One Wicked Winter Night
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Synopsis
Rekindled love heats up a snowy winter night in this Regency delight from New York Times bestselling author Mary Jo Putney. Originally published in Seduction on a Snowy Night.
Dressed as a veiled princess, Lady Diana Lawrence is shocked to discover that the mysterious corsair who tempts her away from the costume ball is the duke she once loved and lost. Now snowed in with Castleton at a remote lodge, will she surrender to the passion still burning hotly between them?
“Putney’s stories never fail to inspire and delight.”
—Sabrina Jeffries
[Originally published in Seduction on a Snowy Night.]
Release date: September 26, 2023
Publisher: Zebra Books
Print pages: 112
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One Wicked Winter Night
Mary Jo Putney
Lady Diana Lawrence, the blackest sheep of her generation of the noble Lawrence family, curled up on the teak bench of her bedroom’s balcony and admired the morning mists floating over the field that lay beyond the house. Dim shapes resolved into an elephant. An oxcart. A graceful woman in a sari carrying a bundle of sticks. The timeless rhythms of India.
She felt a sudden sharp longing for the mists of home drifting over the still surface of the Broads. Water birds and reeds and fishermen in low boats gliding across the silvery waters.
She’d left England over seven years before. The general reason was her craving to see the world; the specific one had been the shattering pain of a doomed love affair. In the years since, she’d traveled widely and seen many strange and wondrous sights.
After several years of traveling ever eastward, she’d come to rest in India, but she’d never felt that she would stay here forever. Perhaps it was time to go home, because England was home and always would be.
She took a sip of her cardamom-flavored tea. That tea would be something she would take home with her. She asked her companion, “Do you think you’d like England? It’s not as warm, but I guarantee you’ll continue to eat regularly.”
He yawned, showing sharp feline teeth, then tucked his white nose under his long black tail. The Panda was a pragmatist. As long as there was food, he would be content.
Now the sky had lightened enough to read the letter that had arrived the evening before from her favorite niece, Lady Aurora Lawrence Vance. She was known as “Roaring Rory” in some circles, just as Diana had been proclaimed “the Dashing Diana.” Or even “the Devilish Diana.” More proof of how alarmingly alike she and Rory were.
But Rory’s life had taken a surprising turn toward love, marriage, and stability. Though not, Diana was sure, tedium.
Having savored the anticipation long enough, she opened the oilcloth packet that had protected the letter on its journey halfway around the world.
Diana laughed, feeling Rory’s bubbling personality as strongly as if she were in the room. She returned to the letter.
Diana thought nostalgically of the fun the three of them had had when Rory and Constance had come for a long visit, the only members of the Lawrence family to make it all the way to India. Those months were the most enjoyable Diana had experienced here. Constance was illegitimate, the daughter of Diana’s least reliable brother, but she had grown up sweet and kind and wise. She was Diana’s second-favorite niece, though really she shouldn’t make comparisons. Rory and Constance were both wonderful.
Diana’s brows arched as she considered. She’d never really thought about that. Her journals were her private thoughts and sketches and reflections, but travel memoirs were popular and few were written by independent, not to mention scandalous, ladies. This was definitely worth considering. She returned to reading.
Diana swallowed hard when she read that, sharply aware of how much she missed her family. Most of them were quite enjoyable people, and now that she was thirty and officially a spinster, they wouldn’t be trying to marry her off to some boring, bossy gentleman. They wouldn’t dare!
She reread the last lines of the letter, unable to suppress the ache of lost possibilities in her own life. For better and worse, the past had made her what she was.
Setting regret aside, she folded the paper, thinking that there was no good reason not to return. She’d had more than her share of grand sights and adventures, and the doomed love affair was no more than a faint, bittersweet memory. He’d likely forgotten her—and if he did remember, it would be with anger.
For a brief, painful moment she remembered his agonized expression when she’d left him. Young, honest, both vulnerable and strong, and hauntingly handsome. Though she knew she’d been right to leave, she hated herself for what she’d done.
She hoped he’d recovered quickly. He’d surely married by now, perhaps had a child or two. Sadly she recognized that she what she really wanted was for him to have forgotten her. That would mitigate her lingering guilt.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Jane Evans, a round, dark-haired woman who owned the house where Diana had her rooms. The widow of a British sergeant, Jane had been struggling to support her children when Diana had arrived in India. They’d become first friends, then partners in their export business.
Jane sat on the other end of the bench and scratched the head of the Panda, who lay between them. He began purring but didn’t bother opening his eyes.
Seeing the letter Diana held, Jane asked, “News from home?”
“Yes, from my niece Rory. She has much to say. She’s expecting a baby. In fact, it’s probably arrived by now.”
“Good for her!” Jane gave her partner a shrewd glance. “Is she trying to persuade you to return to England?”
“How did you guess?” Diana asked, surprised.
“It’s been obvious that you’re missing England and your family, Lady Aurora most of all. I saw how close you were when she visited here. With matching figures and golden blond hair, you look more like sisters than aunt and niece.” Jane chuckled. “Now that Rory has married and become respectable, perhaps you’re thinking you might do the same?”
“No!” Diana said, scandalized. “For any number of reasons, just no! But going back to England and seeing my family again is very tempting. It’s time for me to leave India. If I sail soon, I should be home before Christmas.”
“Christmas. Snow. Ice. Freezing rain.” Jane shuddered elaborately. “No, thank you! India is my home now. My children were born here. But your roots haven’t sunken into Indian soil as deeply as mine have.”
“Perhaps I’m too much an observer.” Diana slanted a glance at her friend. “Rory suggests I should publish my travel writings.”
“I think that’s an excellent idea!” Jane bit her lip, looking worried. “But what about our export business? I don’t have the money to buy you out now. It would take several years.”
“I assumed we’d continue,” Diana replied. “I funded the business at the beginning, but you’ve always been best at finding silks and perfumes and carvings that will sell well in England. When I’m back there, I can find new markets for our wares. The business should prosper even more than it already has.”
Jane gave a sigh of relief. “I like this idea. But I shall miss you, Diana!” Her expression turned crafty. “I assume you’ll leave the Panda here with us rather than subject the poor fellow to such a long voyage.”
Diana laughed. “Keep your greedy hands off my cat! You and the children will just have to find another one. Or two or three. But where I go the Panda goes!”
“I was afraid of that.” Jane reached out and caught Diana’s hand. “Godspeed, my dear. I look forward to hearing of your new adventures.”
Diana squeezed her friend’s hand. “I don’t imagine I’ll have grand adventures in the future. I look forward to a peaceful life becoming an extremely eccentric old lady.”
“You might believe that.” Jane smiled mischievously. “But I know better!”
“Mrowp?”
“Of course a hotel will allow you to stay with me, Panda. I am the eccentric Lady Diana Lawrence, daughter and sister of earls.” Her gaze moved to the spacious and well-padded carrying cage where Panda’s annoyed black and white face could be seen behind a latticed window. “And you will be free to roam again. You’re a very good traveler, but the less time you spend in your carrier, the happier you. . .
She felt a sudden sharp longing for the mists of home drifting over the still surface of the Broads. Water birds and reeds and fishermen in low boats gliding across the silvery waters.
She’d left England over seven years before. The general reason was her craving to see the world; the specific one had been the shattering pain of a doomed love affair. In the years since, she’d traveled widely and seen many strange and wondrous sights.
After several years of traveling ever eastward, she’d come to rest in India, but she’d never felt that she would stay here forever. Perhaps it was time to go home, because England was home and always would be.
She took a sip of her cardamom-flavored tea. That tea would be something she would take home with her. She asked her companion, “Do you think you’d like England? It’s not as warm, but I guarantee you’ll continue to eat regularly.”
He yawned, showing sharp feline teeth, then tucked his white nose under his long black tail. The Panda was a pragmatist. As long as there was food, he would be content.
Now the sky had lightened enough to read the letter that had arrived the evening before from her favorite niece, Lady Aurora Lawrence Vance. She was known as “Roaring Rory” in some circles, just as Diana had been proclaimed “the Dashing Diana.” Or even “the Devilish Diana.” More proof of how alarmingly alike she and Rory were.
But Rory’s life had taken a surprising turn toward love, marriage, and stability. Though not, Diana was sure, tedium.
Having savored the anticipation long enough, she opened the oilcloth packet that had protected the letter on its journey halfway around the world.
Diana laughed, feeling Rory’s bubbling personality as strongly as if she were in the room. She returned to the letter.
Diana thought nostalgically of the fun the three of them had had when Rory and Constance had come for a long visit, the only members of the Lawrence family to make it all the way to India. Those months were the most enjoyable Diana had experienced here. Constance was illegitimate, the daughter of Diana’s least reliable brother, but she had grown up sweet and kind and wise. She was Diana’s second-favorite niece, though really she shouldn’t make comparisons. Rory and Constance were both wonderful.
Diana’s brows arched as she considered. She’d never really thought about that. Her journals were her private thoughts and sketches and reflections, but travel memoirs were popular and few were written by independent, not to mention scandalous, ladies. This was definitely worth considering. She returned to reading.
Diana swallowed hard when she read that, sharply aware of how much she missed her family. Most of them were quite enjoyable people, and now that she was thirty and officially a spinster, they wouldn’t be trying to marry her off to some boring, bossy gentleman. They wouldn’t dare!
She reread the last lines of the letter, unable to suppress the ache of lost possibilities in her own life. For better and worse, the past had made her what she was.
Setting regret aside, she folded the paper, thinking that there was no good reason not to return. She’d had more than her share of grand sights and adventures, and the doomed love affair was no more than a faint, bittersweet memory. He’d likely forgotten her—and if he did remember, it would be with anger.
For a brief, painful moment she remembered his agonized expression when she’d left him. Young, honest, both vulnerable and strong, and hauntingly handsome. Though she knew she’d been right to leave, she hated herself for what she’d done.
She hoped he’d recovered quickly. He’d surely married by now, perhaps had a child or two. Sadly she recognized that she what she really wanted was for him to have forgotten her. That would mitigate her lingering guilt.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Jane Evans, a round, dark-haired woman who owned the house where Diana had her rooms. The widow of a British sergeant, Jane had been struggling to support her children when Diana had arrived in India. They’d become first friends, then partners in their export business.
Jane sat on the other end of the bench and scratched the head of the Panda, who lay between them. He began purring but didn’t bother opening his eyes.
Seeing the letter Diana held, Jane asked, “News from home?”
“Yes, from my niece Rory. She has much to say. She’s expecting a baby. In fact, it’s probably arrived by now.”
“Good for her!” Jane gave her partner a shrewd glance. “Is she trying to persuade you to return to England?”
“How did you guess?” Diana asked, surprised.
“It’s been obvious that you’re missing England and your family, Lady Aurora most of all. I saw how close you were when she visited here. With matching figures and golden blond hair, you look more like sisters than aunt and niece.” Jane chuckled. “Now that Rory has married and become respectable, perhaps you’re thinking you might do the same?”
“No!” Diana said, scandalized. “For any number of reasons, just no! But going back to England and seeing my family again is very tempting. It’s time for me to leave India. If I sail soon, I should be home before Christmas.”
“Christmas. Snow. Ice. Freezing rain.” Jane shuddered elaborately. “No, thank you! India is my home now. My children were born here. But your roots haven’t sunken into Indian soil as deeply as mine have.”
“Perhaps I’m too much an observer.” Diana slanted a glance at her friend. “Rory suggests I should publish my travel writings.”
“I think that’s an excellent idea!” Jane bit her lip, looking worried. “But what about our export business? I don’t have the money to buy you out now. It would take several years.”
“I assumed we’d continue,” Diana replied. “I funded the business at the beginning, but you’ve always been best at finding silks and perfumes and carvings that will sell well in England. When I’m back there, I can find new markets for our wares. The business should prosper even more than it already has.”
Jane gave a sigh of relief. “I like this idea. But I shall miss you, Diana!” Her expression turned crafty. “I assume you’ll leave the Panda here with us rather than subject the poor fellow to such a long voyage.”
Diana laughed. “Keep your greedy hands off my cat! You and the children will just have to find another one. Or two or three. But where I go the Panda goes!”
“I was afraid of that.” Jane reached out and caught Diana’s hand. “Godspeed, my dear. I look forward to hearing of your new adventures.”
Diana squeezed her friend’s hand. “I don’t imagine I’ll have grand adventures in the future. I look forward to a peaceful life becoming an extremely eccentric old lady.”
“You might believe that.” Jane smiled mischievously. “But I know better!”
“Mrowp?”
“Of course a hotel will allow you to stay with me, Panda. I am the eccentric Lady Diana Lawrence, daughter and sister of earls.” Her gaze moved to the spacious and well-padded carrying cage where Panda’s annoyed black and white face could be seen behind a latticed window. “And you will be free to roam again. You’re a very good traveler, but the less time you spend in your carrier, the happier you. . .
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