Once Upon a Christmas Knight: Pirates of the Coast, #6

By Barbara Devlin

A chance meeting, two lonely hearts, a magical Christmas gift, and a love that will last a lifetime.

By her own admission, Margaret Hogart is considered the lesser twin. Resigned to a life of mediocrity, she hides her true talent and avoids the spotlight. Then one night changes everything, when she meets a gallant knight, at a masquerade ball. While her mysterious hero steals a kiss, he does not reveal his identity. Can Margaret find the man who claimed her heart?

After a scandal rocks his family, Percival Howe delays his plans to woo the woman of his dreams and withdraws from society, until John Hogart begs an audience. Saddled with debt, and on the verge of insolvency, after trusting an unscrupulous investor, Hogart begs for Percival's help, in exchange for Margaret's hand in marriage. Will Percival accept the offer?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Barbara Devlin
• Release date: Feb 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9781945576829

Book preview

Once Upon

a

Christmas Knight

barbara devlin

copyright

This is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Copyright © 2017 Barbara Devlin

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the express written permission of the publisher.

Published by Barbara Devlin

The Pirates of the Coast Badge is a registered trademark ® of Barbara Devlin.

Cover art by Lewellen Designs

Interior Art by Dar Albert

ISBN: 978-1-945576-82-9

Dedication

For my readers, because you inspire me.

once upon a christmas knight

prologue

London

April, 1813

Scandal manifested a great equalizer, as neither man nor woman and neither king nor peasant escaped the accompanying derision, censure, and isolation.  For some the ensuing loneliness presented a hellish torture, unbearable in its relentless assault.  For others, for those who welcomed shelter from the glare of the social spotlight, disgrace offered sanctuary.

It was in the quiet confines of the shadows that Percival Henry Forester Howe, beloved cousin of Barrington Howe, the Marquess of Ravenwood, found safe harbor from the usual harried pursuits of The Season, which he always disdained.  Owing to his estimable lineage, he had no choice but to endure the gross opulence that characterized the ton, but things had changed since last year.

After a night out, Barrington returned to find a murdered maid in his bed, and rather than face the associated investigation, he fled a humiliating arrest and criminal charges.  Of course, not for a minute did Percy believe his relation capable of committing such a heinous deed, but innocence mattered not to people who thirsted for the misery of others.  In the wake of the nefarious events, the entire Howe family, including Ernest, Barrington’s younger brother, bore the resulting shame.

So, at the Netherton’s masque, he savored the anonymity provided by his medieval knight costume, as he strolled through the crush of revelers.  Still, he grew restless and sought the peaceful confines of an empty study, when he detected a graceful melody coming from the rear of the grand residence.

Moving swift and sure, he tiptoed into a music room, where a lone woman, garbed as an angel, complete with gold mesh wings, played the piano.  In an instant, he recognized the fluid beauty of Mozart’s signature Andante from Piano Concerto Twenty-one, in the hands of a skilled musician.  Light and quick, her fingers caressed the ivories, and she tilted back her head and closed her eyes, as she gave herself to the elegant composition, and never had he looked upon such an ethereal vision, unmatched in its appeal.  Without thought, he neared, and she flinched and halted her play when she noticed his presence.

Who are you?  Clutching her throat, she emitted a soft sob.  What are you doing here?

Why, you are crying.  Given she had removed her masque, he could not miss the tears streaming her delicate cheeks, and he drew his handkerchief from his pocket, knelt at her side, and offered her the square of linen, which she accepted.  It strikes me as the height of cruelty that the most beautiful woman at the ball should hide in a back room.

You think me beautiful?  Margaret Hogart, known throughout the ton as the lesser twin, bit her bottom lip, and he found her inexpressibly appealing.  Not that I believe you, because no one ever sees me.  She hiccupped.  Everyone prefers Miranda, not that I am envious, because I am proud of my sister, but I wish just one person might consider me adequate and favor me with a dance.

I find you a vast deal more than adequate, and your talent is unparalleled and altogether surprising.  As he revisited memories of the last Hogart musicale, a painful experience nonetheless remarkable for her less than stellar performance, he chuckled.  Why do you pretend to be something other than what you are, my dear, as you do us all a grave injustice?

Because I detest those musicales, but my mother insists I participate.  With a frown, she lowered her chin and slumped her shoulders.  And Miranda can neither sing nor play an instrument, thus I would not embarrass her.

So you temper your abilities to avoid outshining your sister, in your forte, but she does not do the same for you, in the ballrooms, where she reigns.  He tucked a stray tendril behind her ear and caressed the gentle curve of her jaw.  You are as stunning on the inside as you are on the outside.

To his surprise, she leaned forward, and he could not resist the implied invitation.  With care, so as not to frighten her, he touched his mouth to hers, and she whimpered, and hers was the sweetest flesh he ever sampled.

"Oh.  Just as fast, she withdrew and stiffened her spine.  I should apologize, but I would not lie, as I could never regret my first kiss, and I am in your debt, kind knight."

Trust me, the debt is mine.  Given their location, he realized he risked her reputation, and she was far too young to be thus tainted, so he stood.  If you return to the celebration, I would be honored to claim a dance.

Of course, I would love to partner you.  Will you take off your masque, that I might gaze upon your face?  Clutching his handkerchief to her bosom, she rose from the bench, and he would have given anything to exist as that simple scrap of material, in that moment.  And I would know to whom I am beholden, as you know me.

You should wait here, until I have rejoined the festivities.  Ignoring her entreaties, he retreated toward the door.  If only he were not mired in controversy, he would offer for her.  But he could not, in good conscience, entangle her in the tempest that was his life, given he knew not when or if his cousin would return to London and settle his dispute with the authorities, once and for all.  Later, I shall seek you out, perhaps, for a waltz.

I look forward to it, kind sir.  Then she stepped in his direction.  "Wait—I do not