A Christmas Surprise: A Sweet Regency Romance: Seasons of Love, #3

By Emily Murdoch

Every year for thirty years Lord Robert, the Viscount of Marchwood, throws a Christmas Ball. But this year the Marchwood Christmas Ball holds extra importance. His daughter, Lady Audrey, has just turned eighteen, and it is time for her to be introduced into society.

It is Audrey's first, best, and potentially only chance of securing a husband. Especially seeing as there are rumours that the Marchwood money is running dry.

But headstrong Lady Audrey is not sure she wants a husband. Ever since her mother died she has been left to her own devices. Though she is very close to her father, it was often the servants she turned to for companionship, particularly Thomas, who, five years older than her, was always the person she depended on for conversation. She is not ready to leave everything she knows, and the thought of abandoning her father breaks her heart. She is determined that only someone truly special will take her away from her home.

But with the ball centred around a masquerade theme, everyone is in disguise. And a handsome stranger threatens to steal Audrey's heart. Could he hold the key to her heart? And when she unmasks him will it be a good, or bad, Christmas Surprise?

'A Christmas Surprise' is a festive regency romance novella.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Emily Murdoch
• Release date: Dec 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215348536

Emily Murdoch

Emily Murdoch is a writer, a poet and a lover of books. There's never a time she's without a book. Her debut novel, If You Find Me, released in 2013 to global high praise and critical acclaim through St. Martin's Griffin and Orion/Indigo UK. If You Find Me, a Carnegie Medal 2014 longlister and a Waterstones Children's Book Prize 2014 finalist, has earned starred reviews from Booklist, Kirkus, and School Library Journal; is a Young Adult Library Services (YALSA) Best Fiction for Young Adults (BFYA) selection of 2014; was named a New York Times Book Review Editors’ Choice for June 2013; an Irish Times Editors’ Pick for 2013; an Editor’s Pick for UK’s The Bookseller 2013; a Booklist Youth Editors' Choice for 2013; and a Booklist Top Ten Pick of 2014. If You Find Me has also been nominated and included in numerous state awards/high school master reading lists, amongst those in: SC, TX, KY, RI, PA, WI, OR, DE, CT, SD, NH, OK, VT, and AR. If You Find Me was also a finalist for the Goodreads Choice Awards Best Books of 2013 in the Best Debut Author and Best Young Adult Fiction categories, and was a finalist for the German Children's Literature Prize 2015, along with a finalist for the German Buxeholder Bulle Award 2015. If You Find Me has been translated and published in Canada, the UK, Germany, the Netherlands, Spain, Korea, Taiwan, Italy, Brazil, Hungary, Turkey, and Vietnam, as well as in Braille. When she's not reading or writing, you'll find Emily caring for her horses, dogs and family on a ranch in rural Arizona, where the desert's tranquil beauty and rich wildlife often enter into her poetry and writing. Emily's other passion is saving equines from slaughter. She uses her writing to raise awareness of this inhumane practice, with the goal of ending the slaughter of America's horses and burros through transport to slaughterhouses in Canada and Mexico. She provides sanctuary to abused and slaughter-saved equines who dazzle her daily with their gentle gratitude in exchange for security, consistency, food and love. As Mahatma Gandhi said, “Be the change you want to see in the world.” Emily hopes her penchant for writing will do just that. All-in-all, she's a lefty in a right-handed world, writing her way through life and smearing ink wherever she writes.

Book preview

A Christmas Surprise

Emily Murdoch

© Emily Murdoch 2015

Emily Murdoch has asserted her rights under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act,

1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

First published 2015 by Endeavour Press Ltd.

To my sister-in-law Sophie, my mother-in-law Jane, and my grandmother-in-law

Jan: my first Regency adventure is dedicated to you.

To the Thomas who always inspired me to seek out more knowledge: my

grandfather Graham Thomas.

And, as ever, to Joshua.

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Author’s Note

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Chapter One

Utterly preposterous!

Lord Robert, the Viscount of Marchwood was not happy, and he wanted all to know

it. The fact that it was only himself and his valet in the room had not occurred to him.

Indeed, said his valet smoothly, holding out an array of cravats for his lordship to

choose. Most preposterous.

At my time of life! Marchwood fumed. "To think that I am incapable of

organising my own affairs – little though they are – and to instruct me on proper

etiquette! It should not be borne, Thomas, and I will not stand for it!"

Thomas knew better than to offer any words of advice, or any words at all for that

manner. The Viscount was often fractious in winter, and this winter had been one of

the coldest and more miserable in living memory. Even the thought of the Marchwood

Christmas Ball had not been sufficient to raise his spirits.

Thirty years! The Viscount of Marchwood boomed. "Thirty years Thomas, that I

have celebrated Christmas in this fashion, and yet I am still considered a babe in

arms!"

I am sure that is not the case. Thomas handed over the blue cravat that

Marchwood had gestured towards, speaking in the pause that his lordship had left.

The butler here ...

The butler here knows nothing, Marchwood said petulantly, trying unsuccessfully

to tie his own cravat, and trapping his finger in the process. "If I had known that such

an ingrate idiot was running Scotchmore Castle, I would never have chosen it as our

Christmas Ball location."

Thomas said nothing, but reached over and released Marchwood’s finger, which

was starting to turn the same shade of blue as the cravat. His lordship grunted his

thanks, and Thomas bowed slightly.

In all of the five years that Thomas had been the fourth Viscount of Marchwood’s

valet, he had never seen him in such a state. Of course, if the rumours that were

currently circulating were true, then Marchwood had much bigger problems than a

simple festive party.

Scotchmore Castle, nestled in the centre of the Scottish Highlands, was large and

dominated the landscape in which it sat. A dramatic looking castle, nestled between

two large mountains and surrounded by a loch it had two tall towers were pinched

together in the north, and the high crenellations were peppered with statues of

gargoyles and grotesque goblins. And yet, somehow, in the thin and weak winter

light, Scotchmore Castle still seemed to be a haven of safety and of warmth in the

barren Highlands landscape.

It had been in a warm, summerly light admittedly that Marchwood had first seen

Scotchmore Castle. He had been visiting his sister, who lived nearby, and on a ride on

a blustery June day had happened upon the place. It had seemed then like a fairy tale

castle, hidden just out of sight of the ordinary visitor. Marchwood had felt as though

he had disturbed a dream. When he had returned home to London, it had not been

difficult for him to discover the name of the inhabitants, and from there to contact

them, anonymous at first, naturally.

The current owners were celebrating the joys of the season in Bath, and had let out

their seat to the Viscount – though they had insisted on payment before he took

possession for the month, considering the news that they had recently heard about his

finances. Nothing was certain, of course, and no one would dream of saying aloud in

company that the Viscount of Marchwood was in dire straits and short of more than a

little money ... and yet in every coffee house and every private home in the land, such

unmentionable things were, quietly, mentioned.

My lord, Thomas said gently. "If the funds to host such a lavish festive ball are

not ... immediately to hand, then perhaps –"

Immediately to hand? Marchwood repeated, eyes wide. "I have not the faintest

clue what you are referring to, my lad."

Thomas ignored the term ‘my lad’ – it had not been true for over a decade, but then,

at the age of twenty six, he was barely his master’s peer either. Evidently any mention

of financial circumstances were simply not to be borne. Instead, he cast a discerning

eye over his lordship’s current attire. Although Marchwood clung slightly to the older

ways of dressing – lace poking out of the cuffs of his sleeves, and much looser fitting

breeches – Thomas had managed to bring him back to modernity in small, subtle

ways. His pantaloons were cropped, as were those of all fashionable men in society,

and his leather boots had been polished to reflect the candlelight. The silk shirt had

been perfectly cut by the Viscount’s tailor to match the coat’s lapels – though it could

be midnight before Thomas managed to get him into it.

Thomas coughed. "’Tis still a week before Christmas, my lord; I am sure that

McGerald –"

"It takes more than a week to train a butler, Thomas, you of all people should know

how much training it takes to work well," Marchwood interrupted. Three different

blue silk waistcoats were lying on the bed, and he spoke absentmindedly as he

perused them. "You would think that I pay these people enough to offer myself and

my guests true service."

Smiling, Thomas stepped forward and ignored his master. "The dark blue waistcoat

I think, my lord. Anything lighter would remove the attention from one’s face."

Marchwood nodded, his long grey hair becoming more and more unkempt as he

rushed around the room. "I need this Christmas ball to be perfect, Thomas, absolutely

perfect. For Audrey’s sake, it must be perfect."

Thomas was just finishing the Viscount’s toilette, and as Marchwood spoke those

particular words, he was holding a large bottle of scent – which he dropped. He was

fortunate, though: the large Aubusson rug was soft, and caught the glass bottle safely,

with no part spilled.

Careful, Thomas! Marchwood was not cross, but was too worked up about his

disagreement with the Scotchmore Castle’s butler to moderate his tone.

Cheeks flaming red, Thomas picked up the bottle, muttering apologies. He put the

glass bottle back onto the side table, and caught a glance of his reflection in the

giltwood mirror. His blush deepened.

The Lady Audrey, as Thomas knew her, had just turned eighteen. The Christmas

ball was her first introduction to society, and it was well known by all that this was

probably her first, best, and only chance of securing a husband – before the

Marchwood money coffers ran completely dry.

Every young lady of her age had a coming out ball, or an event hosted by her family

to formally introduce her to society. In attendance