Three Kisses Before Christmas Wilde, Tanya (reading books for 5 year olds TXT) 📖

these flashing discoveries had been of utmost importance. The only ones that mattered, in fact.

Christ, when he thought about that moment a week ago in the carriage, his gut still tightened to a ball of lead. It felt as though his feet had been caught in a bog and he was slowly sinking, incapable of pulling himself from the death trap and the only person who could pull him to safety he’d left standing in the cold.

Wolfstan had gone straight for his horse and sent the carriage back for Rebecca. He’d been so angry that day. And the first thing he’d done was hunt down Alexander Lance. All the bloody way back to London. The man had proved remarkably elusive.

He balled his fists. His shoulders felt like a ton of bricks had settled there. Heavy. Oppressive. He finally understood.

“Wicke.” John Burrows, the Earl of Stapleton, intercepted him with the call of his name. “Retiring so soon?”

Wolfstan turned, cursing his luck. “I’m ill-suited for these events, I’m afraid.”

“We missed you at the fox hunt,” Stapleton said.

“Regrettably, I had business in London.”

Stapleton nodded. “Ah. I thought you’d spend time at Westbridge Park. Lady Rebecca is in attendance. The first invitation she had ever accepted. My wife is quite pleased.”

“The ball is a raging success,” Wolfstan agreed.

“Yes, well, we had a few, er, unfortunate incidents this year.”

Stapleton must be referring to the Masquerade Ball Wolfstan had also missed. “Let us hope no one else drives the countess’s heart rate up tonight.”

Stapleton smiled, his gaze darting to his wife, who stood in conversation with a trio of ladies. They made a handsome couple.

The countess looked up then and indicated to Stapleton with wide eyes a man who sauntered into the room. Wolfstan followed their gaze. He did not recognize the man.

Stapleton cursed. “If you will excuse me, a riff-raff just entered my ball.”

Wolfstan inclined his head, and went on to find a spot in the shadows, and waited. He did not wait long. Rebecca, a vision in a white gown with lace trimmings, slipped from the ballroom. The color red might have suited her better, now that he was privy to the truth.

As if sensing his regard, her eyes moved over the shadows.

“Wolfstan.”

Not Wicke.

A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You look ravishing.”

“You were gone for a week.”

He stepped out from the shadows. “Did you miss me, Rebecca?”

She snorted. “Obviously not. You left me in the cold to walk back home.”

“I sent the carriage to you after I reached the castle.”

“If you mean that as a consolation, you can keep it for yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” Wolfstan murmured, his voice low. “I acted out of anger.”

“Anger at finding me with Mr. Lance or anger over my sketch?”

He snatched her hand in his. “Come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere we can talk in private.” He led her into the nearest room—a drawing room—and shut the door, locking it in place. He turned to her. “You’re not in love with Langley.”

“No, I am not.”

“Not infatuated either.”

She shook her head.

“The sketches were just as you described.”

“Fantasies of a young girl,” she confirmed.

“And what about your first kiss? I stole that.”

“Yes, you did.” Her lips twisted into a small smile. “I do not regret it as much as I did then.”

Wolfstan nodded. Some of the tension eased. Some.

“You never corrected me about Langley.”

“Perhaps I chose to be a lady, and wait for your assumption to pass.”

The corner of his lips lifted. “Fair enough.”

They stared at each other.

“You went to London.”

“I had some matters to investigate.” Christ, she was beautiful. “What I found was completely unexpected.”

“And that is?” she whispered.

She looked so innocent. Did she truly not suspect? “I found you.”

“I . . .” The crease in her brows deepened. Then she gasped. “You sought out Mr. Lance. You know.”

“You are the elusive owner of Knightley’s.”

Some of the color left her face, but she did not deny it. “I ought to have known you would never let it go. Still, it was not Mr. Lance’s secret to share.”

Wolfstan shook his head, still annoyed by that particular confrontation. “The man is tightlipped as they come. But my suspicions raised, I tracked down the solicitor that managed the club’s deed and threatened to beat him within an inch of his life. He gave me the details.”

“You went through quite the trouble.”

He crossed the distance to her. “I only have one question.”

She stared at him wide-eyed, almost as if she braced for a blow.

“Were you out of your bloody mind?” He scowled down at her. “Do you have any idea what this will do to your reputation once word gets out? You are aware there is a wager to unmask the mysterious owner of Knightley’s?”

“You said one question.”

“The last two were rhetorical.” His voice was dry as sand. He cocked his head to the side. “Knightley’s is the reason you declined my offer of marriage.”

Her lips parted. “I . . . Not the first time,” she admitted. “I was rather shocked then, but the second time, yes.”

Wolfstan nodded. He understood. He didn’t want to understand, he wanted to be offended as hell. But he couldn’t be. He’d been standing on the sidelines all this time. He could only commend her courage, and bloody rejoice at the chance to be part of her life. In all ways. “How do you feel now?”

Her teeth scraped her lower lip. “Relieved that I hadn’t attended the ball for nothing,” she whispered. “I planned to tell you about Knightley’s tonight.”

“You did?” Her admission surprised him. “What changed your mind?”

“You.” She gave him half a smile. “You happened.”

Wolfstan’s entire world shifted beneath the tilting weight of those words. He reached to cup her face in his hand. “I’m not sure whether that is a good thing or not?”

“I suppose it’s a good thing. I thought you would be angrier.”

“I’m furious as hell, Rebecca, but only because you thought you could not confide in me. Your reputation is also a concern.”

“My reputation?” She gave a small laugh. “You