Garrick was in a state of delightful undress in just his shirt and pantaloons. Merryn was wearing the most delicious little concoction of gauze and lace that Tess had given her as a Christmas present. She had pressed it on Merryn in advance of Christmas Day, whispering that Garrick might enjoy it, too, and indeed its effect on him had already been most gratifying. Merryn felt beautiful and very, very loved. It was lucky, she thought, that Joanna had had the delicacy to give them an entire wing of Fenners to themselves. Although she suspected that the rest of the family might be celebrating Christmas with its promise of love and renewal and hope for the future in much the same way that she and Garrick had.
She unfolded Mr. Churchward’s letter and it rustled a little as she spread it out and started to read.
“He apologizes for disturbing us with business matters at such a time as Christmas,” she said. She paused. “Poor Mr. Churchward—is there a Mrs. Churchward, do you think, to share the festive season with him?”
“If there is I doubt she can be as happy at this moment as I,” Garrick said. He raised a strand of Merryn’s shining hair to his lips and kissed it before he let it slide softly through his fingers. “Must you read that?” he murmured, brushing the hair aside, his lips moving to the soft skin of her neck.
Merryn pushed him gently away. “Listen. He says that Tom Bradshaw has disappeared.” A shiver touched her. She dropped the letter into her lap. “Do you think he will ever come back?”
“I’ll have him arrested for attempted murder if he does,” Garrick said, so ferociously that Merryn felt reassured. She picked up the letter again and started to read. Then she stilled. Garrick felt her sudden immobility and looked up.
“What is it?” he said.
“Mr. Churchward—” Merryn stopped. Her voice was a little rough with emotion. “He says that he has had a letter from Mrs. Alice Scott of Shipham about her niece, Miss Susan Scott.” Her breath caught. “He says that Mrs. Scott wishes to discuss the possibility of us talking together to see if Joanna and Tess and I might meet Susan—” Her voice broke. Her eyes filled with tears. “You wrote to her, didn’t you?” she whispered. She pulled back and stared into Garrick’s dark eyes. They were soft and so full of love that she thought her heart would burst. “Even though they rejected your pleas you wrote again,” she said. “You did not give up.”
Garrick took her hand in his. “It mattered to you very much,” he said gruffly. “I had kept Susan from you so long and I could not forgive myself.” He pressed a kiss against her fingers. “I would have tried again and again,” he said, “so that I could give her back to you. I wanted to make you happy.”
Merryn touched his hair in the most tender of caresses. “It was the nicest thing you could possibly have done,” she said. “The best present you could give me.”
She bent to kiss him, her tears salt against his lips. Garrick drew her down beside him on the rug and kissed her back and then everything became very sweet and pleasurable as the letter was forgotten in the outpouring of love and healing and happiness between them.
Much later, Merryn lay with her head pillowed on Garrick’s bare chest and her fingers entwined with his.
“It is almost midnight,” she whispered. “Almost your birthday, Garrick Charles Christmas Farne.” She felt his chest move as he laughed and turned her head to kiss him. “What can I give you,” she said, “in return for your generosity to me?”
She felt Garrick’s arms tighten about her with a fierce protectiveness. “I have everything I could ever want here in my arms,” he said and Merryn rolled over to look at him, utterly awed by the fierceness of the love she saw in his eyes.
Garrick scooped her up and carried her over to the vast four-poster bed then went across to snuff the candle. He picked up the letter, somewhat crushed and creased by now, smoothed it out and read the final paragraph.
“‘I must also take this opportunity to apologize for an oversight on my part,’” Mr. Churchward had written. “‘I realize that when I sent the Fenners estate papers to Tavistock Square I mistakenly enclosed a copy of Lord Fenner’s will which should have remained confidential in my office. I do hope,’” Mr. Churchward had underlined, “‘that the perusal of this did not cause any difficulties …’”
Garrick paused, a smile starting to curl his lips. He let the letter drift down onto the table. Mr. Churchward, he thought, never made mistakes. He would have known that Merryn would find the reference to the miniature and would set out to unravel the truth. Mr. Churchward, Garrick thought, was a very unlikely Christmas angel but he had given them a gift beyond price.
* * * * *
Nicola Cornick’s novels have received acclaim the world over
“Cornick is first-class, Queen of her game.”
—Romance Junkies
“A rising star of the Regency arena.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Nicola Cornick creates a glittering, sensual world of
historical romance that I never want to leave.” —Anna Campbell, author of Untouched
Praise for Nicola’s previous books:
“If you’ve liked Nicola Cornick’s other books, you are sure
to like this one as well. If you’ve never read one— what are you waiting for?” —Rakehell on Lord of Scandal
“Witty banter, lively action, and sizzling passion.”
—Library Journal on Undoing of a Lady
“With every Nicola Cornick book you know you are in for a
wonderful read and a most enjoyable adventure!” —Mary Gramlich, The Reading Reviewer
“RITA(r) Award-nominated Cornick deftly steeps her
latest intriguingly complex Regency historical in a beguiling blend of danger and desire.” —Booklist on Unmasked
This paper hears the startling news that the beautiful widow Lady JW and the dashing Lord G are to embark on their very own scandalous adventure to the Arctic wastes. Readers of this publication will already know that Lord G is a man who first came to fame when he charted a route single-handedly across the outer reaches of Mongolia. Most recently he has returned to London in a cloud of acclaim for his courageous exploits in the frozen north. If any man can escort Lady JW safely on her perilous voyage to claim her late husband’s love child then Lord G is surely that man. Lady JW is, of course, a society hostess renowned for her elegance and style. Can it be that having wed one daring buccaneer she now desires another adventurer in her bed? If so, whether she will succeed with Lord G is a matter for conjecture, for it is said his heart is as cold as the Arctic snow …
The Gentleman’s Athenian Mercury, London, June 3, 1811
Author Note
A couple of years ago I went on holiday to Spitsbergen, an island within the Arctic Circle off the north coast of Norway. It was not the sort of place that I imagined would inspire a historical romance, but when I started to read about the history of Spitsbergen, I was fascinated. Not only is it a stunningly beautiful place, but it also had a hugely important role in the history of science and exploration. The result of my reading and of that memorable cruise is Whisper of Scandal, which I loved writing. It combines some of the elements of the history of Spitsbergen with a rich and romantic love story. There is much more about the historical background to Whisper of Scandal on my website at www.nicolacornick.co.uk, and I hope you enjoy exploring it. In the meantime I must own up to