Chapter 1
The nobs, fobs, and fops careened around Cameron Dunmore, the Earl of Queensgrace, like spinning tops set loose on the streets of London. Hither and thither, grown men raced from shop to shop on Bond Street, packages overflowing from their arms. Since Scotland really didn’t celebrate Christmas, such a sight should have been highly entertaining.
However, Cam ignored the bustle as he’d found what he was looking for, and she was definitely more intriguing than spinning tops. He leaned close to the boy selling roasted chestnuts from the small cart beside him. “See that lass yonder?”
The boy scrunched his nose then followed Cam’s pointed finger. “Yes, m’ lord.” The boy’s gaze jerked back to Cam. “You are a lord, ain’ you?”
Cam nodded gently. “Scottish.”
The boy nodded once in answer as if that one word explained everything, then rubbed his hands over the fire where he roasted his chestnuts. He blew out a breath, and a wave of white steam escaped.
“Now, I have a job for you.” Cam pulled out a brand-new guinea and held it between his thumb and forefinger. “This is yours if you approach that bonnie lass and give her a bag of chestnuts.” Magically, he pulled another from his cuff. “They’re both yours if you give her the nuts and this.” Gently, he reached into his waistcoat pocket and retrieved a rose posy, somewhat smashed but still vibrant in color.
The boy tilted his head and regarded him. With fingerless gloves on his hands, he nimbly took the posy, then straightened the flowers and tidied the lace ribbon holding the small bouquet together. Satisfied with his work, he tipped his hat to Cam. “I’ll have ’er eatin’ out of m’ hand. Watch m’ cart.” Without waiting for a reply, he set off to give the tokens to the lovely lady not ten paces away.
Cam’s gut tightened. He’d have approached her himself, but after the way he’d made a mash of proposing to her, he didn’t want to cause her further embarrassment. He’d told her sister, Miss March Lawson, that he’d planned to come the next day and propose, but his only sister, Lara, had summoned him immediately.
Her husband of twelve years, Ewan MacFarland, had died of a lung infection. Beside herself with no one except Cam to turn to, Lara had begged for him to return to Edinburgh. Stupidly, Cam had sent a note to his one true love’s sister, but not to her. He blinked and said a little prayer.
Father, give me another chance. It’s all I’ll ever ask for this Christmastide.
His hands tightened into fists by his sides as the boy spoke to Miss Julia Lawson, the fairest lass in all the kingdom. Even London, the most jaded town in all the British Isles, proclaimed her the bonniest lass of all. Even The Midnight Cryer, the vilest gossip rag ever to have been printed, had crowned her a diamond of the first water.
Cam had never understood the expression, but he knew it was something rare and beautiful—just like her. With eyes bluer than sapphires and hair that would rival the most brilliant sun, she stood at an angle that allowed him to gaze his fill.
He tried to shake the trepidation that felt like a dead weight on his shoulders. That Julia would welcome him with open arms was highly doubtful. After he’d raced back from Scotland, he’d called upon her twice at McCalpin House. Always she’d been “out” and unavailable. Both times when Cam had left, he’d felt as if someone was watching him. He’d always wondered if it was her, or just his wishful imagination. But today he’d found her and wouldn’t let her go without first explaining himself. He could only hope that she’d not cut him directly and walk out of his life forever.
“Miss, I have somethin’ for ye.” The small boy who sold chestnuts on the street corner had left his post and stood before Julia. His big brown eyes and soft brown curls could melt an iceberg in the Arctic Sea. He handed her a bag of still-warm chestnuts, and a rather smashed but brilliant posy made up of red roses, her favorite. The roses reminded her of the bouquet that arrived on her doorstep every week.
“Oh, how thoughtful.” She opened her reticule to retrieve a coin for payment. “Thank you. How did you know that I was hungry?”
Though he was only ten years old, her brother, Lord Bennett Lawson had accompanied her on the shopping trip for a few presents for their sisters and brothers-in-law. She had the perfect present, a new chess set, picked out for him, but she couldn’t buy it with him here.
Bennett bent over the bag and examined the treasures inside. With an exaggerated inhale he declared, “Amazing that the vendors now offer curb service.”
The boy selling chestnuts shook his head slightly as if unamused with her brother’s quip. “It’s from his lordship over thar.” The boy jabbed a thumb behind his shoulder.
When Julia smiled then glanced to see who’d sent such delightful gifts, she’d half expected one of her sisters and their husbands to be the responsible party.
She definitely didn’t expect to find him staring at her. From across the street, his gray eyes sparkled with a heat designed to melt away any remaining anger she possessed. His black greatcoat and beaver hat emphasized his towering height. The wind teased the long length of his chestnut-colored hair that brushed his shoulders. Why had he let it grow so long? He’d always been meticulous with his appearance, but truthfully, it only enhanced his masculine looks. Her heart always skipped a beat when she gazed at his sharply angled cheeks and handsome visage. Even with a slight bend on the bridge of his nose, he was striking. Ever since he’d told her that he’d broken it as a boy when his horse shied from making a jump, she’d been enthralled with him.
She pursed her lips. She didn’t have time to waste another second with thoughts of Cameron Dunmore, the Earl of Queensgrace—the man who’d jilted her even before he’d asked her to marry him.
“Will he ever leave you alone, Jules?” Bennett asked with his green eyes trained on Queensgrace. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle this man-to-man.”
Julia shot her hand out and grabbed Bennett by the arm stopping him from crossing the street. Unfortunately, it did little to tame the anger that had his nostrils flaring. “I appreciate what you’re doing, but allow me to discourage Lord—”
“Lord Lawson.” The earl stood before them, then elegantly nodded his greeting.
In retaliation, the young viscount lifted his chin another inch in the air.
Ignoring her brother’s rebuff, Lord Queensgrace settled his brilliant gaze on hers. “Miss Lawson, may I say that you are a ray of warm sunshine from the heavens on this cold, dreary London morning.” The earl took her hand and gently squeezed it in greeting, then executed a perfect bow.
Bennett rolled his eyes.
The earl witnessed her brother’s dramatic gesture and laughed in response. The rich baritone wrapped around her like a heated blanket.
Which was appropriate as fire bludgeoned her cheeks. Bother it all. She didn’t want any part of his six-foot three-inch lean muscular body to have an effect on her. Yet here she stood on a London street corner blushing like a school girl with her first crush—never mind that he was her one and only crush. At first sight, she’d fallen in love with him. She’d have followed him to the ends of the earth until he’d crushed her with a broken promise of marriage.
Discreetly, the earl slipped something into the boy’s hand, and the little vendor skipped back to his cart. The earl’s gaze strayed to his boots as if struggling to find something to say. He rocked back on his heels.
“Julia—”
“Cam—”
They both chuckled awkwardly at speaking over the other. But when their gazes caught, the familiar magical electricity that always coursed through her body when he was near, laid claim over her. Then their silence turned from tongue-tied to familiar. It was more like an unspoken conversation between them.
His gray eyes softened. I missed you.
And I you. Hot tears gathered in her eyes. Every day since you left me.
Don’t cry, sweetheart. Give me another chance.
“Julia, we should leave.” Bennett tugged his gloves tightly as he waited for her to lead the way.
“One moment, Bennett.” To encourage her tears to evaporate, she turned her head into the biting December wind. It was pure madness to even consider allowing him back into her heart and into her life after he’d hurt her so.
The earl reached into his waistcoat pocket and withdrew a pristine embroidered handkerchief. Instead of blotting her eyes, she held it to her nose and inhaled. His fragrance of fresh cedar and sandalwood filled her lungs. It reminded her of the season and all those nights when he’d danced with her at the various ton events, practically declaring in front of London society that she was his.
She held his scent as long as she could. Another simple pleasure she’d missed in her life.
If she continued in such a manner, she’d make herself sick with grief. She was long past shedding tears and losing sleep over this man. “It’s good to see you, Queensgrace. I wish you a happy Christmastide.”
She clutched the handkerchief tight while she slipped her other hand through Bennett’s fingers. In response, he opened his mouth to protest such an act. She could recite his protest from memory since she’d heard it so many times. He was a man and didn’t need his sisters to look after him. She squeezed his hand with hers.
“Please, Bennett.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “It’s not for you, but for me. I need to hold your hand.” She’d steal whatever strength she could from his warmth.
“Wait. Please.” Queensgrace took a step nearer decreasing the distance between them. His tall and broad physique blocked the north wind’s assault. “Please, Julia…Jules. I beg of you.”
Her gaze snapped to his. Her family’s chosen nickname for Julia resonated like an invitation to sin when his deep heavy voice whispered her name. But the pleading in his words caught her by surprise.
“I’ll get down on my hands and knees, if that’s what it’ll take. Let me at least have a chance to explain what happened.”
She nodded once while still squeezing Bennett’s hand. “Come tomorrow at nine.”
It was Christmastide, and even Scottish louts, who were too handsome for their own good, deserved a little goodwill and glad tidings.