His Housekeeper's Christmas Wish
’TIS THE SEASON FOR MISCHIEF!Accidentally colliding with Tess Ellery on the icy streets of Ghent is definitely not the way resolute bachelor Alexander Tempest, Viscount Weybourn, intended to start the festive period. He might have mistaken her for a nun, but there’s nothing innocent about his reaction to Tess’s delicious curves…When Tess is left stranded, Alex is honour-bound to take her home…as his housekeeper! And, despite his long-held rule of spending Christmas alone, Tess’s vivacity soon has this brooding Lord determined to make all her Christmas wishes come true!Lords of Disgrace Bachelors for life!
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Bachelors for life!
Friends since school, brothers in arms, bachelors for life!
At least thatâs what The Four DisgracesâAlex Tempest, Grant Rivers, Cris de Feaux and Gabriel Stoneâbelieve. But when they meet four feisty women who are more than a match for their wild ways these Lords are tempted to renounce bachelordom for good.
Donât miss this dazzling new quartet by
Louise Allen
Read Alex Tempestâs story in
His Housekeeperâs Christmas Wish
And Grant Riversâs story in
His Christmas Countess Coming December 2015
Look out for Cris and Gabrielâs stories, coming soon!
Enter the world of four close friends: aristocrats known in their university days as The Four Disgraces, now very much grown upâand considerably more dangerous! This is the story of the first of them, Alex Tempest, Viscount Weybourn, a man hiding a wounded heart behind a cynical façade. Alex would never describe himself as a knight errant, but when he rescues Tess Ellery from her personal dragons he finds his self-sufficiency is no protection against a woman determined to heal those woundsâand even make him love Christmas in the process of turning his life upside down. As for his heart⦠Well, youâll have to read the book to find out!
Next month will bring His Christmas Countess, the story of the second friend, Grant Rivers, who acquires a title and a new family all in the course of one very dark Christmas. And still to come are the stories of the other twoâcool, reserved Cris de Feaux, Marquess of Avenmore, a man who has no intention of allowing any woman anywhere near his broken heart, and rake, gambler and walking scandal Gabriel Stone, Earl of Edenbridge, who would deny he even has a heart to be broken.
I hope you enjoy discovering how my four heroes discover the loves of their lives as much as I enjoyed writing their stories.
LOUISE ALLEN loves immersing herself in history. She finds landscapes and places evoke the past powerfully. Venice, Burgundy and the Greek islands are favourite destinations. Louise lives on the Norfolk coast and spends her spare time gardening, researching family history or travelling in search of inspiration. Visit her at louiseallenregency.co.uk,@LouiseRegency and janeaustenslondon.com.
For the Hartland Quay-istasâLinda, Jenny, Lesley, Catherine and Janetâwith love
Contents
Alex Tempest did not normally trample nuns underfoot, nor anyone else, come to that. Alexander James Vernon Tempest, Viscount Weybourn, prized control, elegance, grace and athleticismâunder all normal circumstances.
Skidding round corners on the ice-slick cobblestones of Ghent, however, was not normal, not in the gloomy light of the late-November afternoon with his mind occupied by thoughts of warm fires, good friends and rum punch.
The convent wall was high and unyielding when he cannoned into it. Alex found himself rebounding off the wall and into a nun, dressed all in black and grey, and blending perfectly with the cobbles. She was certainly yielding as she gave a small shriek of alarm and went flying, her black portmanteau bouncing away to land on the threshold of the conventâs closed gates.
Alex got his feet under control. âMa soeur, je suis désolé. Permettez-moi.â He held out his hand as she levered herself into a sitting position with one black mittenâcovered hand. Her bonnet, plain dark grey with a black ribbon, had tipped forward over her nose, and she pushed it back to look up at him.
âI am notââ
âHurt? Excellent.â He could only make out the oval of her face in the shadow of the bonnetâs brim. She seemed to be young by her voice. âBut you are English?â He extended the other hand. Presumably there were English nuns.
âYes. Butââ
âLetâs get you up off that cold ground, Sister.â Her cloak, which seemed none too thick given the weather, was black. Under it there was the hem of a dark grey robe and the toes of sensible black boots. âTake my hands.â Probably nuns were not supposed to touch men, but he could hardly get excommunicated for adding that small sin to the far greater offence of flattening her to the ground.
With what sounded like a sigh of resignation she put her hands in his and allowed him to pull her upright. âOw!â She hopped on one foot, swayed dangerously and the next moment she was cradled in his arms. After all, one did not allow a lady to fall, even if she was a nun. âOh!â
Alex braced his feet well apart on the slippery cobbles and looked down at as much as he could see of his armful, which wasnât a great deal, what with her billowing cloak and ferocious hat brim. But even if he couldnât see any detail, there was plenty for his body to read. She
