Wrapped in Red (Colors of Scandal, #4) Read online

  Wrapped in Red

  Colors of Scandal

  Book four

  Sandra Sookoo

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information retrieval and storage system without permission of the author. Likenesses of characters to anyone living or dead is strictly a coincidence.

  WRAPPED IN RED © 2020 by Sandra Sookoo

  Published by New Independence Books

  ISBN- 9781393863632

  Contact Information:

  [email protected]

  [email protected]

  Visit me at www.sandrasookoo.com

  Book Cover Design by The Midnight Muse

  https://midnightmusedesigns.com/site2/

  Font placement and back cover by: David Sookoo

  Publishing History:

  First Digital Edition, 2020

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Wrapped in Red (Colors of Scandal, #4)

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Blurb

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Epilogue

  The End

  Regency-era stories by Sandra Sookoo

  Author Bio

  Stay in Touch

  Dear Readers,

  There’s nothing I enjoy more than writing Christmas romances. Add in a second chance romance during the holiday season, and I’m in my element. I hope you adore this addition to my Colors of Scandal series.

  The characters in this book are older and have life experience under their belts, which makes the story more believable and relatable.

  Incidentally, the title of this book was inspired by Kelly Clarkson’s Christmas song “Wrapped in Red” from her album of the same name. It came out a handful of years ago, and every time I hear that song, I wondered how I could do a book based on a heroine who liked wearing red every day, and why. So here we are.

  Sandra

  Dedication

  To everyone who always wonders about the one who got away, the one you used to love but the timing wasn’t right. Maybe you’ll find each other again in some capacity later in life.

  Acknowledgements

  Thanks for help choosing the ball gown for this book!

  Jessica Chappell, Michele Miller

  Erin Bennet DuPri Starke, Sue Brandes

  Cindy Bartolotta, Dawn Roberto

  Cynthia Naden, Mia Aeon-Epsilon

  Janice Hitt Hampton, Jena Lang

  Natalie Burton, Jerry Hampton

  Lorna Collins, Cindy Drennan von Hentschel

  Pam Myrick, Julie Shelton

  Thanks to the following people for spit balling names for my characters!

  Cindy Bartolotta, Dawn Roberto

  Cindi Cassarella, Samantha Lundergn

  Mary Dieterich, Tana Hillman

  Kathleen Ann Gallagher, Kelly Snyder

  Cindy Drennan von Hentschel, Cristine Warner

  Sandy Kenny, Rebecca J. Vickery

  Alison Pridie, Lindsey Teske

  Tracey Renaud Villacis, Amy Donahue

  Barbara Scott, Chasity Parrish

  Blurb

  Sometimes long-held secrets are the very things that will eventually lead to freedom.

  Lady Amelia Jane Coventry-Smythe wants nothing more than to shut herself away to mourn in private all the people she lost from her life over the years. Unfortunately, peace is not hers, for the one man she never hoped to see again has just landed in her parlor by mysterious circumstances, with an invitation to her Christmastide house party in hand... and her addiction to him flares anew.

  Cornelius Matthew Edgerton, Marquess of Winchester, is perplexed thanks to the arrival of holiday invitation. He hasn’t heard from Lady Amelia in thirteen years... not since he abruptly left her bed during an affair that he never forgot. Encouraged to attend by her cousin—his best friend—when he arrives at the manor house, his reception is decidedly cool, even though the heat between him and the lady still lingers.

  Underlying polite public interactions, desire builds and explodes into frantic need, but while the two of them draw closer in new understanding and friendship, danger threatens their lives. As Christmas morning arrives, emotions boil over to sour the blooming romance. Only a miracle—and perhaps forgiveness—can help them find the happily ever after they never had the first time around.

  Chapter One

  December 1, 1818

  Lady Amelia Jane Coventry-Smythe pulled the folds of her garnet wool cloak more tightly about her person. Though the day was sunny, a chill rode the air that might portend snow soon. How lovely if it snowed all month and made her planned house party all that more magical.

  “I do hope it will snow this year. Christmastide doesn’t seem right without it.” As she walked the grounds of Trenton Park with a handful of trusted servants, she smiled, but it was a bittersweet gesture.

  “It does seem as if some sort of precipitation is in the offing, my lady,” her butler, Mr. Jessup, said from somewhere behind her. “Would that it holds for the month.”

  She nodded and cast a fond glance about the grounds. The park belonged to the Earl of Trenton’s estate. Said estate, once her father’s, would have passed to her brother when her parents died. However, her only sibling had perished in the war ahead of them; he never had a chance to enact the changes he used to talk about with such enthusiasm. And because Peter had only sired a daughter, the title eventually passed to their first cousin. Charles disliked entertaining almost as much as he disliked taking up the reins of the earldom, but Amelia adored having people about the large manor house. So, he had given her cart blanche to use the country estate as she saw fit, not only for the Christmas holidays, but for whatever she wished. Of course, having him tender an officially signed and registered power of attorney helped her with running the estate as well.

  At least he had the foresight to do that, else it would have fallen into disaster while he played in London.

  Keeping herself tucked away here helped with the waves of grief that took her by surprise on occasion, for after surviving so many deaths, she needed something to occupy her days. Plus, the rules of ton society were a bit more relaxed in the country than they were in London, which meant she could wear various shades of red every day if she wanted without stares and whispers following her, and she wouldn’t be nagged to rejoin society.

  God, how she detested mourning.

  But now was not the time to dwell on the past or the ones who’d already met their eternal reward. The holidays were coming, and she meant to enjoy them as well as the joy they would bring; life was very much for the living.

  “Did you send out all my invitations?” she asked the foreman’s estate secretary as they strolled the lonely road that ran the length of the back acreage. It was part of her routine each morning when the weather was fair. Without the daily exercise, she’d go out of her mind with boredom.

  “I did, Lady Amelia.” The young man, Henry, trotted to keep up with her pace. “I gave them to the post coachman myself.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled. “I do hope all twenty will provide positi
ve responses.”

  The manor house was much gayer with guests filling its rooms and walking its halls. Or perhaps she merely liked having people about during the holiday season. At times, being alone with no one for company except her niece threatened to drive her into Bedlam. She wanted conversation and laughter and... life as a reminder that she hadn’t lost herself during those terrible years.

  “And the invitations to the Christmas Eve ball? Were those dispatched to the local gentry?” The house party she’d planned would begin on the twenty-first. It had taken her two months to prepare, and now her work was ready to reach fulfillment. The goal? To see her nineteen-year-old niece matched before Twelfth Night so Amelia could fade quietly from all reaches of society—if her cousin would let her. But at the Christmas Eve ball, both invited members of the ton as well as local gentry would mingle together to help widen the field.

  Surely, Rebecca could find an eligible parti. Then her work, and her promise to her dead brother, would be complete.

  “They were.” Henry bobbed his head. “Ten minutes before we set out on this walk.”

  “Excellent. Notify me each time we receive an acceptance. I wish to see a full house.”

  “I will, Lady Amelia.”

  “Thank you.” She glanced at him with another smile. He was so eager to please. “Feel free to return to your duties.” When he doubled back toward the house, she addressed the housekeeper, Mrs. Hunt. “Have the guest rooms been aired?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The tall, thin woman hunched into her own cloak. “All of them need beds dressed, but there’s time yet. Some guests will have to share the larger rooms, and a few rooms will need painting on the walls, but the work shouldn’t impede the guests’ arrival.”

  “Good. And the rooms throughout the manor that are usually closed off and the furniture sheeted?”

  “We start on them tomorrow. Every fireplace will be cleaned and ready to go.”

  “Efficient as usual, Mrs. Hunt.” Amelia smiled. The staff at Trenton Hall was truly top notch. “Has the ballroom floor been sanded and polished?”

  “The men should arrive for that task next week. Along with the chandelier cleaners.”

  It seemed the manor house would transform into a bustling hub of activity over the next few weeks. “You have everything well in hand.” That made her life easier. It was nice to have a staff who didn’t require constant supervision. The older ones had been there since her father had held the title.

  The housekeeper nodded. “We all know how much you adore Christmastide, my lady. Everything will be perfect. Your excitement has created the same within the younger servants.”

  Which made everything more fun. “That is a nice sentiment, but there is no such thing as perfect.” If there were, her husband, brother, and parents would be alive... in addition to the other life she still grieved that had left too soon, the secret she’d kept only to herself. No one knew; no one could ever know... especially him. Amelia touched the older woman’s arm. “Because you and the others have worked so hard throughout the year, I have had new uniforms for the whole staff made for the holiday season.” She simply couldn’t keep the knowledge to herself any longer.

  Mrs. Hunt’s lower jaw dropped slightly. “How generous of you, my lady. But the expense!”

  “Let me worry over the books.” Amelia couldn’t contain her grin. The best part of being in her position was making the people around her happy. “Life is precious, Mrs. Hunt. We should all learn to enjoy it while we can. Besides, the staff works better in clothing they are proud of, and why shouldn’t they look their best for the holidays?” She winked. “I’ve been assured by the small group of seamstresses who made the uniforms that they’ll be delivered next week. But don’t distribute those packages until the house party begins.”

  “I promise.” Unexpectedly, the housekeeper threw her arms around Amelia in a brief hug. “Oh, do pardon me, but there is none like you, my lady,” Mrs. Hunt murmured as she pulled away with misty eyes.

  “I merely enjoy the holidays and making people happy.” Her smile once more faltered. If she couldn’t grasp that emotion for herself any longer, she took comfort in taking care of others around her. “You may return to the house. We’ll talk later.” She tapped a gloved fingertip against her chin. “And open the large back room behind the butler’s office. I’m of a mind that the staff should have their own dance on Christmas Eve. There’s nothing better than having music and laughter ringing from every corner of the manor. A tree in the corner will make it bright and cheerful.”

  The housekeeper shook her head so violently, some of her mousy brown tresses escaped the tight knot at the back of her head. “But their duties...”

  “We’ll do a light staff on rotation for the evening so everyone can have the same amount of entertainment and work. Mr. Jessup shall oversee the rosters.”

  “Very well.” There was a sparkle in the housekeeper’s eyes she’d never seen before. “Unorthodox though. We’ll miss you once Lord Trenton remembers his duty and weds.”

  “You never know what will happen. Perhaps you’ll like his bride even better than me.” Amelia’s smile was back in place. The good thing about running an estate the size of Trenton Park was that it didn’t give her the time to wallow in the ills life had tossed her way. “I mean to find him a match this Christmastide.”

  “Good luck indeed, my lady. He’s stubborn, that one.” Then Mrs. Hunt departed, her destination unknown.

  “You never fail to set the staff at sixes and sevens, in a good way.” The middle-aged butler stepped up to Amelia’s side. He out of all of them was most familiar with her habits and her history, for Trenton Park was where she’d fled after all the horror and sadness in her life. When she couldn’t take in anything else, she’d hidden herself away in the country, and Mr. Jessup had taken it upon himself to look after her, apparently like a shepherd to a lost lamb. “What are your orders of me, Lady Amelia?”

  “Mr. Jessup, I’m quite certain you can carry out your duties without guidance from me.” While he preened from her praise, she continued. “But make certain enough spirits, wine, and champagne have been ordered. House parties can be torturously long and fraught with anxiety without something to help calm the nerves.”

  “I will.”

  “Also, supervise the crystal cleaners when they arrive to service the chandeliers. I don’t trust them by half. And remember to submit a list to me of one personal item for each member of the staff. Only something they desperately need. I’ll acquire the items for Christmas gifts.”

  The butler stopped her forward progress. Cook and Mr. Parker—the stable master—waited a few feet away, for their turn to talk with her. “That is too much to give to servants. You provide them enough as it is.”

  She laid a hand on his arm. “Let me worry about what is right or what is wrong. Besides, Mr. Jessup, the staff is like my family. Why shouldn’t I show my appreciation, especially at this time of year?” No doubt she either appeared too stupid or too careless with the estate’s coin.

  “You are too kind, my lady.” He shook his head. “However, you are also too young to shut yourself off from the world by staying here.”

  “Too young.” She waved away his comment. “I am well past the age where I need to enter into silliness.”

  “So you think. Yet why do you hide?” One of his eyebrows lifted ever so slightly.

  Amelia cocked her head. How much did the butler suspect? And what must he think about her if he did? She put those thoughts from her mind. “What are you trying to say?”

  “There is no harm if you wish to find love again for yourself.” He lowered his voice. “This house party might bring someone into your life who will make you smile.”

  A sigh escaped her as she shook her head. Talk of love always made her feel maudlin and... older than her four and thirty years. She peered at the butler while an invisible shroud of sadness drew over her. “Does lightning strike thrice? I wonder but fear it doesn’t. I was t
oo lucky already.” She glanced back toward the manor. Only the tops of the roof were visible. With a tiny laugh edged with bitterness, she said, “By all means, if you think of a worthy man, submit his name and I might consider him.”

  Yet, not all that seriously. Love was a precarious perch and falling from it hurt all too much.

  “I’d rather you feel lighthearted again. No more sadness.” He held her gaze. “There was a time years ago when I assumed you might have made a match with—”

  “Don’t even say that man’s name, Mr. Jessup,” Amelia warned with more sharpness in her voice than she’d intended. He belonged to her past, and that was all.

  A light of speculation lit Mr. Jessup’s eyes. “As you wish.”

  “For the moment, I am content with my lot.” Again, she laid a hand on his arm. “Please, do not take offense.”

  “Of course not, my lady.” The butler nodded. “I should return to my duties. There is some correspondence I must see to.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Jessup.” When he left, Cook came forward. Amelia didn’t resume her walk, for Cook was on the portly side and an older woman. She had difficulty getting around. “Put together preliminary menus for the house party, the Christmas Eve ball, and all the other feasts—including servants’ events. It’s early yet, but I don’t want to leave anything to chance.”

  “I’ll have my assistant write them down as I dictate.” Her round face was wreathed in smiles beneath her mobcap. “I’ll be sure to make your favorite raspberry syllabub.”

  “Thank you. It is one of my weaknesses this time of year.” She grinned at the older woman. “I have every confidence in your talents.”

  “I do try my best, my lady.”

  “Return to the house. I don’t want you to catch a chill.”

  “Thank you, my lady. The chill does bite a bit, and my bones say we’ll have a snowy winter.”

  Once the woman hobbled off toward the manor, Amelia turned her attention to the stable master. “Is there adequate room for guests’ horseflesh?”