A Christmas Reunion Read online

  A Christmas Reunion

  By Susanna Fraser

  Gabriel Shepherd has never forgotten his humble origins. So when he discovers a war orphan at Christmastime, he resolves to find a home for her—even if that means asking help from the very family who found and raised him, only to cast him out for daring to love the wrong woman.

  Lady Catherine Trevilan has spent five years poring over the British Army’s casualty list, dreading the day she sees Gabe’s name. She’s never forgotten him, and she’s never forgiven herself for not running away with him when she had the chance, though she’s agreed to a marriage of convenience with a more suitable man.

  When Gabe returns home on Christmas leave just days before Cat’s wedding, a forbidden kiss confirms their feelings haven’t been dimmed by distance or time. But Cat is honor-bound to another, and Gabe believes she deserves better than a penniless soldier with an orphan in tow. How can Cat reconcile love and duty? She must convince Gabe she’d rather have him than the richest lord in all of England...

  27,000 words

  Dear Reader,

  Welcome to the November 2014 edition of the Dear Reader letter. This month, Carina Press and I share an anniversary: five years since we joined Harlequin! Harlequin has been an amazing home for both of us, showing support, enthusiasm and offering a team environment for both the business and for authors. I’m thrilled to have seen Carina Press and our authors grow to great success in sales, reviews, careers and awards in the five years since we opened our doors, and we believe things can only get better from here.

  In honor of the holiday season, two authors bring us holiday novellas. First, in Shannon Stacey’s contemporary romance, Her Holiday Man, two people, both wounded by love in the past, are brought together by a widow, a child’s joy, and the spirit of Christmas. Later in the month, star-crossed lovers Gabe and Cat meet again at Christmas after five years apart—just a week before she’s set to marry another man, in the historical romance A Christmas Reunion by Susanna Fraser.

  Lauren Dane is back with the third installment in her urban fantasy series, and this one is more romantic than ever! Don’t miss Rowan and Clive in Blade on the Hunt.

  As a follow-up to his incredibly popular romantic suspense Fair Game, male/male romance author Josh Lanyon brings us Fair Play, in which ex-FBI agent Elliot Mills must figure out who is willing to kill to keep his former ’60s radical father’s memoirs from being published.

  In Tempting the Player by Kat Latham, a rugby player’s extreme fear of flying keeps his career from taking off—until a sexy pilot tempts him into her cockpit to help him overcome his phobia...of planes and commitment. Joining Kat in returning with a contemporary romance is Stacy Gail with Where There’s a Will, the much-anticipated story of Coe, who won reader’s hearts in Starting from Scratch. This is one hero who will steal your heart, all because of the milk!

  Designed for Love by Kelsey Browning is also in our contemporary romance lineup in November. A former Houston socialite is out to prove she’s more than a blonde bobblehead by managing a huge construction project. When an environmentalist mucks up Ashton’s plans, she must rely on the blue-collar contractor who can either help her build her dreams or crush them.

  Last, but not least, of the fantastic contemporary romances is male/male romance In the Fire, the second part of the In the Kitchen duology by Nikka Michaels and Eileen Griffin. After spending the last eight years apart, chefs Ethan Martin and Jamie Lassiter have to decide whether to face the fire to get what they want or live a lifetime apart. Don’t miss the chemistry and emotional angst between Ethan and Jamie in this explosive duology.

  Two murders in two mansions in two weeks—what’s going on in Naples’ most glamorous neighborhood? For cozy mystery fans, Jean Harrington’s Murders by Design series should not be missed. Pick up her newest release, The Design Is Murder, or catch up with Designed for Death, The Monet Murders, Killer Kitchens and Rooms to Die For.

  This month we’re thrilled to welcome Edie Harris to our publishing team with Blood Money, her romantic suspense series that follows the lives and loves of a family of spies. In Blamed, A Blood Money Novel, we meet the first of the siblings. Beth Faraday, a former assassin who wants nothing more than to stay retired, finds her new life turning anything but normal when sexy British spy and ghost from her past Raleigh Vick shows up in Chicago, determined to protect her from the bounty that’s been placed on her head.

  Coming in December: Leah Braemel caps off her sexy cowboy romance trilogy, new author Caroline Kimberly is back with her sophomore historical romance, Michele Mannon concludes her knock-out MMA trilogy, and so much more!

  Here’s wishing you a wonderful month of books you love, remember and recommend.

  Happy reading!

  ~Angela James

  Editorial Director, Carina Press (Five years and counting!!)

  Dedication

  For Annabel, whose story has only begun to unfold.

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks as always go to my wonderful editor, Melissa Johnson, and to my critique partners, the ladies of the Demimonde: Alyssa Everett, Vonnie Hughes, Charlotte Russell and especially Rose Lerner.

  I also owe a debt of gratitude to the Beau Monde Chapter of Romance Writers of America for their encyclopedic knowledge of the Regency era and constant generosity in sharing their expertise.

  And, most of all, to my husband and daughter for their encouragement, advice and love. There’s nothing quite like the ideas a fourth grader, whose primary reading is fantasy involving cats or dragons, brings to drafting a historical romance plot! I apologize in advance to her for the low body count in this story and will strive to do better next time.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  London, December 19, 1810

  Five Christmases ago, Gabe had been driven from England in disgrace. Now he returned with a captain’s rank, dispatches from Lord Wellington to the commanders at Horse Guards, a measure of respect—and another man’s baby.

  When he returned to his inn from Horse Guards, the baby in question ran to him as fast as her toddling legs could carry her, crying, “Gabe! Gabe!”

  He scooped her into his arms and settled her on his hip. Strange how just a week ago such a pose had felt awkward and precarious, and now it was the most natural in the world. “I’m here.” He smoothed the little girl’s dark hair. “I told you I’d come back.”

  “She cried for you the entire time, Captain Shepherd.” A worried frown marred the inn landlady’s kind features.

  He snuggled the baby more closely against him. It warmed his heart to be missed by someone, even this tiny orphan. “It was very good of you to look after her.”

  “It’s no trouble. We aren’t so busy today, and I miss having children about now that mine are all grown. Also—” her eyes twinkled at him, “—you did say you’d pay extra.”

  He grinned back. “Indeed I will, and for everything else you’ve done for us.” The landlady had dug out a cradle, pointed Gabe to secondhand shops where he could buy suitable clothing and advised him on what a child her age ought to eat and drink.

  “Have you decided what to do with her when you go back to your regiment? There’s foundling homes, or you might pay someone to care for her.”

  He shook his head
. “Not a foundling home.” He’d been an orphan at Christmas once, too. The family who had found him had given him a home even before they’d suspected his true parentage. Now, twenty-five Christmases later, he couldn’t go back to Portugal until he’d made sure this child would be just as well cared for. “I’ll be writing my friends on her behalf tonight.”

  He hadn’t intended to tell the friends in question he was back in England—there was too great a chance they hadn’t yet forgiven him for the sin that had led to his exile. Still, for this child’s sake he’d set his guilt aside and risk their lingering wrath.

  Edenwell Court, Kent, December 20

  Cat always drifted into the breakfast room just after the post was delivered. Anthony wrote so faithfully now that they were engaged and it was proper for them to exchange letters. Such dear, amusing letters they were, too. When Aunt Edenwell had asked why she was marrying him, when she’d had richer and more handsome suitors, she’d explained that none of the others made her laugh so much. If she couldn’t be madly in love, at least she would go through her life as Lady Colville with a smile.

  There was always the chance, too, of a letter from one of her Trevilian cousins or some of the friends she’d made in her London Seasons. And if she happened to glance at the newspaper to make sure there were no familiar names on any casualty lists that might be printed there and to see if the Sixty-First Regiment of Foot had been mentioned in the latest dispatches, what of it? Neither her parents nor Lord and Lady Edenwell had ever thought it unladylike for a woman to take an interest in the wider world.

  So she couldn’t understand why Richard looked so startled and guilty as he stood when she walked in this morning. “Good morning, Cousin,” she said as she slipped past him to the sideboard to select a warm roll and pour herself a steaming cup of coffee.

  He smiled and resumed his seat, though he still seemed edgy. “A good morning to you, too, Kitty.”

  She’d given up hope her family would ever stop using that childish name. Anthony called her Catherine, which pleased her. If she sometimes missed a rich, teasing voice saying Lady Cat, she’d had five years to grow accustomed. They’d been so young then. It had been all mistletoe and infatuation, nothing more. Well, perhaps there had been a measure of rebellion, too—the plain defiance of bestowing her affections upon the forbidden baseborn foundling instead of the noble cousin her aunt and uncle had all but served up to her on a platter.

  If she prayed for him every night and lived in terror of seeing him on those casualty lists, it was only because she couldn’t bear it if he...if he died, all because Uncle Edenwell had kicked up such a fuss over a kiss. Well, perhaps there had been kisses in the plural, and it had been late at night with neither of them quite fully clothed. Still, she wasn’t ruined, and Gabe wasn’t a seducer. There had been no need to send him out of the country in disgrace.

  But it was impossible to change the past, so she made herself smile as she took a chair at Richard’s right. “Anything of interest in the post?” she asked.

  He shuffled the stack of papers and took a sip of his coffee before replying. “There’s a letter from Gabriel.”

  Good God. Gabe. She darted a glance at Richard’s letters, searching for Gabe’s firm, distinctive handwriting. No. She must be calm. Her heart must stop racing, immediately. With carefully steady hands, she took up her own cup and drank. She was calm. If she was blushing she couldn’t feel it. Why should she blush? She would be married in less than a fortnight. Gabe was...five years ago. “Oh?” she asked, pleased that the syllable came out tolerably composed. “I hope he is well. Does he have anything to say about Busaco, or those Lines of Torres Vedras that are so much in the papers?”

  Richard’s smile grew more relaxed and genuine. “Does Anthony know he’s marrying such a keen parlor tactician? He’s never taken a particular interest in the army or navy, beyond what any man in Parliament ought to know.”

  Cat shrugged. Her interest in the conduct of the war had begun as a disguise for her concern over the doings of the Sixty-First in particular, but had become genuine and general some time in the past five years. She’d even dreamed of being there herself, at Gabe’s side—but that could never be. “Still, he takes his career there very seriously, and he likes that I pay attention to the world.”

  Richard lifted his coffee cup to her in a sort of salute. “Yes, you will be an estimable hostess for him. It’s as well you and Harry never came to an understanding. You would’ve bored one another silly.”

  “I always knew we wouldn’t suit. I was sorry to disappoint your parents, but...” She let her voice trail away. Richard and Harry’s mother, Lady Edenwell, was Cat’s own late mother’s sister. When Cat had been orphaned shortly after her sixteenth birthday, seven years ago, she’d been sent to live at Edenwell Court. The old earl and his countess had treated her as the daughter they’d never had. After her first grief had subsided, she’d enjoyed living in a household with three boys around her age—Cousins Richard and Harry, and Gabe who was almost certainly their cousin though no kin to her. That had been part of his fascination, at first. He wasn’t family, and he didn’t quite fit into the orderly world she’d been born and bred to take up her place in.

  Lord and Lady Edenwell had made no secret of their intention for Cat to marry Harry once they were old enough. Richard was the heir, so he need not wed an heiress. Good breeding and connections would be sufficient in his countess. But Cat’s forty thousand pounds and house and lands just thirty miles to the east would more than double Harry’s fortune and assure him a prosperous country life among his beloved horses and dogs.

  Cat and Harry had never managed more than cousinly goodwill toward each other, however. While Lord Edenwell had lived, he’d all but forbidden them to so much as dance twice with anyone else. But he’d died the summer before last, leaving the title and estates to the far less autocratic Richard, and Cat to her aunt’s absentminded chaperonage.

  Cat’s hunger for overt rebellion against her family seemed to have died the morning Gabe went away, so Harry had struck out on his own first. Last winter he’d fallen headlong in love with a lady as straightforward and fond of the stables and kennels as he was. Lady Edenwell had accepted her new daughter-in-law with good grace. It helped that Sophie Harvey’s fortune, though smaller than Cat’s, was far from contemptible. Their April wedding had been a happy occasion for everyone, and the next month Lady Edenwell had given Cat her blessing to marry Sir Anthony Colville.

  “Father wasn’t obliged to witness it, and Mama recovered,” Richard said, echoing Cat’s thoughts. “Now that she’s to be a grandmother at last, Sophie is the best daughter-in-law imaginable.”

  “Until you marry. She told me just the other day how happy she’ll be to be the Dowager Lady Edenwell in every sense.”

  Richard addressed himself to the remains of the cold roast beef on his plate. “There’s no rush. After all, once Harry and Sophie have a son or two, the succession will be secured without any effort on my part.”

  There were any number of eligible young ladies panting to be his countess whom Cat could’ve teased him about. Handsome, youthful earls were a rare and precious commodity on the Marriage Mart. But she refrained. She thought she’d shown herself sufficiently calm about hearing Gabe’s name to safely speak of him now. “That’s so,” she allowed, “if not what your mama is hoping for. But what of Gabriel? He’s well, I hope.”

  “Quite well.” Richard watched her through narrowed eyes. “He’s in London, in fact.”

  “London? Why?” Her heart wasn’t pounding again. Surely it was nothing more than good strong coffee chasing the last remnants of sleep from her body.

  “He was sent up with dispatches, though that isn’t why he writes.” After a thoughtful pause, he passed her the letter. “Here, you may as well see the dilemma he’s landed himself in.”

  Richard sounded wryly amused rather th
an angry or grieved, so it couldn’t be so dire a difficulty. She pushed her plate with its half-eaten roll out of the way and spread the letter on the table before her, proud of her hands’ steadiness and how firmly she resisted the urge to trace the patterns his pen had formed.

  My dear Lord Edenwell, it began. Cat frowned over the formality of it. Gabe and Richard had spent their earliest years in the same nursery and shared the same tutors before going off to Oxford. Had the break five years ago—the break that was far more her fault than his—truly driven them to the point where Gabe addressed his foster brother as he might a mere acquaintance?

  She shook her head and read on.

  Much to my surprise—and I daresay to yours as well—I am now in England with almost a month’s leave. I was sent to London with dispatches for Horse Guards and instructions to enjoy myself before returning. I believe General Pakenham meant it for a compliment, and it seemed churlish and impolitic to assure him I was content to remain at my post for the winter.

  Despite that, I had not meant to trouble you with my presence, but I find myself suddenly burdened with a responsibility I must discharge before I return to my regiment. I hope for the sake of our old friendship you will be willing to assist me, or at least to advise.

  A few days before my ship reached port, we discovered we had a pair of stowaways aboard—a Portuguese woman and her little daughter. Unfortunately, by the time we found them, the mother was gravely ill, too much so to explain her purpose, though I believe her daughter’s father must be an Englishman, and that she undertook the journey to find either him or his family. She is dead, but her daughter lives, a pretty, good-natured child of perhaps eighteen months. Our ship’s captain meant to hand her into the keeping of a foundling home in London, but I cannot bear the thought of turning this poor mite over to so treacherous a fate. Perhaps it is only the resemblance to my own infant plight, but I want to make sure this child of war finds a home of greater peace and safety.