It Happened One Christmas

Book 3: Hamilton Sisters

by Kaitlin O'Riley

Genres: Historical Romance; Victorian Romance; Holiday Romance

Synopsis

Two Strangers, One Enchanted Christmas Quinton Roxbury, son of an earl and as charismatic as a prince, thinks St. Nick has provided him the perfect bride in rich, ruthless Lady Emmeline Tarleton. Lisette Hamilton could not have wished for a more reasonable beau than stable, staid Henry Brooks. But on one wintry London day, the magic of the season intervenes, bringing Lisette and Quinton together just long enough to realize that there is more to love than to connections or contentment. And the passionate moment they share will force them both to choose between the perfect lives they always wanted and a desire they've only just discovered. . . Praise for the Novels of Kaitlin O'Riley "O'Riley's believable, charismatic characters and fast-paced plotline set this novel well apart from the usual romance fare." -- Publishers Weekly (starred review) on When His Kiss Is Wicked "A talented author. . .O'Riley's plot twists add freshness to the genre." -- Romantic Times on Secrets of a Duchess

Release date: May 26, 2011

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 353

Sample

Lisette Hamilton never saw him coming.

Later on she supposed that because she was rushing, it was her own fault. But still he was just as much to blame. A man should always be mindful of where he is going and should take more care when rounding a corner and not throw himself about like a cannon out of a barrel. None of it would have happened at all if she had simply stayed in the carriage. But no, she had to stop for a moment to visit with Mrs. Brooks. Since Lisette was planning to marry the woman’s son, of course she should take time to speak with her. It was Henry’s mother, after all, and she would eventually be her mother-in-law. Then Yvette had complained of a headache, so Lisette had instructed their carriage driver to take her younger sister home while she remained. She chatted with Mrs. Brooks longer than she’d intended before realizing how late she was. Lisette detested being late. Hated to think that anyone was waiting for her or inconvenienced in any way by her tardiness. To Lisette it was the height of rudeness.

Consequently she was walking as fast as she could, her little black boots clicking along the cobblestones of the neat lane behind Devon House. As usual, her long auburn hair was pinned neatly under her fur-trimmed hood and her hands pocketed deep inside her matching fur muff. She didn’t typically walk through the back lane, but she now needed to hurry. The narrow lane was empty of people except for Lisette that chilly December afternoon, and the sky was heavy with dark clouds. She pulled her muff closer to her body for warmth and increased her pace. Just as she reached the corner, which was bordered by a high brick wall covered in a thick blanket of ivy—bam—she ran smack into a wall of another kind.

Knocked flat on her back with an impossibly tall man lying on top of her, she could not even breathe.

When Lisette opened her eyes, she found herself drowning. Drowning in a pair of the bluest eyes she had ever seen. Not just a regular, ordinary blue, but the clearest, purest sky blue. The word “cerulean” came to mind. The color of the sky on a clear spring morning. At first, those eyes were wide with surprise, but then they narrowed their focus on her. His eyes gleamed with an inner fire, and her heart seemed to stop and the world faded around her. The fall must have knocked the sense out of both of them, for neither she nor the man spoke or moved for a full minute.

They simply stared in mute fascination with each other.

Oh, but the rest of him was fine also, Lisette thought. His face was arresting in its perfection. A strong jaw, which was clean-shaven and smooth. An aquiline nose with just the slightest tilt at the end. A mouth that looked as if it smiled easily. He was not smiling now, though. No, but his lips were close enough for her to feel his breath on her cheek. A lock of his light golden hair fell across his forehead in a charmingly rakish way.

She wondered if she knew this gentleman. The familiarity of him called to her, but she could not place him. Had she met him recently? At the bookshop perhaps? No. No, Lisette had never met this man. For she certainly would have remembered him. And how wonderful he smelled, like spices and bayberry.

As she lay with this handsome stranger, Lisette completely forgot where she was going and why she was in such a hurry to get there. She lost herself in the feel and the weight of the length of his muscular body pressed against hers, barely noticing the cold cobblestones beneath her. His long legs nestled intimately between hers. The heat and strength emanating from him kept her quite warm. A strange lethargy crept over her as her body seemed to melt with his.

The gentleman lightly touched his gloved hand to her face in a soft caress.

“Are you all right?” His voice fell in a silky whisper around her as he traced the side of her cheek.

The hypnotic sound of his voice contributed to the strange spell she had helplessly fallen under. Lisette only nodded her head in response to him while her heart pounded in a wild rhythm.

He slowly leaned even closer to her, placing the lightest of kisses on her cheek. The brush of his warm lips on her skin sent a shaft of pleasure coursing through her entire being. Lisette thought she would faint. This was mad! She did not even know this man, yet here he was . . . Oh, my . . . His lips moved closer to her own, and she held her breath, suddenly hoping against hope that he would kiss her. Heaven help her, for she desperately wanted this man to kiss her. It was madness, but she wanted to feel his lips pressed against hers. She inexplicably yearned to kiss him.

The unexpected and loud barking of a dog in a nearby yard pierced the air around them, breaking their intimate reverie.

Suddenly aware of their awkward position, they both roused themselves in a fluster. The gentleman made a move to stand up. Lisette, her cheeks burning, took a shaky breath as she removed her hands from her muff and rose on her elbows. Taking her gloved hand in his, he helped her to her feet. As she stood, he did not release her hand. Nor did she pull away from him. Something about him holding her hand felt natural and she did not want to let go.

“Are you quite sure you are all right?”

“Yes,” Lisette murmured in a whisper, but she was not all right. Far from it. She had never felt less like herself.

“I am terribly sorry,” he began again. “Forgive me. I did not see you.”

She had to tilt her head back to look up at him. Again she became lost in those blue eyes. Was it a figment of her imagination that he had kissed her cheek? Had she merely dreamed that he almost kissed her lips a moment ago? “I . . . ah . . . I did not see you either.”

He still held her hand, and he pulled her slightly closer. “Oh, but we have seen each other now.”

“Yes,” she breathed. The sound of his voice, low and husky, made her shiver with delight. “Now what?”

A slow, magnetic smile spread across his handsome face. It was as if the sun had suddenly burst through the clouds. Lisette could do nothing but smile back helplessly in response.

“Now I believe we ought to introduce ourselves. I am Quinton Roxbury.”

Quinton Roxbury. His name repeated over and over in her mind. Who was he? And why should this man have such a magical effect on her? Quinton Roxbury. She suddenly had butterflies in her stomach. “I . . .” She paused a moment to recall her own name. “I am Lisette Hamilton.”

“Well, Miss Hamilton, please forgive my clumsiness. In my haste I seemed to have knocked us both off our feet. Are you sure you are not hurt?”

Lisette shook her head. No, hurt would not be the word to describe how she felt. Mesmerized. Enchanted. Awestruck. Those were much better words.

“May I escort you home?”

Again, she shook her head. A strange sense of loss surged through her, realizing that their astonishing encounter was coming to an end. She did not want him to leave. She glanced across at her hand, still clasped firmly in his. That reassured her somewhat.

He looked disappointed by her refusal. “No?”

“I am already home.” Lisette gestured to the tall white house just beyond the brick wall.

“Devon House?” he questioned, his dark blond brows raised. “You live here?”

“Yes.”

He smiled and then explained, “I was just there, meeting with Lord Waverly.”

“He is my brother-in-law.” Lucien knew Quinton Roxbury. This changed everything and she relaxed a bit. He did not seem like such a stranger to Lisette now. But then he hadn’t right from the start. There was a strong familiarity about him that drew her to him.

“Well, I can at least escort you to the door. I owe you that much courtesy.”

He released her hand and took her arm. As long as he was touching her, Lisette did not care what he did. At this moment she would have followed him across London if he wanted. Instead she walked with him to the front of Devon House. Her heart fluttered against her chest at the feel of his strong hand on her arm. Good heavens! What on earth was wrong with her?

“Once again, I offer my sincerest apologies for knocking you down, Miss Hamilton.”

“It’s quite all right,” she murmured as they stood in front of the gate, noting with some satisfaction that he did not apologize for kissing her cheek. She stared into his eyes, mesmerized by what she saw within them.

“I should be on my way,” he said.

“Yes, of course.”

“It was a pleasure running into you.” He laughed, deep and throaty, and her heart skipped a beat at the sound. “I hope I have the pleasure of meeting you under more usual circumstances sometime.”

“That would be lovely.”

With what seemed like some reluctance, he released her arm. “Good afternoon, Miss Hamilton.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Roxbury,” she whispered softly. Her eyes followed him as he walked away, his long black cloak swirling behind him. The assurance and grace with which he moved was surprising for a man of his height. She stood outside the gate to Devon House, completely incapable of taking a step forward. Flooded with emotions she did not know existed before, she didn’t even hear the footsteps coming up behind her.

“Lisette!”

She turned around at the sound of her name. Henry Brooks stood beside her. Henry. “Henry!”

“Good afternoon, Lisette. Who was that gentleman you were talking to?” His kind, bearded face was drawn in obvious concern. His gray eyes stared at her intently.

Lisette blinked. “I don’t really know. I just met him. What are you doing here, Henry?”

“I was coming from the home of Lord Grisham, my new client, and his house is across the street. I was planning to stop by Devon House to say hello when I saw you with that gentleman. You were speaking to him as if you knew him.”

She placed her hands inside her muff and clenched them together tightly. “He . . . He was just leaving. He was here to meet with Lord Waverly,” Lisette explained. “His name is Quinton Roxbury.”

She thought it best to leave out the part about the gentleman lying on top of her and almost kissing her. There was no need to upset Henry. Still, the memory of it sent a delicious shiver through her. She pulled the fur muff closer to her body.

“Quinton Roxbury?” Henry asked with sudden interest. “The Earl of Kingston’s brother?”

“He did not say.”

“Well, if that’s who he is, he’s quite a bright and ambitious man. I just read an article about him in The Times last week. Something about him designing a new museum building and some special houses, if I recall.”

She gave Henry a blank look.

“Anyway, it’s a happy surprise to see you, Lisette.”

“It’s good to see you as well.” She smiled, feeling slightly calmer, talking about ordinary things. And she was glad to see Henry. If not a little surprised. “It’s a funny coincidence meeting you here, because I just ran into your mother. She invited me to have tea with her and your aunt next week.”

“That was thoughtful of her.” He removed his gold pocket watch and checked the time. He snapped the case shut and returned it to the pocket of his navy broadcloth coat. “My dear, I’m afraid I do have to rush off. I must get these papers to the bank.”

“Very well. I shall see you tomorrow evening. You’ll be joining us for supper at Devon House, remember?”

“How could I forget? Of course I will be there tomorrow. Good-bye, my dear.” He squeezed the top of her muff with his gloved hand and walked away with sure and steady steps. She watched him go, trying not to compare him to the mysterious Mr. Quinton Roxbury.

Almost forgetting what she had been rushing home for, Lisette gave a little gasp and hurried to the house.

Granger, the Devon House butler, opened the door for Lisette. She thanked the man as she removed her fur muff and matching coat and hat. He took her things with a good-natured smile.

“Good afternoon, Miss Lisette. You seem to be in a hurry,” Granger said in his usual unflappable style.

“I am!” She nodded quickly, for she was now late and Colette would be sure to be put out with her.

Lisette made her way to the staircase of Devon House, the rather majestic house she had called home for the past few years. But it did not truly feel like her home. Oh, it was grand to be sure, but in her heart the stately and elegant town house belonged to Lucien Sinclair and his family, not to her. After living above the bookshop for her entire life, Devon House felt entirely too large for her taste. Besides, she wanted a home of her very own. A place she could love, care for, and do with as she pleased.

And that would happen as soon as she and Henry married.

Henry. He was a wonderful man, steady and reliable. He would take good care of her, and she would be happy married to him. Yes, she would. Yes.

Almost stumbling on the steps, she steadied herself as the image of a handsome, blond gentleman with penetrating blue eyes sprang unbidden into her mind when she should have been imagining Henry. She shook herself with determination and grasped the handrail firmly. Such foolishness ! Quinton Roxbury. He was just an accident. She didn’t even know the man!

Lisette moved her feet quickly but carefully up the grand, marble staircase in a hurry to reach her own bedroom. She was rushing down the corridor when a voice stopped her.

“There you are!”

Colette had called to her. Lisette turned to face her eldest sister. “I’m sorry I am so late. I will change my clothes and be ready in just a few minutes.”

“Oh, never mind about that. Aunt Cecilia sent a note around that she is ill, so she is not coming to tea this afternoon.”

Lisette relaxed with a heavy sigh. She did not have to spend an interminable afternoon with her critical and demanding aunt after all. What an unexpected relief!

“But I need your help,” Colette began in a harried tone, while beckoning her into her own suite of rooms. “I just received a letter from Mother.”

Lisette knew where this conversation was headed. Reluctantly she entered Colette’s private sitting room and took a seat on a lovely lavender and white striped damask chair. Her nephew, Phillip, toddled over to her, his round cheeks pink and his fingers sticky as he held his chubby arms out to her in eagerness.

“’Sette, ’Sette.” He babbled the name everyone understood meant his Auntie Lisette.

Smiling, she reached down and scooped the boy up in her arms, settling him on her lap and breathing in the sweetness of him. Phillip rested his tousled head on her chest and gave a contented sigh. Instinctively she rocked the child with a gentle swaying of her body, holding him close. She would love a baby of her own when she married.

Suddenly the image of Quinton Roxbury’s face flooded her mind. He stood beside her while she held a baby. How odd! His face replaced the usual image of Henry. Lisette shook her head in amazement and not a little guilt.

“Although he’s been fighting me all afternoon, Phillip’s more than ready for a nap,” Colette explained. She moved with practiced slowness to her own chair and lowered herself down gingerly. “And I am as well,” she added with a light laugh. Colette’s hand moved over the rounded form of her once slim waist.

“Your new baby brother or sister is making your mother very tired,” Lisette whispered to the little boy in her lap. He smiled at her and closed his eyes. She brushed her hand over his soft dark curls in a calming motion.

“Thank goodness,” said Colette in relief, watching her son fall asleep in her sister’s arms. “It’s funny how you have that soothing effect on him.”

Lisette glanced up at her with a helpless smile. “I don’t do anything differently with him than you do.”

“No, but you’re a natural,” Colette grinned. “You’ll make a very good mother someday.”

“I hope so.”

“You will. Now, about our mother,” Colette began, her voice weary.

Lisette nodded, knowing exactly what was expected of her. Unaccountably irritated, she longed for the solitude of her room, wished she could lie down on her bed and close her eyes. A sudden vision of Quinton Roxbury lying atop her in the lane flashed before her. Unable to breathe for a moment, she blinked in rapid succession, trying to erase him from her memory.

“Mother is not feeling well and wants us to visit her. Obviously”—Colette patted her stomach for emphasis—“I cannot go to her right now. With Christmas coming up, Paulette needs to stay and oversee the bookshop, and Yvette—”

“Of course I’ll go to her,” Lisette interrupted without hesitation. Her mother needed her and she was the only one who could be spared. It was always this way. Her nature was such that Lisette would never not do what was expected of her, never not help when she was needed. Hit by a sudden urge to flee the room, she remained seated, not wishing to disturb the sleeping child she held so sweetly in her arms.

“I would go, truly,” Colette began, but Lisette shook her head.

“You are in no condition to travel anywhere. It’s fine. I shall go tend to Mother.”

“Thank you, Lisette.” Her sister sighed in relief. “Even if I could go, you know how things are between Mother and me. And I’m so very short-tempered right now, I’m sure to say something terrible to her.”

Lisette nodded in understanding. “It’s quite all right. I don’t mind.”

Her sister’s relationship with their illness-prone mother had always been fraught with tension, ever since they were young. When Genevieve Hamilton first retreated from the everyday world of responsibilities and took to her bed, declaring herself not well enough to care for the family any longer, it was Colette who had assumed the daunting task of raising her four younger sisters, along with helping in the bookshop. After their father died, Colette had completely taken over the management of their finances, their bookshop, and the daily life of their family.

For this, Lisette and her sisters were all grateful, but this apparent usurpation of power caused untold friction between Genevieve and Colette, making Lisette’s relationship with Genevieve seem placid by comparison. Which was why her sisters had looked to Lisette to calm their mother’s frayed nerves when they could not. It wasn’t that Lisette found their mother’s dramatics any less irritating than her sisters did, it was just that she did not usually allow them to bother her. It was easier simply to agree with her mother than argue with her, and because of that, Genevieve took comfort in Lisette’s serenity. This would not be the first time that Lisette had made the journey to Brighton alone to placate their demanding mother.

“I’ll have Lucien handle all the travel arrangements right away. Do you want to go by train or in one of our carriages ? I always feel better if you take the carriage, although I know the train is faster and you enjoy it more. If you leave tomorrow, you could be home by next week. Unless of course”—Colette rolled her eyes heavenward—“something serious is wrong with her.”

Both sisters laughed as softly as they could so as not to wake Phillip. Their mother’s numerous ailments were never as severe as she declared them to be, and they had grown accustomed to her theatrical illnesses over the years and learned to dismiss them. Laughing, they knew this time would be no different.

Lisette said, “I am sure she’s just lonely and longs for some company.”

“It was her choice to move so far away,” Colette responded, her attitude a bit defensive.

“Yes, but she still gets lonesome for us.” Lisette kissed the top of Phillip’s hair and thought for a moment. “I think I shall take the train this time. Perhaps I can bring her back with me early and she can stay here through the holidays and the birth of the baby.”

Colette made a face and Lisette knew her sister was unhappy with the thought of their mother visiting for such a long period of time. “Why don’t we let her arrive when we originally planned? I don’t think I could bear her to be here an entire month. Not in my condition.”

“All right then.” Lisette shrugged and changed the subject. It was all the same to her. “Do you think Juliette will be home in time for Christmas?”

“Her last letter said she would,” Colette said. “But then again, it’s now the first of December and the last letter we received from her was back in early September.”

Lisette continued to rock the little boy and gave a rueful shake of her head. “Well, we never really expected her to be a good correspondent, now did we?”

“Now that’s quite true, but it would be nice to know if our sister is alive or not.”

Who could even be sure where Juliette was? It had been a year since they saw her last. Juliette and her American husband were sailing around the world together on their clipper ship, the Sea Minx. Juliette was living the adventurous life she had always wanted. A pang of envy shot through Lisette’s heart, startling her. She was not jealous of Juliette, not really, for she had no desire to travel the world. And yet . . . Something about how her older sister lived the life she wanted called to her, too. Made her want to do the same. Juliette always did what she wanted to do and didn’t give a care for what anyone else thought of her because of it.

What would it be like for Lisette to do exactly what she wished? To live her life as Juliette lived hers? This thought gave her pause. For what was it that Lisette truly wanted? Nothing as exotic as an around-the-world adventure! Heavens, that was not Lisette’s style at all. No, Lisette merely longed to be married and have a husband. She wanted a home of her own. And children, of course. She had the usual aspirations that the majority of women her age had. There was nothing uncommon about Lisette, nothing extraordinary. Her desires were simple enough.

The startling encounter she had just had with Quinton Roxbury flashed through her mind once again. Golden hair. Blue eyes. Velvet voice. Tall. Broad shoulders. Heartmelting smile. The memory of the feel and weight of his body on hers caused her to shiver. Now that had been something extraordinary . . .

A deep sigh escaped her.

It was silly really, the way she continued to think about meeting that man. Why did he keep intruding into her thoughts? Especially when she would most likely never see him again.

Besides, she had Henry Brooks.

Dear, sweet Henry. She had been waiting patiently for him to be settled enough to marry her for years now. They would be wed soon enough, she hoped, and then Lisette would have her husband, a home of her own, and eventually children. Everything would be fine and she would be contented.

The alluring image of Quinton Roxbury’s blue eyes caused her to shake her head once again.

“Thank you for getting my little man to sleep for me,” Colette whispered.

Lisette noted her sister’s eyes were heavy. “You should nap, too,” she suggested.

“I think I shall.”

“Colette?”

“Yes?”

She hesitated a moment. “Do you know the gentleman who was just here to see Lucien a little while ago?”

“Was someone here to see him?” Colette yawned a little. “I had no idea. I’ve been up here with Phillip all day. Why do you ask?”

Lisette paused, feeling a trifle awkward. “No particular reason.”

“Lisette?”

Her eyes met Colette’s. “I met him outside as he was leaving. I just wondered who he was.”

Colette struggled to suppress a larger yawn, covering her mouth with her hand. “You shall have to ask Lucien about him.”

Lisette was not sure if she would do that. Perhaps it was best not to know more about the handsome man who had quite literally swept her off her feet. Yes, perhaps that was best.

With great care, Lisette stood and shifted the weight of the sleeping child to her hip. She carried him into the adjoining nursery. Decorated in pastels and soft fabrics, the room was warm and sweet-smelling and a cheery fire burned in the hearth. After placing Phillip in his ornate cast iron and brass crib draped with swaths of silk, Lisette placed a kiss on his chubby cheek and tiptoed from the room.

As she passed by, she caught her reflection in the mirror and paused. Her green eyes looked overly bright, and her usually fair complexion was flushed with color. Still reeling from her encounter with Quinton Roxbury, she gave herself a helpless smile. With a sweep of her hand, she smoothed her auburn hair, which was pinned loosely on her head, and took a calming breath before rejoining Colette.

“I can’t get up.”

Lisette giggled at the sight of her pregnant sister trying to hoist herself from the chair. Reaching out her hands, she helped to pull Colette to her feet.

“You shouldn’t sit in that chair anymore! It’s too low. Come, let me help you to the bed.”

Colette accepted her assistance readily and followed her into the master suite. “I hope I have this baby before Christmas.”

“I do, too. Now slip off your shoes and lie on your side.”

After Colette had managed to situate her petite body on the bed as comfortably as her growing shape would allow, Lisette covered her with a soft woolen blanket.

“Thank you,” her sister murmured.

“You’re very welcome, but you need to let Rose help you with Phillip more often. You’re exhausted.”

Lisette noted that her sister’s delicate . . .