The School For Heiresses

“Mischief's Holiday”

Inspired by New York Times bestselling author Sabrina Jeffries's School for Heiresses series, this delightful anthology features four young women who learn that there's nothing textbook about love…

“It is better not to marry at all than to marry badly.”
-- Mrs. Charlotte Harris, headmistress

At the School for Heiresses, the lessons go far beyond etiquette and needlepoint. In addition to teaching her students how to avoid fortune hunters, headmistress and founder Charlotte Harris proposes the radical notion that women of means need not shackle themselves to men at all -- unless they find a suitable, desirable mate. So lessons in the fine art of acquiring a loving and passionate husband are part of the curriculum at this highly unusual school. And as the holidays approach, Mrs. Harris sends her young ladies home with personally tailored lessons to work on. Will they return any closer to finding the perfect husband?

Join this dazzling roster of authors as they put their own spin on the School for Heiresses in four spirited tales of passion!

Contributing Authors: Sabrina Jefferies, Liz Carlyle, Julia London

Read An Excerpt

Chapter One

Miss Martin,

Your enthusiastic and lively nature brightens the lives of those around you, but you must apply yourself to better control and decorum. I know it is your greatest desire to impress and excel amongst your peers, but you must recall yourself in each and every moment and mind your surroundings. Think before you act, my dear, and I am sure your better nature will assert itself.

So of all your tasks I am assigning to my students for the holidays, yours is perhaps the simplest and I fear the most daunting. Your goal is to survive the holidays without incident and prove to all that you have the restraint and manners of a true lady.

Good luck, Miss Martin.

Yours in sincere regard,
Mrs. Charlotte Harris

“Survive the holidays without incident,” Alyssa Martin whispered, eyeing the elegant handwriting yet again. She bit her lower lip and slid the folded vellum into her reticule. At first glance, it appeared a very simple assignment. But with the sage experience of eighteen years of notable mischance, Miss Alyssa Martin was not fooled. No matter how hard she applied herself to the fine and graceful arts required of a proper young lady, she’d provided more mirth and mischief to the world than anyone had a right to claim. Her brow furrowed as she contemplated her task.

It wasn’t as if she were an ungainly thing! Taller than most of the other girls at Mrs. Harris’s School for Young Ladies, she’d been complimented for her lithe posture while learning dance figures and for her quick hands when tackling embroidery. She’d spent endless hours practicing stately strides and mastering the drills of the drawing and dining rooms until her head spun. No matter that she excelled in her academic studies—she shook her head. No, none of her dainty accomplishments lingered in any of her acquaintances’ memories.

Instead her classmates recalled with relish each wonderful misadventure and often begged her to retell them. She could hardly blame them. Who else had accidentally sewn herself to her chair cushion, mixed poison oak into the class floral arrangement or gotten trapped on the school’s roof during a simple scavenger hunt? Alyssa had no illusions about her luck. In each instance, she would have sworn she was making brilliant choices. It was only afterward when chaos had been unleashed that she’d been forced to see her missteps. It was hard not to laugh at herself along with her friends, especially since pouting and self-pity just weren’t in her nature.

Fear, however, was not out of her repertoire.

After all, she would be coming out soon, and society was notably less forgiving of wealthy young women from humble bloodlines who failed to keep up appearances. Her father had made a vast fortune in commerce and trade, but had started in relative obscurity. The infusion of new money was desirable to the realm’s elite classes, but there was no end of people willing to publicly cut anyone for a perceived lack of refinement. If she was going to make the desirable match her father wanted, she would have to prove that she was the equal of any blue-blooded debutant or the titled quarry they sought.

Alyssa tucked a stray blond curl under her bonnet and sighed, making an effort to push her concerns aside as the carriage began to roll up more familiar lanes. Almost home, she smiled, cheered at the thought of being home after such a long absence. She’d missed her father, seeing him only on holiday breaks from school. But now she had finished her schooling and Mrs. Harris had sent her off with a final assignment and words of advice. Her debut was a few weeks away so there was still time to stave off the worst of her fears. Between public humiliation and the threat of romantic predators, Alyssa knew which she dreaded more. She had difficulty imagining that a man’s kissing her hand and quoting poetry could be more painful than realizing she was wearing two mismatched slippers at the end of the day. The latter was a more likely disaster in her experience.

Mrs. Harris had advised her students continually against being swept away by love and blinded to practicalities. Her graduates proudly eschewed romantic nonsense. Alyssa had decided she would simply use the utmost caution when approaching the opposite sex. Now, if Cupid’s test involved an inkwell and a misplaced bonnet, she’d have worried more. Alyssa laughed, her humor finally reasserting itself. “Survive the holidays without incident.” She straightened her shoulders. “How difficult can it be?”

“God res’ ye, murry gennelmen!” The slurred singing of her coach driver carried back on the wind and made her smile. Her father had sent the man instead of her usual driver, and she could only assume he’d fortified himself against the cold with a nip or two. He’d seemed a cheerful sort, but she hadn’t expected a serenade of carols. Even off-key and with a notable lack of consonants, she was sure it was the spirit of the song that mattered most.

“’Member Chriz’a saber wuz born on Chrismuz day!” he crooned.

She tapped her foot and hummed quietly along with him; at least, until the carriage lurched and they hit a series of bumps that nearly jostled her clear off the cushioned seat. Perhaps the spirits in the singer were more of an issue. Before she could call out the window to suggest that they slow down, another shocking jolt convinced her that problem involved more than velocity.

“Whoa! Ho, there!” The driver’s voice was filled with alarm.

Alyssa gripped the seat and placed a hand against the windowsill to try to stay upright. “W-whoa, indeed,” she moaned, suddenly aware that she was too terrified to muster a scream. Though it seemed that the coachman was doing enough yelling for both of them.

The world was a blur as the carriage lost contact with the ground and then came to a sudden halt. It took her a few seconds to confirm that aside from the alarming angle at which the carriage was resting and the odd sound of flowing water, she felt alert and well. Alyssa tested her limbs and managed to drop the window in the door, which was now slightly above her. Climbing up onto the seat, she peeked out from the opening. “Sir? Sir, are you injured?”

“Ye wait there, mish! I-I’ll fetch help! D-don’t fret, mish!” The driver’s voice came from farther away than she’d anticipated.

Her jaw dropped as she leaned out the window and saw that somehow the horses and her inebriated driver had remained safely on the road, while she and the carriage had fallen down the embankment and landed almost sideways in the middle of a shallow creek. Before she could protest or suggest a more immediate extraction, the man walked off, his unsteady gait making the situation all the more ridiculous.

“Sir! Wait! Sir, you …” Alyssa bit her lower lip before finishing the sentence quietly for her ears only, “You appear to be going the wrong way. The village is east.”

Well, so much for the holiday spirit!

She carefully climbed back down to locate her reticule. Eyeing her bag with its assignment tucked inside, she could only hope that carriage rolling into a bit of water didn’t count as an “incident” in Mrs. Harris’s judgment. After all, a lady could hardly be blamed for such setbacks. Could she?

Thinking of Mrs. Harris instantly renewed her determination to stay mindful of her training. No matter what the situation, a true lady would keep a cool head. As she’d recently been lectured, a woman of breeding shone brightest where others lost their composure. Alyssa straightened her bonnet and slowly let out a breath. The creek didn’t seem too deep, and if she avoided slipping and taking an icy bath, the worst part would be wet skirts, stocking and shoes. Incident or no, she would then treat the walk to the house as simple exercise.

Besides, she told herself with a sigh, the long walk would give her ample time to come up with a way to deflect her father’s displeasure from her inebriated driver. It was the least a lady could do for an overly “merry gentleman.”

The day was brisk and overcast, but the clouds had so far kept their moisture to themselves. Leland Yates was not ungrateful since his penchant for fresh air was not without risks. Leland was the sort of man who braved the worst rainstorms if it meant he could enjoy an hour or two of solitude. Society made him uneasy, and even the best of company could be a trial. He was a private soul and preferred a good book to the squawk and squeals of social gatherings. He hated the posturing and endless, ambitious wrangling that accompanied most elite circles in London. As a second son of a titled lord, Leland had made his own way in the world, determined to carve out a fortune with his wits and bare hands. Although other peers looked down on men who sullied their names with the pursuit of profit, Leland was proud of his accomplishments and refused to slide into a life of fashionable ease. He’d developed a talent for keeping to himself his scathing opinions about soft-headed men who couldn’t fasten their own pants without assistance.

He had readily accepted Reid Martin’s invitation for the holidays. He’d long admired the man’s practical approach to business; Leland was sure that if nothing else, he would manage one or two sensible and profitable conversations during his visit. Martin had promised him that the gathering would be small, and the demands on his time would be minimal.

“Come, ride and relax, sir! Get away from London’s dreary winter streets and if you wish, you may strive to rearrange the dust on the collection of leather-bound tomes my wife insisted on collecting.” Martin had chuckled.

The lure of the quiet country Christmas was strong but Martin’s hint at a well-stocked library made invitation irresistible. After all, if there was one thing a man needed, it was his peace and –

Leland reined in his mount, startled at the sight of two matched stocking-footed horses still harnessed to a disconnected pole. The bar had broken neatly at the mounting braces from a carriage, and was caught on a low branch. An odd sound carried on the wind, and Leland feared he’d happened upon a terrible accident. He rode over quickly and then gaped in astonishment at the sight awaiting him.

The carriage sat upright in the middle of the creek bed. But the surprise entailed more that the vehicle’s unusual location. Encumbered by a skirt and petticoats, a pair of delectable legs was kicking furiously, their owner entrapped in a carriage window. Apparently, the window had fallen and latched in place to pin her at the waist. The flash of stockings and shapely ankles and calves were distracting in the extreme, and Leland marvelled how such a creature could have ended up in such a position. The view offered more than passing enjoyment, and while it didn’t seem gentlemanly to linger in appreciation, he didn’t think any man in long breeches could avoid the temptation to savor the display. It was clear this female was in need of assistance, but that was the only fact he could swear to.

He walked his horse carefully down the embankment. Rather than screaming for help, the sound of a muttered lecture of some sort drifted through the carriage’s window. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard something of a rallying speech, interspersed with grunts at her efforts to wriggle free. Was she talking to someone named Mrs. Harris?

He cleared his throat to soften the surprise of coming up behind her. “May I offer you a hand, miss?”

The kicking ceased abruptly and he detected one small squeak as his damsel in distress absorbed that she was no longer alone. “Oh! Oh, dear!”

Leland’s mouth fell over for an instant, surprised at the disappointment he heard in her small muffled exclamation. It was far from the relief he’d anticipated. “You prefer to wait for someone else?”

He was rewarded with a small groan and feisty kick, “No.”

“How in the world did you manage this?” He couldn’t resist the question as he surveyed the luscious curves of her bottom and caught another glimpse of delicate ankles and her stockings with tiny ribbons.

“If you must know,” a calm voice carried to him, as if they were discussing her choice in bonnets, “the door was stuck, and I thought the window a logical exit. And as I didn’t want to land headfirst into the water…Well, I’m sure I’d have managed it if the carriage hadn’t shifted and the window hadn’t closed on me.”

“I see.”

He was treated to another small wiggle before a ragged sigh reached his ears and more contrite damsel continued. “Have you ever wished you could be invisible?”

Leland urged his horse closer, shaking his head. “I would guess that this would be a terrible moment to have gotten your wish. That can hardly be a comfortable position.”

“It isn’t one I would recommend.” She gave another frustrated shimmy of her hips. “Could you help me, please?”

““As you wish.” It was naturally his intent all along to extract her, but for a fleeting instant, it occurred to him that this wasn’t going to be the simple chivalrous act she might envision.

Sliding his mount closer, he was able to slide his leg underneath her pert bottom to shift her weight off of the windowsill. He’d hoped to increase her comfort, abut his heart rate skyrocketed at the contact. Leland’s throat closed at the surge of desire that worked through his frame. The soft swell of her round bottom against the hard muscle of his thigh was evocative enough to make him draw a quick breath as his cock stiffened. Her luscious curves beckoned his hands, but he refrained from touching her as she wriggled in protest. Even if she were some doxy, he’d prefer to negotiate an arrangement before going to far.

“Sir! I’m not sure—”

“Don’t worry,” he said as he pulled the horse closer, ensuring her perch on his leg was steadier. “I’ll have you out in no time.”

The window itself had latched in place, so Leland reached around her hips and marvelled at the way her body felt against his. By gaining a firm but gentle grip, he was able to use his free hand to release the latch and lift the frame. “I’ve got you.”

It was meant to offer comfort, but the possessive tone of his voice made him frown a bit. As he pulled her across his lap to nestle her against his chest, he noted that the promising view of his damsel’s legs and bottom was amply matched by the rest of her. She was young and impossibly pretty, her face flushed and her bonnet askew over golden curls that tumbled down her back. The cut of her dress and coat was hardly provocative, giving him his first misgivings that chaperoned or not, she probably wasn’t the easy gel he’d assumed. Still … a man could hope.

“Is there another passenger to look after?” he inquired without moving his mount. If he was drawing out the experience, Leland wasn’t going to admit to a shred of guilt. It wasn’t as if the gods were usually this generous and, in his opinion, only a fool would fail to enjoy the moment. “I could have sworn over I overheard you addressing someone else inside. A Mrs. Harris?”

“No!” she corrected him quickly, her color deepening to a sweet pink that made him wonder how much of her body was susceptible to the fascinating change.

Where is your chaperone? For if ever a girl needed one, I think it’s you, miss.

“Sir, this is … improper,” she managed, her gloved hands clutching at his coat lapels for balance.

“I can put you down here,” he offered nonchalantly. “But I’m afraid the water’s colder than it looks.”

She eyed him warily before replying, humor making her beautiful blue eyes sparkle. “Perhaps the shore would make for a better landing?”

“If you insist,” he played along, urging the horse to return to the embankment. Reaching dry ground, he gingerly lowered her and then dismounted carefully to keep his coat closed to hide just how “improper” the situation had become. “I take it you are unharmed?”

“I’m …fine.” She straightened her bonnet, and them rewarded him with a heart-stopping smile. “Well, that was an adventure.”

“At the very least,” he agreed.

She extended a gloved hand. “Thank you for rescuing me from my carriage.”

He smiled at the formal gesture, taking her hand and bowing over it. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am—”

“Oh, no! Please…” She took back her hand, coloring a bit. “I’m not a rude person, really! It’s just that… Well, if you introduce yourself then I shall have to introduce myself, and you will always associate my name with this embarrassing incident. It doesn’t seem fair.”

“Fair?”

“In the retelling, you will be the hero and I will forever be the dolt who got stuck in a carriage window,” she explained with a sigh, then gave him another bone-melting smile. “It encourages a lady to lie to protect her reputation.”

Leland wasn’t sure how to respond. A lifetime of relying on his wits evaporated in the aftermath of her speech. He scrambled for an appropriate reply. Stranger still, instead of being insulted at her refusal to accept his introduction, he was amused. “But then you’ll have a reputation for falsehoods. Is that not worse?”

She squared her shoulders, as if bracing herself for the firing line. “You’re right. I’ll simply have to admit to everything. Unless…”

“Unless?”

“Unless you would be kind enough to swear never to tell anyone what’s happened here today? The I wouldn’t have to lie.”

Leland shook his head. Whoever she was, she had an incredible talent for making a man’s head swim. “I could, but it’s not every day a man forgoes being proclaimed a hero.”

She laughed. “Nonsense! Men can always invent opportunities to boast.”

He struggled to keep a straight face at the “innocent wisdom of babes.” “I’ll have to suppress my instincts then. You have my personal oath not to disclose your predicament.”

She nodded, the matter happily settled, and made a lovely curtsy. “Well, thank you for your discretion. Now if you’ll excuse me, I really should be off.”

“Wait.” He refused to believe she was going to curtsy and simply walk away. “Where are you going? It’s miles to the village and—”

“The weather should hold for awhile, and I’m perfectly capable of walking the rest of the way.” Her chin rose in determination. “Exercise can be very beneficial.”

“As a gentleman, I can hardly ride away and leave you to walk, miss. At least take my horse.” Frustration crept into his countenance. It was one thing to parry verbally with a member of the weaker sex. It was another matter to be completely disregarded.

She tilted her head, contemplating the reins he held out to her, and then crossed her arms. “I’m sorry if I’ve insulted you, as it wasn’t my intention. I’m afraid that…” She took a deep breath before continuing, “Sir, I’ve promised not to cause any trouble over the holidays and I’m afraid that taking your horse will somehow make things worse.”

It was the last thing in the world he’d expected her to say. “Worse?”

“I confess I’m not much of a rider. And since I’ve already embarrassed myself with one mishap and invisibility is, as you pointed out, not an option—I’d rather not tempt fate. And how would I return a horse to a stranger? I’ll look like a horse thief to my family. So I’ll just walk home and recover what tiny sliver of dignity I can muster before explaining to my father where my luggage is.”

“But—”

“I won’t tell anyone, if you want.”

“This is insane.”

She sighed and smiled, her eyes flashing with humor. “I’m sure you’ll thank me later for the reprieve.”

“Miss!” Leland was not a man to be commanded by nonsensical directives. “There is a compromise to be made, which will no doubt protect your oath and your sliver of dignity.”

She uncrossed her arms. “A compromise?”

“We can both ride until we get close to your home. Then if you wish, you can walk the remainder of the distance and arrive on foot with no one the wiser that you avoided an unnecessary hike.”

“I—it is probably out of your way.”

“That’s irrelevant.” He wasn’t giving in. Whoever she was, she wasn’t walking miles in the cold on her own. “I will know that you have been delivered safely without any further ‘incidents’. And since you haven’t supplied your name, and neither of us will mention the morning’s events, I believe you have run out of excuses, miss.”

Her lips parted, but she didn’t offer a counterargument. Instead she tucked a stray curl back into her bonnet, a gesture that distracted him for a split second, before she finally answered. “As you wish.”

She had no one to blame but herself. The ride was wreaking havoc on her sense. It was one thing to experience the shock of a stranger man’s hands extracting her person from a carriage window, spanning her hips and holding her waist in a way that made her head spin. Even ending up in his lap briefly had brought on an overwhelming rush of new sensations, but this! This was no brief storm. This was endless minutes, tucked between his thighs, the heat of his broad chest at her back, his arms around her waist keeping her snug against him. She’d been warned about men for so long, Alyssa was sure that this was Fate’s merry way of driving the lesson home. He was too handsome to be roaming about the countryside-rescuing woman and chivalrously insisting on seeing them home. Why wasn’t he escorting his wife, or fiancée, or his lady friend? Her first impression of his dark and dashing looks refused to fade as she stole a few backward glances at him and sighed.

Beneath a plain riding hat, his hair was almost coal black and unfashionably reached his collar in the back. Nothing about his features seemed too sharp or too blunt, but instead he was a study in masculine lines and strength. His dark brown eye were framed by elegant brows that gave him an aristocratic air, but there was nothing of the dandy in his clothing or manners, and Alyssa was left with a puzzle of a gentleman who could be anything from pauper to prince.

It had begun to snow and she didn’t doubt that her plan to walk the remaining distance would have resulted in a miserable plight. Still, she thought, better to be numb with cold than overly aware of every inch of her body that was in contact with his. Layers of cloth offered a thing buffer, and she couldn’t believe the betrayal of her own senses. She’d imagined a man’s embrace a vague and potentially cumbersome experience, but this! Each breath he expelled trailed along the back of her neck and beckoned her to lean against him, to melt into a sinful and unfamiliar surrender. The humiliation of being found in the position imaginable had faded to a vague alarm that Mrs. Harris must have omitted some vital information in her warnings regarding the opposite sex.

Not that this man was any sort of rogue, nor would she ever see him again once she was released in the old grove near her father’s estate, but she dearly hoped she was having an unusual reaction to him. If all men held such sway over a girl’s heartbeat it was no wonder woman have been dubbed the weaker sex. This was impossible!

She stiffened her back, wriggling to break his spell, to no avail. The movement made it worse. The friction of her petticoats and undergarments against her thighs was alien, as if her flesh had never before felt their touch. Damp heat seemed to be steaming from her body, and Alyssa’s lips pursed at the desire to press harder against him and let this delicious sensation overtake all reason.

She bit the inside of her cheek to force her thoughts back into the realm of sanity. Hanging upside down in carriage windows must affect a person’s mind. Next time, I should insist on sitting still for a few minutes before climbing on a horse.

A distraction would be helpful. The most obvious choice was this conversation, but that was a challenge. She’d been such a brat to refuse to give him her name. She’d behaved unforgivably. Consoling herself with the certainty that she’d never encounter him again, she sighed and attempted to make amends. “I am very sorry to cause you all this trouble.”

“It is hardly trouble, though I confess, you seem to have a talent for it.” His voice was a surly rumble that vibrated through her, giving her goose bumps and setting off another delicious shiver down her spine.

There was no sense in denying the truth of his words. “You have no idea, sir.”

“Are you warm enough?” he asked.

Warm enough? I cannot recall an August when I felt this warm. “Yes, thank you,” she managed with only a small betraying wobble in her voice. Alyssa shifted again, and heard his sharp intake of breath. “Oh! Have I injured you, sir?”

“No!” His denial was instantaneous and firm, but one of his hands dropped from the reins to reach around her waist as if to hold her in place. “Just …be still for a moment.”

She froze at the intimate touch of his hand against her stomach, but also at the revelation that his strange tone meant she might not be alone in her current plight. She stole another peak at his face and was instantly captured by his direct gaze. His look was intense and possessive and Alyssa lost the will to ward away the chaos her body clamoured for. The expression in hi dark brown eyes robbed her of speech and she held her breath.

He shook his head. “I may have underestimated your talent for trouble.”

She turned her head forward and smiled. “In all fairness, you were honestly warned, sir.” Alyssa spotted the first curve of the old grove and decided it was time to part ways with her benefactor. “I can walk from here.”

“Here?” The question conveyed a bit of surprise but she allowed that the man had every right to think her daft and ill mannered.

“My home is not far at all,” she assured him as he dismounted and then helped her down. “I hope I haven’t caused you to lose your way to your own destination. That path will take you back to the main road, and from there, the village is just a few miles.”

He gave her a strange enigmatic smile. “I’m sure I’ll find it from here.”

“Well, thank you again,” she said, brushing out her coat, wishing she didn’t miss his warmth at her back. She extended her hand. “I hope to meet you again one day under better circumstances.”

He didn’t look convinced at her sincerity, but took her hand graciously nonetheless. “I’m looking forward to it.” He bowed briefly over her hand and released as custom dictated.

She pulled her muffler tighter and turned to begin her brisk march home on unsteady legs. The after effects of his embrace lingered along with the faint scent of him. After several steps, she risked looking back and was a little surprised the he had already mounted and disappeared.

Well! She adjusted her bonnet. She could hardly blame him. What else had she expected? Another protest from him that a lady shouldn’t walk home alone in this weather? It wasn’t as if she wanted him to follow her. Explaining her arrival on foot to her father and the servants was one thing, but to bring home a man? There wasn’t a holiday assignment on earth that could have excused it!

No, this was better. She would be able to make a quiet approach to the house, and if her luck improved, the fuss over retrieving her luggage and the carriage would fade quickly and no one would ask how she’d gotten out of a creek by herself without soaking her skirts.

Several minutes later, the house came into view, and her steps quickened.

The worst of my holiday mishaps is officially behind me.