Once Upon a Not at all Innocent Kiss (A Christmas Prequel)
What readers say:
❄️“I want a Charles in my life! Most definitely!”
❄️“A feel-good novella that shows the Whickertons value family.” ❄️“I adored Lady Wickerton, as always and, of course the villain finally realized what he missed. Loved this story!”In Charles’s opinion, the evening could have progressed in this very manner until the time of their departure. However, as with all good plans, sometimes they took an unexpected twist.
Lost in his observations, Charles did not notice the young woman until they collided in a tangle of arms, his feet firmly planted upon the hem of her skirt, her fingers grasping his arms to regain her balance. The moment was upon him so abruptly that Charles felt his heart pause in his chest, his eyes staring down into her face in utter shock, the rest of the world momentarily lost to his senses.
Indeed, for a moment, all Charles saw…
… was her.
Wide blue eyes looked up into his. Indeed, it was the most astounding blue he had ever seen, and yet Charles could not quite say why that was the case. Indeed, it was a remarkable blue, a mixture of the sky on a bright summer’s day and the deep, almost turquoise waters he had seen in the south of Europe. It was a color that held mystery and depth, a color that intrigued him and made him wish to know what lay beneath the waves.
And then Charles blinked, and he saw her face.
Not unlike his own, it held surprise, visible in the widening of her gaze. Yet beyond that, Charles saw deep sadness, anguish even. Tears clung to her lashes, and even after regaining her balance, her hands still clung to his arms, holding on, as though she feared she could not stand on her own. Indeed, an almost crushing weight seemed to rest upon her shoulders, and Charles felt a fierce need to protect her, to carry her burden for her… whatever it might be.
It was the oddest feeling, for he did not even know her name.
“I’m sorry,” Charles managed to say after finally rediscovering his voice. Although it sounded rather like the croak of a frog than the voice of a human. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m sorry. I suppose I did not look where I was going. Are you all right?” As Charles took a step back to look into her eyes, the young lady’s hands slipped from his arms, and he instantly regretted the loss of her touch. Again, it was the oddest sensation.
Blinking her eyes fiercely, the young lady bowed her head, clearly struggling to regain her composure. Still, Charles was certain that it had not been their collision that had unbalanced her. Indeed, whatever had upset her had happened before their meeting. “I’m quite all right,” she replied in a small voice, her head still bowed, her eyes refusing to look back up into his.
More than anything, Charles wished to know what had happened to her. He took a careful step forward, his head slightly lowered, and whispered, “Is there anything I can do? Please.” Even to his own ears, his voice sounded pleading. Indeed, in that moment, he would have said anything to keep her by his side.
Unfortunately, the young lady had other plans, for she shook her head and retreated another step, reestablishing the distance between them. “No, I’m truly all right.” Then, slowly, ever so slowly, she lifted her chin, and it seemed to be a great effort to her. She met his eyes, and then the most ingenuine smile Charles had ever seen touched her lips. “Nothing happened. I’m… I’m fine.” She nodded to him as though in confirmation of her words and then slipped back into the crowd so fast that for a moment Charles felt as though he might have simply imagined her.
He still did not know her name. He could not even remember the color of her hair or her dress. All he remembered were those wide blue eyes filled with sadness, and yet, strangely enough, he thought that in that moment he had seen her.
Truly seen her.
And he knew that it had changed everything.
She was cast aside—but he saw her as something rare and real. Beatrice Hartley never expected love to leave her so quickly—and so publicly. With a child on the way and the man she trusted gone, she’s offered a marriage that will shield her reputation but leave her heart untouched. She's braced for a future built on silence, not love.
He was raised to believe love was the point—not the problem. Charles Beaumont, Lord Hawthorne, doesn’t care for society’s rules—especially when they demand he ignore the woman who moved him with a single glance. Beatrice isn’t a scandal to him. She’s a storm worth chasing. And when the rest of the ballroom turns away, Charles steps forward.
They choose each other—boldly, fiercely, unapologetically. In a world that worships image over honesty, Charles refuses to marry for convenience or legacy. He falls for Beatrice and doesn’t look back. Because love isn’t something to earn—it’s something to claim. And when hearts speak, society be hanged.
If you find comfort in stories where love doesn’t rush, but unfolds with care, vulnerability, and trust, you’re in the right place.
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