A snowman wish for lady.., p.1
A Snowman Wish for Lady Samantha: Seasons of Love, page 1
A Snowman Wish for Lady Samantha
Seasons of Love
Katherine Ann Madison
Maggie M. Dallen
Copyright © 2021 by Katherine Ann Madison
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Epilogue
Coming soon…
Also by Maggie and Katherine
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Chapter One
London, England
Lady Samantha Maxwell slipped on her brother’s coat, nearly swimming in the folds as she buttoned the jacket closed and then donned Tobias’s gloves and hat. She made her way out through the kitchen door and into the fresh morning air, snow crunching under her overlarge boots. Yet another item she’d borrowed from Tobias before slipping out into the freshly fallen snow.
By all accounts, she should not be outside, but rather, inside having breakfast and preparing for another busy day. Between her sister Sophie’s upcoming wedding to the Duke of Barton and her own season, her very first, there was so much work to do, it seemed it would never all be done.
Her mind began automatically ticking down the list of wedding tasks. Invitations to be sent, linens to be chosen, food to be coordinated, dresses to be picked.
But the thought of dresses sent her spiraling down her own personal list of chores that included fittings at the modiste, coordinating ribbons, lessons on elocution and pianoforte… She forced herself to stop.
She’d come outside for this very reason.
The endless tasks had just become too much.
And the worst part, she’d wanted all of them. Samantha had not only agreed to help Sophie with the wedding preparations, she’d advocated for a real season.
Her sisters had all gotten engaged recently. Sophie to a duke, Sarah to a viscount, and Serena to an earl. Samantha had to confess she’d not seen that one coming. Serena was the most active and outdoorsy lady ever to grace a drawing room. The fact that she was to marry an earl and not a huntsman still astounded Samantha in the best way.
Though she was very happy for all her sisters, she’d maintained that she didn’t wish to marry. Not yet.
She drew in a deep breath of fresh, crisp air and she made her way down the carriage track to the front of the house where a patch of undisturbed snow filled the front beds.
It looked so innocent, spread out in a snow-white carpet without tracks or dirt she almost didn’t wish to disturb its perfection. But after a minute, she dropped down to her knees.
She could have had her choice of eligible lords, any number of whom might have courted her. She was attractive enough, well connected, and her dowry was large by any standard.
She might have, exactly like her sisters, picked a husband and been done with this entire business. Skipped the season and all its endless preparations.
With Tobias’s gloves making her work slow, she began to form a ball. Her family likely thought her spoiled that she’d insisted on remaining unattached long enough to enjoy the splendor of one London season.
And perhaps she was. At eighteen, she would like a bit of fun before she settled down to have a family of her own.
But that wasn’t the real reason she’d waited to wed.
And she’d not shared with a soul her motivations, not even her beloved family. They were so personal…she just wasn’t certain how they’d sound.
Finally getting a good ball formed, she began to roll it back and forth through the snow-covered garden bed making it larger and larger until she was overwarm from the effort, her cheeks likely flushed. But, finally finished, she started on a second smaller ball, plunking it on top of the first.
When she’d been a child, she’d done this very activity in these very beds with her mother. A rare act for a countess, Samantha knew that, but she’d cherished those times when she had her mother all to herself. Samantha’s heart gave a lurch as her mother’s beautiful face rose into her memory. She remembered her blue eyes, so like her own, shining with affection as she shared story after story with Samantha.
And nearly all of them had been about the countess’ season in society.
Samantha stopped looking down at her squat little snowman.
Her sister Sarah and her brother were very close. And Serena and her father had been two peas in a pod. But for Samantha, her mother had been the family member with whom she’d enjoyed the deepest affection, and then she’d died…
Samantha let out a sigh, dropping down into the snow again.
Her mother had been a raging success in the ballrooms and salons of London and she’d married an earl for her efforts, one whom she’d loved dearly.
Not that Samantha cared about marrying an earl. She didn’t. But to spin about the ballroom as her mother had done, to attend teas, and walks through Hyde Park, to be a debutante, Samantha felt as though she’d somehow get to hold her mother closer for walking her same paths.
Her breath caught as she took Tobias’s hat off her head and plunked it on her snowman. Then, she unwound her scarf, placing it on her snowy figure as well. Searching about, she found two dark stones for eyes, pressing them into the snow. Then, a search of the back garden yielded two branches, which she stuck in his body for arms. Standing back, she admired her work.
It was the way she and her mother had always done it.
How many hats had her father lost to this very endeavor?
She missed the other woman’s presence now. As the youngest, perhaps it was natural to grieve the most keenly, but where her sisters seemed to look forward, she had the most powerful urge to try to connect with the past. With what she’d lost.
She just hadn’t realized it would be so much work.
Made worse by the fact that she didn’t have a mother here to help her.
Samantha dropped to her knees in front of the snowman once again. “Perhaps you can help me. Tell me, what color ribbon do you think would go best with a periwinkle dress? Cream or black?”
The snowman offered up no opinion.
She laughed to herself. “Oh. I see. You’re more the strong, silent type. Tell me, do you conduct dashing rescues of ladies in need?” Then she leaned closer. “Do you dance divinely or do you have two left feet?”
She giggled to herself, nearly toppling over in the snow as she made note that snowmen had no feet at all.
It was just that playing pretend made her feel younger, lighter, and closer to her past. Though it had only been eighteen months since her mother’s passing, there were times when that year and a half felt like a lifetime. And so, wrapping her arms about herself, she sighed dreamily and reached for one of the branch fingers. “Why yes, my lord, I’d very much like this dance.”
Samantha closed her eyes, wishing that she might have one more chance to do this activity with her mother.
A soft, somewhat sad smile touched her lips as she said a prayer of thanks for the memories she did have.
Standing, she started to sway back and forth holding onto the snow gentleman’s stick arms as she hummed to herself. “You dance divinely,” she said with an overexaggerated sigh, as she side-stepped, accidentally pulling one of the snowman’s arms off. She laughed as she attempted to stick the bare wood back in his body.
“If you dance with every gentleman with such force, you’ll make quite the reputation for yourself.” A male voice spoke behind her.
It was deep. A baritone that rumbled through her in a way that made her spin with shock.
She’d been having a private moment, one where she was pretending to be as successful, graceful, and popular as her mother.
The last thing she needed was an interloper telling her that she was a failure at dancing with snow partners.
As if she didn’t know she was failing before the season had even begun. “I beg your pardon?” Her voice came out rather harsh and more forceful than she’d intended. She was embarrassed and a bit annoyed. Who was this man to cast judgment on her?
She found the man in question, standing on the landing of their brick front stairs. He was tall, made to look even taller by the fact that he was three feet higher on the stairs. His shoulders, even in his coat, looked unusually broad, or perhaps that was because the jacket was perfectly tailored to accentuate the narrow taper of his waist.
His dark hair was impeccably combed away from his forehead to accentuate dark brown piercing eyes and the sort of handsome, aristocratic features that might make a girl swoon if she were on the dance floor.
“Generally, when dancing with a lord, you can’t pull his arms off.” His brows lifted.
Heat blo
She’d meant it as a jest. An attempt to lighten the odd tension that seemed to surround the conversation or perhaps just herself. But the moment the words left her mouth, she realized how much grace they lacked. Oh, what would her tutor say to hear such words?
His stare showed clearly that he, whoever he was, did not approve. “It’s a good thing you’ve got some years before you’re unleashed on society. Or perhaps you won’t be at all? Are you a member of the earl’s family or on staff?”
Staff? Few years? Who and how old did he think she was? The man had an amazing ability to deliver a number of insults with just a few sentences.
She dropped the stick, resisting the urge to point it at him. Years of tutelage in refined behavior kept her from raising her voice, but she straightened her spine in her brother’s coat. Drawing in a deep breath, she tried to consider the perfect words that would put this man in his place without further compromising her status as a lady. “I’ll have you know that I—”
But she stopped. Because a strange rumbling noise emitted from somewhere on the roof.
They both looked up, an eerie silence following the strange rumble. And then it happened again, an even louder sound that seemed to echo through the cool, crisp air.
She had the wherewithal to step back because a moment later, an avalanche of snow careened off the roof, sliding down onto the ground, crushing her snowman with its force.
She gasped, thinking how fortunate she was to have stepped back. Automatically, she looked over to the man on the steps.
But instead of the haughty aristocratic fellow who’d been there, in his place was a tall, snow-covered figure looking far more like her snowman than anything else.
She stifled a giggle as her hands came to her mouth. She’d not laugh. He might be hurt under there.
But as his hand lifted to uselessly brush at his once-fine coat, she pressed her lips together to keep any sound from coming out as she silently giggled, bending a bit with the effort to keep quiet.
And then she straightened. Whoever he was, he’d gotten his due and she need not consider how to repay his haughty comments. He’d received his payment in full.
Now it was time to be a gracious hostess and she rushed over to the stairs to lend her aid.
Chapter Two
Lord Gavin Elderman, the Marquess of Longley, attempted to see through the curtain of cold, wet snow chafing at his face.
When had this morning gone so terribly wrong?
Perhaps it was the snow. He never enjoyed the rare occasions it snowed in the city. The country was different. But here, it made a giant mess that never failed to ruin his boots, and now, apparently, his coat.
Or mayhap the problem was this meeting. He’d only met the Earl of Evans on a few occasions and when the earl had mentioned a business proposition, Thomas had been skeptical. He was considered exceptional in his ability to find sound investments. One of the reasons for his success was his careful consideration concerning who he invested with.
And certainly, he should not have stopped to speak with the girl building the snowman. Her childish play, however, had sparked a bit of whimsy that he felt so rarely, he couldn’t quite keep from jesting with her.
Though, he had the distinct impression that like everything else today, he’d somehow delivered his words precisely wrong because rather than be amused, she’d seemed…irritated. At least he’d thought so. She’d had the decency to appear only marginally so, but her high color and the vehemence with which she’d tossed the stick aside seemed to indicate a certain level of annoyance.
Which led him to his final mistake of the morning, not stepping back, but rather looking up as an avalanche of snow smacked him dead in the face. His skin stung, his eyes burned, snow had made it deep into the collar of his coat and down his back.
He growled out his annoyance as he attempted to get the snow off his neck.
“Oh, let me help you.”
He opened his mouth to protest but before he could, soft, featherlight hands began brushing at his cheeks and chin. They were warm from having been in gloves and achingly gentle as they swiped away snow. And then she started working lower. His shoulders, chest, arms, back. Circling around him, she systematically cleared the worst of the wet stickiness from his clothes and skin.
When she stopped in front of him again, she had a sweet smile as she tilted her chin to look at him. “There. That’s much better.”
He realized two things almost instantly. First, she was lovely. Large blue eyes were framed with arching brows and high cheekbones. A pert little nose and full lips were accentuated by the pink coloring her cheeks and the straw-blonde of her hair. Second, she was far older than he’d first assumed.
The oversized coat had fooled him. But as he looked at her face, it was clear that she was a young woman, not a girl. Though to be fair, her behavior had been a bit unrestrained. It’s no wonder he’d been fooled.
What more had he been wrong about today?
“Let me show you in before you end up covered again.” And then she slid around him, opening the door and entering into the foyer.
He followed as a smart-looking butler stepped out ready to assist them.
“Reeves,” she said with a smile. “Our guest has had a terrible incident with snow off the roof, can you please take his coat and see that it’s properly cared for.”
He grimaced as the butler helped him out of the article. She was also clearly not a servant. She spoke with some authority, which led him to wonder who exactly she might be and if she were in fact an eligible lady.
At seven and twenty, he’d been the marquess for nearly a decade. And much as he hated to admit it, it was time to do his duty to the marquessate and marry.
Not that he was interested in the likes of her, whoever she was. Beauty aside, she was rather silly and she didn’t seem to appreciate his humor and…
Then again, he’d spent so little time with ladies of marriageable age that he wondered if any of them would enjoy his company.
He tended to be focused on business and he spent a great deal of time pursuing his own interests, which were about as far from London ballrooms as a man of his station could get.
Riding, hunting, boxing, he was the sort who rose with the sun and went to bed with it too. He did not stay out all night, drinking and carousing. Far from it.
So despite being a marquess, he felt a great deal of trepidation about his search for his bride on this particular trip to London. And if this chance meeting was any indication, he had great cause to worry.
The butler had neatly folded his coat and was already disappearing with the garment to see that it was properly cared for when she called. “And bring our guest a steaming pot of tea. He’ll need it.”
Then she turned to him with a smile as she removed her own jacket, tossing it onto a nearby chair.
And he realized his next mistake. If he’d seen her in a different jacket, he’d never have thought her a girl. In her gown, her lovely curves were on full display. He closed his eyes, grimacing at his own mistakes.
But she mistook his grimace for something else. “Oh. Apologies. Do you not care for tea?”
He opened his eyes to look down at her face. He felt the air trapped in his lungs as he stared at her again. Gone was any pretense of a girl and in her place was Aphrodite.
Granted, he’d found her dancing with a snowman, and yet, she’d managed to be the more gracious of the two of them and truly lovely. “I like tea just fine. Thank you for your kindness.”
She gave him another smile. “Come stand by the fire and tell me who you’re here to see.”
He cleared his throat. “I’m here to see the Earl of Evans.”
