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The Wallflower's Mistletoe Wedding
Amanda McCabe
A country Christmas at Barton ParkPlain, sensible Rose Parker is a self-proclaimed wallflower, but she’s always dreamt of dancing with Captain Harry St George…Once, Harry wouldn’t even have noticed Rose. But now, after a hard war, Harry’s knows he’s a different man. Shy, sweet Rose intrigues him more than any gregarious young lady – but he must marry a rich bride to save his mortgaged estates – and Rose is no heiress. Now, more than ever, Harry needs the magic of a mistletoe kiss…
A country Christmas at Barton Park
Plain, sensible Rose Parker is a self-proclaimed wallflower, but she’s always dreamed of dancing with Captain Harry St George...
Once, Harry wouldn’t even have noticed Rose. But now, after a hard war, Harry knows he’s a different man. Shy, sweet Rose intrigues him more than any gregarious young lady—but he must marry a rich bride to save his mortgaged estates...and Rose is no heiress. Now, more than ever, Harry needs the magic of a mistletoe kiss...
‘You need an heiress,’ Harry heard his brother say in his mind. An heiress would indeed be an answer for Hilltop. And he himself would admit that companionship, a partner, would be most welcome.
Harry looked down at Helen—at her brilliant smile, the flash of jewels in her hair—and for an instant felt the tug of temptation towards a life that had never been his. A life of carefree glitter.
And then, over the swirl of the dancers, he glimpsed Rose Parker, laughing with the other musicians as her slender fingers skipped lightly over the keys. And he was drawn towards her soft warmth that was like a fire on a cold day, sustaining and sweet.
But Rose deserved far more than he had to offer—a wounded soldier whose house was falling down around him. That was one thing he did know for sure
Author Note (#u6c94411c-bb8c-56ea-bce8-484a43a54129)
When I was a child, my grandmother loved Christmas! I loved visiting her house at that time of year, because she had a huge tree covered with sparkling glass ornaments, dishes full of candy and a pair of beautiful antique Santa and Mrs Santa dolls, which sat high on a shelf because I was allowed to look but not to play with them. Now they belong to me I still don’t play with them, afraid she might be watching from on high! I think she inherited this love of Christmas from her own grandmother, who grew up at the end of that heyday of Christmas: the Victorian Age.
The people of the Regency era weren’t quite as elaborate in their celebration of Christmas as those of the Victorian age, but they did have a fun-filled family holiday. Even though there weren’t large evergreen trees there was greenery: holly, ivy, rosemary, and mistletoe boughs that are very useful for romance authors. On Christmas Day, there might be small gifts—books, handkerchiefs, maybe toys for the children—a walk to church and then a large, merry dinner, with roasted goose, mincemeat pies and puddings, followed by games like Bob Apple and Snapdragon. On Boxing Day the servants would be given their gifts and maybe some time off to visit their own families.
I loved getting to spend time in a Regency Christmas, and to remember some of my own childhood traditions, too! If you’d like more of a peek behind the history, please visit my website at ammandamccabe.com (http://www.ammandamccabe.com).
The Wallflower’s Mistletoe Wedding
Amanda McCabe
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
AMANDA McCABE wrote her first romance at the age of sixteen—a vast epic, starring all her friends as the characters, written secretly during algebra class. She’s never since used algebra, but her books have been nominated for many awards, including the RITA®, Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award, the Booksellers’ Best, the National Readers’ Choice Award, and the Holt Medallion. She lives in Oklahoma with her husband, one dog and one cat.
Books by Amanda McCabe
Mills & Boon Historical Romance
and Mills & Boon Historical Undone! eBooks
Bancrofts of Barton Park
The Runaway Countess
Running from Scandal
Running into Temptation (Undone!)
Tudor Queens
The Winter Queen
Tarnished Rose of the Court
Linked by Character
A Notorious Woman
A Sinful Alliance
High Seas Stowaway
Shipwrecked and Seduced (Undone!)
Stand-Alone Novels
The Taming of the Rogue
Betrayed by His Kiss
The Demure Miss Manning
The Queen’s Christmas Summons
The Wallflower’s Mistletoe Wedding
More Mills & Boon Historical Undone! eBooks by Amanda McCabe
To Court, Capture and Conquer
Girl in the Beaded Mask
Unlacing the Lady in Waiting
One Wicked Christmas
An Improper Duchess
A Very Tudor Christmas
Visit the Author Profile page
at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk) for more titles.
To the memory of my grandmother, Roberta McCabe, who loved the magic of Christmas.
Contents
Cover (#u8fdabaa6-248e-53b0-86af-a29e76236d1e)
Back Cover Text (#u38aa1a0e-cc06-5151-ab72-a95212c3fd15)
Introduction (#ud2c49601-944d-5846-ad93-013fe76bcfb7)
Author Note (#ua9f80a75-c6bf-575f-abcc-1fd21ef6b484)
Title Page (#u9678b461-9df3-58b7-bc13-4509116cbfac)
About the Author (#u5c0132e8-600d-5946-8858-17cac349eea5)
Dedication (#ue47acac1-07ff-5f5a-9ed7-64025da0631b)
Prologue (#u2f92602d-394b-54fc-b1b7-ce231963e816)
Chapter One (#u41b2a90d-833e-53d7-b1c3-78a740f40983)
Chapter Two (#ua979b1b0-5bc4-57db-a464-eaa1cf9899d2)
Chapter Three (#u10ee3337-a67e-58c1-906c-2f1df01c7823)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue (#u6c94411c-bb8c-56ea-bce8-484a43a54129)
Barton Park—summer 1820
‘Oh, Rose! Doesn’t the music just make you want to twirl and twirl and twirl?’
Rose Parker sat back on her heels and laughed as she watched her sister, Lily, spin in an exuberant circle, her new white lace and tulle skirts like a great cloud. The music from the party floated up to their chamber and it was indeed very twirly. ‘You won’t twirl for long if I don’t finish that hem. It will come unravelled and you will trip and fall flat on your face—right in front of Mr Hewlitt.’
Lily came to an abrupt stop, stumbling on her satin slippers. ‘Oh, no, Rose!’ she cried, her pretty, heart-shaped face full of stark fear. ‘I could never do such a thing. How he would despise me!’
Rose laughed again. She couldn’t help it; her sister’s adorable ways were always too funny. ‘Lily, my dearest, Mr Hewlitt would never in a thousand years despise you for anything. In fact, stumbling and falling into his arms would probably only make him worship you more as his delicate angel.’
A tiny smile broke through Lily’s pout. ‘I—well, perhaps so. He is so terribly sweet.’
‘And terribly sweet on you. Mama says he will surely ask you something very important indeed tonight,’ Rose said. She did have to tease Lily just a bit, as she always had, even when her sister was a tiny, golden-curled cherub prone to blushing and shrieking when provoked. But she was serious, too. Mr Hewlitt had been stammering his way up to just such a moment for weeks and this ball at their cousins’ home at Barton Park to celebrate midsummer seemed the perfect opportunity. It was true that he was a curate with only a middling income, yet everyone could see how good he was at his calling, so caring and energetic. Surely a bishopric waited for him one day!
And he adored Lily, as she did him. Together the two of them were as adorable as a box of new puppies.
Rose was happy for her sister, yet wistful, too. With just herself and their mother, their cottage would be much too quiet. Too lonely.
Rose sighed. She would have to procure a kitten, or mayhap a songbird. Wasn’t that what useful spinsters did? Collect pets, especially cats, and knit them little sweaters and such? It sounded rather diverting.
‘Come, dearest Lily, let me finish the hem,’ she said. ‘Or the dancing will be over before Mr Hewlitt can find you.’
Lily climbed back on to the low stool, watching in the mirror with a little frown as Rose plied her needle through the delicate beaded tulle. ‘Do you really, truly think he will propose?’
‘Of course he will.’
‘Do—do you think I should accept, then? Right away?’
Rose was surprised at her sister’s suddenly unsure, quiet tone. She glanced up to see that Lily did indeed look worried, something most uncharacteristic. She quickly thought back on Mr Hewlitt’s courtship: his visits to the cottage, his little gifts of bouquets and books of poetry, his walks with Lily, the way they stared at each other as if there was no one else around at all. Had she missed something? ‘Do you have doubts, dearest? Has he done something—ungentlemanly?’ She couldn’t quite imagine that, but then again one never really knew with men. Look how their own father had concealed his debts, his terrible gambling habits, from his wife and daughters until he died and they were cast out of their home.
Surely Mr Hewlitt would never do that. If he dared to hurt Lily in any way, Rose would murder him.
‘Oh, no, not at all! It’s just—’ Lily broke off, biting her lip. ‘Well, what will you and Mama do?’
‘Oh, Lily.’ Rose gave her the most reassuring smile she could manage. Was that not the very same question she had asked herself since Father died? ‘You must not worry about that, dearest. We will be absolutely fine. Indeed, I’m quite looking forward to making your chamber into my very own sitting room. The mind reels at the thought of so much space! I will be just like a duchess with my own suite.’
Lily laughed, as well she would. Their cottage was approximately the size of a thimble, even with Lily’s extra little chamber they had built at the back. ‘And you will visit me very often, won’t you? I won’t be far away.’
