In a magical Regency London at Midwinter, anything can happen -- from ice elementals to art theft, from marriage proposals to marriages of convenience turned real. This box set includes the four best-selling stories in K.L. Noone's Regency Midwinter series, a prequel to her popular Demon for Midwinter universe. When Preternatural Division Bow Street Runner Kit Thompson is sent to investigate unnatural weather, he finds more than expected in Harry, Viscount Sommersby. Contains the stories:
Snowed In: Kit and Harry: Someone or something is causing magical blizzards at Fairleigh Hall. Constable Kit Thompson is to investigate. The Earl’s brother, Harry Arden, wants to help, but he’s an irritating temptation. The estate hides a family secret. When they end up snowed in together at the old hunting lodge, they’ll learn to trust each other with their secrets ... and their hearts.
Midwinter Firelight: Kit Thompson, Bow Street Preternatural Division constable, is looking forward to Midwinter. His lover Harry, Viscount Sommersby, is visiting, and Kit wants to show Harry London and has plans for Harry in bed. But Kit’s Chief Magistrate needs him. And the case is important. Taking up Kit’s time. Even worse, Harry wants to help. And Kit could use Harry’s talents. But that means endangering Harry.
Midwinter Music: Preternatural Division chief magistrate Sam has a problem. Someone’s magically stealing art. His scandalous ex-stepbrother is in Town. And if John knows about the thefts, Sam needs to find out. John loathed his viscount stepfather, even before his mother fled the marriage. But he cares about his family. He’s here for justice, even if that involves theft. But he might not mind being caught by Sam.
Midwinter Marriage: The Honorable Edmund Rookwood needs to get married. By Midwinter. Or his father will disinherit him. Edmund has never fallen in love easily and, according to his father, he’s a disappointment. Who would say yes to him? Fortunately, his best friend Sebastian offers to help. Sebastian’s proposal is logical, but this Midwinter marriage of convenience awakens unexpected emotions.
EXCERPT FROM "Snowed In: Kit and Harry"
Kit did not need help finding the library. He had a good sense of direction, and of people. He could feel presences and motion and passion. And Fairleigh Hall had a simple, and simply intuitive, floor-plan.
He passed a maid, a footman, one or two other members of the house’s staff. They regarded him with saucer-eyed fascination. He nodded politely in turn.
The staff did not feel afraid, or angry. They did feel concerned, no doubt over the unrelenting weather troubles, and physically cold, and strangely protective. Optimistic that he could help, but wary of him, an outsider, as well.
He decided that both reactions were justified. He was good at his profession.
He discovered the library without difficulty, and went in; he paused in the doorway, as vivid sunbeam artwork leaned over a table and filled up his vision.
Harry Arden, dressed in the same casual walking-the-estate clothes from earlier, cravat askew and collar loose and shirt-sleeves shoved up, bent to unroll a map. Ran a hand through that messy too-long golden hair.
Drawn-back curtains framed him in scarlet plush and dense white snow. Antique wood and forests of book-spines provided a literary backdrop. Harry’s slim waist and broad shoulders became the center of the story, and those merry treasure-box freckles cavorted through library light. When he bent over more to flatten out a map-corner, fabric pulled tight across his equally nicely muscled backside.
Kit finally remember to take a breath. Essayed a step forward.
Harry turned. Lit up like sunrise. “Oh, hello! I didn’t hear you come in. Is the Blue Room good enough? We can always change rooms if it isn’t. But I do like that one. Splendid views, not that you can tell in this weather, but I promise you they’re there. Do you need anything? Tea, brandy, biscuits, magical paraphernalia?”
“No.” Kit drifted across the room to his side: drawn by splendid views and chatter about biscuits. “I’m an empath, not a conjuror. I don’t work with tools.”
”But you do like the Blue Room?”
“Yes, thank you.” He barely heard his own reply. Bare skin was visible at Harry’s disarranged collar. Freckles there too, as if Harry Arden tended to take that shirt off and run about bathed in sun, in summertime. “Is that a map of the estate?”
“It is. I thought it might be useful. Before that, though ... did Ned say anything to you?"
Investigative instincts kicked in. Sharp and shrewd. "Anything about the estate, you mean?"
"No, not as such." Harry poked at the map, though from Kit's perspective it seemed perfectly aligned with the edge of the table. "About me."
"Should he have?"
"Possibly not. But he does tend to ... I only thought he might have. Said something to you."
"He didn't say much. He reminded me that you'd be in the library." In the library, alone, embodying the definition of temptation. "I think he'd quite like us to work on solving this quickly."
"Us." Harry poked at the map again. "When it's your job. You certainly shouldn't need my assistance. Ned should know that."
"You know Fairleigh," Kit said.
"Yes, but you're an empath and a practiced investigator." Harry sighed. "I apologize on behalf of my brother. He's unnervingly invested in my social life. He thinks I haven't got enough ... er, friends."
Kit, who had seen Edward Arden's expression, did not think friends was the word. He did think that the present Earl of Fairleigh had decided to throw a celebrated London Bow Street constable at his own younger brother, possibly out of some desire for vicarious adventure.
Harry Arden, on the other hand, had not witnessed Ned's veiled warning regarding disappointment. And had just said friends.
Harry no doubt thought that Ned really did want him to have a larger circle of social acquaintance. Those big blue eyes had grown up rambling through fields and sheep pastures, not whisper-dark back rooms and leather-sleek gentlemen-only clubs.
Kit resolutely did not picture Harry dressed in only polished leather boots, arms bound. Wrists stretched up above tousled hair, perhaps. Lips parted and beckoning. Freckles extending everyplace.
He cleared his throat. "No apology necessary. You had an idea about narrowing down the search?"
