A Season for Christmas (Desire and Discipline #3)

Chapter 1

1

Catherine

Lady Catherine, the Dowager Countess of Cross, thoroughly disliked Christmas.

It was not that she was a Scrooge, by any means, but Christmas was a time for family, and she had none she wanted to spend time with. There were friends she could call upon, but not on the day of.

Looking out the window of her London home, she stared at the passersby who were braving the cold December day. Mayfair was much less busy this time of year, most of the ton having left for their country homes months ago and not returning until after the new year. Some remained, of course, mostly politicians and bachelors; others like herself who had no one to spend the holidays with.

Perhaps she should gather them all together, so they did not have to be alone.

Though she knew many of them were alone because they were detestable wretches whom no one else wanted to spend Christmas with. Sometimes, she wondered if she was fooling herself and if she was the detestable wretch. But no. The wife of her late husband’s heir always sent an invitation to join them on the family estate for the holiday. Catherine had gone once and been treated as one of the family, but she’d had no appetite for returning.

She’d been treated as one of them, but she was not one of them, and being embraced in their warmth, surrounded by their children, had been… painful. Painful in its stark contrast to the Christmases of her youth, which had been full of cold ceremony, and painful in seeing what could have been hers if her husband had lived. If they’d had children.

Absentmindedly pressing her hand to her barren stomach, Catherine watched a carriage roll by the house.

The current countess would hardly send an invitation every year if Catherine was detestable, though. She was a strong-willed woman who suffered no fools. So no, Catherine was not the problem when it came to a lack of company for Christmas.

Her problems were her detestable parents and the envy that gripped her when she visited the current Earl and Countess Cross. And the lack of anyone else to spend the holiday with.

She heaved a sigh, dropping her hand away from the stiff fabric of her stomacher and resting it back on her lap.

Only a few more weeks, then Christmas would be over, and it would be January, with all its promise of new beginnings.

Refocusing out the window, Catherine blinked when she realized the carriage that had just passed by had come to a halt in front of her house. The coachman jumped down and opened the door. Blonde hair flashed from beneath a green hood as he helped the occupant down the steps from the conveyance .

Mrs. Joseph Stuart, formerly Miss Priscilla Bliss.

A friend, despite the awkwardness of how they’d met. Joseph Stuart, Priscilla’s husband, had been an intimate of Catherine’s. Not a lover. They’d never crossed that line. But she’d administered physical discipline to him during Society of Sin events both before and after his marriage to Priscilla until his wife had attended one such event and caught him out.

Somehow, rather than hating Catherine on sight—and Catherine would not have blamed her if she had—Priscilla had taken control of the situation and her husband. First, Catherine had been her mentor, and now, they were friends. Priscilla had a generosity of spirit that was unmatched by anyone Catherine had ever met.

She watched as Priscilla moved up the front stairs to Catherine’s door. Heard the knock, then her butler, Watson, answering it. A few moments later, he appeared in the doorway of the parlor.

“Mrs. Joseph Stuart here to see you, my lady,” he intoned formally. Despite his stiff demeanor, there was a hint of demand in his voice, as if he was daring her to turn company away.

Watson was very disapproving of her lonely state over the holidays.

“Thank you, Watson,” she said, getting to her feet to greet her friend, amused by his nod of approval as she answered him.

He stepped away from the doorway, and Priscilla replaced him.

“Catherine,” she said warmly, coming into the room with outstretched hands.

Watson had taken her cloak, revealing her to be in a green dress a shade lighter than her cloak had been, edged with cream. As she came closer, Catherine could see the tiny red berries hidden in the pattern on the fabric. It was a dress that was very much in the holiday spirit, unlike her own navy day dress.

“Priscilla.” She smiled, taking Priscilla’s hands, and they exchanged kisses on both cheeks in greeting. “I did not know you were still in town.”

Truthfully, she had not been keeping track of who was and who was not. She rarely did. If invitations arrived, she attended; if they did not, she frittered her days away, waiting for the new year.

“Oh yes, we’re spending the holiday here this year. There’s quite a bit to do, what with… well, the dukes and all.” Priscilla’s smile grew a trifle strained as she referenced the recent tragedy. At the end of the Season, eight dukes had been killed in a horrific accident involving a hunting lodge and a barrel of gunpowder.

“I see,” Catherine replied, though she did not quite see. Priscilla’s father-in-law was a marquess, but what that had to do with the dukes, she did not know. All of them had heirs and all the heirs had stepped up to the task, though their households were still in mourning. Why the Marquess of Camden might need to be in London, in relation to the dukes, was unclear, but she did not want to admit it when Priscilla seemed to assume she would know the reason.

Catherine cleared her throat, letting Priscilla’s hands go. “Please, sit. Shall I ring for some tea?”

“No, thank you,” Priscilla replied to Catherine’s disappointment. “I cannot stay long.”

More disappointment. But Priscilla did sit, which meant she would stay for a short time, breaking the tedium of Catherine’s morning, which was appreciated. She would take what she could get .

“Well, I am glad to see you, regardless,” Catherine replied, taking her own seat on the couch next to Priscilla. “You are in town for the whole holiday?”

“I believe we’ll remain in London until the end of the upcoming Season,” Priscilla replied, folding her hands on her lap. She seemed rather cheerful about the prospect, and hearing it cheered Catherine. Having a friend about during the winter months in the city was a boon. “The whole family is coming in to celebrate the holiday. Evie and Anthony never left, of course, but Josie and Elijah arrived yesterday, and Adam is due to return this morning. Rex and Mary have also been invited to spend the holiday with us.”

Well, that was very interesting and caused another pang of envy. It was well known, though not much talked about, that Lady Mary Hartford’s parents were rarely in the country, much less in the same hemisphere as their daughter. They were intrepid explorers and preferred far-flung countries to their own. But she was close friends with Mrs. Browne, formerly Miss Evangaline Stuart, and Lady Josephina, who was married to the marquess’ heir. Apparently, the lack of parents did not affect the Hartfords as they had close friends they could rely on for company.

Catherine did her best to be glad for them rather than envious.

“How lovely,” she said, because it was. “So then, what brings you here?”

To her surprise, Priscilla fidgeted, clearing her throat.

“Well, I was rather hoping you would come to tea this afternoon. If you are free.” Her chin jerked upward before lowering again. “Lily is coming over as well.”

Lily was the Countess of Talbot and also a very close friend of Lady Hartford, Mrs. Browne, and Lady Josephina. Catherine understood that the four of them had grown up together. They were all also members of the Society of Sin, though they had a very different relationship with their husbands than Priscilla had with hers.

Sudden understanding hit.

Priscilla was hoping Catherine would come as her friend. Though the other women were very kind and very open, they had a history Priscilla was not a part of, a connection Priscilla would likely never be able to match. And Priscilla was hoping for a friend to be there for her while they all gathered together.

“Of course.” The enthusiasm in her voice was unmistakable. Rather than having to fake any, she had to try to tamp hers down, so as not to appear overly eager. “I would love to.”

“Wonderful.” Priscilla lit up, both with enthusiasm and relief, her blue eyes shining with emotions. “Diana will be there as well, of course, but we are keeping it close.”

Very close. Warmth touched Catherine as she realized the invite was not only because she was convenient and Priscilla’s friend, but that Priscilla considered her such an intimate that she would be invited to such a gathering. Diana had recently married the Marquess of Camden only a few months earlier. This tea would be family and their closest friends.

“I’m honored to be invited.” Her heart actually strained a little at how honored, how touched she was. Though she considered Priscilla one of her closest friends, one never really knew how someone else felt. There had been times in the past when she had felt close to someone, only to discover they did not hold her in the same regard.

Priscilla beamed at her. They chatted for a little longer, catching up on the very light gossip that was available able this time of year, before she made her goodbyes. Feeling buoyed by both the visit and the invitation, when Priscilla left, Catherine found herself wandering to the music room to practice her harp rather than staring moodily out the window again.

Samuel

Shrugging off his greatcoat, Samuel heard the sound of feminine laughter echo down the hall. He raised his eyebrows at Stims, the butler for Camden House.

“The ladies are having tea, sir,” Stims said, draping Samuel’s coat over his arm. “If you would follow me. The marquess and Captain Browne are waiting for you in the library.”

Nodding, Samuel followed the butler to the left, in the opposite direction of the laughter. He was not loathe to avoid the ladies of the house. Returning to London had made it clear to him that he was now a desirable target for the intrepid matchmakers of the ton . He might not have a title, but he had plenty of money now, and he was young enough and handsome enough, the debutantes were as eager as their mamas to catch him.

Unfortunately for them, there was only one lady who had caught his interest. The same lady he’d fallen for when he’d been younger and much less wealthy. Now she was older, a widow, and free to court again… but very different from the young woman he’d known.

His mind flashed to the last time he’d seen her—at a private event for a secret club—when she’d been flogging a duke.

Yes, his Catherine had changed greatly since their youthful declarations of love and devotion. Had it been her marriage or her husband’s death that had done the trick? Did he really want to know?

What was he prepared to do to make her his?

The questions had been turning in his head for weeks now, driving him batty and leaving him wavering. He wanted Catherine. He did not know if he could give her what she wanted. Not once he’d witnessed her in action at the Society of Sin. So, instead of pursuing her, the way he’d planned, he’d… hedged.

Taken the time to think.

And he still had no answers other than acknowledging that avoiding her was not helping him at all.

“Mr. North has arrived,” Stims said, jolting Samuel out of his thoughts.

They’d made the passage from the front door to the library without him really noticing. That was how twisted up Catherine had him. Stims stepped back, gesturing Samuel forward. He entered the well-lit, well-stocked library, nodding his greeting to the two men already inside.

Both of them stood, looking down at a large table with a map of England spread out on it, eight identical little black stones laid out upon it and one red stone on the location of London. Oliver Stuart, the Marquess of Camden, looked up and smiled.

“Samuel. Good to see you again.” He gestured to the younger man beside him. “You’ve met Captain Anthony Browne?”

“The brave soul who married Evie? Yes, we met at your wedding.” Samuel smiled as he strode forward, shaking the man’s hand in greeting. Evie was Oliver’s niece, and a more independent, strong-minded young woman Oliver had never met .

“I’ll let Mrs. Browne know that Mr. North has arrived,” Stims said from behind him.

Samuel started to turn before he caught himself and looked at Oliver and Captain Browne, raising one questioning eyebrow. Oliver smiled, though it looked more like a grimace on the older man’s face.

“Anthony and Evie have taken over for me with my duties to the Crown,” Oliver explained. “And we have a favor to ask of you.”

Samuel blinked in surprise. Though he had known Oliver was the spymaster to the Crown—he’d done his duty by the Crown on his own travels at times, under Oliver’s direction—he had not known the reins had been passed. He certainly hadn’t expected them to be passed to the man’s niece. Her husband, perhaps, but quite frankly, he’d expected Oliver’s eldest son Elijah to take up the mantle.

“Though not before Evie joins us,” Captain Brown said cheerfully. Unlike Oliver, he seemed unperturbed by the idea of his wife helping to run their country’s intelligence organization.

“Right.” Samuel tilted his head down at the map they’d been looking at. It only took him a moment to note where the eight black markers had been laid down—Clarence, Hereford, St. Albans, Bolton, Montagu, Ormonde, Grafton, Northumberland… “The dead dukes.”

“Yes.” Oliver sighed, looking down at the map as well. He didn’t get a chance to say anything more before the door behind them opened again. Samuel lifted his head, turning to meet Mrs. Browne’s green gaze as she entered the room. She looked every inch the lady in a dark red damask gown and her hair pulled up and out of her way.

“Mrs. Browne,” Samuel said, nodding his greeting, which was returned .

“Mr. North. Thank you for coming.” Her brisk tone belied her delicate appearance as she moved to the table.

“Well, I cannot say I’m glad to be here until I know exactly why I’m here,” he said with an easy smile, turning the statement into a jest.

Her lips curved in return.

“You’re here because we need you to be a spy, of course.”