LITMIR.BIZ

      Dear Readers,

      When I was asked to do a companion story for A Regency Christmas Carol, I had no trouble coming up with a plot. All the while Joseph Stratford was finding redemption and falling in love, there was another story going on in the background, waiting to be told. Anne and Robert deserved a happy ending as well.

      And, of course, it gave me an excuse to make Christmas last just a little bit longer.

      Christine Merrill

      To my readers: Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you all.

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter One

      Anne Clairemont admired the sitting room of her once and future home, and gave an approving nod. Decoration for the holiday house party was well under way. If things were not exactly as they had been, at least it was more cheerful than it had been under her mother’s haphazard care.

      Anne secretly admired the changes the new owner, Joseph Stratford, had made. It was true that he had a tendency to excess. Father called it a tradesman’s display of wealth, and unworthy of such a grand home. But it hardly mattered. Once she was married she would change everything back to the way it had been six years ago, before things had begun to go wrong.

      Today, Mr. Stratford’s extravagance pleased her. It was demonstrated in the amount of holly, ivy and mistletoe that decked every available surface. The house looked as it had when she was a child, and all things had seemed larger and more wondrous. Despite herself, Anne smiled. Then, she returned her attention to her guest.

      “Would you like tea, Mr. Breton?” May I pour for you?”

      Mr. Stratford’s friend responded with his usual grim nod, and she tried not to let her hand tremble as she raised the pot. It was most unwise of her to have this reaction when around Robert Breton, but she could not seem to control it. He was a very attractive man.

      Not to say that Joseph wasn’t handsome. In his own dark and intense way, he was. But he had a driven quality that made her more nervous than intrigued. She did not think that he would be an impatient husband, for he showed no signs of holding her unease against her. Once they were married, she suspected that he would forget her entirely. All he really cared about was the running of his mill, and the successful operation of his looms. A respectable wife was nothing more than a way to secure his place in a community that showed no signs of welcoming him.

      And if Joseph was rarely to be at home, she might be forced to spend even more time alone with his business partner. Not that she really thought of Mr. Breton as such. He was a gentleman, and little more than the source of financing behind the ambitions of Mr. Stratford. But Joseph trusted him as a brother, and seemed to find nothing improper about the amount of time another man spent in her company, seeing him as a chaperone and escort rather than a rival.

      Robert Breton had said nothing about finding his own accommodations in the area, seeming content with the best guest room at Clairemont. In Joseph’s absence, he treated the house almost as his own. Anne must get used to the idea that, if she was to be mistress here, he would be a semi-permanent member of the household.

      Breton sipped his tea, and Anne held her breath, then chided herself for waiting on his approval. Of course, he would like it. In the many afternoons they’d spent together, she had learned to prepare it just so, and selected tidbits and delicacies for the tray knowing that he would favor them. It was foolish of her to care what he thought, or to try to impress him at all. But she enjoyed his company, and wanted him to like her.

      She thought it had been going quite well. They’d struck up a friendship almost from their first meeting. They had laughed and chatted and walked every inch of the property together. But in the last few weeks he’d grown more and more distant around her, cold and silent. When they were alone, he was sometimes sarcastic in his responses. But when Joseph was present he treated her with courtesy, and smiled as though there were nothing wrong between them.

      Had she offended him in some way? She could not think how. It made her work all the harder to be nice to him, hoping for some bit of warmth, or at least a smile. She quite liked his smile, especially when it was directed toward her. And the strength of his arm as they’d walked and she’d shown him the park of the manor that had once been her home. He had put his hands on her waist to help her over a stile, and she had taken longer than necessary, just to feel them holding her. Later, when she was alone with her thoughts, she could pretend that it had been a caress.

      Perhaps that day he had noticed. He had stared back at her, his dark blue eyes smoldering with what she assumed was disgust at her weakness. Then he had slowly and deliberately withdrawn his hand. He had been cold to her ever since.

      Was it so awful to have a tendre for a man who was not to be her husband? She would not let anything come of it, of course. She was all but promised to Joseph, and the happiness of several people depended on her ability to go through with the marriage as it had been planned.

      But she could not say she loved him. Though she would lie to him on the subject if it was necessary, she should not have to lie to herself. Although he was kind, she felt no real excitement at the touch of Joseph Stratford. But the thought of Robert Breton’s touch filled her with a delicious, languorous heat. If she could not have that, then she must work to maintain his friendship. Without Robert here to visit with, she would sit alone in this great house, waiting for her husband to remember that there was anything more important in his life than work.

      At the moment, it was almost as lonely as if she had no company at all. Her companion drank his tea in silence and could barely look her in the eye, ending each sip with a sigh of distaste and a glance out the window.

      After a polite knock, the housekeeper entered and inquired after the menu for the next day’s entertainment. Guests were arriving for the holidays and everything had to be perfect. Anne supplied the necessary information and a smile of approval, then went back to her cup as the woman retreated.

      “You treat the house as your own, already?” Mr. Breton said with a raised eyebrow and an accusing tone. “I understood that the engagement had not yet been announced.”

      “Well, no,” she admitted, shifting uncomfortably. “But it will be soon. Tomorrow, perhaps, at the ball. For now, Joseph seems to value my help. This was my parents’ house before he bought it. I know the staff and the rooms. And the best way to entertain in it. It is just…easier.”

      “I see.” Robert said it as though he was catching her in some just uncovered deception, and not stating a fact that he understood almost as well as she did herself.

      And then, he put down his teacup with a click and rose as though angered by the charade. “I must go. Stratford will be expecting me at the mill.”

      It was an

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