December 1, 2015
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The holidays are a time for dining, dancing, and of course—dukes! Celebrate the Christmas season with this enchanting collection of historical romances featuring the most eligible bachelors of the ton…

A childish prank may have reunited the Duke of Hollingsworth with his estranged wife, but only the magic of Christmas will show this couple ’tis the season of second chances…

Sophie Kinsley planned to remain a wallflower at the Duke of Helmsworth’s ball. Yet when a dance with him leads to a stolen kiss, will the duke be willing to let her go? Or will Sophie’s Christmas wish be granted at last?

To the Duke of Vale, science solves everything—even marriage. When the impulsive Ivy Sutherland makes him question all of his data, he realizes that he’s overlooked a vital component in his search for the perfect match: love.

Patience Markham never forgot the fateful dance she had with the future Duke of Kingsbury. But when a twist of fate brings them together for Christmas Eve, will the stars finally align in their favor?

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Excerpt:

 
Chapter One

Kent, England
The Duke of Helmsworth’s Christmastide masked ball

Adrian Trenton, the Duke of Helmsworth, was looking for a bride. Sophie Kinsley supposed he would have to eventually marry, but finding the right person to be his duchess at a masked Christmastide ball seemed . . . peculiar.

Sophie ducked her head so the stiff feathers atop her mask didn’t hit the carriage doorway. A footman held out his white gloved hand to assist her down the steps. She took the proffered hand, since the voluminous skirts her cousin insisted she wear were easily tangled around her ankles. Not once in her eight and twenty years had she dressed so elegantly. And she loved every moment of it.

“Oh, my,” her cousin Isabelle muttered in Sophie’s ear. “I never quite imagined there would be this many attendees.”

“After the open invitation that went out, I am not surprised. Half of London is likely here.” An invitation for a Christmas ball had gone out only last week, announcing that the duke was looking for a bride.

Sophie had known the duke since they were both children. Their families lived on neighboring estates, and their parents had become fast friends, with their children born only four months apart. Adrian and Sophie had played together until he’d moved away to be educated in a proper school. She hadn’t seen him for nearly fifteen years and couldn’t even imagine what he looked like now. Would he have a gray streak through his hair like his father had? Would he be tall? Average?

It was hard to imagine any duke being average, especially the Duke of Helmsworth.

She shoved her wandering thoughts to the back of her mind. The duke needed a bride. And Sophie was too long in the tooth to court the idea. Not that she was here for the sake of marriage. Isabelle would be married in the spring, and they were merely enjoying one last grand celebration together.

While the thought of her cousin marrying and leaving her behind was enough to make her cry on a normal day, the night ahead kept the mood bright. She hadn’t been to a ball in too many years to count, and never as an invited guest.

“It will be much easier for us to get lost in this melee than I imagined,” Sophie said, for she had good reason to want to get lost in the crowd.

They walked into a marble-encased foyer that was grand enough to double as a spare ballroom. There were six ivory-colored marble pillars that stood as high as the house and ended at the arched ceiling. A crystal chandelier that held more than a hundred candles gave the room a soft glow that sparkled like a night sky. Artwork that was taller than her five and a half feet and wider than the panniers under her cousin’s dress displayed previous generations of dukes and duchesses. Sophie remembered staring up at them when she was a child, wondering at their beauty.

Once her cousin helped her out of her mantle, she returned the favor and then handed them to a waiting footman.

“I think every eligible young lady in England is here to vie for the duke’s hand in marriage. Perhaps you should, as well, cousin,” Isabelle said. Quieter, she added, “After all, you do share a common history.”

Sophie let out a wholly unladylike sound that was a cross between a snort and a cough. “I will do no such thing. Besides, my stepsister is amongst the ranks of women in line to steal the duke’s attentions, as she wishes to win the duchess title from every other eligible young lady present. We both know no one will marry someone of my age. And the duke? Goodness, cousin, it’s been years since we last laid eyes upon each other. It’s unlikely I would even recognize him.”

Though she didn’t truly believe that, for she knew, deep in her heart, that she would never forget what her best friend looked like.

“I found a match at my age,” Isabelle said.

“You are two years younger than I.”

“That doesn’t make marriage impossible.” Her cousin looked around at the crush of guests as they navigated through costumed person after costumed person. Sophie had never seen so many people in one place and doubted that an average ball would be attended by so many.

Isabelle tilted her head toward Sophie, eyeing the deep-sapphire-colored gown she wore. “You are easily the most beautiful attendee, and I daresay you could steal the duke’s attentions if you put your mind to it. Look at all the eyes you are drawing in our direction.”

Sophie blushed. She disliked being praised by others, but when it came from her cousin, who had always been her champion, it was different . . . it was genuine.

“It’s the gown, which I cannot thank you enough for.”

“Anything that is mine is yours.” Isabelle focused her soft brown eyes on Sophie. “And you never know whom you’ll meet tonight. If not the duke, who is to say you can’t meet some other dashing man who will fall head over heels in love with you.”

Her cousin was ever hopeful. The truth was, Sophie had no means, no inheritance, nothing to offer any man aside from her status as a lady. And anyone who married her would have to put up with her stepmother and stepsister. She was sure that in itself was enough to keep any potential suitors away. Marriage had always been a distant dream for Sophie, so she’d never put much thought into it.

“Need I remind you that neither of us is here to make a match but to enjoy the night to the fullest?”

Sophie touched the edge of her mask to make sure it was secure before she pulled her cousin toward the ballroom. Sophie’s heartbeat quickened; while nervous over the possibility of being discovered by her stepmother, she was excited to be part of tonight’s festivities.

And to think she almost hadn’t come!

“This will be my last grand outing as Miss Isabelle Kinsley,” Isabelle said. “Sometimes I wonder why I agreed to marry Freddie.”

“Because he is kind to you. I know you, Isabelle. No matter the circumstance you and your mother find yourself in, you wouldn’t have said yes had you not been fond of him.”

Frederick was the Earl of Carswall, and he was a good man. When Isabelle’s father had died, the family had struggled to keep the lifestyle they’d been accustomed to on a fraction of the funds they’d previously enjoyed. Isabelle’s marriage would give her and her mother the financial security they needed. While the union was not a love match, there was no doubt in Sophie’s mind that it would grow into one.

“Freddie hates these types of affairs. What if I never attend another ball?” Isabelle pouted out her ruby-painted lower lip.

“He will give you everything you desire. And he can’t avoid all social functions in his position.”

Isabelle looked away. “You know as well as I that this match was my mother’s doing. She feared we’d become destitute if I didn’t marry a man of great wealth.”

“She wouldn’t have agreed had you been ill suited.”

“I am always going to wonder if the only enticement she needed was his ten thousand pounds a year.”

“I don’t believe that for one moment. And neither should you. Your mother takes your best interests to heart.” Sophie wished her stepmother cared enough about her to do the same, but her stepmother’s main goal since her father’s death had been to make her life miserable and lonely. “Let’s promise to not dwell on anything but us for the remainder of the evening.”

“It’s hard to do that when I’ll be moving away after the New Year. I always thought we would marry and have children of our own at the same time. I’m afraid we’ll grow apart when I move.”

“That’s nonsense. And stop thinking that way. I will write you every day.”

Isabelle visibly gathered herself, standing taller as she took in a deep breath. “Then I agree that we should dispense of this maudlin conversation and enjoy the ball.”

Sophie squeezed her cousin’s hand before she focused her attention on the room around them. Even though she’d been to this house plenty of times as a child, Sophie took a moment to enjoy the beauty of the architecture. The ballroom floor was an intricate pattern of dark and light hardwoods. Tall rounded pillars lined the edge of the long rectangular room. White paneling covered the walls three-quarters of the way up, and the rest was painted in gold leaf.

But none of that was what made this particular room so beautiful; it was the scene played out on the frescoed ceiling in rich oil paints, which was nearly as old as the house itself. It was in this room that Sophie had learned every Greek tragedy and victory—as depicted above their heads in vivid color—under her friend’s tutelage. That was before her dearest friend, Adrian, became the Duke of Helmsworth.

She closed her eyes for just a moment and caught the faintest snippet of memory of Adrian telling her about Bacchus and Ariadne falling in love at first sight and the artist drawing hundreds of stars on the ceiling where Ariadne had been raised to the heavens; those painted stars shone in the candlelight even now.

“Have you ever seen anything so breathtaking?” Isabelle asked, drawing Sophie out of her reverie.

“It’s been a long time since either of us have been here. We were too young to truly appreciate the beauty of this place as children.”

“I am glad we get to see it once more.” Isabelle grabbed Sophie’s hand and pushed through the guests until they were a few steps away from joining the country dance that some of the guests had lined up for.

“Do you think we should try the dance?” Isabelle asked.

“Are you sure you don’t want to attend the competitions in the garden or cards in the games room?” Sophie said. Of all the places her stepmother and stepsister might be, the ballroom was the likely choice. And running into them could very well ruin both her and Isabelle’s night.

Sophie studied the room around them, remembering a moment from her childhood when she and Adrian had hid on the mezzanine level that jutted out over one side of the ballroom, watching a party just like this. She looked up then and saw two men standing there watching the events of the ballroom.

She squinted her eyes . . . was that the duke standing with an older gentleman?

The younger man appeared to study the crowd with little interest. With his hands curled around the upper railing, his body seemed tense and . . . unwilling. Then his gaze landed on her and paused. He had the same powerful presence his father once had, and even at this distance, she could see the resemblance. How embarrassing to be caught staring, and of all the people to be caught staring at.

Sophie ducked her head, and her fingers skimmed over the edge of her mask to ensure it was secure. Her identity was safe.

“I think we should join in for the next dance,” Isabelle said, pulling Sophie to the dance floor. “No one will recognize us.”

“I can’t help but feel this will end badly for me.” Sophie looked at the nameless faces around her, looking for the two people who had the power to ruin her and Isabelle’s night.

“What can your stepmother possibly do?”

“Keep me from seeing you.”

That was the last thing either of them wanted.

“How about we give each other a signal if we see either of your step-relations?”

Isabelle always knew the right thing to say to put Sophie at ease. “I’ll flick my fan open if I spot them,” Sophie decided.

“And I shall do the same,” Isabelle said. “Now let us fill the rest of our night with more fun than we imagined possible.”

Isabelle took Sophie’s hand and pulled her right into the middle of the dance floor where dancers formed two neat rows for the next country set.

Sophie looked across from her. Her dance partner was tall, his hair fair, and she had no idea who he was. That gave her comfort in knowing her identity was likely just as much a mystery. With her brown hair and dull brown eyes, there wasn’t anything about her that would make her stand out in a crowd. Tipping her head, she curtsied to her partner before taking his hand and following the steps with the rest of the dancers.
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