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His Housekeeper's Christmas Wish (Lords of Disgrace), by Louise Allen
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'Tis the season for mischief!�
Accidentally colliding with Tess Ellery on the icy streets of Ghent is definitely not how resolute bachelor Alexander Tempest, Viscount Weybourn, intended to start the festive period. He may have mistaken her for a nun, but there's nothing innocent about his reaction to Tess's delicious curves…�
When Tess is left stranded, Alex is honor-bound to take her home…as his housekeeper! And despite his long-held rule of spending Christmas alone, Tess's vivacity soon has this brooding lord determined to make all her Christmas wishes come true!
- Sales Rank: #1231821 in Books
- Published on: 2015-10-20
- Original language: English
- Number of items: 1
- Dimensions: 6.56" h x .77" w x 4.23" l, .35 pounds
- Binding: Mass Market Paperback
- 288 pages
About the Author
Louise Allen has been immersing herself in history for as long as she can remember. She finds landscapes and places evoke powerful images of the past - Venice, Burgundy and the Greek islands are favourite destinations. Louise lives on the Norfolk coast. She spends her spare time gardening, researching family history or travelling in search of inspiration. Please visit Louise's website – www.louiseallenregency.co.uk, or find her on Twitter @LouiseRegency and on Facebook.
Excerpt. � Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Alex Tempest did not normally trample nuns underfoot, nor anyone else, come to that. Alexander James Vernon Tempest, Viscount Weybourn, prized control, elegance, grace and athleticism—under all normal circumstances.
Skidding round corners on the ice-slick cobblestones of Ghent, however, was not normal, not in the gloomy light of the late-November afternoon with his mind occupied by thoughts of warm fires, good friends and rum punch.
The convent wall was high and unyielding when he cannoned into it. Alex found himself rebounding off the wall and into a nun, dressed all in black and grey, and blending perfectly with the cobbles. She was certainly yielding as she gave a small shriek of alarm and went flying, her black portmanteau bouncing away to land on the threshold of the convent's closed gates.
Alex got his feet under control. 'Ma soeur, je suis d�sol�. Permettez-moi. ' He held out his hand as she levered herself into a sitting position with one black mitten-covered hand. Her bonnet, plain dark grey with a black ribbon, had tipped forward over her nose, and she pushed it back to look up at him.
'I am not—'
'Hurt? Excellent.' He could only make out the oval of her face in the shadow of the bonnet's brim. She seemed to be young by her voice. 'But you are English?' He extended the other hand. Presumably there were English nuns.
'Yes. But—'
'Let's get you up off that cold ground, Sister.' Her cloak, which seemed none too thick given the weather, was black. Under it there was the hem of a dark grey robe and the toes of sensible black boots. 'Take my hands.' Probably nuns were not supposed to touch men, but he could hardly get excommunicated for adding that small sin to the far greater offence of flattening her to the ground.
With what sounded like a sigh of resignation she put her hands in his and allowed him to pull her upright. 'Ow!' She hopped on one foot, swayed dangerously and the next moment she was cradled in his arms. After all, one did not allow a lady to fall, even if she was a nun. 'Oh!'
Alex braced his feet well apart on the slippery cobbles and looked down at as much as he could see of his armful, which wasn't a great deal, what with her billowing cloak and ferocious hat brim. But even if he couldn't see any detail, there was plenty for his body to read. She was young. And slender. And curved. He dipped his head and inhaled the scent of her. Plain soap, wet wool and warm, rapidly chilling, woman. Rapidly chilling nun. Pull yourself together, man. Nuns are most definitely on the forbidden list. Pity…
'I'll ring the bell, shall I?' he offered with a jerk of his head towards the rusty iron chain hanging by the door. It looked like the sort of thing desperate criminals clung to when claiming sanctuary, although, judging by the small barred peephole set into the massive planks, the sanctuary on offer might be rather less welcoming than a prison cell. 'It seems as though you have twisted your ankle.'
Mentioning parts of the anatomy was probably another sin, but she made no attempt to smite him with a rosary, although the body that was already stiff in his arms became rigid. 'No. Absolutely not. Thank—'
'I really think I should get someone to come out.'
'—you. I am due down at the canal basin. Sister Clare is expecting me.' Crisp, polite and obviously furious with him, but constrained through charity or good manners from saying so, he concluded. An educated, refined voice masking some strain or perhaps sadness. He was used to listening to voices, hearing what was behind the actual words; anyone was who did much negotiating. What are you hiding, little nun?
But the polite irritation was what was on the surface. That was fair enough. He'd knocked her down; the least he could do was to take her where she wanted to go and not to where, from the way her body arched away from the door, she did not want to be. 'But you should see a doctor. What if there is a bone broken?' Alex bent, juggled his armful of cross woman as best he could, caught the handles of the portmanteau in his fingers and straightened up. 'Which canal, Sister?'
'I am going to Ostend early tomorrow morning. Sister Clare runs a small hostel for travellers down at the port here and I will spend the night with her. But I am not—'
'This way, then.' Alex began to walk downhill. 'It just so happens I can take you to a doctor on the way.'
'I do not wish to be any trouble, but—'
'You cannot walk and all the cabs have vanished as they always do when one most needs one. It is not out of my way.'
And they were not actually going to see a doctor, although Grant had virtually completed his medical education at Edinburgh when he'd been forced to give it up.
'Yes, but I—'
'Have no money?' Nuns were supposed to be penniless, he seemed to recall. 'Don't concern yourself about that, it is my fault you were injured and he's a friend. What is your name? I'm Viscount Weybourn.' He didn't normally lead with his rank, but he supposed a title might reassure her.
Her body shifted in his arms as she gave the sort of sigh that needed a lungful of air. She was probably mortified at being carried by a man, but if she wouldn't go back into the convent then there wasn't much option. He made another valiant, and unfamiliar, effort not to notice the feminine curves pressed against his body. He wasn't used to getting this close to women unless they both intended to take things considerably further.
'Teresa—'
'Sister Teresa.' Of course, nuns were named for saints, weren't they? 'Excellent. Here we are.' The lights of Les Quatre �l�ments glowed though the gathering dusk and he headed for them like a mariner spying a safe, familiar harbour.
'An inn? Lord Wey—'
'A very respectable inn,' Alex assured her as he shouldered through the front door into the light and heat and bustle of a well-run hostelry. 'Gaston!'
'Milord Weybourn.' The innkeeper came hurrying out of the back. 'How good to see you again, milord. The other gentlemen are in your usual private parlour.'
'Thank you, Gaston.' Alex headed for the door on the right. And some tea? Coffee? What would you like, Sister Teresa?'
'Gentlemen? Private parlour? Lord Weybourn, put me down this—'
'Tea,' he ordered for her. Tea was soothing, wasn't it? His little nun needed soothing; she was beginning to wriggle in agitation like a ruffled hen and, hell, if she didn't stop she wasn't the only one who'd need it. Soothing, that was, not tea. He really needed a woman. How long had it been? A month? That was far too long.
Alex kicked the door closed behind him and leaned back against it for a moment while he sought for his usual composure. Nuns apparently did not wear corsets. The discovery was seriously unsettling. The soft weight of a small breast against his forearm was damnably unsettling. He was reacting like a green youth and he didn't like the feeling.
'My dear Alex, why the drama?' Crispin de Feaux lowered the document he was studying, stood up and regarded the scene in the doorway with cool detachment. Possibly if he had erupted into the room pursued by sword-wielding soldiery Cris might have revealed some emotion, but Alex rather doubted it. 'Have you taken to abducting nuns?'
'Nuns? Surely not?' Over by the fireplace Grant Rivers swung his boots down from the fender and stood, too, dragging one hand through his hair. Characteristically he looked responsible and concerned.
'What do you bet?' Gabriel Stone dropped a handful of dice with a clatter and lounged to his feet. 'Although it hardly seems Alex's style. High-fliers, now…'
Alex narrowed his eyes, daring him to continue stripping her with that insolent gaze. Gabe grinned and slumped back into his chair.
'I slipped on the ice and knocked Sister Teresa to the ground, injuring her ankle in the process.' Alex pushed away from the door and carried his burden over to the settle by the fire. 'I thought you should check it for her, Grant.'
'There you are, Sister Teresa, you're in safe hands now and tea is on the way.' The infuriating creature deposited Tess on the settee opposite the handsome brown-haired man and sketched a bow. 'This is Grantham Rivers, a very handy man with a sprained ankle.' She caught the grin Lord Weybourn sent the doctor and the doctor's eye roll in return as his friend turned on his heel and sauntered over to the other two men.
'I am not—'
'A nun. I know.' The doctor sat down. He was polite, but didn't seem too happy. 'Unlike Alex, I know that nuns wear wimples and do not trot around the streets alone.'
'Do none of you allow a woman to finish a sentence?' Tess demanded. She had gone beyond miserable since her interview with Mother Superior a week ago had knocked all her certainties into utter chaos. She'd forced herself into the same state of stoical, unhappy acceptance that had kept her sane, somehow, all those years ago when Mama and Papa had died. Now the shock of being hurled off her feet had sent her into an unfamiliar mood of irritation.
Or possibly this was the effect men had on women all the time. As her association with the creatures since the age of thirteen had been limited to the priest, an aged gardener and occasional encounters with tradesmen, this could well be the case. For the first time in her life celibacy began to sound appealing. But now she was alone with four of them, although they seemed safe enough, sober and respectful.
'Normally, yes, we have much better manners. Alex is doubtless disconcerted at his very unusual clumsiness in felling you to the ground, but I have no excuse. How should I address you, ma'am?'
'Miss Ellery. Tess Ellery, Doctor.'
'Not doctor. Plain Mr Grantham Rivers. But I almost completed my medical training at Edinburgh, so I am quite safe to be let loose on minor injuries, Miss Ellery.' He regarded her as she sat there looking, she had no doubt, like a somewhat battered crow. 'May I take your cloak and bonnet? I will need you to remove your shoe and stocking so I can examine your ankle. Shall I send for a maid to attend you?'
He looked serious and respectable. Considering that she had not shed so much as a glove in male company for years, Tess wondered why she was not more flustered. Perhaps being knocked to the ground and then carried by a tall, strong, over-masterful aristocrat might have reduced her capacity for flusterment. Was that a word? More likely the fact that her world was so out of kilter accounted for it.
'Miss Ellery?' Mr Rivers was waiting patiently. She searched for normal courtesy and some poise, found a smile and felt it freeze on her lips as she met his eyes. He had the saddest eyes she had ever seen. It was like gazing into the hell of someone's private grief, and staring felt as intrusive and unmannerly as gawping at mourners at a funeral.
'No, no maid. I can manage, thank you.' Tess made a business of her bonnet ribbon and cloak clasp and murmured her thanks. He laid the garments at the end of the settle, then went to stand with his back to her, shielding her from the room as she managed her laces and untied her garter to roll down her stocking. 'I cannot get my boot off.'
'The ankle is swelling.' Mr Rivers came and knelt down in front of her. 'Let me see if I can remove it without cutting the leather.'
'Please.' They were her only pair of boots.
'Have you any other injuries?' He bent over her foot, working the boot off with gentle wiggles. 'You didn't bang your head, or put out your hand and hurt your wrist?'
'No, only my ankle. It turned over as I fell.' Removing the boot hurt, despite his care, so Tess looked over his head at the other three men for distraction. Such a strange quartet. Mr Rivers with his tragic eyes, gentle hands and handsome profile. Her rescuer, Lord Weybourn, tall, elegant and relaxed. Deceptively relaxed, given the ease with which he had lifted and carried her. The blond icicle who looked like a cross between an archangel and a hanging judge and the lounging dice player who seemed more suited to a hedge tavern frequented by footpads than a respectable inn in the company of gentlemen.
Yes, an unlikely combination of friends and yet they were so easy together. Like brothers, she supposed. Family.
Lord Weybourn met her gaze and lifted one slanting eyebrow.
'Ah, that made you jump, sorry.' Mr Rivers's fingers were probing and flexing. 'Tell me where it hurts. Here? When I do this? Can you wriggle your toes? Excellent. And point your foot? No, stop if it is painful.'
He certainly seemed to know what he was doing. He would bind it up for her and Lord Weybourn must find her some conveyance, given that the collision was all his fault and she wouldn't be able to get her boot laced again over a bandage. None of these men were behaving in a way that made her uneasy. There were no leers or winks, no suggestive remarks. Tess relaxed a little more and decided she could trust her judgement that she was safe here.
His lordship was half sitting on the edge of the table, laughing at something the dice player had said. Now he had shed his hat and greatcoat she could see that the impression of elegance could be applied to his clothing as much as to his manner. Ten years in a nunnery did not do much for her appreciation of male fashion, but even she could see that what he wore had been crafted from expensive fabrics by a master who could sculpt fabric around broad shoulders and long, muscular legs, and that whoever looked after his linen was a perfectionist.
Unlike his friends, the viscount wasn't conventionally good looking, Tess thought critically as Mr Rivers rested her foot on a stool and stood up, murmuring about cold compresses and bandages. Mr Rivers was the image of the perfect English gentleman: strong bones, straight nose, thick, glossy dark brown hair and those tragic, beautiful green eyes. The blond icicle belonged in a church's stained-glass window, giving impressionable girls in the congregation palpitations of mixed desire and terror at the thought of his blue eyes turning on them or that sculpted mouth opening on some killing rebuke. Even the dice player with his shock of black hair, insolent gypsy-dark eyes and broad shoulders had the attractiveness of a male animal in its prime.
But Lord Weybourn was different. Very masculine, of course… Oh, yes. She gave a little shiver as she recalled how easily he had lifted and carried her. And he had a touch of something dangerously other-worldly about him. His hair was dark blond, his nose was thin, his cheekbones pronounced. His eyes, under winging dark brows, were, she guessed, hazel and his chin was firm.
It was his mouth, she decided, focusing on that feature. It was mobile and kept drifting upwards into a half smile as though his thoughts were pleasant, but mysterious and, in some way, dangerous. In fact, she decided, he looked like a particularly well-dressed supernatural creature, if such things ever reached a good six feet in height with shoulders in proportion—one who ruled over forests where the shadows were dark and wolves lurked…
Most helpful customer reviews
1 of 1 people found the following review helpful.
Good story
By S. Frank
Good book. Tess went to live with her aunt at a convent in Ghent when her parents died. It wasn't a pleasant upbringing, but her needs were met. When her aunt died, it was made clear to her that if she wasn't planning to become a nun herself, it was time to go. She was given the option of returning to England where a job would be found for her. As she was making her way to the docks and the ship that would take her there, she was run into and injured by Alex Tempest.
Alex felt guilty about hurting the lady he first thought was a nun. He took her back to his inn and his friends to take care of her injuries. In his attempts to take care of her, he caused her to miss the boat she was supposed to be on, so he promised to get her where she was supposed to be. Though he's trying to do the right thing, he doesn't think about the consequences of a young woman traveling with a single man. When the convent in London refuses to help her because of it, Alex promises to help her.
I liked Tess a lot. She's a very practical young woman thanks to her time at the convent, but she also looks for the good in people. She accepts Alex's help because she really has no choice, but plans to start looking for a position after the holidays. When she ends up filling in for Alex's ill housekeeper, her strengths really start to show. She is incredibly organized and soon has Alex's household running smoothly. She also has her own agenda, having discovered that Alex is estranged from his family and doesn't celebrate Christmas at all. She is determined to bring him into the Christmas spirit and is relentless in that pursuit. She is also attracted to him, but knows nothing can come of it. Her parents may have been well born, but she is illegitimate and therefore not eligible for a man like Alex.
Alex is something of a self made man. At the age of seventeen he had a falling out with his father over a buildup of events culminating in the death of a friend. He hasn't been home or spoken to his father since. Instead he has a thriving art dealer business, good friends, and an absolute distant for the fuss of the Christmas holidays. Though he's a bit cynical, at heart he is a good man, and when he collides with Tess he is determined to take care of her. He knows he has to be careful of her reputation, and does everything he can to protect her. He is also attracted to her, but tries to control himself around her.
I loved seeing the relationship grow between Alex and Tess. He is determined to help and protect her, especially from himself. He is known for keeping his cool under all circumstances, but something about Tess really gets under his skin. It was fun seeing him agree to do things with and for her that he never would have done before. In spite of her innocence, Tess has a way of seeing what people really need, and she sees that, contrary to what he says, Alex really misses his family. She's determined to give him a real Christmas because of it. And though she knows nothing can come of it, Alex finds a way into her heart.
Things get really interesting when Alex receives a letter from his mother, begging him to come home. His father is ill and Alex is needed on the estate. He's more nervous about going home than he will admit and asks Tess to go with him. Next thing he knows, the entire household is going, with Tess no longer the housekeeper but a friend he is helping. I loved seeing how they rearranged everyone's roles. Once they arrive at Tempeston, the reader begins to get the background of the issues between Alex and his father. It was fun to see Alex's satisfaction in showing off his success. With a few little prods from Tess, he makes progress in repairing his relationships with his father and brother.
The attraction between Tess and Alex grows stronger. I loved seeing the way that Tess tries to draw him further into the Christmas preparations. Both are fighting the attraction but it is a losing battle. Tess doesn't want to miss out on the experience she could have with him, so she goes after what she wants. Alex doesn't resist too hard, but there are still some guilty feelings over what he sees as his less than honorable actions. In his attempts to take care of her he makes some rather significant mistakes, causing a rift between them. How he makes up with her is unusual, and almost makes things worse before it gets better.
I liked the realistic view of what kind of life Tess could expect as an illegitimate woman. Life wasn't easy for women such as her. I liked her rescue of Dorcas and Daisy, as her kind heart saw a way to help them at the same time they could help her. I also enjoyed the look "below stairs" during the time Tess was acting as housekeeper. Alex was also honest about what might happen after they marry.
1 of 1 people found the following review helpful.
A deliciously fun read!
By eyes.2c
A timely Christmas story with just the right touch of sentimentality and humour.
Our hero, Alexander Tempest, Viscount Weybourn has locked off his emotions and been estranged from his family for many years.
Our heroine, Tess Ellery, is a delightful mix of gamine type wisdom with an innocence that sees through to the heart of things.
Tess keeps rescuing the down trodden and uncared for--from humans to animals.
And the human she wants to rescue is the one who effectively knocked her off her feet and then continued to make assumptions...dratted man, that were entirely off the mark and that led to Tess being Weybourn's temporary housekeeper. Of course his staff love her and Tess' guilessness worms it's way underneath Alexander's indifferent mask and into his heart.
Ah! But things are never so simple as to immediately lead to a HEA. The route is twisted and captures attention in this seasonal story that salutes the essence of Christmas.
A NetGalley ARC
0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Simply Irresistible!
By Julie
Multi award-winning historical romance author Louise Allen kicks off her fabulous new Lords of Disgrace series with a tender, heartwarming and irresistible tale of secrets, intrigue and passion, His Housekeeper’s Christmas Wish.
The future is looking bleak for Tess Ellery. After being orphaned at a tender age, Tess had been brought up in a convent in Ghent, which has been her home for the past decade. Now that she has matured, Tess can no longer rely on the charity of the nuns in the convent and, having refused to take holy orders, is being sent to England in order to find a position as a governess or a ladies’ companion. With no job, no home and not a single friend in the world, Tess is feeling lonely, uncertain and frightened of what the future might hold, but little does she realise that her life is about to be turned upside down by an unexpected encounter with the dashing Alex Tempest, Viscount Weybourn…
Alex might have been born into an aristocratic family, but his life has not been exactly a bed of roses either. Estranged from his family, Alex cannot remember the last time he had spoken to his father, who thinks that his son is a feckless dandy who cares more about fashion and fripperies than honour, duty and responsibility. Alex has spent most of his life keeping emotions at bay and his feelings closely guarded, but when he stumbles upon the exquisite Tess Ellery, he feels duty bound to escort her to England and to ensure that she comes to no harm under his watch. But both of them are ill prepared for the maelstrom of danger and desire which they are about to tumble into…
In order to maintain a modicum of respectability, Tess ends up masquerading as Alex’s housekeeper, but the more time she spends with him, the more she finds herself falling head over heels in love with him. However, Tess knows that her feelings can never be reciprocated for an aristocrat like Alex might have no qualms about sharing his bed, but he could never share his life with her for he can never marry someone with a secret as scandalous as hers!
Alex has always been a hardened cynic, so he is flabbergasted when he finds himself unable and unwilling to stop thinking about Tess! But is he willing to put his heart on the line for her? Or will he be forced to opt for duty over his heart’s desire?
Louise Allen is a phenomenally talented writer of historical romance and she never fails to pen exquisitely passionate, wonderfully intriguing and highly accurate and mesmerizing Regency novels that sweep the reader off into a world she never wants to leave and His Housekeeper’s Christmas Wish is certainly not an exception. A compelling, poignant and atmospheric tale of powerful secrets, unexpected passion, healing from the past and taking a chance on love, His Housekeeper’s Christmas Wish pits a strong, independent and resolute heroine against a charismatic, charming and handsome hero in a captivating Regency romance that will hold readers spellbound.
Unforgettable, enthralling and impossible to put down, His Housekeeper’s Christmas Wish is another stellar historical romance from one of the genre’s finest writers: Louise Allen!
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