Dinner was filled with fun-filled conversation and laughter. Once they were happily satisfied, they returned to the modest sitting area where a multitude of packages awaited. They all took a seat where they could, and as her siblings excitedly tore into the packages, Pleasant’s eyes filled with tears at the generosity from Lord and Lady Haverton.

When Fiona opened her gift to find a new doll, Louisa remarked, “Papa thought Fi should have a brand new doll instead of one of my old ones. I agreed.”

Pleasant laughed as the boys also opened presents amid similar, jubilant smiles, and she couldn’t help that Cornell was right.

It truly was a Christmas miracle.

Once the merriment had simmered down somewhat, Cornell rose to his feet. He brought Pleasant with him to stand before the mantel. As they stood underneath the kissing bough, he addressed the assembled. “I’m sure you all know that, for the past three weeks, this woman has been my apprentice. She is quite skilled at the trade, and I fear that someday, she might actually teach me a thing or two.”

Pleasant smiled amid a few chuckles. But when he turned to face her, her breathing stuttered. And when he dropped down on one knee, she couldn’t stop a gasp from escaping. He withdrew a small box from his jacket pocket and opened the lid. “Miss Hill, you have taught me what it means to be an honorable man. I may have fought in numerous battles for king and country, but it was you who showed me what it truly means to be a man, and what the power of love and forgiveness can do. Will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”

A sob escaped from her throat, but she managed to nod and answer with a rather squeaky, “Yes!” He rose to his feet and slipped the exquisite, emerald ring on her finger.

She threw her arms around him and kissed him unabashedly in front of their entire family. “I love you, Cornell,” she sighed happily.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he drawled. “And so will Madame Caron when she delivers your trousseau.”

She looked at him with sudden understanding. “That was your order?”

“You dared to think otherwise?” he teased, and then he brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I love you, Pleasant.” He glanced up at the kissing bough and looked back at her with genuine affection shining from his eyes. “And I promise that I always will.”

Epilogue

One year later…

Galway, Ireland

“When are they going to get here?” Fiona asked impatiently.

“Stop whining.” Niall rolled his eyes, but there was a decided twitch to his mouth.

Fi turned on him with a mutinous glare. “Louisa is my friend!” She pointed an accusing finger at Conner. “And I know he’s excited to see Freddy. He writes to him as much as I do Louisa.”

“That may be true.” Niall shrugged. “But at least he doesn’t look like a lost puppy dog with its nose pressed against the glass.”

“Must you all bicker constantly?” Three pairs of eyes turned to their elder sister. Pleasant was sitting in the parlor with her siblings, crocheting a pair of booties for the child that would arrive any day. But at her rebuking tone, her siblings fell silent.

“Sorry, Pea,” they grumbled in unison.

But the moment the sound of a carriage could be heard rumbling along the drive, they all jumped to their feet and ran out the door, even Niall, who nearly ran his brother-in-law over in the doorway.

“Whoa!” Cornell laughed as he shook his head and joined his wife on the settee. “Someone is excited about Lord and Lady Haverton’s visit.”

Pleasant rolled her eyes as she set aside her project. Cornell wrapped his arm around her shoulders and she snuggled into her husband’s embrace. The familiar, comforting scents of evergreen and cinnamon floated on the air, and she thought of how far they had come in just twelve months. The time seemed endless, and yet it had flown by. While this time of year would always be bittersweet because of her stepmother’s death, she was thankful for the new life that would soon make an appearance.

“It was rather generous of your brother to sign over this cottage to us as a wedding gift, although I still find it hard some days to imagine that I’m truly back in Ireland.” As she spoke, she could hear the waves crashing against the emerald coast beyond and felt well and truly…content.

“I don’t,” he returned dryly. “For your accent is becoming more pronounced.”

“Is it?” she pondered. “I hadn’t noticed.”

He kissed her temple. “While here I notice everything about you, my love.”

She lifted her head and grinned at him. “That, coming from a master cordwainer,” she teased.

“Indeed.” He wagged his brows at her. “I’m becoming quite famous in my trade.”

She trailed her fingers across his chest. “But don’t forget that I am a quite sought after seamstress as well.”

His eyes darkened with desire as he halted her movements. “I don’t think such vigorous activity is advisable in your condition, Mrs. Reed. Not to mention it would be the height of impropriety should we wait too long to greet our guests.”

She sighed dramatically. “You’re right, of course. We wouldn’t want to take advantage of such a rare, stolen moment…”

He growled deep in his throat, and she knew that she had him exactly where she wanted him. He pulled her to her feet and captured her mouth in a drugging kiss, the kind that never failed to weaken her knees. “Let’s go upstairs.”

She grinned as she looked above them, where one of several kissing boughs was strung about their home. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Copyright © 2020 by Tabetha Waite

Cover Art by Wicked Smart Designs

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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This story is for any girl who has ever wished on a star, picked petals off a flower, or prayed for her one true love. And may those men be worthy of that love.

Chapter 1

London, England

December 1, 1815

Miss Emary Pageant studied her reflection in the mirror. She turned right, then left, then back again to make sure that everything was absolute perfection. Her white satin gown with its silver overlay had to flow precisely with her movements. Her hair was pulled into an elegant chignon, the style taking her ladies’ maid nearly an hour to complete, but the efforts had not been in vain. A riot of sable curls framed her face and complimented her creamy complexion and expressive brown eyes. She’d even dared to apply a bit of color to her cheeks and lips, for she had to look her absolute best this evening.

The reason?

Lord Donovan Wainwright, Duke of Windwood, had arrived in town for his mother’s ball, and she, Miss Emary Pageant, intended to be the one to bring the elusive bachelor to heel.

Satisfied with her appearance, Emary grabbed her reticule and headed downstairs. Her parents were waiting for her in the foyer, and when her mother spied her, she clasped her hands together over her bosom. “Oh, my darling, you look lovely!”

Emary grinned broadly. She could only hope that a certain gentleman would think the same. She wasn’t nervous or worried about the upcoming encounter, because she knew that her chances of ensnaring the duke’s affections were quite good. While some might think that sounded rather conceited, she had taken such painstaking efforts with her appearance that surely no other outcome could be ascertained. Not only that, but she had been told, quite frequently over the past several months, that she was one of the most sought after debutantes of the Season.

Throwing her purple velvet cloak around her shoulders, Emary climbed into the coach, placing her hands demurely in her lap as she sat across from her parents, the Viscount and Viscountess Armenton. They were only a couple blocks away from where the ball would be held, and while it might have been quicker to walk the short distance to the Windwood residence on Albemarle Street, the brisk, winter air would not have helped Emary’s complexion. Besides, her father would have likely suffered an apoplexy at just the suggestion. When one was part of a well-to-do aristocratic family, one arrived in comfort and style.