Yuletide Bride. Mary Lyons

      CHAPTER ONE

      ‘I’M SORRY to be late,’ Amber called out breathlessly as she made her way through the noisy, crowded café, to where her friend was sitting at a small table beside the window.

      ‘There was no need to hurry,’ Rose Thomas told her, before ordering a pot of coffee from a passing waitress. ‘Sally hasn’t arrived yet. If I know her, she’s probably spending a fortune in one of the dress shops. And busy catching up on all the latest scandal, of course!’

      ‘I expect you’re right,’ Amber grinned. Their friend Sally, the wife of a wealthy and highly respected lawyer, was affectionately known amongst her friends as being both a shop-aholic, and an avid collector of local news and gossip. ‘But, as far as I’m concerned,’ she added, sighing with relief as she lowered her carrier bags and parcels down on to the floor, ‘trying to do any ordinary, everyday shopping during the run-up to Christmas, is nothing but sheer murder.’

      ‘Don’t I know it!’ Rose agreed with a rueful laugh. ‘Even though it’s only Thursday, the supermarket was packed as tight as a tin of sardines, and I didn’t manage to buy half the things on my shopping list. Since my dreaded mother-in-law is threatening to descend on us for the Christmas holidays, I was just wondering if I could ask you to make me a large plum pudding? And maybe some sponge cakes to keep in the freezer just in case of any unexpected visitors?’

      ‘No problem—all orders gratefully received!’ Amber grinned as she pulled out a chair and sat down.

      ‘That’ll be wonderful,’ Rose sighed with relief. ‘By the way, how is your business doing?’

      ‘Well, it looks as though I’m going to be very busy in the kitchen, since I’ve now got lots of orders from the local shops for Christmas cakes, puddings and mince pies. Unfortunately, the paying-guest side of the business isn’t doing so well. Bookings are down, and we don’t have anyone staying with us at the moment. On top of which...’ she hesitated for a moment. ‘I don’t want anyone else to know just yet, because I’m still trying to summon up enough courage to break the bad news to my mother. However, after a really awful interview with the bank manager, I’ve finally had to face the hard, financial facts of life and put my house on the market.’

      ‘You don’t mean...?’

      Amber nodded. ‘Yes, I’m afraid so. I’ve seen Mr Glover, the house agent, and the Hall is going to be advertised for sale as from the beginning of next week.’

      ‘Oh, no! I’m so sorry,’ Rose exclaimed, gazing at her friend with deep concern and sympathy. Since they’d both been born and raised in the same small, riverside market town of Elmbridge, she was well aware of the misfortunes suffered in the past by Amber’s family; the public scandal and disgrace surrounding the crash of her father’s large business empire, swiftly followed by his death and her mother’s complete mental breakdown. It seemed so desperately unfair, Rose told herself, that after all the trials and tribulations which she’d so bravely confronted in the past, her friend should now be having to face yet even more problems.

      ‘Oh, well—it’s not exactly the end of the world. The Hall is far too large for us, and the heating bills are astronomical,’ Amber pointed out, attempting to put a brave face on what was, in reality, a disastrous family situation.

      ‘But where will you go?’ Rose asked anxiously as the waitress brought a tray to their table. ‘Have you found anywhere else to live?’

      Amber sighed. ‘No, not yet. I’m hoping to buy a small cottage, not too far away from Elmbridge. Mainly, of course, because I don’t want to take Lucy away from either her school, or her friends.’

      ‘I’ll keep my ear to the ground, and let you know the moment I hear of anything,’ Rose assured her earnestly. However, as she poured them both a cup of coffee, she couldn’t help worrying about how her friend would manage to cope with life in a small cottage.

      She’d been away at college when Amber, at the age of eighteen, had married Clive Stanhope, a very wealthy if somewhat wild young man, who’d owned Elmbridge Hall, an ancient Tudor mansion and by far the largest house in the district. Clive’s wedding to Amber—the once rich, but by then penniless only child of a disgraced businessman—followed by the birth of a daughter only six months after their marriage, had provided plenty of ammunition for gossip in the small town. However, Amber had subsequently won everyone’s admiration by the way she’d coped after her husband’s fatal car accident, a year later, when it became known that Clive had apparently been a compulsive gambler, and all the land was heavily mortgaged. In fact, after everything had been sold to meet a mountain of debts, the young widow had been left with nothing but Elmbridge Hall.

      Over the past few years, Rose had looked forward to a time when her friend would meet the right man and live happily ever after. With thick shoulder-length straight hair, a glorious shade of deep golden brown, and large green eyes set above a warm generous mouth, Amber was a very beautiful woman. Certainly Philip Jackson, the young local doctor, seemed to think so. But, despite all her matchmaking efforts, Rose couldn’t understand why her friend—who was also a loving mother and superb cook—appeared to be so reluctant to get married again. But now...well, surely Amber would see the sense in marrying a man who had so much to offer her?

      ‘I saw Philip Jackson the other day. He tells me that he’s going to his parents’ home in Cumberland for Christmas.’

      ‘Oh, yes?’ Amber murmured, eyeing her friend warily.

      ‘Well, I was just wondering if...er...if he’s asked you and Lucy to join him?’

      ‘For Heaven’s sake—don’t you ever give up?’ Amber groaned, shaking her head in mock exasperation. ‘I thought you’d promised to stop trying to marry me off to all the single men in town?’

      ‘Yes, well...’ Rose’s cheeks reddened slightly. ‘I really don’t mean to interfere in your life. But it’s almost seven years since Clive died. And it’s as clear as daylight to me—especially after hearing the sad news about the sale of your house—that what you really need is a husband.’

      ‘I hope you’re not suggesting that I should marry Philip—or anyone else, for that matter—merely to provide a way out of my difficulties?’ Amber demanded bluntly.

      ‘No—of course, I’m not,’ Rose protested, waving a hand dismissively in the air. ‘But surely this is the perfect time to think seriously about your future?’

      ‘Oh, come on, Rose! We’re not just talking about me. There’s Lucy to consider, as well. It’s not everyone who’d want to take on a little seven-year-old girl—not to mention my scatty mother.’