A Holiday of Our Own

By Lavinia Glen

They loved each other with all their hearts. 

But five years ago, Julianna's parents forced her to abandon the man she loved and marry a man she despised in order to save her family. Now recently widowed, she finds herself with the freedom to choose her own destiny for the first time in her life. And her first act of independence is to flout mourning conventions and escape unbearable relatives to spend the holidays her way; on the sunny south coast of France. 

Ethan, the Earl of Ardmore, has tried for the last five years to forget the defection of the woman he loved. He thought he had moved on and was ready to marry and start a family. But a chance encounter has brought her back into his life, rekindling a desire that never died. He has every reason to distrust her, but feelings he can no longer deny compel him to pursue her.

When an unexpected setback throws them together, a night of passionate lovemaking makes them realize they still love each other with the same intensity as before. But with betrayal, suspicion, and hurt still dividing them, how will they overcome their differences to embrace this second chance at love?

From London to Nice, they will celebrate the season and each other on a trip that will change their lives forever.

 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lavinia Glen
• Release date: Nov 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215369074

Book preview

Chapter 1

LONDON, NOVEMBER 1872

THE LANGHAM HOTEL ANNUAL ball was a crush. Julianna would much rather be at her country house, but as usual, her husband had insisted on dragging her on this business trip. So here she was. Flirting, pretending to enjoy the crush, the dancing and gaiety, when, in all honesty, she despised all this. Despised his schemes. The way he used her to achieve his ends.

She herself had been a victim of his schemes, and the price she was paying was high indeed. So she flirted and did as he bid her, because if she were not at this party, they would be alone in their hotel room. She shuddered at the thought. Physical intimacy with her husband was never pleasant and something she avoided as much as she could.

Grabbing a glass of champagne from the tray of a server, she resolutely walked into the crowd in search of this evening’s prime target.

It didn’t take long to spot her quarry. He was taller than most men in the room. The petite redhead on his arm was not as visible over the heads of the crowds until one got closer. So his wife had attended, after all. If she had a husband as handsome and devoted as Mr. Kinkaid seemed to be, she would be eager to stay by his side, too.

She still hoped Mr. Kinkaid would at least ask her out to dance. She needed to get him alone to work her wiles on him. And this time, she might actually enjoy her assignment. He seemed fit and athletic and was probably a superb dancer. Unlike her husband, who was old and fat and too worn down by vices to be good at anything, she thought bitterly.

She started a circuitous route toward the Kinkaid’s, flirting and laughing with several men she encountered along the way, when suddenly a hand grabbed her arm from behind. Turning in outrage that someone had dared to handle her so familiarly, her scathing retort died on her lips when she beheld the face of the last person she thought she would encounter here tonight.

Ethan.

No, he was Lord Ardmore now. She’d do well to remember. He was still so dear, and yet so unreachable, that a knot lodged in her throat and she swallowed against the pressure.

Mrs. Johnson, he said, impeccably polite, but she caught the scorn in the way he pronounced her name. I believe you promised me this dance earlier.

She had not done so. In fact, she had not seen him in over five years. Ever since the day her parents announced her betrothal to Mr. Johnson. But she couldn’t form the words to deny his claim. She wasn’t sure she would wish to deny him anyway, even if she could utter the words.

To be held in his arms, if only for a few minutes, would be as heavenly as a glass of water when one is dying of thirst in the desert. Maybe not enough to sustain oneself through the harrowing journey, but too delicious to turn down. He extended his hand, holding her gaze, and she put her gloved hand in his. He silently led her to the dance floor. At that moment, she would have followed him anywhere.

They took their positions and started moving to the first strains of the waltz. Her body remembered what it was like to dance with him, and she had to steel herself against the desire to melt in his arms. So many feelings rushed at her. She was in danger of breaking down in the middle of the dance floor.

"What a surprise to find you here, Lord Ardmore.'' She was proud that her voice came out evenly.

The surprise is mutual, I assure you. I thought you lived in York.

I do. We are in London for business.

We? So Mr. Johnson is here somewhere? He made a show of looking around as if looking for her wayward husband.

He is in the cardroom. She bit out, annoyed.

Tsk, tsk. How careless of him. Leaving his charming young wife all alone to the wolves.

I know how to conduct myself, milord.

I’m sure you do. He said with such innuendo that it managed to imply the exact opposite.

She stiffened in his arms. If your intention in asking me to dance was to insult me–

Not at all. He interrupted smoothly. In fact, I had no intentions beyond dancing with you. For old time’s sake.

For old time’s sake. As if they left all the feelings they had once had for each other in the past. Maybe he did. Not her. She was trembling with longing inside.

Fair enough. She nodded, because she really did not want to start an argument with him. She knew he despised her. With reason. But she wasn’t strong enough to withstand his scorn. She swallowed hard. I must offer my late condolences on the passing of your father.

Thank you. I trust your family is well?

They are. Thank you. Such banal conversation. Did they have nothing better to say to each other after all these years? After all there had once been between them? But she supposed this was better than harsh recriminations.

They continued dancing in silence for a few more minutes, their bodies floating in the music, moving in unison, remembering each other. She wanted to keep dancing forever. She wished the music would never end. But all too soon, it did. They stopped, looked at each other. She was drowning in his azure gaze and didn’t care to come up for air. Was that yearning she saw in his eyes? Was it in her eyes, too? Or was she imagining it?

Breaking contact, he stepped back and bowed. Thank you for the dance.

And just like that, he turned on his heel and left her in the middle of the floor, gazing after him. Lost and bereft.

She needed a drink. She needed air. She needed to be alone. Away from all these damned people. She dashed for the doors to the terrace, grabbing a glass of champagne on her way. When she made it outside, she sought the farthest, darkest corner. Trying to hide herself while she dried her eyes. It was chilly, and her ballgown offered little protection from the cold, but she preferred it. Welcomed it. It distracted her from the much harsher cold inside her.

The sound of masculine footsteps on the flagstone floor of the terrace startled her. Could it be..? Her heart was already leaping before she even completed the thought. Turning around sharply, her hopes smashed painfully when she beheld one of the drunken louts that usually played cards with her husband.

Who do we have here? If it isn’t the beautiful Mrs. Johnson. he slurred. Looking for your husband, dear? Or maybe not. Maybe you are looking for someone else entirely.

He came closer, and she stepped away, the stench of alcohol was nauseating. But she was at the end of the balustrade, and there was nowhere else to go. The drunken man moved surprisingly fast for someone in his estate of intoxication, and soon she found herself trapped against the wall.

Would you give me a kiss? I think it is fair. A consolation prize for all your husband’s won from me at the gaming tables tonight.

Get away from me.. She was fighting in earnest now.

C’mon. Don’t play coy with me now. You encouraged me many times. And I’ve seen the way you look at other men. The way you flirt and tease. You are a hot one, aren’t you? I bet you have a string of lovers to satisfy you.

If you don’t move away this instant— She tried to sound authoritative. To keep the panic from her voice.

What are you going to do? The drunk sneered.

I believe the lady asked you to move away.

The deep, familiar voice filled her with instant relief and gratitude. Closing her eyes, she slumped against the wall.

The drunk moved away from her. Ah, I see your assignation for the night has arrived. I knew you would not be here alone without a reason.

With a nasty look, he turned and walked away.

She turned to her savior gratefully. Thank you, Ethan.

Did he hurt you?

No. I’m fine. He was just a drunk and a bully.

What were you doing here all by yourself? He snarled. Were you waiting for someone like he said?

"What? No! Don’t be absurd. I just wanted to get some air. There’s quite a crowd