He shrugged. "I had a . . . difficult Christmas." He turned his attention to Thomas. "As we all agree you shouldn't have come in the first place, now would be an opportune time to take your leave."
"Oh, I don't think so." Thomas crossed his arms over his chest. "I should leave Portia's fate in the hands of some man who was not smart enough to realize she was in love with him?" He snorted. "Not bloody likely."
I stared at him in surprise.
"Good Lord, Portia, I knew you were in love with someone. That your Christmas trysts were more than insignificant flings. The best I could hope for was to be there for you should you need me."
"And you have been, Thomas." I laid a hand on his sleeve. "You have been the very best of friends."
"Lucky, lucky me," he said wryly.
"And I do hope we can remain friends."
His gaze shifted to Fletcher. "I suppose that depends on what happens now."
"Now?" Fletcher considered him for a moment. "Now, in spite of the fact that you insist on remaining here, I intend to confess all to Lady Redwell. I had time in my carriage on my way back here to determine exactly how to say what I need to say. Although that really wasn't necessary." He grimaced. "I had all day Christmas to decide what I needed to do, as well as the last few months."
"And what did you decide?" I stepped toward him, my heart thudding in my chest.
"Any number of things. I've been a coward and an idiot, you see. For that I am truly sorry." Regret sounded in his voice. "I've been in love with you since our first Christmas. Probably since the first moment you indignantly informed me, in a very poor attempt at Italian, that this was privato propertyo."
"That means private property," I said in an aside to Thomas.
His brow furrowed. "No, it doesn't."
"But I was a mere civil servant, admittedly from a respectable family, but with no true prospects." Fletcher shook his head. "I couldn't ask you to throw your lot in with mine. In spite of my fine words, I still lived by all the expectations laid upon a man of my position. Besides, I feared what you might say. I don't think I wanted to know if you didn’t share my feelings."
"So you made a Christmas wish."
"I did. It was the best I could hope for, really. That you’d return for another Christmas." He smiled. "And you did."
"And the next year?" I struggled to keep my voice level. "You were no longer living your life by other people's expectations."
"Ah, but then a union between an artist and Lady Smithson—"
"What does she have to do with this?" Thomas asked.
"I used her name."
"Ouch." He winced. "I can’t imagine she took that well."
"No, she didn’t." I mustered a firm tone. "Thomas, this really has nothing to do with you, and while I do appreciate your continuing concern, as you can see, I am perfectly all right."
"Yes, I suppose you are." He heaved a resigned sigh. "I'll wait outside, should you need me."
"Is he in for a long wait?" Hope sounded in Fletcher's voice.
"Forever, I would say." I sighed. "I am sorry, Thomas."
"As am I, Portia." He cast me a resigned smile and took his leave.
I turned my attention back to Fletcher. "You were saying something about being an idiot?"
"I was saying a union between us would have been even more unacceptable last Christmas." He shrugged. "I know how society is, and I know your position is important to you. I couldn’t ask you to give it up. For me."
"You could have." I drew a deep breath. "And you should have."
"I can see that now, because you're here." He took another step toward me. "I didn’t think you were coming. After all we said to each other, I didn’t expect you to be here. But, oddly enough, I still hoped. Even when it was obvious—"
"Weather delayed my ship. There was nothing I could do. I feared, with every minute that passed, that I would miss you. Almost as much as I feared you hadn't come at all. Then when I arrived today . . ." I shook my head in confusion. "How did you know I was here?"
"I left a bag in the carriage, and while arranging transport to return to the villa, I missed the next train to Naples—probably the one you arrived on. Silvestro was returning to the train station with my bag. He passed your carriage headed here. The moment he told me, we raced back here." He paused. "Yesterday, I discovered Christmas simply isn’t Christmas without you. You should know that."
"After we last spoke . . . I thought . . . I didn't know if you wanted me to come." I paused. "Why did you wait so long to call on me in London?"
"I wanted to, desperately, the moment I arrived in London, but there were matters pertaining to my inheritance that demanded my attention, decisions that needed to be made. A few days after my arrival, I attended the queen's garden party at Buckingham Palace. I saw you and Lindsey together. I saw the two of you after that at several other gatherings. It struck me that he was a better match for you than I could ever be. Of all the things you talked about, you never mentioned him, so I assumed your aunt had brought the two of you together after our last Christmas." He blew a long breath. "I thought he could make you happy."
"Thomas is a very good man, and I could be quite content with him." I shook my head. "But it seems I want more than content."
"When I found out you aren't who you said you were—even though I could understand why you lied—I felt betrayed. While I knew we didn’t know all the details of our respective lives, all the trappings, as it were, I thought we knew each other." His gaze searched mine. "I thought, given the improbable way we met, that we were, I don't know, meant for each other."
"You should have said something."
"I told you I was a coward." He moved closer, close enough for me to step into his embrace. And, dear Lord, I wanted to. "I was afraid of declaring my feelings for fear you wouldn’t feel the same. I was afraid that asking you to give up your position in society for a mere government employee or—God forbid—an artist was asking too much. Then, when I had a title and fortune, everything that would be expected in a match for you—even by your family's standards—I was afraid as well."
"Some of your fears were"—I chose my words with care—"well-founded, I think. Because I was afraid too. I didn’t know that I could give up everything in my life that I had always wanted. Or perhaps, always been expected to want."
"Portia—"
"Let me finish." I summoned whatever courage I had. "Before I saw you in London, I had decided to come here for Christmas and tell you how I felt about you. And demand to know your feelings. I was ready to give up everything to be with you."
He cringed. "And I mucked that up."
"You were a bit of an ass, but I could have done better as well. I thought then that we were finished. That what we’d had was no more than the enchantment of the villa."
"Then why are you here?" he said slowly.
"Because the day before I left for Italy, I saw the paintings of an artist by the name of James Florian. You’ve never told me that you love me, Fletcher." My throat choked with emotion. "But your paintings did."
"I believe we've established that."
"Will you allow me to spend the rest of my life trying to make amends?"
"When you say 'me,'"—I struggled to get out the words—"who exactly do you mean?"
Confusion narrowed his eyes. "Me?"
"Which you? The new Earl of Castleton? James Florian, the artist? Or civil servant Fletcher Jamison?"
"All of them." His tone was solemn, but a twinkle sparked in his eyes. "As many, or as few, as you wish, but the earl is probably the most appropriate."
I shook my head. "I doubt the earl is as happy as the artist. I would much prefer you to be happy. I don't think I can be truly happy if you're not."
"Yes, well, about that." The oddest expression of chagrin crossed his face. "It seems I rather enjoy being the earl. With position and wealth come responsibility. My actions affect a myr
iad of people, people who depend on me. I don't want to disappoint them. This wasn't something I sought and certainly not what I expected, but . . ." He shrugged. "It suits me, and frankly, I find it challenging and invigorating. And I am happy."
"But what about your work? What about Paris?"
"Oh, I have no intentions of giving it up. I suspect James Florian will continue to exhibit." He grinned. "It's one benefit of having lied about a name."
"There is that." I drew a trembling breath. "So, are we discussing marriage?"
"I believe we are."
I stared at him. "Come now, Fletcher, do I have to drag it out of you?"
"Would you?" He cast me a wicked grin.
"I will if you don't—"
He pulled me into his arms. "My darling, Portia. You are my muse and my inspiration and, most of all, my love. I cannot imagine living one more day without you, let alone the rest of my life. Throw your lot in with mine, Portia. Marry me and spend every Christmas until the end of time with me."
My eyes blurred, and I sniffed. "On one condition."
He grinned. "Anything."
"It's obvious, with the furniture missing and the rest covered, and Silvestro and Agostina gone, that the villa has been sold. Isn't there anything you can do to get it back?"
"It hasn’t been sold," he said with a reassuring smile. "My great-aunt decided to have her favorite pieces sent to London, and I decided, if I am going to keep the place, it needs a bit of freshening up. As for Silvestro and Agostina, it is Boxing Day. Silvestro left after he dropped me off."
"Then you are not going to sell it?"
"Apparently not. The buyer reconsidered his offer after he understood, even if the villa was sold, I fully intended to continue to spend my Christmases here. And I insisted that be put in any purchase agreement. "
I stared. "You told him that?"
"I thought it might be more persuasive than saying I had come to my senses and realized there were too many memories here to let the place go. After all, where else would we spend Christmas?"
"Where else, indeed?" I blinked back tears and smiled up at him.
"Make my Christmas wish come true, Portia, and marry me."
"Your Christmas wish was for me to marry you? Goodness, Fletcher, you didn’t need to waste a wish on that. You could have made it happen long ago."
"Actually, my Christmas wish was to spend every Christmas, for the rest of my days, with you."
"I believe I can arrange that."
"And what of your wish? Has it come true?"
"My wish?" I wished to find what Veronica had found with my cousin Sebastian and what Julia had found with her new husband. I wished to find the happiness and the joy and the love. "Why, yes, Fletcher, I believe it has."
With that, I pressed my lips to his and marveled that I had indeed found everything I'd ever hoped for in the arms of a stranger in an enchanted villa overlooking the sea.
For this Christmas and all the Christmases to come.
POSTSCRIPT
We did indeed spend every Christmas from then on at the Villa Mari Incantati, except in those years when Vesuvius erupted. Even though the scientific community considered most of those eruptions minor, I did not.
I blame a lack of courage on my part, which seems to me quite sensible, and for which I make no apologies.
DISCOVER MORE BY VICTORIA ALEXANDER
What Happens at Millworth Manor
What Happens at Christmas
Lord Stilwell’s Excellent Engagements (novella)
The Importance of Being Wicked (crossover with Wicked Family Secrets)
The Scandalous Adventures of the Sister of the Bride
The Daring Exploits of a Runaway Heiress
Wicked Family Secrets/Hadley-Attwater Family
His Mistress by Christmas
My Wicked Little Lies
Standalone Books & Novellas
Yesterday and Forever (time travel)
The Princess and the Pea (historical)
The Perfect Wife (historical)
Promises to Keep (second chance romance / time travel)
The Emperor’s New Clothes (historical)
Shakespeare and the Three Kings (historical novella)
Play it Again, Sam (reincarnation)
Believe (time travel)
One Magic Moment (historical)
Paradise Bay (contemporary)
The Last Love Letter, Secrets of a Perfect Night Anthology (historical novella
Effington Family & Friends
Regency
The Wedding Bargain
The Husband List
The Marriage Lesson
The Prince’s Bride
Her Highness, My Wife
Love with the Proper Husband
The Lady in Question
The Pursuit of Marriage
The Trouble with Charlotte (novella)
When We Meet Again
Victorian (2nd Generation)
A Visit from Sir Nicholas
Let It Be Love
Last Man Standing (connected to Effington Family and Friends)
A Little Bit Wicked
What a Lady Wants
Secrets of a Proper Lady
The Seduction of a Proper Gentleman
Lady Ameilia’s Secret Lover (ebook spinoff from What a Lady Wants)
Lost City Series
*stories about the descendents of the characters in The Perfect Wife
The Virgin’s Secret
Desires of a Perfect Lady
Wicked Family Secrets/Hadley-Attwater Family
His Mistress by Christmas
My Wicked Little Lies
The Importance of Being Wicked (crossover with Millworth Manor series)
Mistress Trio (unfinished)
The Perfect Mistress
His Mistress by Christmas (crossover with Wicked Family Secrets)
Portia’s Story (still to come)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Victoria Alexander was an award winning television reporter until she discovered fiction was more fun than real life. The #1 New York Times bestseller has written over 33 novels and been published in more than a dozen different countries. Victoria lives in Omaha, Nebraska with a long-suffering husband she kills off in every book and two bearded collies in a house under endless renovation and never ending chaos. She laughs a great deal—she has to.
Check out her website www.victoriaalexander.com and come chat with her on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/VictoriaAlexandersPlace/.
Table of Contents
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT
DEDICATION
PART ONE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
PART TWO
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
PART THREE
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
PART FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
POSTSCRIPT
DISCOVER MORE BY VICTORIA ALEXANDER
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
filter: grayscale(100%); " class="sharethis-inline-share-buttons">share</div>