The Christmas Heiress

by Adrienne Basso

Genres: Historical Romance; Literary Fiction

Synopsis

It takes a Christmas miracle to mend a broken heart in this “sinfully sensual” Victorian holiday romance with “beautifully nuanced characters” (Booklist).
 
For Charlotte Aldridge, Christmas’s arrival means anything but warmth and cheer. Only a few holidays ago, she fell in love with handsome Edward Barringer, the peer both their families were hoping she would marry. But Edward not only turned his back on his noble name, he also turned his back on Charlotte. Rejected and heartbroken, she vowed to put the past behind her and make a new life. But now Edward has returned to the English countryside for the holidays. And Charlotte will do anything to keep her heart out of harm’s way . . .
 
Edward Barringer can't believe it . . . the pretty-but-frivolous Charlotte has grown into a fascinating woman. He never meant to break her heart all those years ago, but he was determined to earn his fortune rather than marry it. But now, he's become completely captivated by the alluring and passionate young woman Charlotte has become. And he's willing to risk all he has to prove the love between them will last for all the seasons to come . . .

Release date: March 14, 2013

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 384

Sample

A light knock sounded on the bedchamber door. Lord Reginald Aldridge stepped quietly into the room and closed the door, shutting out the musical sounds from the four-piece string quartet that drifted up from below stairs. “I assumed you would be late, so I thought I would wait and escort you downstairs. Are you ready to make your grand entrance?”

“Almost.” Lord Reginald’s seventeen-year-old granddaughter, Charlotte, shifted impatiently as her maid fussed over the cascading array of honey-brown curls that trailed down the side of her long, graceful neck. “Jones got it all wrong and had to reset my hair, but I believe it is at last acceptable.”

“It looks splendid to me,” Lord Reginald said.

Charlotte turned, and managed a slight smile as her grandfather walked toward her. Though nearing sixty, he looked and acted like a much younger man. Tonight he wore a black velvet-collared frockcoat and stylish black trousers. A stark white cravat topped a silver-flecked waistcoat that nicely complemented the blue of his eyes and brought out the streaks of silver in his hair.

As he drew beside her, Charlotte noticed he carried a small tray containing two crystal goblets.

“Champagne!” Eagerly, she reached for a glass and after raising it high in a hasty toast, Charlotte gulped down half the contents. “It’s wonderful. I love how the bubbles tickle my nose. I must be sure to commend the earl on the quality of his wine cellar when I see him tonight.”

Lord Reginald turned an indulgent smile on his only grandchild. “’Tis probably better if you refrain from mentioning the champagne. Worthington and his countess can occasionally be a bit over-the-top when it comes to propriety.”

“Hmmm.” Charlotte sipped the remaining cold, bubbly liquid in her goblet and considered her grandfather’s words. Though she had known the earl and countess of Worthington for most of her life, she had had very limited interaction with them. Until now.

She briefly wondered what else they might find offensive, besides a young woman drinking champagne, but pushed the notion from her mind. If things got out of hand, she knew she could rely on Grandpapa to protect her from the worst of any scandalous gossip.

In Charlotte’s opinion, the rules that governed a young woman of society’s life were vastly restrictive, monstrously unfair and highly tedious. While growing up, she had been lucky and allowed far more freedom than most aristocratic girls. Her natural curiosity and daring spirit had rarely been harnessed.

However, now she had reached the age of maturity and everything had changed. The scrutiny was far more intense, the expectations high. Fortunately, she was aware, and very capable, of following the rules. If it suited her purpose.

“I suppose we had best join the party or else we shall arrive unfashionably and inappropriately late,” Charlotte decided. “I merely need to put on my jewelry.”

At the mention of jewelry, Jones, Charlotte’s maid, scurried about the room, retrieving both the jewel case and key. With a sly smile, Charlotte unlocked the black lacquer box and rummaged impatiently though the pieces nestled on the blue velvet lining. Pushing the garnet, sapphire and emerald gemstones out of the way, Charlotte finally discovered what she sought and extracted a square, flat box.

She flipped open the lid and could not contain the gasp of delight as she beheld the contents. Crafted of the finest gold, silver and diamonds, the necklace was reputed to be the most expensive and coveted piece of jewelry made in England in the past fifty years. It had been commissioned by her father and given to her mother on their wedding day, yet for Charlotte, it represented a connection to the parents she barely remembered. They had both suddenly and tragically died in a carriage accident when she was five years old.

Charlotte swallowed. Her fingers trembled slightly as she lifted out the magnificent necklace. It felt heavy in her hands. She placed it carefully around her throat and fastened the clasp. Then she stood up and turned to face her grandfather.

“How do I look?”

“Exquisite,” Lord Reginald replied automatically, but then his smile broke and he cleared his throat loudly. “But are you sure about the necklace, sweetheart? Matrons are the ones usually draped in diamonds. Girls your age wear pearls. I’m sure you have several lovely strands in your jewel box, along with matching earbobs.”

Charlotte stiffened her back, temper flashing in her emerald-green eyes. “The lace on my gown is an exact match to the intrigue gold and silver filigree work on the diamond necklace,” she insisted. Reaching up, she fingered the clasp nestled at the side of her throat. “No other jewelry I own would be nearly as flattering with my ensemble.”

Her hand lingered as she ran her fingers repeatedly over the smooth facets of the center-set stone. The entire piece was a fretwork of open and airy scrolled silver and gold, punctuated with large, flawless rose-cut diamonds that glittered like fire every time she moved.

Charlotte held a vague memory of her mother wearing the necklace, a fog of remembrance that had faded more and more with each passing year. This tangible link to the woman she had barely known was very important to her, but never more so than tonight.

“What do you want to do, Miss Charlotte?” Her maid’s voice cut through the silent tension that had been steadily building.

She glanced over and saw that Jones had extracted three different pearl necklaces from the jewelry case, each stunning in its own way. But none could compare to the diamond necklace.

Charlotte gnawed her bottom lip, then cast a pitiful eye toward Lord Reginald. “If you insist that I wear pearls, I shall, Grandpapa,” she declared, with a slight exaggeration to the trembling in her voice. “Above all else, I wish to please you and make you proud of me.”

“Oh, my dearest girl, of course I am proud of you. No grandfather in the world is luckier than I.” Lord Reginald moved closer and Charlotte flung both arms around his neck, sinking into the comfort and love of an embrace she had grown up depending upon. “You know that all I have ever wanted is for you to be happy,” he whispered.

“I know.” She heard him sigh and mutter under his breath. Charlotte pulled back and glanced up, then smiled inwardly with triumph as the stern set of his jaw and mouth softened. “May I wear the diamonds?”

Lord Reginald’s lip tipped into a grin, and a mischievous twinkle entered his eyes. “I shall tell anyone who dares to comment that you are wearing the necklace at my command.”

“Thank you.”

After a final adjustment to her coiffeur, Charlotte wove her arm through Lord Reginald’s. Her stomach fluttered with excitement. This was the first evening event of the house party and above all, she wanted her entrance to be noteworthy.

They had arrived at Farmington Manor two days ago, part of an elite group of guests invited to attend the holiday celebrations of the earl and countess of Worthington. The Worthingtons were old and dear friends of Lord Reginald’s, but Charlotte was very aware there was another reason for this invitation.

Now that she had reached a marriageable age, her grandfather had hinted quite broadly that he was very much in favor of a match between her and the earl’s oldest son and heir, Edward. In truth, Charlotte had no particular reaction to her grandfather’s scheming. Though she had not seen Edward in several years, she had been in his company often when they were children and remembered him as a polite, well-behaved and usually cautious boy who seemed to know everything.

Lord Reginald insisted that Edward had matured into a fine, handsome, steadfast young man, which Charlotte feared might mean he was stuffy, formal and a bit dull, but she was willing to give him a chance.

She was not, however, about to drop into Edward’s clutches like an overripe piece of fruit falling from a tree. Charlotte was shrewd enough to know her worth on the marriage mart. Her grandfather was the brother of the Duke of Shrewsbury, her mother had been the sister of the Earl of Huntingdon.

She was her grandfather’s sole heir, and a portion of her mother’s dowry was also held in trust, to be given to her upon her marriage. With her lineage, looks and impressive dowry, Charlotte knew she would have her pick of any of the eligible wealthy and titled gentlemen of society. And she had decided long ago that she would marry a man of her own choosing, under her own terms, or she would not marry at all.

Charlotte took in her surroundings as they negotiated the numerous hallways on their way to the party. Farmington Manor, the ancestral home of their hosts, was a sprawling mansion. The original section of the house was built during the reign of Henry Tudor, but extensive remodeling and additions had been commissioned over the years.

The result was an odd blend of several different architectural styles, and Charlotte marveled at how all the pieces fit together, creating an impressive display of aristocratic heritage and wealth.

Yet even for all of its grandeur, Charlotte decided she preferred the atmosphere of their own home, Quincy Court. It was smaller in size than the manor, but just as luxuriously furnished. Her grandfather had excellent taste and a seemingly unlimited supply of funds with which to indulge his passions. And his greatest passion was creating a stylish, comfortable home for his granddaughter.

Finally Lord Reginald and Charlotte reached the main staircase. Descending arm in arm, they followed the noise and entered the main salon, a cavernous room with gilded columns, gold brocade sofas and urns filled with an unusual mix of bright evergreen branches and blooming red hothouse roses. They were the last to arrive, but the happy chatter and murmur of voices rumbling beneath the strains of music told them the party had clearly begun without them.

Since this was an informal event, there was no receiving line. They paused a moment to get their bearings and Charlotte surveyed the room with what she hoped was a casual air.

Many of the other guests were close to her grandfather in age, but there were a few younger people, enough to make things interesting. Charlotte had been introduced to all the houseguests the previous day, but felt no desire to join the small group of young ladies gathered near the fireplace.

They had all been polite toward her, especially Miranda Chambers and her twin sister, Elizabeth, but Charlotte was not overly comfortable in the company of women. Since entering society this past spring, it had been her experience that females and more often, their mothers, were stiff and judgmental toward her. She was unsure if they envied her looks, her money or her confident air.

Whatever the reason, Charlotte had decided it was unimportant. She would make no major concessions to win the approval of anyone, especially a group of tight-lipped women. Tonight she was going to have fun and Charlotte was determined to ignore any frowning faces sent her way.

“Lord Reginald! Miss Aldridge!” Rosemary Barringer, Countess of Worthington, glided toward them. “I am so glad that you have finally arrived. I was beginning to worry that I would have to send a footman out to search for you. More than one guest has found themselves hopelessly turned around, especially on the upper floors. These hallways can seem like a rabbit warren to those unfamiliar with them.”

Was the countess trying to be witty? Or was she scolding them for being tardy? Charlotte was tempted to ask if they had misplaced a great number of houseguests over the years, but the pleading glance from her grandfather made her hold her tongue. He so wanted her to make a good impression. And she truly did strive to please him.

“It seems like a splendid party, my lady,” Lord Reginald said. “I greatly look forward to the dancing later this evening and I insist you save not one, but two dances for me.”

“I would be honored,” the countess replied, blushing slightly. Then she turned her attention toward Charlotte and looked her up and down with thoughtful eyes. “The earl and I have greatly valued your grandfather’s friendship over the years. It is my dearest wish that our two families become even closer, hopefully through the younger generation.”

Charlotte willed herself not to move a muscle, unsure if she should feel flattered or annoyed. The countess was certainly being presumptuous and hardly subtle. What if Charlotte decided she did not want to marry her son?

“Ah, so there you are at last. I have been despondent for over an hour, pining away in the corner like a lost dog. I was beginning to lose hope that I would ever set eyes upon you again, and now, finally my diligence has been rewarded.”

Charlotte recognized the male voice. She turned and gifted her rescuer with her most dazzling smile. “Mr. Barringer. How truly delightful to see you.”

Jonathan Barringer was the earl and countess’s younger son. At twenty-one, he was a handsome, fun-loving rogue, with a biting sense of humor. As a boy, he had been daring, athletic and surprisingly sensitive. He had matured into a fine-looking man; blond, blue-eyed, with a tall, strapping body. Charlotte had always liked him.

“I do not understand why you persist on referring to me as Mr. Barringer,” he grumbled. “We have known each other for ages.” He lifted her gloved hand, turned it palm up and kissed the sensitive bare flesh on the inside of her wrist. “I insist you call me Jonathan.”

Charlotte’s smile widened at his obvious charm and teasing flirtation. He always made her feel special.

The countess sniffed with disdain. “Miss Aldridge is acting like a proper young lady, displaying her good breeding and manners. Unlike you. Everyone knows that first-name familiarity should be reserved for family members.”

“Such as a husband and wife?” Jonathan asked with an innocent smile. “Are you suggesting that I marry Miss Aldridge, just so I may hear my Christian name uttered by her luscious lips? Goodness, Mother, that is a bit forward, even for you.”

The countess’s eyes widened with shock. Two spots of color appeared high on her cheeks, but before she could scold her younger son, he whisked Charlotte away.

“You are a very wicked man, Jonathan Barringer,” Charlotte declared with a laugh the moment they were out of earshot.

“She almost makes it too easy for me,” Jonathan replied with an answering grin.

Charlotte nodded, but said nothing else. Though he might tease her mercilessly, she knew Jonathan loved his mother and would tolerate no criticism of her from an outsider.

“Come, let’s mingle,” Jonathan suggested.

After only a slight hesitation, Charlotte rested her hand on the sleeve of his coat. She would rather stand off by herself and wait for people to come to her, but she understood Jonathan’s responsibilities as a host. So for his sake she smiled politely and greeted the other guests, and even managed not to squirm when several of the women looked her up and down with the scrutiny of a cat sizing up a mouse.

Their slightly raised eyebrows made her doubly glad she had insisted on wearing the diamond necklace. The jewels felt warm against her skin, bringing her comfort and confidence. They set off the details of her gown to perfection and Charlotte knew she was the prettiest girl at the party.

“Have I told you yet how marvelous you look?” Jonathan asked, almost as if reading her thoughts.

“You have not, sir,” Charlotte replied, playfully tapping her closed fan on his forearm.

“Forgive me, fair maiden. You are truly a vision tonight.”

“So it was worth the wait?” Charlotte wanted to know.

“More than you will ever know.”

Charlotte lowered her eyelids, then gazed up through her long lashes. “I simply had to look my best this evening.”

Jonathan drew his face closer to hers. “Why?”

“Because you are here.”

They both laughed. It was marvelous, harmless fun to flirt with Jonathan. She had long held a deep affection for him, similar to what she believed she would have felt if she had been lucky enough to have had a brother.

Jonathan snatched two champagne goblets from a passing servant and handed her one. Charlotte smiled, pleased he remembered how much she liked the bubbly nectar. The evening progressed and Charlotte found herself beginning to relax and enjoy herself, thanks to Jonathan’s witty companionship.

A sudden rustle of interest from a few of the women sitting near them caught Charlotte’s attention. Fans were raised to cover their mouths as whispered conversations began. Charlotte turned in the direction they looked and saw Lord Edward Barringer standing beside his mother. She had heard that he was due to return home from London sometime this evening and was not expected to arrive at the party until much later.

Charlotte had not seen Lord Edward for several years and she could understand why he was now the center of so much female attention. He cut a dashing figure in his black evening attire. He was tall and broad-shouldered, lean yet muscular in stature.

His curling dark hair was neatly trimmed to the edge of his shirt collar. His white cravat made his skin appear tanned and healthy and emphasized his uncompromising jaw, and bold nose. Though she could not clearly see his eyes, Charlotte remembered they were an unusual amber-gold color.

There were other attractive, eligible men in attendance, yet judging by the reaction of the women, both married and single, Lord Edward was the most sought after.

Charlotte wondered if he was still cautious by nature. And sincerely hoped he was not.

The music started again. This time the guests began to pair off for dancing, with the earl and countess in the lead. Playing the part of host, Lord Edward first partnered the older women who desired a turn on the dance floor and next began escorting the younger ones. To Charlotte’s great annoyance, he barely glanced in her direction.

“Dance with me, Jonathan,” Charlotte insisted, becoming tired of standing on the sidelines and waiting to be noticed by the high-and-mighty Lord Edward.

“But I am supposed to partner—”

“Wonderful. It’s a quadrille,” Charlotte interrupted, allowing her friend no opportunity to protest. She grasped his hand and led the way, making certain they were the fourth couple within a particular set of dancers.

Initially, her mind was distracted, but fortunately Jonathan was an excellent dancer. He guided her through the movements with skill and confidence. Charlotte’s nerves settled and she wove in and out gracefully, humming along to the music. Then she executed a half turn and found herself face-to-face with Lord Edward.

He smiled, displaying a row of straight, white teeth that gleamed like pearls.

Charlotte missed a step.

Her feet felt clumsy, and she was momentarily off balance. Jonathan immediately came to her rescue. He clasped her about the waist and centered her in the correct position. They repeated the pattern of the dance and this time Charlotte thought she was ready. But when Lord Edward grinned at her a second time, her mind spun with possibilities.

Her senses reeled and her mind whirred and her pulse hammered with excitement. She could feel the heat emanating from his skin, could smell the soap with which he had bathed. She had the strangest urge to reach out and rest her palm on his chest, but thankfully there was no opportunity to indulge her whimsy.

This was not what she had expected.

The dance ended, but before Jonathan could escort her off the floor, Charlotte moved to place herself directly in front of his brother.

“I believe the next is your dance, Lord Edward.”

It was a bold move, but Charlotte decided it was past time to test his lordship’s intentions.

“I am honored, Miss Aldridge,” Lord Edward Barringer answered in a neutral tone.

He bowed, then looked up. She offered him a smile that would melt the bones of a lesser man, but Edward was not fully taken in by it.

He had known Charlotte Aldridge since they were both children, and he clearly remembered the one thing she had always excelled at was getting her own way. Apparently that had not changed. He had no doubts that the man who succumbed to that smile would dance to her merry tune for the rest of his days.

Nevertheless, duty demanded that he be a polite host. This was as good a time as any to engage in the one obligatory dance of the evening he had promised his mother he would make with each female guest. Though he was honest enough to admit that dancing with Charlotte would hardly be a chore.

Edward was surprised to feel a pang of momentary disappointment when the dance was announced. It was another quadrille, not the expected waltz. Though in retrospect, he decided perhaps it was better not to hold this lovely young creature in his arms.

Her green eyes sparkled with lively interest as they took their positions. They began moving the moment the musicians struck the correct chords.

Edward was an intelligent man, a keen observer of people, but it was not necessary to notice every nuance to quickly see Charlotte’s game. She flirted openly with him, and though he tried not to be, Edward found himself amused at the enticing way she smiled whenever he touched her hand.

She was a very lovely girl. She had high cheekbones, an upturned nose, a generous mouth and skin that resembled the finest porcelain. The blond streaks in her honey-brown hair shimmered in the glow of the candlelight and he wondered if its length went to just beyond her shoulders or fell as far down as her waist.

Her gown was a deep shade of green that matched her eyes. Styled in the latest fashion, it accentuated her hourglass figure and was flounced at the bodice and hem with yards of intricate lace. And while he thought it ridiculous for a girl of her age to be wearing such a sophisticated piece of jewelry, he had to admit the necklace looked stunning on her.

The diamonds framed the neckline of her gown perfectly, drawing the eye to the soft swells of her breasts above the top of her emerald silk gown. And what impressive breasts they were. Miss Aldridge had a tall, willowy figure, but there was nothing slender about her chest.

“Your grandfather told me you made your curtsey to the queen this past spring,” Edward said, the next time they came close. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Sometimes. But eventually the endless parties started to become boring. Everywhere you go, you always see the same faces. I was quite content to return home. As for the queen . . .” Charlotte’s voice trailed off.

Edward’s brow lifted in surprise. Most young women of his acquaintance were in awe of the monarch. “Were you not impressed with her regal bearing and majesty?”

“Personally, I think she takes herself a bit too seriously,” Charlotte confided in a hushed whisper.

Edward had difficulty holding back his laughter, but he feared that would only encourage her to make more outlandish remarks. So he managed to restrain himself.

“I was not in London this Season,” Edward said. “I spent most of the past year abroad.”

“On the grand tour?”

Edward nearly groaned. Unlike his contemporaries, he had spent his time on the continent studying, learning and working hard, determined to gain the knowledge he needed to make himself a successful businessman.

“I visited various European capitals,” he answered evasively. “It was very enlightening.”

“I assumed you had not been in Town,” Charlotte replied. “I am certain I would have remembered if our paths had crossed.”

She gave him another enthralling smile and Edward had the strangest sensation that he was suddenly the only person in the room with her. He blinked and shook his head vigorously to ward off the feeling.

He was not searching for a romantic entanglement. Or a bride. At twenty-three, Edward believed he was still too young, too unsettled, too financially insecure to take a wife. One day he would inherit his father’s title and become the next earl, but alas, there would be no great fortune to accompany his new status.

Being a sensible and forward-thinking man, Edward was determined to fix that problem. His plans to achieve financial solvency for himself and his family would require all his concentration, a considerable amount of his time and a bit of good luck. There was no room in the equation for a young bride.

Especially someone like Charlotte Aldridge. She was clever and charming and far too lovely. Her perfume was a delicate fragrance, reminiscent of violets. The scent lingered in the air, charging him with a restless, reckless feeling. The less he had to do with her, the better.

The steps of the dance called for them to momentarily separate, and he watched her make a graceful pirouette, her gown floating softly around her calves and ankles. When her shapely legs came into clear view, he could hear the buzz of gossip starting from the group of stiff-necked matrons who were sitting around the edges of the dance floor, watching their every move.

She seemed unaware of it, but then, for an instant, her thoughtful eyes locked with his and a delicately fine eyebrow arched in amusement. The little minx! She was well aware of the sensation she was causing and clearly it did not bother her a bit. Quite the contrary, she seemed to enjoy causing a stir.

Edward was unsure if he felt relief or disappointment when their dance came to an end. As Charlotte sank into a final curtsey, there was no mistaking the welcoming interest in her eyes. Yet he answered her with a polite, remote gaze.

Everyone shuffled about, regrouping for the next dance. Charlotte was claimed by Lord Haddon, a pleasant-looking young viscount. As Edward watched her take the floor, she turned her head and tilted her chin in a provocative pose toward the viscount.

The gesture merely confirmed Edward’s earlier opinion—Miss Charlotte Aldridge would be a bundle of trouble for any man who chose to take her on.

The following day, breakfast was served in the morning room, which overlooked the gardens at the back of the estate. When at home, Charlotte seldom left her bedchamber before noon, but at Farmington Manor she found herself wide awake the moment the sun rose.

Memories of the dance she had shared with Lord Edward last night lingered in her mind. Those recollections had made her dreams. . .