Let it Snow Read online

  Let it Snow

  Heather Boyd

  www.Heather-Boyd.com

  Contents

  Blurb

  Join Heather’s Newsletter

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Epilogue

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  About Heather

  Before you go…

  Weary from dodging wandering hands, Yvette Valiant escapes yet another scandalous house party and her brother’s dubious protection, fleeing into a snowy landscape, intent on returning home to Bath for Christmas. One stranded coach later, she’s rescued by the biggest rogue of them all—her brother’s best friend.

  * * *

  A scoundrel he may be, but even Luc Ayles is capable of love. What else would have him chasing a woman who seemingly detests the very sight of him? When Yvette foolishly puts her safety and reputation in jeopardy, Luc rushes to her aid, despite knowing his affection is the last gift Yvette could ever want for Christmas.

  * * *

  Then again, it’s the season of giving…and if Yvette would only give him her heart, it could be the happiest holiday ever.

  * * *

  * * *

  A regency romance Christmas novella.

  LET IT SNOW

  Copyright © 2021 by Heather Boyd

  Editing by Kelli Collins

  * * *

  First published in the Christmas Kisses Anthology

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced nor used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used facetiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  Chapter 1

  December, 1813

  * * *

  “Lord Middleton, you’re giving me no choice but to strenuously refuse your advances again,” Yvette Valiant said to the gentleman holding her just outside the ballroom door, before kicking his shins and scurrying back into inside to the smothering warmth and stench of the house party guests.

  Not that anyone seemed to have noticed she’d just had to save herself from being imposed upon by a scoundrel.

  Here, that was a frequent occurrence.

  She took a deep breath, pasted on a smile that should fool everyone but her best friend, and weaved through the crowd, looking for her brother, her chaperone at this wicked house party.

  For heaven’s sake, she had just wanted one gulp of fresh air, not immediate molestation! Why her brother dragged her from Bath for this depraved amusement, she didn’t know. Did he want to have her ruined and married off to someone she would hate for all her days?

  She searched for her brother and found him propping up a marble pillar on the far side of the room. She returned to the dubious safety he offered, hoping no one questioned where she’d been. But she couldn’t miss another opportunity to point out his shortcomings.

  “Where were you when I needed you?” she hissed to Rhys, head of the family now and all-around annoyance since her birth. He was three years older and ought to know better than to leave her unchaperoned here.

  When he didn’t answer, she noted the direction of his attention was upon the other side of the ballroom. Given the way he was smirking, the one relation she ought to be able to place her faith in for the protection of her virtue was much too busy considering how to rob another young lady of the very same thing. She deliberately stepped on his right foot. “Rhys.”

  “I haven’t moved all night, Yvette,” he protested with a brief glance at his abused foot. “You’re the one who keeps running off.”

  “I danced, and since I was thirsty, followed Lady Pillsbury to the refreshment table since you refused to accompany me.” She stared at him in vexation. “Do you even care to know what became of me after that?”

  Rhys patted her shoulder. “I trust you,” he said with calm unconcern before smiling at a different lady as she promenaded past.

  She failed to prevent her hands from curling into fists. “There are too many scoundrels here,” she hissed, and then looked around guiltily.

  Being around her brother for any duration tended to bring out her shrewish side, unfortunately. It was all she could do not to strangle him some nights.

  “There are scoundrels everywhere, or so you insist,” he noted. “If I thought the company of my friends so dangerous, I’d never take you anywhere. Besides, you’d never let a scoundrel actually catch you, so why should I worry, too?”

  He is so right about not letting myself be caught by any scoundrel.

  Yvette was most definitely keeping her virtue for marriage by any means possible. There would be no hushed-up scandalous marriage like some of her cousins had engineered for themselves. Someone in her family needed to adhere to a higher moral standard.

  It constantly disappointed her that the family reputation was not the best, despite her brother’s promises to reform. She had no hope that the rest of her family could ever change.

  She’d been well aware of the family scandals even before she’d come out. Her late father had kept two mistresses before his untimely demise at the hands of an overwrought half-plucked goose and a garden pond. The goose, desperate to escape the cook’s knife, had charged at her father and his lover. Father had, by all accounts, gallantly put himself directly into the path of the goose and borne the brunt of the unprovoked attack, but in doing so toppled them all into the pond. Father hit his head on the marble pond surround and had drawn his last breath with his face nestled between his lover’s ample breasts.

  And if that was not enough shame to bear in her first season, there was her widowed mother—kicking up her heels on the continent with the family gardener as her new lover.

  She shuddered. Her brother, as much as she’d worshiped him growing up, seemed determined to break hearts left and right—including hers.

  Given the disreputable reputations of her illustrious relatives, society stalwarts had viewed her with a wary eye when she made any overtures of friendship. It had taken all of her first season just to prove herself someone worth acknowledging and to make just one true female friend.

  And despite her rigid adherence to decorum, ignoring all scoundrels and rakes, unfortunately, a good marriage had proved elusive. But the number of scoundrels circling her each night of this dreadful house party had continued unabated. She could not wait to leave tomorrow morning.

  “How long must I stay here?” she asked in a whisper, but Rhys was already bored with talking to her and was looking elsewhere.

  She considered stomping on his toe again.

  “Where would you rather be, Miss Valiant?” a deep-voiced gentleman asked instead.

  Yvette
straightened her spine as Mr. Luc Ayles, her brother’s longtime friend, moved to stand at her side. She wished good manners didn’t dictate that she had to look at him to give a response. He was alarmingly handsome and the most dangerous scoundrel that might ever have lived. With his pale hair too long and rakishly falling across one gray eye, she could easily see why he appealed to a certain type of woman.

  But not to her.

  Yvette was immune to rakes and scoundrels and any man without honorable intentions. Luc Ayles certainly did not have those.

  “Right here,” she lied, wishing with all her might that Mr. Ayles would single out another woman to attempt a seduction. He’d followed her around too often at this house party for her to have any patience left for him. “I am afraid I have somehow turned my ankle,” she murmured.

  “Probably happened when you kicked Middleton in the shins just now,” Ayles muttered quietly, eyes flashing with mirth.

  If anyone heard Middleton had almost caught her, or that she’d assaulted him to free herself, she’d have everyone thinking that she was to blame. “I did no such thing!”

  “He undoubtedly deserved it.” Ayles nodded. “A pity you cannot dance. I had persuaded our hostess to play another waltz. You enjoy twirling, don’t you?”

  She did. She shrugged to hide how sorely disappointed she was. “I will have to wait until next season.”

  “I was afraid you’d say that,” he murmured, eyes full of laughter still. “Perhaps next year.”

  “Perhaps,” she murmured without looking him in the eye. Yvette tried to avoid committing herself to dancing with any scoundrel, especially Luc Ayles, though he was remarkably persistent in asking again and again. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Rhys drifting away without her. “Good night, sir.”

  Ayles held her back a moment. “I was hoping you would allow me the privilege of your company for sledding tomorrow.”

  Hell could freeze over before she shared a sled with Mr. Ayles again. The first week of the house party, he’d tried to steal a kiss, and with her brother just twenty feet ahead of them. Rhys hadn’t heard the slap she’d been forced to administer to the scoundrel standing with her now.

  Yvette fluttered her fan before her face, as if she was blushing, but in truth she was fed up with Ayles’ dogged pursuit. She had tried to make her disinterest in him plain and painless from the start, but obviously he could need a hammer applied to his head before the message sunk in. “Perhaps we’ll meet again at another winter party some other year.”

  “Yes,” he drawled, and then he laughed. “I thought you’d say that, too.”

  She was about to leave him, but the thing was—and it pained her to admit—she could not be mean to him without feeling bad after.

  “Happy Christmas, Mr. Ayes,” she said with a broad smile, holding out her hand to him.

  The scoundrel sidled closer and looked down at her outstretched fingers. After a moment, he clasped her hand and attempted to bring it to his lips. She resisted.

  “Happy Christmas, Miss Valiant. I hope our paths cross again soon.”

  Not if I can help it. She smiled sweetly, extracted her hand and hurried after her brother, who had cornered her best friend.

  “Charlotte, there you are!” She squeezed herself between Rhys and Lady Charlotte Beckham because Charlotte was already blushing badly at whatever he was telling her. “Would you fetch Charlotte and I a glass of punch, brother?”

  Rhys hesitated but gave in to her demand when Charlotte whispered “please.”

  When he was gone, Charlotte let out a shaky breath. “I know you won’t agree, but I swear your brother is just as much a scoundrel as my cousin Luc.”

  “After this house party, I’m inclined to think all men are scoundrels,” Yvette muttered, then remembered to flutter her fan before her lips. “Are there no decent men left in society?”

  “If they are, they’re not here,” Charlotte noted. “Perhaps that’s why so many ladies set their caps for rakes. There’s nothing else for it but to reform one.”

  “Some men are beyond reform.” Yvette caught sight of her brother on the other side of the room, now talking to a lady with a terrible reputation for being a wanton. She sighed. Rhys had likely forgotten about getting them that glass of punch. Probably the moment he’d turned away and spied a woman alone. “Can you imagine the effort it would take to reform a rake? The frustration? The headache?”

  “Hmm, I think I feel one coming on now,” Charlotte said, raising her fingers to her temple.

  Yvette turned back to her friend immediately “Are you really getting another so soon?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.” She sighed. “I haven’t had a thing to eat all day. Mama insisted on another fast.”

  Yvette drew near, worried for her friend’s health. Charlotte’s body was of rounded proportions, but no amount of fasting had ever done more than given her headaches and a tendency to faint. Charlotte needed food immediately, but there was no food to be seen at this hour usually.

  She caught hold of Charlotte’s hand. “We’ll have to brave the dangerous halls together and find you something.”

  Charlotte nodded, clutching Yvette’s fingers tightly. “You are a true friend.”

  They weaved through the crowd, making sure Charlotte’s mother did not see them slip away.

  They reached the hallway, and someone large and male brushed past them. “Ladies. Come with me.”

  It was Mr. Ayles again, dogging her steps again. He disappeared down a darkened corridor.

  She and Charlotte glanced at each other, but he returned quickly. “Food is this way, Charlotte.”

  Charlotte nearly ran to him, and reluctantly, Yvette followed her into a candlelit room far from the ballroom and any appropriate chaperones, too. But there was food and drink heaped upon a small table. More than enough for two.

  “Oh, I could kiss you,” Charlotte cried as she rushed to the table and put a napkin on her lap.

  “Please don’t,” Ayles begged, holding up his hands to ward her off.

  “You are a lifesaver, cousin,” Charlotte said and then fell to eating as if she hadn’t done so for a week.

  Ayles nodded. “I will speak to her about this again,” he said in a voice so hard and cold, it raised the hackles on Yvette’s neck.

  “She won’t listen. She never does.” Charlotte swallowed and quickly sipped her tea. “But thank you for the feast. This should rid me of my headache soon.”

  “Choose a husband quickly, cousin,” he urged.

  Charlotte giggled. “You did say you wanted a wife.”

  “Not you, Charlotte. No offense.” He glanced toward Yvette. His jaw clenched and then he said, “Lock the door to keep the scoundrels at bay when I’m gone.”

  And then he left the room swiftly, brushing past Yvette and only leaving the scent of his cologne lingering on the air. Charlotte made sure the door was locked and then went to sit by her friend as she ate. “Are you feeling better now?”

  “Getting there.” Charlotte paused in her eating. “If only my mother cared about me half as much as my cousin always has. He’s the only one who tries to help, but he’s not always around.”

  Yvette was surprised by her praise for Luc Ayles. “Does he do this often? Bring you to food-laden tables.”

  “Oh, yes. All season in fact.” Charlotte sighed. “He’s a scoundrel through and through, I grant you that, but he’s so kind to me. I do hope he marries soon.”

  “What?”

  “Yes. I knew you’d be surprised. He promised me he would wed soon, and when Luc marries, he will also invite me to stay with him and his new wife in London. Mother is sure to let me go if she won’t have to bear the expense of another season. The trouble I cause her, always wanting to eat twice a day,” she joked, but it was truly no laughing matter.

  Yvette poured Charlotte a second cup of tea and considered Luc Ayles’ chances of making a good match. Someone good enough to befriend Charlotte. “What lady would want to ma
rry your cousin?”

  “Any number, I’m sure, given his reputation with the ladies.” Charlotte sampled another sandwich, grinning impishly. “He’s devilishly secretive about who he wants to marry, but he has told me in the strictest confidence that there’s only one lady on his mind. I suspect, too, that I know her. The trouble is, I just cannot figure out who she might be.”

  “So, a friend already perhaps,” Yvette mused, feeling a pang of unreasonable worry that Luc’s future wife might not be good enough for Charlotte.

  Charlotte suddenly met her gaze with wide eyes. “I ought not to have told you about his plans to marry. You mustn’t tell anyone. He’d be cross with me.”

  “I won’t tell a soul,” Yvette promised, but her mind whirled. “We share many of the same friends, Charlotte. I wonder who it could be?”

  Charlotte nibbled on another sandwich. “I don’t suppose you’d consider marrying him?”

  “No,” she said firmly.

  “A pity. We’d have all gotten along very well, I think.”

  Only if Luc Ayles wasn’t a scoundrel.

  Chapter 2

  “There you are again. Pure torture and temptation for any scoundrel,” Luc complained under his breath as he fixed his eye on Yvette Valiant standing in the entrance hall with just the one slightly built maid lingering by her side. She ought to have ten around her by rights. There were wagers aplenty at this house party on who might have the elusive beauty in his bed. “But don’t move a muscle, sweetheart. I mean you no harm.”