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    Shakespeare and the Three Kings
    Shakespeare and the Three Kings
    Shakespeare and the Three Kings
    Ebook96 pages1 hour

    Shakespeare and the Three Kings

    By Victoria Alexander

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    About this ebook

    From #1 New York Times bestselling author, Victoria Alexander, a second-chance romance Christmas novella—with the naughtiest dogs in England!!
    Sir Oliver Stanhope's beloved late great-aunt, who raised him so devotedly, has charged Oliver with the care of her adorable—but very naughty— Yorkshire terriers, Melchoir, Balthazar, and Gaspar. Thankfully, she’s also arranged for D.K. Lawrence, celebrated dog trainer to the aristocracy, to help train the little terrors.
    But when Diana K. Lawrence, once the love of Oliver’s life, arrives on his doorstep with her giant Great Dane in tow, Oliver wonders how he’ll survive the canine chaos and the too-close-for-comfort presence of the only woman to touch his heart…and he can’t help but wonder if his aunt had something special in mind with her last, precious Christmas gift…
    This novella was previously published in the Santa Paws anthology
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherNYLA
    Release dateNov 9, 2015
    ISBN9781943772339
    Shakespeare and the Three Kings
    Author

    Victoria Alexander

    Victoria Alexander was an award-winning television reporter until she discovered fiction was much more fun than real life. She turned to writing full time and has never looked back. Victoria grew up traveling the country as an Air Force brat and is now settled in Omaha, Nebraska, with her husband, two teenaged children, and a bearded collie named Sam. She firmly believes housework is a four-letter word, there are no calories in anything eaten standing up, procrastination is an art form, and it's never too soon to panic.

    Read more from Victoria Alexander

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      Book preview

      Shakespeare and the Three Kings - Victoria Alexander

      about.

      Chapter One

      October 23, 1893

      My Dearest Oliver,

      If indeed you are reading this it means my idiot doctors were correct and I shall not be here when you return from your travels. They insist I am about to breathe my last breath upon this earth and will not see another Christmas. Pity. I do so love Christmas. Of course, I have no intention of proving them right. Still, it is wise to be prepared.

      First, I do not wish you to be unduly upset by my passing. I have lived an excellent life full of all the affection and adventure any woman could ask for in this day and age. If I am to leave this world behind I am eager to get on with it and be reunited with my beloved Charles. It has been nearly twenty-two years since he had the temerity to die without me. I shall have a few firm words for him on that score before we spend eternity together. All in all, I am quite looking forward to it.

      In spite of himself, Sir Oliver Thornton Stanhope could not suppress a slight smile. He could well imagine Great Aunt Eleanor berating Uncle Charles for having the audacity to die without her permission. Oliver knew Charles only from the portrait that hung next to Aunt Ellie’s in the front hall of Thornton Manor but he’d always thought there was a twinkle in the old man’s eye. Ridiculous notion, of course.

      I have never particularly believed in regrets. Yet I find I do have a few and they concern you, my dear boy.

      As you well know, it has always been a source of irritation to me that your parents did not provide the proper affection that was your due as their son. I would not have wished their untimely deaths yet it does seem to me perhaps fate had a hand in it as it brought you into my keeping. If you recall, you were not at all pleasant at age eleven. And since Charles had only recently passed on it was a trying time for us both.

      An image of soap shavings tossed discreetly into a kettle of tea and the resulting foamy chaos flashed through his mind. His smile widened to a grin.

      How did we manage to muddle through those days? Quite well, I think, in looking back upon it. You have been as a son to me, Oliver. I have loved you without reservation for these long years and, while you have always been reticent to display your emotions, I have no doubt you returned my affection. Still, I fear the legacy of your parents’ lack of regard lingers within you.

      His smile faded.

      I did so wish before I left this earth to see you with a wife and children of your own. I had hoped you would find the same kind of love Charles and I shared. I am well aware that you sampled it once with disastrous results. Still, life goes on and I did try my best.

      A seemingly endless parade of eligible young women marched through his mind. Every time he had visited Aunt Ellie in recent years she’d had a houseguest or a house full of guests—most of them young, charming and eminently suitable to be the wife of Sir Oliver Thornton Stanhope.

      It is the greatest failure of my life that I was not able to help you find a lasting love. There is little I can do about it now. However, in addition to the manor and my fortune, which you really do not need—but one can never be too wealthy or too intelligent in this world—I leave in your keeping the last loves of my life.

      Oliver glanced over the top of the lilac-scented stationery to meet three pairs of black, beady, unflinching eyes. He grit his teeth and dropped his gaze back to the flowery writing on the page before him.

      My little darlings have brought great joy to me. I consider them my children just as I consider you my son.

      Oliver rolled his eyes at the ceiling and sighed.

      I can see you now in my mind’s eye, gazing heavenward and heaving a great sigh.

      She always knew exactly what he was thinking. Even now, from the grave.

      I well know your opinion of my three tiny kings yet I also know you will provide them with a good home. It may not be easy. I have spoiled them shamelessly. In order to ease your adjustment to them, and theirs to you, I have procured the services of an American...

      His eyes narrowed.

      ... a recent acquaintance, who is skilled in the training of dogs. D. K. Lawrence should arrive at the manor by December eighteenth and has agreed to stay for as long as is necessary.

      Bloody hell. This was already the seventeenth. There was no time to head the damnable man off.

      The last thing Oliver wanted was some blasted American dog lover in his home for an undetermined period of time.

      I am well aware of your feelings about Americans. Still, it is the season of goodwill toward all and I do expect you to honor that spirit as well as my wishes.

      As if she had left him a choice.

      If you will permit them, my little ones will provide you with a great deal of affection. It is my hope, if you open your heart to them it will help you learn to open your heart to others.

      Never forget, my dearest Oliver, how very much I have loved you and how very much I pray you will find love in the future. It is my final Christmas gift to you. The gift of love. The greatest gift of all.

      Yours always, Aunt Ellie

      An unaccustomed ache stung the back of his throat. Damn, he would miss her. Why had he never told her how much she meant to him? Although, if he had read the tone of her letter correctly, she knew of his feelings. He should have been here with her. If he’d returned but two weeks earlier...

      Regret surged through him and he shook his head. He couldn’t help that business for the crown had taken him out of England for the last six months. Even though he’d moved to London a decade ago, he did manage to make the three-hour train trip to Thornton an average of every other fortnight and he’d never missed a holiday. Yet at this moment, it did not seem enough for the woman who had taken him in and given him a life and a future.

      He dropped the letter on his desk. He’d learned of her death when he returned to England last week and came immediately to Thornton Manor. He’d met with her solicitor and discovered she had arranged all the loose ends of her life in a tidy manner. This letter tied up the rest.

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