Page 2 of An Earl’s Christmas Temptation

Samuel's throat tightened, and it was suddenly much more difficult to breathe. He turned his gaze down to the unopened envelope that was sitting upon the desk in front of him. Though his name was written upon the front of it in his father's own hand, he could not bring himself to tear it open, certain that any words inside would be begrudging and cruel and perhaps even sadistic, maybe even the ravings of a madman.

After all, he had not seen or spoken to any of his family in near on twenty-four years. He could not imagine that his father would have had anything nice to say in his final moments after almost a lifetime of ignoring his very existence.

"Won't you open it, my love?" Francesca suggested, nudging his shoulder gently. It was clear from the tone of her voice that she was more than a little intrigued with whatever was inside the envelope yet she did not press him when Samuel shook his head.

"I cannot," he sighed deeply and closed his eyes against the beginnings of a headache. "Not yet."

It was too soon to take another hit to his chest after having already received news of his father's passing and so he picked up the envelope and placed it in the top drawer of his desk, noticing how Francesca watched him do so with curiosity.

"What will you do now?" she asked, placing the first letter back on the desk in front of Samuel in a rustle of paper. Samuel squinted his eyes to watch her do so before closing them again, pressing thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose.

"What is there for me to do?" he asked, though deep down, he knew the answer.

"Will you not return to England now that you have been made earl?" Francesca asked. Though she sounded hopeful, there was also a certain reluctance to her tone and Samuel could tell she was fighting an internal battle all her own, just as he was.

"What good would it do to return after so many years?"

The question lingered between them for a long while. All that could be heard was the crackling of the fireplace behind them and the rattling of the windowpanes as the wind outside picked up.

It was Francesca who finally broke the silence between them. "Your mother has just lost her husband. She has need of you."

The lump in Samuel's throat thickened, and grief struck him in his chest. It was not grief for his father that hurt him so but the thought of his leaving his poor wife alone in the event of his own death. He could only imagine the pain it would cause her.My parents did not share the same close relationship that we do.Samuel tried to rationalise, fighting what he knew to be true, fighting what he knew he had to do.

Francesca crouched a little to wrap her arms around her husband's neck from behind. The way she stroked the side of his head caused him to lean into her, enjoying the smell of her perfume that clung to her hair. "I do not wish to return there."

"It is not about what we wish," Francesca pointed out. "It is about our duty, not only to your family, but also to our boys."

Samuel flinched at that, knowing all too well that his wife was right. Yet what kind of welcome would his grown sons have in England after their parents had been ostracised? Having made a home for himself and his family in Italy, Samuel couldn't bear the thought of leaving it all behind.

But they did, and for two short years, Samuel and Francesca lived together in England as the Earl and Countess of Sutthers. Though his mother refused to see him, Samuel did his duties and taught his eldest son Gabriel all that he knew of the place, both of them learning as they went.

In that time, his sons spent much of their time travelling with friends,, and Samuel could not blame them for it as they were treated just as he had expected. They were outsiders in society, whispered about and taunted at every corner.

And yet they both handled it with dignity and grace and good humour. Samuel's only real concern was the gossip of his sons' rakishness, though he brushed it off as the folly of young men. And for those two years, they got by, fitting in where they could and avoiding the places where they could not.

Yet fate had other things in store for them. On the twenty-second of December that year, Samuel Tatford suffered a horrendous horse-riding accident. The earl languished in his sickbed, pain-ridden and rarely conscious. And on Christmas Eve, surrounded by his family, he drew his very last breath. Samuel and Francesca were parted forever by the fatal accident that had caught them all off guard and left Gabriel Tatford, reluctantly, the next Earl of Sutthers.

Florence, Italy - 1830

Chapter 1

Late summer, 1833—Townhouse in Grosvenor Square, London

Julia Pritchard, daughter to the Viscount of Chalmers, was almost pleased to see the ending of her second London Season coming up. Though there were a few events left to attend, she was certain she would be more than a little relieved once it was all over. Though it was expected for her to find a husband after having failed the Season before, she was in no hurry, not after what had happened the last time things had begun to progress.

"Oh, Jules, would you please cheer up and give me a smile?" Chelsea Walker, the daughter of a wealthy businessman and perhaps Julia's closest friend, was taking great pleasure in looking over the dresses that the modiste's assistant had dropped in that morning while Julia sat on her chaise, feeling quite sorry for herself.

“I would if it were possible to just get this Season over with without having to wade through the greedy, power-hungry bachelors that Mama and Papa keep throwing at me.” Julia sighed deeply. There was a time when she too would have reveled in the beautiful silken gowns, feeling all the different textures and deciding which colour suited her best, but this time around, she felt her excitement sorely lacking.

"It can't be nearly so bad as you are making out," Chelsea protested, coming to sit on the end of the chaise at Julia's feet. She gripped Julia's delicate ankles and pulled gently until Julia was forced to straighten her legs and lay them over her friend's lap. She sighed with relief when the other woman began to massage the soles of her feet, relieving slightly the headache that had throbbed at her temples.

"Mr. Mathers and his friend have been quite taken with you all Season."

"Yes, yes, Mr. Mathers is quite handsome, and he knows it," Julia huffed in a disgruntled manner rolling her eyes beneath the arm she had laid over her face to block out the light as she dropped her head back on the arm of the chaise. "He also knows that my dowry is the largest on the market this year, thanks to Papa and Mama growing desperate."

"Jules, you do not need a large dowry," Chelsea stated, then tapped Julia on the knee as though she was foolish for even suggesting such a thing. "You are the most beautiful of all of us, and every man has been simpering about you like a lovesick pup all Season. I wish I had half the suitors that you do."

Julia lifted her arm and glowered at her friend before she begged, "Please, take them all! I have no need for them."

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