Page 168 of A Very Bellamy Christmas

“No, Miss. This is from”—she broke off, glanced around, and leaned close, sloshing water over both their shoes as she hissed, “Lord Shelton. He said to deliver it to you this morning if he wasn’t here.” She grimaced. “I was to leave it while you were sleeping, but I got, er, distracted, like.” She grinned and thrust her free hand into Stacia’s face, wiggling her fingers to display the ring she wore. “Thomas told me how you said to explain about Lady Shaftsbury’s maid chasin’ after him. He also said you told him that he needed to tell me the gift was from him.” She chortled. “The daftie. If you’d not spoken to him, I might be betrothed to somebody else right now!”

“Betrothed? Oh, congratulations, Dora!”

“Thanks, Miss. He’s a good lad—so pretty his lack of sense don’t matter.”

Stacia laughed. Down the hall a door opened, and Lord Crewe’s valet poked his head out and scowled.

“Whoops!” Dora said, hurrying toward the other servant.

Stacia stared at the box in her hand and then opened the door to her room and set it carefully on the bed before stripping off her outer layers. And then she sat and held the pretty gold present, just looking at it, her mind in a tangle.

What did this gift mean? Was he her secret St. Nicholas? Or was this something else?

Stacia took a deep breath and struggled to calm her thoughts. After several moments she carefully unwrapped the gift, trying to save the pretty paper.

She gasped when she opened the box and saw not just the loveliest pair of cream kid leather opera gloves, but also a dozen hairpins with sparkling brilliants.

Tucked inside one of the gloves was a folded note.

She swallowed, set aside the box, and unfolded it.

Merry Christmas, Stacia. I am sorry I could not deliver this in person, but important business in London has called me away. The gloves are for you to wear to the ball—I do hope you will defy the countess and make an appearance—and it will give me wicked pleasure to know you are wearing something I bought for you on your delectable body, so close to your skin.

“Andrew,” she muttered, blushing even though there was nobody to see.

As for the glittering hair pins, they were just a silly afterthought that appealed to my magpie-like sensibilities. Also, I suspect you are guilty of denying yourself such frivolous pleasures. And then there is the fact that they will come in handy as counters the next time we play a naughty card game.

Your servant (although you refused to allow me to show it!)

Andrew

Like a ninny, Stacia pressed the note against her heart. The gloves and pins were lovely—and he was right that she’d not bought herself anything pointless and pretty in years—but the note scrawled in his almost unreadable handwriting was the real gift.

He had not forgotten her, after all.