Free The Perfect Gift by Raven McAllan

C HAPTER O NE
    “So, it seems we are now to host the Duke and Duchess’s Christmas house party for them,” Stephen, Viscount Pelham told his housekeeper. He tried to ignore the itch in his shoulder blade that intimated all was not as it seemed. “There is illness in their village, and Amanda feels ‘tis not proper to ask guests to visit in the circumstances.”
    Or so she says. Why do I have no faith in Amanda’s pronouncements? He wondered if Harry, his sister’s husband, knew her reasons for the change in venue. Whether he did or did not was immaterial. The house party would now be at Carrland Hall.
    He stretched his long legs out. The gleam on his immaculate hessians shone in the firelight. Why did he not think he had been given the whole story? Due to the inclement weather, it had taken Loggins, his groom, longer than normal to ride to the posting office to collect the mails, and the short winter evening was rapidly drawing to a close. Tonight, the fog and damp so normal to this area seemed twice as deep as would be expected.
    A swift perusal of the impressive missive from his sister, crossed and re-crossed, had his normally placid temper rising. Why, with a Peer of the Realm to frank her letters, did she deem it necessary to write so? The writing was illegible. It was as if a spider had dipped its legs in ink and walked over the paper. The patterns the loops and swirls created made him think of silken ropes crisscrossed over a smooth female body. His cock tightened in response to the images in his mind. With a ruthlessness he had cultivated over the years, he quelled his erection and cleared his mind. He could not speak to his staff with a horn such as he had.
    Once his prick and balls had relaxed enough for his trousers to fit and not threaten his ability to procreate if he ever chose to, he reread the missive.
    It caused him to roll his eyes and then ensure he rang the bell to summon Mrs. Clegg, his longtime employee. She smiled when he mentioned Amanda, who had always been her favorite. He knew once he uttered the magic word ‘Amanda’ everything possible would be done to guarantee his sister and her guests would enjoy all conceivable comforts.
    As he finished speaking, she nodded. “Now that will be a treat for us all, my lord, I’m sure. Does Miss Amanda, I mean the Duchess, say how many chambers need to be prepared?”
    Stephen perused the paper in front of him. “She says the enclosed is for you, to give you all the information required, and the first guest will arrive on the fifteenth.” He handed a package over to Mrs. Clegg. “Good grief, that is but five days hence. Can you manage, Cleggy? She has, I fear, been her usual thoughtless self.”
    “Bless you my lord, ‘tis no trouble,” Mrs. Clegg said. She spoke as if she were comforting a child. Much as she had when, as a young boy, he’d scraped his knees or had a whipping from his tutor. “Miss, I mean her ladyship, knows we are able to cater to her desires and needs.”
    Hmmm. It was that he was afraid of. However… His mind veered off at a tangent. Needs, desires . Stephen made a mental note to ensure the tower rooms were secure and locked, and the door to its secret stair secure and hidden. It was one thing to be confident in your own skin and your own preference, another to shout those predilections to all and sundry.
    “She was so sure I would agree, the minx. I wonder how she got Harry to agree,” he asked. It was a rhetorical question. He knew fine well what wiles a woman could employ to get what she wanted. To delay the delivery of this diktat—for it was a command however the words were penned—until the day before he had been due to leave for the long ride south was one of them. He knew some of the guests would already have set out to undertake the arduous trek north to Yorkshire.
    However, a thought struck him. “Does she say Lady Judith Gresham is to be one of the party?” To his secret and wry amusement his heart pounded