England—Christmas Eve 1821
England—Christmas Eve 1821“It’s a damn cold night, eh, Nathan?”
Nathan Powell, the Duke of Hastings, glanced in irritation at his younger brother, Lewis, who was just visible in the light from the coach lantern. The flame rippled and sputtered as the lantern rocked slightly with the moving conveyance. It was a poor night to be out on the road and traveling. Nathan’s mood was often dark of late, but now it was bleaker than ever. When they’d set out from his estate, only a few miles away, the skies were already heavy with winter storm clouds. It would be his luck to be snowed in for Christmas at someone else’s home.
Christmas was a holiday he very much despised. It was a season of love, of joy, of hope. The three things he no longer had. But that was to be expec
