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    A Prince for Yuletide: A Victorian Christmas Novella
    A Prince for Yuletide: A Victorian Christmas Novella
    A Prince for Yuletide: A Victorian Christmas Novella
    Ebook117 pages1 hour

    A Prince for Yuletide: A Victorian Christmas Novella

    By Anthea Lawson

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    About this ebook

    A heartwarming Victorian-set holiday novella from USA Today bestselling, RITA-nominated author Anthea Lawson, celebrating the best of the season - Christmas trees, mulled wine, deceptions, and, of course, true love~

    Miss Eliana Banning attends the Midwinter Masque and meets a gentleman in wolf’s clothing who might prove to be her heart’s desire... or her worst enemy.

    A Prince for Yuletide is a sweet (kisses only) Christmas-themed romance of approximately 100 pages.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherFiddlehead Press
    Release dateNov 28, 2016
    ISBN9781680130737
    A Prince for Yuletide: A Victorian Christmas Novella

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      Book preview

      A Prince for Yuletide - Anthea Lawson

      1

      Snowflake

      The scent of fresh spruce filled Banning House, wafting from the tree taking up the entire bow window in the parlor. Miss Eliana Banning hummed under her breath as she tied small bags of sweets to the branches. The family—with much urging on Eliana’s part—had adopted the tradition last year, when Prince Albert and Queen Victoria had installed the first Christmas tree in Buckingham Palace. Indeed, many noble families had been quick to embrace the Germanic custom. All up and down the street, trees graced the windows of the Mayfair town houses—but the Bannings had been among the first.

      William, she said to her older brother, who was assisting her in the tree trimming, there’s a bare spot near the top. Do fill it.

      Hand me a gilded almond, he said, mumbling the words around something in his mouth.

      She narrowed her eyes. You beast! No wonder it’s empty. You stole the bag of candy that was there.

      William hastily swallowed. A man must have sustenance during these difficult times.

      If I were any taller, you’d be banished from the room.

      A pity you have such stubby arms, he said. But truly, I must be off soon. I’ll send in the maids and footmen to help.

      Eliana picked up a rustling length of paper chain, then set it back down again, her mood dimming. I miss Selene. We had such fun last year.

      Her older sister was married now, with a house—and Christmas tree—of her own. And while Eliana did not begrudge her sister her happy new life, in the months since Selene had married and left Banning House, a strange discontent had settled over Eliana.

      She sighed, very softly. If she were perfectly truthful, perhaps she was a bit jealous. After all, Eliana had always been the very model of a pretty, agreeable, and sociable young lady. Yet plain, serious Selene had been the one to make a brilliant match.

      Certainly, Eliana had gentleman callers aplenty, and good friends both male and female, but increasingly, she felt as though she were holding up a mask that no one cared to look behind. It felt as though all the gentlemen she associated with only seemed interested in pursuing fun and jollity, and nothing more. Everyone was so very merry and witty, and, in truth, it was becoming a bit exhausting.

      And speaking of masks…

      We might as well finish up for the day, she told her brother. I must prepare for the Midwinter Masque.

      William shot her a look. Is that tonight? Hetty is accompanying you, I hope. Don’t get up to any mischief, Eliana.

      She swatted him on the shoulder. You sound like Father. Yes, of course my companion is coming—what do you take me for? And Selene and Jared will be there as well.

      That’s the Duke and Duchess of Ashford, you impertinent girl. Make sure you curtsey appropriately.

      She rolled her eyes, then went on the attack. "And when will you marry, sir? You’ve a title to inherit and pass down to your sons. You’d best get busy."

      He frowned and gave a mock shudder. "Leg shackled so soon? I’m young yet. Don’t you think you should be the next in the family to go?"

      I’m younger than you by six years!

      Yes, but you’re a girl. You grow stale much sooner.

      Grinning, William ducked away from her threatening hand. I’m only teasing, Ellie. You’re a pretty girl, and you have plenty of time.

      Of course I have. She sniffed at him, but the words echoed hollowly inside her.

      Selene had narrowly avoided being a spinster, and Eliana feared she was headed for that same fate. Was she doomed to be always the merry companion, and never the bride? It was all very well to have a pretty face and sweet nature, but not if she only attracted empty-headed buffoons for suitors.

      Increasingly, she wanted something more—wanted to be something more, herself. If only she knew what that was. It was as though she were living in a cocoon, wrapped up in expectation and habit, unsure if she even had wings. What if she broke out and discovered she was only a worm, and not a butterfly at all?

      Give my love to our esteemed parents, William said, heading to the hall to fetch his coat and hat. I’m planning on Christmas Eve dinner next week, of course.

      And our annual caroling, Eliana reminded him. We’ll gather here this coming Thursday at two o’clock. Don’t look so doubtful—we need your voice more than ever, now that our best baritone is out of Town for the holidays.

      Alas, you must settle for second best. William pulled on his gloves, then bent to kiss her cheek. Enjoy your ball tonight, and—

      Yes, yes. Stay out of trouble. I don’t know why everyone thinks I’m such a scapegrace. I’m actually quite a proper miss, you know.

      William merely arched one brow. The butler opened the front door, and out her brother went, letting in a chilly blast of air.

      My, it’s cold. Eliana rubbed her arms. I wonder if it might snow.

      It might, the butler agreed. What time would you like the carriage brought around this evening?

      Eight, I think. With a shiver, she retreated from the hallway and went upstairs, where Hetty waited to help transform her into Red Riding Hood for the Midwinter Masque.

      It took well over an hour to finish fitting the red velvet cloak Eliana had chosen. She’d kept the mask a simple affair, however, just a plain red satin half-mask over her eyes, unlike some ladies of her acquaintance. Her best friend, Lady Peony Talbot, was going as a swan, and her elaborate headpiece included sequins, satin, and a ridiculously tall plume of white feathers.

      Now Eliana sat quietly, trying to be patient as Hetty curled her hair into careful ringlets.

      You look a trifle melancholy, Hetty said, pausing in her pursuit of the perfect curl. Is anything the matter?

      Eliana smoothed her palm over the silver skirts of her gown and cast about for a reasonable answer. She wasn’t about to admit that she felt a bit adrift, not to mention lonely for some gentleman she had yet to meet.

      I miss Selene, she finally said. Now that she’s married, we hardly see her anymore.

      Hetty smiled. Being a duchess is keeping your sister busy, indeed. But I’m sure she misses you as well.

      Eliana frowned. I think she’s too happy being wed to the Duke of Ashford to pay us any mind.

      The moment the words left her mouth, she regretted them. Jealousy was unbecoming in a lady, and it was not like her to be so petty.

      Hetty gave her a sympathetic look. You’ll find your own happy ending, Eliana, of that I’m certain. Now, turn your head a bit more so I might fix this last curl properly.

      Eliana was not nearly so sure. Had someone asked her a year ago if she’d any doubts about making a match, she would have laughed at them quite merrily. But something had changed. She had grown up a little, perhaps—no longer quite the flighty girl she had been. Even more than that, she’d seen the depth of the bond between Selene and Lord Ashford, and realized that she could settle for nothing less than that for herself.

      It was unfortunate, in some ways, that her standards had risen so high. Several gentlemen of her acquaintance whom she might have found satisfactory a year ago now failed to come up to the mark her sister’s husband had set.

      She let out a sigh, and Hetty gave her another look.

      No more moping about, miss. Aren’t you looking forward to the Midwinter Masque? It’s only the most anticipated ball of the winter season. I’m sure you’ll have your pick of gentlemen.

      A pity she didn’t want her pick of them. She only wanted the right one—but as of yet, he was nowhere to be found.

      "After last year’s scandal,

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