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The Next Christmas
“Will you ever tire of these games, my love?” Victor chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mirth as he handed Charlotte a delicate mask adorned with winter berries and holly.
Charlotte’s fingers danced over the intricate lacework, the soft whisper of her gown mingling with the crackle of the fireplace. The drawing-room of their estate was aglow with the warmth of Christmas, the scent of pine and mulled wine perfuming the air.
“Only when they cease to be played with you, Victor,” she replied, her eyes gleaming with the same irrepressible spirit that had won his heart. “But why a mask now? The masquerade season has passed, has it not?”
“It has,” he agreed, taking a step closer, the heat from the hearth playing upon his features. “But I thought it fitting, as we await the arrival of our own little mystery.” His hand rested gently upon her rounding belly, where the future heir of Stonehart stirred.
Charlotte leaned into his touch, the memory of their masked encounters still vivid in her heart. “A delightful reminder,” she said softly.
A servant entered, carrying a tray with a small yule log cake, its marzipan fruits vibrant against the dark chocolate. “For you, my lord, my lady,” he said, placing it on the table beside them.
“Thank you, Benson,” Victor said, dismissing the servant with a nod.
Once they were alone again, Charlotte turned to Victor. “Do you remember last Christmas? The scandal, the secrecy… and the rain,” she said, a playful smile on her lips.
Victor laughed, the sound as rich and warm as the room around them. “How could I forget? It was the night I asked you to be mine, amidst a tempest both of nature and of the heart.”
“And now, here we are,” Charlotte said, motioning to the room festooned with garlands and ribbons, a majestic fir tree standing tall in the corner, “preparing to present our child to the world at next year’s Christmas ball.”
He pulled her close, reveling in the feel of her in his arms. “Indeed, and I cannot wait to introduce our son or daughter to the season’s wonders: the Yule log, the caroling, the gifts…”
Charlotte’s laughter rang out, light and joyous. “Oh, the gifts! I have yet to find something suitable for you.”
“Your love is the only present I need,” he assured her, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. “Though I have something for you.” Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a small, wrapped package.
Her eyes widened with delight as she took it, the paper rustling under her eager fingers. Inside lay a book, its leather cover embossed with the title, ‘A Christmas Treasury’.
“For our child,” Victor explained. “A collection of stories, songs, and traditions to pass down.”
Charlotte’s eyes misted over. “It’s perfect, Victor. Thank you.”
They settled into the plush settee, the orange glow of the fire casting a soft light on the pages as Victor began to read aloud, his voice a soothing baritone. The tales of Christmas spirits and joyous celebrations filled the room, weaving a tapestry of tradition and anticipation.
As he read, Charlotte rested her head against his shoulder, her hand upon her belly. The life within her kicked, as if in excitement for the tales being told, and she smiled, feeling the connection between past, present, and future.
The clock chimed, signaling the late hour, and Victor closed the book, setting it aside. “We should retire,” he murmured. “Tomorrow we have the Christening of the hunt to attend, and you need your rest.”
Charlotte nodded, rising with his assistance. Together, they ascended the grand staircase, pausing at the top to gaze down at the Christmas tree, its candles extinguished now, waiting for morning to come alive once more.
“Goodnight, my love,” Victor whispered as they reached the sanctuary of their chamber.
“Goodnight,” Charlotte replied, her heart full of love for her husband and the child they would soon welcome into the world.
As they slipped beneath the covers, the wind outside whispered against the window panes, a lullaby of winter’s breath, and in the quiet hush of the night, they drifted off to sleep, dreaming of Christmases yet to come.
***
The next morning, light filtered through the heavy brocade drapes, dusting the room with a golden sheen reminiscent of the Christmas star. Charlotte stirred, her hand instinctively caressing the swell of life within her. Beside her, Victor lay watching, his gaze imbued with the tenderness of a man utterly transformed by love and impending fatherhood.
“Good morrow, my heart,” Victor greeted, his voice the melody to the morning’s serenade.
Charlotte’s lips curved into a smile that rivalled the dawn’s radiance. “And to you, my dearest. How long have you been awake?”
“Long enough to see the sun rise and to count my blessings, which grow by the day,” he replied, his hand joining hers atop the roundness that held their future.
Their morning was a leisurely affair, with Charlotte donning a gown of softest emerald, a nod to the festive season, and Victor, ever the dashing figure, in a waistcoat that mirrored the holly’s rich hue. Together, they descended to break their fast, the scent of fresh bread and spiced tea welcoming them into the day.
As they took their seats in the breakfast room, where the windows offered a view of the snow-dusted grounds, Victor handed Charlotte another note, his eyes alight with an impish gleam. “For you, my love, a small token to anticipate tonight’s festivities.”
With a curious smile, Charlotte unfolded the parchment to read:
To the mistress of my heart and hearth,
As the Christmastide draws near,
Join me in a dance of mirth,
And let us spread the cheer.
Don a mask, embrace the guise,
And in the twilight’s glow,
We’ll reveal the grandest surprise,
Underneath the mistletoe.
Charlotte’s heart sang with the promise of the evening to come. “Oh, Victor, you do spoil me with such romance. A dance under the mistletoe?”
He rose, extending his hand to her. “Not just any dance, but one that shall lead us into a tradition I hope to establish for our family.”
Hand in hand, they ventured out into the frosty air, where the estate’s staff were already preparing for the Christening of the hunt. Servants bustled about, setting up tables laden with roasted meats, spiced ciders, and mince pies. The sound of laughter and jovial conversation blended with the neighing of horses and the baying of hounds, creating a lively cacophony that heralded the joy of the season.
As the hunt returned, successful and brimming with tales of the chase, the air filled with the sounds of the traditional hunting horns. Victor, with Charlotte at his side, greeted their guests, the local gentry and their families, all eager to partake in the Yuletide revelry.
The festivities carried on through the afternoon, with children playing games in the snow, their cheeks rosy from the cold and excitement. Charlotte watched, her heart swelling with the thought of their child joining such merriment in the years to come.
As twilight approached, servants lit torches around the gathering, casting a warm glow over the faces of the guests. Victor, true to his word, led Charlotte to a secluded corner of the gardens, where a sprig of mistletoe hung from an archway, its berries bright against the evergreen leaves.
Victor donned his mask, a simple affair of black velvet that only served to heighten the intensity of his gaze. Charlotte’s mask, an elegant counterpart, transformed her into the mysterious beauty that had first captivated him.
The music of a string quartet drifted to them, and Victor drew Charlotte into his arms. They danced, their movements in perfect harmony with the melodies that echoed the joy and hope of the season.
“You have made this a Christmas to remember,” Charlotte whispered as they swayed.
Victor leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. “And we have many more to come, my love. This is but the first chapter of our own Christmas tale.”
As the song ended, Victor lifted the mask from Charlotte’s face, and beneath the mistletoe, he captured her lips with a kiss that spoke of promises kept and a future bright with love.
The applause of their onlooking friends and family brought a blush to Charlotte’s cheeks, but Victor’s proud gaze told her that this was their moment, a celebration of all they had overcome and all that was yet to come.
The evening brought a chill that swept through the Stonehart estate, but within its walls, warmth and laughter reigned supreme. The grand ballroom, usually reserved for the most opulent of gatherings, had been transformed into a winter wonderland, with garlands of holly and ivy draping the walls and a majestic fir reaching toward the painted heavens of the ceiling, adorned with candles that filled the room with a soft, flickering light.
Charlotte stood at the top of the grand staircase, her hand resting lightly on the mahogany banister, the mask Victor had given her earlier held loosely in her other hand. She gazed upon the guests below, the cream of society mingling with the jovial laughter of children awaiting Saint Nicholas’s visit.
Victor appeared beside her, no longer masked but just as enigmatic and handsome as the day she’d met him. He offered his arm, and together they descended to join their family and friends in celebration.
“My lady, may I have the honor of this dance?” Victor asked, bowing slightly in the manner of the time, yet with a glint of mirth in his eyes.
Charlotte curtsied in response, her skirts whispering secrets to the marble floor. “You may, Your Grace,” she said, playing along with their little charade of formality.
The orchestra struck up a lively tune, and the couple joined in the dance, their movements a testament to their shared history, each step and turn a word in the love story they had written together. The room spun around them in a kaleidoscope of color and light, but in each other’s arms, they found a tranquil center, a place that was theirs alone amidst the revelry.
As the dance ended, and the applause rang out, Victor leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear. “I believe it is time for our grand surprise,” he whispered.
Charlotte’s eyes sparkled with anticipation as Victor led her to the center of the room, where a large object had been covered with a crimson cloth. With a dramatic flourish, he pulled the covering away, revealing a beautifully crafted cradle of polished oak and soft linens, ready to welcome their child into the world.
A collective gasp rose from the gathered crowd, followed by a chorus of congratulations and well-wishes. Charlotte’s eyes brimmed with tears as she turned to Victor, her heart too full for words.
“This cradle,” Victor announced to their guests, “is not merely a bed for our child. It is a symbol of the legacy we shall build, a family founded on love, respect, and the joy of the season.”
Charlotte embraced Victor, her voice soft but resolute. “And it shall be a legacy of happiness, for our child and for the generations to follow.”
The rest of the evening passed in a whirl of celebration. Games were played, stories told, and carols sung. The laughter of children melded with the hum of adult conversation, creating a symphony of contentment that echoed through the halls.
Later, as the guests began to take their leave, Victor and Charlotte retired to the privacy of their study, the room aglow with the light of a single Christmas candle. They sat together in silence, the kind that speaks volumes between two souls intertwined.
Victor broke the stillness, his voice a tender caress in the quiet room. “This Christmas has been one of many blessings, but none greater than the love I hold for you and our unborn child.”
Charlotte leaned her head on his shoulder. “And I am equally blessed, Victor. To think that next year, we shall share this season with a little one of our own…”
Their conversation drifted into dreams of the future, of Christmases yet to come, and the laughter of their child mingling with the jingle of sleigh bells. They spoke of traditions they would pass down, of the stories they would tell, and the love they would share.
As the candle burned low, Victor and Charlotte ascended the stairs to their chamber, their hearts and home brimming with the magic of the season. And in the quiet hush of the winter night, they fell asleep, safe in the knowledge that the best of their lives was yet to come.
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OFFER: A BRAND NEW SERIES AND 2 FREEBIES FOR YOU!
Grab my new series, "Whispers of Regency Love", and get 2 FREE novels as a gift! Have a look here!
Hello my dears! I hope you enjoyed the Extended Epilogue of my new book! I can’t wait to read your lovely comments here. Thank you for being so wonderful! 🥰
This was a great story to read. It was very well written and it provided suspense, love and forgiveness. Charlotte was able to find love with Victor after a false scandal was gossip against her, but in the end, the truth won. A great book and I highly recommend it ! Great job Aria !
Thank you so much for your support and review, dear Sonia!
Loved this story, although, truth could have come out sooner. Strong characters and a reasonable story line. Well done. 4/5 stars
Thank you so much for your kind words and support, dear Patricia! I truly appreciate it!
So glad you enjoyed the story!
I liked the storyline very much and feel like something was left out of the ending. I like that the friend who gossipped was forgiven, but feel like the guy who instigated the gossip got away with it. The story feels unfinished. I thought when the FMC went out for a walk, she’d be kidnapped, and need to be rescued. I just feel like a part of the story went untold.
So glad you enjoyed the story, dear Esther! Thank you so much for your support and review!
I ❤️❤️❤️’d this book! The mystery and romance of the masks and the balls. I have to say that I have no love for Bastien. He was a tyrant and horrible to Charlotte. I was so wrapped up in this story. I laughed, I cried and fell in love with Victor. I wish we could have known whether it was a boy or girl. Great writing!
Thank you so much for your kind words and support, dear Carulli! I truly appreciate it!
So glad you enjoyed the story!
Lovely storytelling. Loved the idea, but why didn’t Charlotte ask more sensible questions? And as for proposing during a strom, whilst soaked to the skin….well? Daft or what. Still, I loved the story even poor Sebastian had his work cut out. Shame he couldn’t find his happy ever after, too.
Thank you so much for your kind words and support, dear Patricia! I truly appreciate it!
So glad you enjoyed the story!
What a wonderful story and the epilogue was a great finish. I look forward to reading many more of Ms Norton’s books. Keep up the great writing.
Thank you so much for your feedback and support, dear Ms Terry!
Really appreciate it!
Fantastic story. Could not put it down. Great plot. Well developed characters. The reveal was marvelous. For a moment, I thought she would never forgive him. Thank goodness it all worked out. The extended epilogue was beautiful. Brilliantly so. A sequel would be fantastic. I would love to know how Bastian fares. More importantly, it would be great to know the child they have. Highly recommend this story and would like more stories from you. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you so much for your kind words and support, dear Marisu! I truly appreciate it!
So glad you enjoyed the story!
One of your very best stories, I really enjoyed it. Will there be a part 2 to the story, I hope? A perfect read for this time of the year.
So glad you enjoyed the story, dear Mary! Thank you so much for your support and review!
I was glad to know Charlotte and Victor’s story had such a happy ending. The book, itself, was a good read – maybe a slight bit of a fantasy-type storyline, rather than a more believable historical novel, but enjoyable. I was hoping to read that Mr Wentworth found out about Charlotte’s engagement when it was announced in public at the Christmas Day Ball, but that guy sort of faded into the sunset without a another word after Victor usurped the dance Mr Wentworth demanded of Charlotte at the 5-golden-rings ball. Mr Wentworth’s
machinations were the reason Charlotte was being forced into a marriage at all, and his unscrupulous charactor the reason she was so desperate to find someone else to marry. Also, Mr Wentworth’s insistence on an engagement with Charlotte by Christmas was the reason Victor tipped his hand and revealed his true, unmasked identity before he felt the time was right. I thought Mr Wentworth was written out of the script way too soon.
On a technical note, the book’s grammar was sloppy and some sentences were awkwardly written. An editor would be of help to you, or at least a good grammar software. Then, there is the problem with the book, “Treasure Island,” being mentioned, when that book would not have been written for another 60 or so years after the time your story took place.
So glad you enjoyed the story, dear Judith! Thank you so much for your support and honest review! You are raising some valid points here and I will keep your words ain mind for my future stories!