Read Online The Duke's Christmas Greetings (Regency Christmas Summons Book 3) by Ava Stone, Rose Gordon, Lily George - Free Book Online
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kissed her back, breathing in the sweet rosewater scent of her and never wanting to let her go. Would he be a giant fool to think he could maybe, just possibly keep her forever? That she might actually agree to spend her life with him? That he could hold her and kiss her like this for the rest of their lives?
After a moment, he lifted his head and gazed down at her. “Patience, I know I can’t be the sort of man your family would want for you, but…”
“The only thing that matters is what I want, Matt.” Her blush deepened, which made him grin like an idiot.
All right, then. Matt would speak with His Grace and fall on his sword if he had to. “We’d better get you back to the castle.”
Patience would have sworn she was floating beside Matt. Her heart had never felt so light, almost like it was humming and lifting her off her feet. She had never been quite so happy. And lucky. She was the luckiest girl in the world to have met him. Kind, honest, handsome and wonderful, the most wonderful man in all of Yorkshire, in all of England, in all of the world. And he was hers. At least she thought he was. He had declared himself, hadn’t he? Yes, he had. And it was the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to her.
She would have danced through the taproom on the way to Mr. Gibson’s coach if she hadn’t spotted her mother standing right in their path.
And then all of the gaiety, all of the lighthearted exuberance dissipated from her heart, sending her crashing back to Earth. “Mama,” she breathed out, stopping in her tracks.
Matt stopped beside her and tightened his hold on her hand, which was probably the wrong thing to do, if the fire blazing in Mama’s eyes was any indication.
“Patience Post,” she hissed. “You will march outside and place yourself in our carriage this instant.”
“Mama,” she began. “Please listen. I was—”
“Was I unclear?” her mother clipped out.
“No.” Patience slid her hand from Matt’s and cast an apologetic glance up at him. His head was held high as he looked directly at her mother.
“Lady Bradenham,” he started. “I would like to call on you and His Grace first thing in the morn—”
“Hardly necessary.” Mama snorted, which would normally earn Patience or her sisters a stern talking to had they done it.
“I believe it is,” Matt returned quietly. “I am—”
“—to stay away from my daughters. All of them. Should they each come down suddenly with consumption, I don’t want you anywhere near them. Am I perfectly clear, Doctor Campion?”
“But, my lady,” he tried again, to no avail as Mama yanked Patience’s arm and escorted her, rather briskly, outside the taproom toward the Bradenham coach…
But there were two Bradenham coaches, actually. The one they had traveled in from Highfield Park and a very familiar, yet less ostentatious one – Quent’s coach. Quent was here ? Why was he…?
Patience dug in her heels, looking for her brother. Quent would help her if she could just find him. “Mama, Quent’s here!” Prestwood had been in the know about that, hadn’t he?
“Get in the carriage, Patience,” her mother nearly growled. “And do not make more of a spectacle of yourself than you already have.”
“But, Mama…”
“Not. One. More. Word!”
And at her nod, Pryce hopped down from the coachman’s box and quickly opened the door to the Bradenham traveling coach. Still, Patience started for the other coach anyway. If Quent was truly here…
Mama yanked her backward, and then shoved her, rather urgently, toward the open door of their own carriage.
Matt followed Patience and her mother out of the taproom and witnessed the dowager marchioness practically push her daughter into an awaiting coach. His heart lurched and he started toward the pair, but someone grabbed his arm, pulling him backward.
Matt’s gaze shot to a rather large man who was wearing a fairly murderous expression. “Who are you and what the devil
After a moment, he lifted his head and gazed down at her. “Patience, I know I can’t be the sort of man your family would want for you, but…”
“The only thing that matters is what I want, Matt.” Her blush deepened, which made him grin like an idiot.
All right, then. Matt would speak with His Grace and fall on his sword if he had to. “We’d better get you back to the castle.”
Patience would have sworn she was floating beside Matt. Her heart had never felt so light, almost like it was humming and lifting her off her feet. She had never been quite so happy. And lucky. She was the luckiest girl in the world to have met him. Kind, honest, handsome and wonderful, the most wonderful man in all of Yorkshire, in all of England, in all of the world. And he was hers. At least she thought he was. He had declared himself, hadn’t he? Yes, he had. And it was the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to her.
She would have danced through the taproom on the way to Mr. Gibson’s coach if she hadn’t spotted her mother standing right in their path.
And then all of the gaiety, all of the lighthearted exuberance dissipated from her heart, sending her crashing back to Earth. “Mama,” she breathed out, stopping in her tracks.
Matt stopped beside her and tightened his hold on her hand, which was probably the wrong thing to do, if the fire blazing in Mama’s eyes was any indication.
“Patience Post,” she hissed. “You will march outside and place yourself in our carriage this instant.”
“Mama,” she began. “Please listen. I was—”
“Was I unclear?” her mother clipped out.
“No.” Patience slid her hand from Matt’s and cast an apologetic glance up at him. His head was held high as he looked directly at her mother.
“Lady Bradenham,” he started. “I would like to call on you and His Grace first thing in the morn—”
“Hardly necessary.” Mama snorted, which would normally earn Patience or her sisters a stern talking to had they done it.
“I believe it is,” Matt returned quietly. “I am—”
“—to stay away from my daughters. All of them. Should they each come down suddenly with consumption, I don’t want you anywhere near them. Am I perfectly clear, Doctor Campion?”
“But, my lady,” he tried again, to no avail as Mama yanked Patience’s arm and escorted her, rather briskly, outside the taproom toward the Bradenham coach…
But there were two Bradenham coaches, actually. The one they had traveled in from Highfield Park and a very familiar, yet less ostentatious one – Quent’s coach. Quent was here ? Why was he…?
Patience dug in her heels, looking for her brother. Quent would help her if she could just find him. “Mama, Quent’s here!” Prestwood had been in the know about that, hadn’t he?
“Get in the carriage, Patience,” her mother nearly growled. “And do not make more of a spectacle of yourself than you already have.”
“But, Mama…”
“Not. One. More. Word!”
And at her nod, Pryce hopped down from the coachman’s box and quickly opened the door to the Bradenham traveling coach. Still, Patience started for the other coach anyway. If Quent was truly here…
Mama yanked her backward, and then shoved her, rather urgently, toward the open door of their own carriage.
Matt followed Patience and her mother out of the taproom and witnessed the dowager marchioness practically push her daughter into an awaiting coach. His heart lurched and he started toward the pair, but someone grabbed his arm, pulling him backward.
Matt’s gaze shot to a rather large man who was wearing a fairly murderous expression. “Who are you and what the devil
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