“Are you ready?”

Henry shook his head. “No.” In fact, he was terrified.

“I warned them to be nice. They will love you.” She hooked her arm through his and rested her hand on his elbow, gazing up at him with a dreamy smile. “More handsome than I remember.”

“You don’t need to flatter me. I will be meeting your family… my family, no matter what.”

“I won't take it back,” she teased, scrunching her nose. “Let’s stay out here for one moment longer.”

Behind her, a dog began barking from inside, and a child began laughing maniacally.

“Oh drat, sounds like Ethan dressed up Pickles again from the costume box.”

“Pickles? There’s a dog?”

“Oh, yes. The cutest little pug that has the most monstrous snore. And three birds all named Jane because Daniel couldn’t pick a name, and a rabbit named Mr. Phineas. Then there are the cats, Muffin and Porkchop.”

He scratched his jaw, laughing at himself once more. He had never had a pet as a young boy. And suddenly he was strapped with a small menagerie.

“You’ve opened your heart to me, Henry.” She pulled him through the front door and closed it behind him.

The smell of mulled wine and roast filled the air. Evergreens still decorated the windows and above them hung a mistletoe bough.

“I promise, it’ll be worth it.”

“You don’t have to promise anything.” He sighed, still with the weight of the world upon him to make right of a family legacy left in shambles but suddenly feeling at home. “I believe you. Where you are, I am. No matter what.”

The piano struck up, a favorite of Henry’s, though he was loath to admit it.

Tilly helped him from his coat and hung it on a hook, grabbing his hand to direct him down the hall.

In a few short hours, he would begin a new year with as much possibility as there was uncertainty. But he felt… hopeful.

“Come on,” she laughed, tugging again when he wouldn’t budge.

“I can’t on principle.”

She gazed back, her brow arched. Tilly was wearing a simple purple dress with her hair swept up and a crooked paper crown nearly two sizes too small.

He pointed to the mistletoe bough above them and shrugged.

“Fair point,” she counted.

Tilly walked up to Henry and placed her hands on his cheeks, smiling. “I know we’re all leaving in the morning, but welcome home, Husband. And kiss me.”

THE END

Thank you for reading IN PURSUIT OF A CHRISTMAS BRIDE!

This is the prequel to the Society of Scandalous Brides series. Find out what happens next when reformed rake Lieutenant Rafe Davies decides to play matchmaker to a jilted bride. Pre-order your copy HERE or read on for a sneak peek…

SNEAK PEEK OF IN WANT OF A WIFE

CHAPTER 1

Cumbria, 1823

Felton wasn’t coming.

Lily braced her gloved hand over her stomach and sucked in a sharp breath, scanning the restless crowd before her in the pews of the small chapel.

Her father snapped his pocket watch shut and stuffed it into his maroon brocade vest.

She was a jilted bride.

Again.

“Can you please close the door?” she whispered to her father. She remained frozen, even as her heart drummed relentlessly in her ears. Her fingertips were freezing. Strange, considering it was a warm May day.

He grumbled, crumbling Felton’s short missive in his meaty hands.

“Father?”

She couldn’t stomach the pitying looks. The clock struck eleven, and she squeezed her eyes closed, willing back the tears.

“What’s wrong with you, Lily?” he hissed. He tossed the bridegroom’s missive aside. It bounced off the potted fern and rolled onto the stone floor. “What did you say to him? You must have done something.”

“Now, Mr. Abrams,” Felton’s father said, finally shutting the door and providing some privacy in the small foyer. “I saw my son at breakfast only two hours ago, and I… I am quite confused as to why he’s not here. There must be a good reason.”

Lily wasn’t confused.

Felton Lloyd, the Viscount of Harlington, would have made an excellent husband, albeit a boring one at nearly fifteen years her senior. Their marriage would have brought some much-needed security into her world. Just as her first betrothed, William Crainfeld, would have with his mining business. And while marrying the viscount would have stopped the wagging tongues of the ton as to why she was left at the altar the first time around, her being jilted again only added to her biggest problem—her reputation.

No man wished to marry a woman who might as well have been married to studying the stars. Her stepmother had even gone so far as to lock up her telescope to keep her focused on the impending nuptials.

Her father’s wide face reddened like a strawberry under the late June sun. “You can’t run away from this, Lily. You have ruined us.”

Unlikely, considering her father was the second son of an earl and the Abrams were considered a very esteemed family in London. Which was all the more reason the viscount was eager for the match.

Lily vaulted a quick glance between the two older men, then edged backward for the exit.

“Forgive me, I need a… moment.”

What she needed was a husband.

Lily spun and hurried outside, ripping off her bonnet and ignoring the shouts behind her as she raced through the fields toward home.