

There he was! Will Stone!

Mary was right. The sneaky rat was back in England, without having notified anyone.

He was twenty-two now, in the army and stationed in Spain. Initially, his father had refused to purchase a commission for him, so he’d joined as a private, a situation that had been hard on his massive ego. Recently though, with Will having demonstrated more maturity, his father had forked over the funds for him to be promoted.

These days, he was a captain and deemed himself to be very grand. Dressed in his soldier’s uniform—red coat, white trousers, black boots—he stood out from all the other men in their black formal attire. With his dark hair and blue, blue eyes, his broad shoulders and lean, muscular physique, he was too handsome for words.

She’d met him when she was ten and he was sixteen. He’d traveled to Wallace Downs with his father, but she’d been a little girl, so she’d barely noticed him. And he’d barely noticed her, but he’d come again—when she was fourteen—and she’d never been the same.

Although she hid her feelings, she would admit to being incredibly smitten. During his prior visit, they’d taken walks and ridden horses, always with plenty of others around, so it had been very stilted and proper. But still...

The entire experience had been terribly romantic. He’d teased her and listened to her and had let her sit in when he’d played cards or told stories. After he’d returned to the army, Aunt Abigail had allowed her to send him care packages of wool socks, warm sweaters, and knitted scarves that would make him more comfortable during the cold winter months.

And of course, when she was back at school, she’d written him numerous chatty letters, even though she was certain Aunt Abigail wouldn’t have approved. She’d proceeded anyway, but the cruel oaf hadn’t replied to a single one. Nor had he thanked her for the packages. She had no idea if he’d received any of the gifts she’d prepared.

Mary was irked by his failure to respond. She thought he was brash and pompous—which he was—and she couldn’t abide him. But Millie thought he was wonderful, like a prince in a fairytale, and she fantasized about him being her prince and the two of them galloping off together into the sunset.

Why couldn’t it happen?

She and Mary were in their last year of school. Once they were done, they would have their debut, and it would be exceptionally extravagant. They were already planning and shopping for it. After their successful launch into society, marriage offers would pour in, and she secretly yearned for Will to be the swain who won her.

To their ceaseless delight and—unlike every other girl of their acquaintance—she and Mary had two fathers: Alex Wallace and Hayden Henley, Lord Middlebury. It was an aspect of their lives that tantalized their classmates. When her other father, her real father, Hayden, had been lost and alone and sailing the globe so far from England, Will’s father had been his best and only friend.

They’d survived their many dangerous adventures and had helped each other return to England safe and sound. They were still very close, were business partners and Mr. Stone was her father’s confidante and mentor.

She predicted they would be thrilled to have their children marry. Why not? If she could just get Will to recognize the correct conclusion, any brilliant ending could occur.

“Let’s go down and say hello,” Millie said.

“You go. I have no desire to speak to him.”

“It would be rude for you to ignore him. Come on.”

Mary hesitated, then sighed with disgust. “I’ll come, but you know I can’t stand him. If you start gushing over him, I won’t stay and watch.”

“I never gush.”

“You don’t usually gush, but Will Stone alters you into a blithering idiot.”

“I’m not blithering, and I’m not an idiot,” Millie felt compelled to state. “He’s simply an old friend, and I’m glad to see him.”

“You are so full of yourself, and you can’t fool me. You’re madly in love, and in light of what a cad he is, your devotion is completely ridiculous.”

“I’m not in love.”

“Sure you’re not, but when he breaks your heart, don’t expect to cry on my shoulder. I won’t let you.”

“I wouldn’t lower myself.”

Mary was much more pragmatic than Millie, so she’d never been in love and probably never would be. She was too discerning and critical of boys and their habits. Typically, she deemed them to be silly and exhausting, so she didn’t understand Millie’s infatuation. She and her sister were alike in almost all ways, but with Millie’s burgeoning attraction to Will, there was finally a subject where they had differing opinions.

Millie wouldn’t argue over him though, and she flounced off, not concerned whether Mary followed or not. Millie was perfectly capable of greeting Will without her dour sister eavesdropping and smirking.

She rushed down the stairs and squeezed through the milling mob. She was petite and thin and only five-foot-four, so it was difficult to reach the spot where he’d been. By the time she arrived, he’d moved into the front parlor. She hurried after him, and he was over by the hearth, his back to her. There were several soldiers with him, all young men who were wearing their uniform coats too, the crimson color blending in with the Christmas decorations.

“Will!” she called as she dashed up. “Will Stone! Is that you?”

He turned toward her and smiled. “Millie! Hello! I didn’t know if you’d be here or at Middlebury with Hayden.”

“We’re here for another week, then we’ll travel there for the New Year—if the roads are dry. What are you doing in England? Why are you at Wallace Downs?”

“It’s a long story.”

It was then she realized there was a female with him, and she was clutching his arm in a possessive manner. She was older than Millie, twenty or so, and she was snuggled to his side as if she’d been glued there. Millie’s excitement flagged, her confidence immediately vanishing.

After a quick, jealous assessment, Millie decided his companion wasn’t nearly as pretty as she was, but the insight wasn’t surprising. It wasn’t arrogant for Millie to describe herself as being quite fetching. With her blond hair and Henley blue eyes, she resembled her handsome father exactly. Everyone said so, and she was very proud of that fact.

Will’s strumpet had brown hair and eyes, and she was plump and voluptuous in a rather common way, but then, Will was partial to doxies. It was the reason he was sent to the army in the first place, to separate him from a tempting, inappropriate girl.

He made hasty introductions, and his fellow soldiers were brimming with holiday spirit. They were laughing, jesting, downing champagne as if it were water. A footman pointed out the buffet in the other room, and they started toward it.

“We’ve been riding since dawn,” Will told her, “and I’m starving. I’ll find you in a bit. We’ll catch up.”

“Are you staying the night?”

He gazed longingly at his friends, eager to traipse after them. “I’m not certain. The moon is up, so we may continue on.”

“To your father’s?”

“Yes.”

Then he was gone, and she tarried in the packed parlor, her mortification extreme. He hadn’t invited her to join them. His female friend was still gripping his arm, and she was preening as if Will was her special pet.

His father lived outside London with his wife, Mildred. If Will went there for the rest of his furlough, Millie wouldn’t see him again. Her mood plummeted even further, and she was incredibly embarrassed by her morose condition.

He was just a stupid boy! Why permit him to have such power over her?

Her cheeks flamed bright red, and her misery had to be blatantly apparent. She glanced around, praying no one was watching, but there was only her sister, and it was obvious Mary had heard all.

Normally, she wasn’t the type to rub it in or chastise, but on this occasion, she said, “What did you expect from him? He’s too vain by half.”

“I know that.”

“He thinks you’re still a little girl.”

“I know that too.”

“Don’t be sad. He’s not worth it.”

“I’m not sad,” she claimed, but she absolutely was.

Because of how oddly they’d been raised, she viewed the world differently than other people. She regularly engaged in flights of fancy. She dreamed and plotted and cast magic spells, believing she could fervidly yearn for a particular conclusion and force it to occur.

It many instances, her scheming had worked. She’d been rescued from her horrid, crazed mother. She’d been taken in by her Henley relatives. She’d found her missing father, Hayden, after worrying about him forever, but she couldn’t make every wish come true. It simply wasn’t possible.

Afraid she might burst into tears, she stomped off. Anymore, she was so emotional, and she hated that she was. The least aggravation left her disgustingly maudlin.

Mary was kind enough not to tag after her, but let her slink away so she could escape the happy reveling for a bit. She circled through the crowd, then snuck down a hall that grew quiet as she moved away from the celebration.

She slipped into a deserted salon. A cheery fire burned in the grate, but the room was empty. She shut the door and went over to the window to stare outside. It had been cold and cloudy all day, and the footmen insisted it would snow by morning. Her fingers were crossed that it would. A white, snowy Christmas would be fabulous.

Feeling very sorry for herself, she dawdled for an eternity. Eventually, the door opened and she peeked over her shoulder, figuring it would be Mary or perhaps a wandering guest whose arrival would propel her to head back to the party.

But to her astonishment, Will was there, and he was by himself.

“What are you doing in here?” she asked.

“I finished eating, and I was searching for you, but I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

“I’m amazed you noticed I was gone.”

“Your sister told me where you were.”

“I can’t imagine why she thought I’d like you to know.”

“Don’t be churlish,” he scolded. “I don’t like it.”

“Oh, I most humbly apologize, Your Majesty.” Her tone was very sarcastic. “I had forgotten that it’s my job to please you at all times.”

He snorted with amusement. “I haven’t seen you in what? Two years?”

“Yes, two years.”

Two years, one month, sixteen days, but who’s counting?

“You’ve changed,” he said.

“Have I?”

“You’re all grown up.”

“That’s what happens to girls, Will. They become young ladies.”

“They certainly do.”

Thrilling her, he shut the door, sealing them in the cozy room, then he sauntered over. He approached until he was very close, close enough that his trousers brushed her skirt. He leaned on the windowsill and gazed out.

“It’s very dark,” he said. “What are you staring at?”

“It’s supposed to snow. I was hoping snowflakes might be drifting down.”

“It’s definitely cold enough. You’ll probably get your wish by morning.”

They stood together, peering out at nothing.

There were so many things she was anxious to tell him that she was about to explode. When she’d been fourteen, it had been easy to talk to him, but now that she was thoroughly smitten, she was tongue-tied. The entire encounter was tremendously awkward.

The need to break the silence was excruciating, but when she opened her mouth to comment, the sentence that emerged was, “Who is your friend?”

“Which one?”

“You know which one. You’ve been away for ages, and I deem it utterly predictable that you’d finally show up, but with a fawning female in tow.”

“Her name is Nancy. Her brother, Teddy, is in my regiment. She’s vivacious. I like her.”

“She looks like a tart.”

He chuckled. “She is.”

“Why am I not surprised? How did you pry yourself away from her so you could chat with me?”

“Are you jealous?”

“No,” she scoffed. “Why would I be jealous of a strumpet?”

“I have no idea. Why would you be?”

He frowned down at her, and he appeared cocky and full of mischief, as if he had a delicious secret he’d share if only she’d beg him to reveal it.

“Don’t you ever tire of all your doxies?” she inquired.

“No, why would I?”

“I thought you would have learned your lesson with Becky.”

Becky was the vixen who’d gotten him shipped off to the army at sixteen.

He chuckled again. “I learned many lessons from Becky, and all of them were worth it.”

“You would say that.”

“Her antics pushed me into the army, which was a huge benefit. If she hadn’t been pestering me, my father might not have insisted I enlist.”

“You’re happy to be a soldier?”

“Who wouldn’t be?”

“You’re so good at bossing people, Captain Stone. It must be the perfect career for you.”

“It is.”

The door opened again, and they glanced over. Millie was irked to discover that it was his friend, Nancy. A soldier was with her, and he resembled her enough that he had to be her brother, Teddy.

If Will departed Wallace Downs later that evening, this might be the sole chance she’d have to be alone with him. She couldn’t let them drag him away.

“Why are you loafing in here?” Nancy asked Will. “You’re missing all the excitement.”

“I’ll be out in a minute,” Will replied.

“The dancing is about to start,” Nancy said. “Won’t you come? I want us to join in for the first set.”

“I’ll be there shortly.”

Millie shot a pompous glare at Nancy, one that could have slain her with derision.

“Actually,” Millie brashly said, “Will and I are old friends, and he’s promised the first set to me. We were just discussing it.”

Will didn’t comment on her lie, but he left her side and walked over to Nancy and Teddy. He whispered a remark Millie couldn’t hear, then he eased them out and shut the door again.

When he strolled back, he was grinning. “Not only are you all grown up, but you’ve turned into a calculating shrew.”

“I go to boarding school, remember? I’m proficient at dealing with lesser mortals who annoy me.”

“Nancy annoys you?”

“Very much.”

“You are jealous.”

“Maybe I am and maybe I’m not. What’s it to you?”

She spun away and stared outside again. Candlelight wafting from the ballroom cast eerie shadows on the verandah, grass, and trees.

“Is it snowing?” she asked him. “It seems as if it is.”

He studied the sky. “I believe you’re right. I believe it’s snowing.”

“How delightful.” She sighed with pleasure. “It will be a white Christmas for sure.”

He sidled nearer and rested a palm on the small of her back. It was the most breathtaking interval of her life. She was amazed her knees didn’t buckle.

“I wrote to you in Spain,” she complained, “but you never answered.”

“I’m too lazy to write letters.”

“No, you’re too haughty to write them.”

“Write me again once you’re at school. I might surprise you this time.”

She snorted with disgust. “You wouldn’t. You’re just saying that.”

He shrugged. “You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

He was so obnoxiously vain. Girls threw themselves at him. With his good looks, arrogant manner, and family wealth, he thought he was God’s gift to the female species. No woman was immune to his dubious charms. She certainly wasn’t, and she wished she were older and more experienced so she had the skills to bring him down a peg.

“I’ll be too busy to waste any energy on you,” she claimed. “Mary and I are having our debut next year. We’re already beginning to prepare.”

“Does that mean it’s to be a series of perpetual parties and balls?”

“Yes. Between my two fathers and all my Henley aunts, they’ve announced they’ll spare no expense to launch us.”

“Have the swains been lining up to woo you?”

“Yes, I have tons of beaux lined up.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“You must be constantly sneaking off to snuggle in dark alcoves with one or another of them.”

“If I am, why would you care?” she breezily retorted.

“And I suppose they’ve kissed you senseless.”

“Oh, yes, dozens of times.”

He scrutinized her, then scoffed. “Liar. How old are you now?”

“Sixteen.” But suddenly, it sounded very young, so she added, “Almost seventeen.”

“I bet you haven’t been kissed a single time.”

“You’d bet wrong,” she fibbed.

“Mr. Wallace would kill any oaf who dared to touch you, and if he didn’t, Hayden would.”

“It’s the curse of having two fathers,” she said. “They’re overly protective.”

“Overly protective? How about insanely protective? How about outrageously protective? How about murderously protective? Any man who kissed you would have to be deranged. He’d be taking his life into his hands.”

“Numerous fellows have liked me enough to risk it.”

He turned toward her, and she turned too, so they were facing each other. Their banter dwindled, and the most potent wave of affection swirled between them. They’d been blandly cordial for years, but—with her being sixteen—everything had changed. She was nearly an adult, and he no longer had to view her as a sort of pesky little sister.

He was staring into her eyes, but his gaze kept furtively dipping to her lips. She was convinced he was about to kiss her, and she couldn’t bear the suspense. Her pulse pounded, and the most thrilling air of expectation settled in. He laid a palm on her waist, his skin so hot it seemed to scald her through the fabric of her gown.

She couldn’t guess what might have happened, but the door opened again, and she practically groaned with frustration. If it was his friend, Nancy, Millie couldn’t predict how she’d react, but her sister, Mary, poked her nose into the room.

Millie couldn’t mask her exasperation. “What do you want, Mary?”

“Aunt Abigail is looking for you.”

“Why?”

“She noticed you were gone from the party—and Will too. She said you better not be off alone with him.”

“Did you tell her I wasn’t?”

“I didn’t tell her anything,” Mary insisted. “I merely promised to find you, but you should come back. She’ll be fretting.”

“All right,” Millie glumly agreed.

It was the one facet of their life that countered all else. They would never distress their Aunt Abigail. She had swept into their lives when they were nine, and she’d fixed what was wrong. They never grew weary of displaying their gratitude.

“Do you always obey your aunt?” Will asked.

“Of course,” Millie replied. “Wouldn’t you?”

“It depends on what she was haranguing about.”

“She doesn’t ever harangue.”

“It’s not what I heard.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Will Stone.”

She headed for the door, Will walking behind her, but Mary was still lurking as if she was about to instigate some mischief. Millie was simply anxious for her sister to leave so she and Will could have a more private goodbye, but Mary was rooted to her spot.

As Millie approached, Mary pointed to the top of the doorway.

“Have you shown Will the mistletoe?” Mary asked.

Millie blushed furiously. “No.”

“Should I show him?”

“No!”

Mary ignored her and said to him, “We wanted the party to be extra festive, so we put a sprig over every door—in case you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t wondering,” he said.

Mary grinned. “It’s bad luck to pass under it without kissing somebody.”

“That’s not true,” Will said. “You made that up.”

“You’re being a nuisance, Mary,” Millie hissed. “Go away. Right now.”

“I’m going, I’m going,” Mary muttered, and she sauntered off, but much too slowly for Millie’s liking.

Millie peered over her shoulder at Will, but he was standing much nearer than she’d realized. Her pulse started pounding again.

“Your sister doesn’t like me,” he said.

“No, she doesn’t. She’s much smarter than me, and she’s a shrewder judge of character.”

“You shouldn’t be so snotty to me.”

“Why not? I’m rather enjoying myself.”

“What if I return to my regiment and I’m felled in battle?”

“You never would be. You’re too cocky and vain. No enemy would dare kill you.”

“You’re likely correct, but what if some dolt succeeded? You’d be devastated, and you’d regret being so awful. I should probably kiss you under the mistletoe—just so you know what it’s like. You might not have another chance.”

“Why would I let you kiss me? I haven’t seen you in two years, and during all those months, we haven’t even corresponded. It’s not as if I’ve been pining away.”

“Yes, you have been. Admit it.”

“I might have missed you, but I haven’t been pining.”

Even though she wasn’t angry or vexed with him, she thought she should stomp out in a huff, but he stopped her simply by laying his hand on her waist again. The move rattled her. It froze her in her place, and she couldn’t depart as she ought. He smiled down at her, studying her as if she was exotic and rare, and she was breathless with anticipation.

To her great delight, he didn’t disappoint her. He drew her to him, and he bent down and touched his lips to hers, just the slightest brush of his mouth to her own. It was the sweetest, most romantic thing that had ever happened to her, and she held herself very still so she could absorb every detail.

His skin was warm, his hand firm, and he was so tall and manly. He smelled marvelous, like horses and tobacco and fresh, winter air. She inhaled deeply, wishing she could get closer to him, wishing she could mold herself to him so they were one person instead of two.

Much too soon, he pulled away, and they hovered, the preciousness of the moment sinking in and about to wash them away. Then he straightened and stepped back. He appeared very smug, as if he’d never doubted he could coerce her, and his abundance of confidence irritated her beyond her limit.

She arched a brow and saucily told him, “That wasn’t as horrid as I imagined it would be.”

“Not horrid!” he fumed with offense.

“You’ve obviously had some practice, which is a relief.”

He scowled with indignation, then regrouped and calmed. “You’re funning me.”

“Perhaps, but then, I’ve kissed dozens of boys, remember? I’m prone to making comparisons when I shouldn’t.”

“Ooh, you minx! Don’t tease me. You’ll crush my ego forever.”

“I couldn’t possibly.” She paused, then slyly asked, “Could I?”

“If you keep looking at me like that, who can say where we might end up?”

“Who indeed?”

“Tell me the truth. It was very grand to be kissed by me. Wasn’t it?”

For an eternity, she stared at him, then she nodded. “Yes, it was very grand, Will Stone.”

She was on the verge of babbling like an idiot. She wanted to beg him to stay at Wallace Downs for a few more days. She wanted to beg him to travel to Middlebury with her later in the week. She wanted to beg him to spend every second of his furlough with her and no one else.

She wanted him to wait for her to finish growing up, then to marry her so they could live happily ever after. Her wild thoughts were so scattered and raucous that she seemed quite unhinged. How could a simple kiss work such magic?

“Merry Christmas, Millie,” he murmured, his gaze filled with affection.

“Merry Christmas, Will.”

“I’m glad I’m home.”

“So am I.”

She spun and hurried away, being desperate to escape before she totally humiliated herself. She yearned to glance back, for him to call her name in a tender way, but she didn’t and he didn’t.

Mary was dawdling around the first corner.

“Well?” she asked as Millie rushed up. “Did a relevant event transpire? Or was my scheming all for naught?”

“Something relevant definitely transpired,” Millie excitedly stated.

“What?”

“Never you mind.”

“Was it as spectacular as you were hoping?”

Millie grinned. “It was much better than I’d been hoping. In fact, it was absolutely perfect.”

Feeling as if she might float off into the sky, she linked her fingers with her sister’s—so Mary could keep her on the ground where she belonged—and they walked on together.

CHERYL HOLT introduces her new FOREVER series with four stirring novels of passion, drama, and love forevermore…

ABIGAIL HENLEY is an earl’s daughter, raised to a life of wealth and privilege. But all was lost when her parents died in an accident and distant relatives inherited. With no prospects and her dowry squandered, she’s forced to work as a governess, caring for the children of the rich and notorious. She’s lonely, chafing at the unfairness of her situation, and wishing she could change her fate—or at least regain some of the status and position she once had.

ALEXANDER WALLACE was ruined by scandal. With his being from a prominent military family, he expected to have a long and successful career in the army. Instead, he’s a scorned, dissolute, and divorced man who was forced to resign his commission and is raising two daughters who were sired by another man. He’s weary of gossip and innuendo, and he leads a reckless life, trying to prove he doesn’t care about anything.

When Abigail arrives to work for Alex and watch over his two girls, she stumbles on a family torn apart by tragedy. Can she heal the wounds that have been inflicted?

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