Have Yourself a Merry Little Scandal: a Christmas collection of Historical Romance (Have Yourself a Merry Little... Book 1)

by Anna Campbell

  “Miss Reeves.”

  She took a step forward, wrapping her shawl more closely around her shoulders. The weather had become colder as the day had progressed, and she was underdressed. She shivered noticeably and smiled, and Sebastian felt a twinge of dismay. Glancing in Venetia’s direction, he was glad to see her now wheeling her elderly charge away from them. If he had to convince her that she was the only woman for him, he didn’t want an eye-fluttering debutante suggesting otherwise.

  “I saw you with Lady Indigo’s companion. I am correct, am I not?”

  Was there a challenge in her tone? His thoughts darted back to the previous night. Yes, he’d admired her, but surely he’d not flirted. She surely had not gained the wrong impression from the little in the way of exchange that they’d had.

  “You were kissing her.”

  Sebastian inclined his head. “I was.” There seemed little else to say.

  Miss Reeves looked thoughtful. She glanced at her feet and nibbled her fingertip. Was she disappointed? About to find something wrong in such an action?

  Just as he was prepared to offer a robust defense of his beloved’s exemplary character, Miss Reeves said quickly, “I couldn’t believe my luck when I saw it, for last night I gained the distinct impression that you and I had been invited here by Lady Quamby and her sister for the purpose of providing them with some entertainment. Matchmaking entertainment, you know.”

  Despite himself, Sebastian laughed. “I gained the same impression.”

  “But as your interest is clearly elsewhere, as is mine, I thought perhaps to suggest something that could be to our mutual benefit.” She pressed her lips together and shivered again. Though whether this was from cold or anticipation, it was hard to tell. “Well, to my benefit, at any rate,” she added.

  Sebastian couldn’t have been more surprised at her directness.

  “Is that so, Miss Reeves?”

  She nodded. “Yes, Mr Wells, that is so. Perhaps you would like to hear it?”

  “Our little scheme has been more successful than I’d imagined.” Antoinette curled a tendril of hair around her forefinger and sent Fanny one of her familiar smug looks. Antoinette prided herself on her ability to arrange a perfect match—which was surprising given the number of short-term love affairs she enjoyed.

  The sisters had stopped beneath the spreading branches of an elm tree and, in the distance, could see Lady Indigo being wheeled by her companion along the path toward the house. Soon the pair would be inside and no doubt enjoying the cozy fire in the living room. It was fortunate that Lady Indigo preferred early nights for Fanny suspected she might have been scandalized by Antoinette’s behavior the previous midnight as she’d sung and danced for Mr Wells, while Fenton had looked on in amusement, Quamby with fond toleration, and Miss Reeves with wide-eyed bewilderment.

  “You claim success already?” Fanny asked. “Has our Mr Sebastian Wells proposed to Miss Arabella Reeves?”

  “No, but he will do so at the Christmas Ball.”

  “Very precise. And how can you be so confident?”

  Antoinette stroked the fox pelt about her throat. “Arabella is very taken and keen to explore any means that might sanction the pair of them getting a little...closer.” She raised an eyebrow. “In fact, she suggested that dancing tuition in preparation of the ball might be helpful, in view of the fact she saw little society last year due to mourning her mother.”

  “She wants to engage a dancing tutor?”

  Antoinette nodded. “She certainly does.” Her look was knowing. “Apparently she fears she may be shown up by her lack of practice .”

  Fanny shrugged. “That doesn’t mean she’s focused on impressing Sebastian. It would be natural for her to want to be shown to advantage. Our Christmas Ball will introduce her to many more candidates than Mr Wells.”

  “It was the way she said it, so soon after mentioning Sebastian.” Antoinette looked decided. “And then, no sooner had Arabella left the room, than Sebastian mentioned to me that he was enjoying himself more than he’d expected, given that he is so soon out of his own period of mourning.”

  The sisters began to stroll down the hill toward the lake.

  “He’s certainly found his own way of unburdening his grief,” Fanny scoffed lightly. “Not that I condemn him for wanting feminine diversion. I suppose his affair with Barbara Compton has ended. As for the duel, it’s lucky he only pinked the poor husband, or he’d never have been allowed back in the country.”

  Antoinette nodded. “For such a quiet gentleman and, as we’ve heard, loyal and faithful husband, he did distinguish himself as a rather unexpected rake in the few short months after poor Dorothea died.” She stopped to gaze at a family of ducks on the water’s surface. Some years it was frozen by now, but the weather had been milder, offering ample opportunity for walks in the gentle sunshine. “I wonder if this is what gave Miss Reeves pause before the floodgates of passion were opened following last night’s musical interlude. Did you see the way both Mr Wells and Miss Reeves were affected by their meeting? Why, this morning they were both in a state of extreme agitation and, when I was looking out of my window, I saw Miss Reeves actually accost Mr Wells among the trees just off the path that led from the lake back to the house. Yes, very clandestine it was. And then, when she came back here, she suggested a dancing tutor! Which of course means dancing practice with just the pair of them.”

  “With the three of them,” Fanny corrected.

  Antoinette looked confused.

  “Mr Wells, Miss Reeves, and the dancing master. That makes three.”

  “Oh, well that doesn’t work, does it?” After a thoughtful moment Antoinette clapped her hands. “We’ll just have to solicit Lady Indigo’s companion. What’s the girl’s name? Poor thing, she’s so terribly plain—though in truth, I don’t know what she looks like beneath that dreadful cap—and she can’t sing to save her life. Did you hear how Mr Wells insulted her rendition of The Soldier’s Widow? Hopefully she can comport herself a little more gracefully on the dance floor, and hopefully darling Sebastian will consent to stand up with her once or twice before he takes Miss Reeves in his arms and whirls her around the drawing room...before whisking her down the aisle—if we play our parts properly.”

  Fanny thought back to Mr Wells’s rather ungentlemanly words after Lady Indigo’s companion had sung. Venetia. Yes, that was her name. She’d felt sorry for the girl when she’d seen the flame that had risen to her cheeks before she’d scuttled off to do her mistress’s bidding and to check on Lady Indigo’s bed warming pan.

  But then Fanny’s attention returned to the conundrum of satisfying Miss Reeves’s desires. Dancing lessons were a rather marvelous way of getting the young couple together. “Have you any idea who might be in the area and able to teach dancing?”

  Antoinette looked pleased with herself as she replied, “In fact, Arabella, herself, provided me with the name of a gentleman she heard is currently teaching the Misses Littleton to dance. His name is Signor Boticelli, and he is only half an hour away if we send the dog cart. Apparently he’s greatly in demand, but I’m delighted to tell you that he’s consented to come here for the next five days until the Christmas Ball. Isn’t that fortuitous?’

  “My, my Antoinette, you are enormously efficient when you put your mind to something.”

  Antoinette accepted the praise with a smile. “And you can have no objections, obviously, Fanny. Why, maybe even I will need to brush up on my dancing, if this Signor Boticelli is as handsome and agile as I’ve heard tell he is.”

  Fanny recognized the glint in her sister’s eye. “I see that there is perhaps an ulterior motive for your energy. You plan to match up Sebastian and Arabella while you enjoy a little dalliance with the dancing master.” She broke off a small branch and considered the situation. While it was a relief that Antoinette was no longer the wilting petal she’d been just a week earlier, there was also a degree of risk involved when her sister took it upon herself to wave her
matchmaking wand.

  “Just beware that the mousy companion doesn’t stoke the flames of Signor Boticelli’s desire,” Fanny warned. “Matchmaking has a tendency to create unintended consequences.”

  “Oh, I don’t think there’s any danger of that. It’s quite clear that Arabella and darling Sebastian are quite smitten with each other. We just need to help smooth the way. As for Signor Boticelli, he won’t glance twice at the poor companion with the risk of breaking her heart once he knows what I’m about.” Antoinette looked confident. “Poor Venetia is totally forgettable, and will serve only as a foil to my abundant charms.”

  “Poor Venetia, indeed.” Fanny sighed. “Maybe we should offer up Signor Boticelli as a bit of diversion. Consider the years of servitude that inevitably stretch ahead of her. With no family support and not a penny to her name, she has little to look forward to.” She paused to reflect. “Remember, that might have been our fate.” If Fenton hadn’t done the honorable thing, Fanny knew her life would not have turned out so well, considering the risks she’d taken.

  Not that the mousy companion looked like a risk-taker.

  Antoinette turned back toward the house. “Except that we were clever and beautiful and knew how to manage our charms to our advantage,” she replied. “Miss whatever-her-name-is has nothing in the way of beauty, charm or, clearly, initiative and, to tell you the truth, I have very little sympathy for a quiet mousy miss who simply accepts her dreary fate.” Antoinette glanced at Fanny as they traversed the path through the rose garden. “Arabella knows what she wants and all credit to her. Obviously, her father considers it very wrong that she broke off her engagement to Lord Yarrowby, but her father is not the one marrying that gentleman.” She hesitated. “Fortunately, old Mr Reeves will not be attending our Christmas Ball, so she can elope that very night if it’s the only way.”

  “Antoinette! That’s nonsensical.”

  Antoinette looked offended. “You’ve suggested such extreme measures in the past, so don’t turn all prudish on me now. But you’re right. Sebastian and Arabella make a perfectly acceptable match, for although he’s not directly in line for a title right at this moment, he will inherit one in all likelihood. It’s his sister, Libby, who may have to elope, I’ve heard tell.”

  Fanny waited for elaboration. Antoinette had an enraging habit of suggesting scandals without going into any detail, when she was far more up to date with the gossip mill.

  “For goodness sake, tell me what you mean!” Fanny burst out at last.

  Smiling as if she’d finally got the response she was waiting for, Antoinette said, “Libby Wells has fallen for a humble solicitor’s clerk. Yes, her brother, Sebastian, mentioned it several days ago in passing, and when I received a response from their father declining our invitation to the most illustrious event on the calendar, I invited both Libby and her young man to the ball.”

  “You really don’t know where to stop, do you, Antoinette?” Fanny shook her head. “You’re matchmaking for both the Wells siblings?”

  Antoinette nodded. “In between availing myself of Signor Boticelli’s expertise. I’m rather looking forward to perfecting the waltz in the arms of a handsome Italian master of his craft.”

  Chapter 6

  Venetia had thought she was about to enjoy a marvelous reprieve from her attendance upon Lady Indigo after Lady Quamby requested she make up the numbers necessary to form a quadrille in some afternoon practicing.

  Apparently, Miss Reeves wished to brush up on her dancing skills after a period of mourning.

  However, upon entering the grand ballroom, her initial flare of excitement at seeing Sebastian looking so relaxed and so handsome was soon quelled by the discomfort she felt at seeing that he was looking relaxed and handsome in the arms of Miss Reeves.

  For it was not a quadrille they were practicing, but the waltz.

  Venetia’s skills in waltzing were deficient. Three years before, when she’d had dancing lessons in company with Libby and their neighbors, the Wallace sisters, the waltz had been considered scandalous.

  Now Venetia was supposed to partner the dancing tutor in this risque form of entertainment while his words, "Move with me, Miss Stone," were far too intimate in her ear, just as his hip bone felt far too intimately close to hers. For although he was not a tall man, he clearly did not lack confidence in his ability with the ladies. His smile, as he directed her in her movements, was definitely too familiar, she felt.

  And if Signor Boticelli’s hip bone felt far too intimately close to hers, she realized with dismay, that was exactly where Sebastian’s hip bone was in relation to Miss Reeves’s.

  And that young lady was smiling happily into his eyes as if his proximity was delightful.

  The havoc this was playing with Venetia’s heart was quite unexpected. After parting last night, she’d been unable to sleep for wondering at the truth of his declarations.

  She’d never doubted him before. But could he truly love her as he’d claimed?

  Four years was a long time.

  “And now we shall swap partners."

  Venetia was relieved to be released by Signor Boticelli, but was subject to great disquiet as she turned toward Sebastian, who was eyeing her with expectation. "You look out of sorts," he murmured as he took her right hand and clasped her waist. "I thought you'd welcome this opportunity."

  She glanced across at the other pair to ensure they were above notice. Fortunately, they appeared to be doing what waltzing partners apparently were supposed to do: gaze adoringly into one another’s eyes. "I do welcome it,” she replied. “What I didn't welcome was having to press so close to Signor."

  "Or was it that you were wildly jealous of Miss Reeves and me?”

  There was a wolfish edge to his smile which needled Venetia who shook her head emphatically. "I didn't feel jealous in the slightest," she lied.

  "Then I'm heartily disappointed for I was gazing into Miss Reeves’s eyes with the kind of look that I hoped very much would have you flinging out of Signor's arms and dragging me off to—"

  "Sshh!" Venetia felt the heat burn her cheeks, but to her relief saw that Miss Reeves and the dancing master were clearly too involved with one another to pay them any mind. "All right, I did feel just a twinge of jealousy," she admitted with a reluctant smile. For the feel of his arms about her, and the gentleness of his expression in contrast with the firmness of his touch, was whipping up many of the old feelings in a way that made her fear she’d given herself away.

  Being with Sebastian felt so right.

  Being in his arms was also a potent reminder of the intimacy of the last weeks before they’d been forced to part.

  "Perhaps we could go over it again? I'll focus another of my looks upon Miss Reeves, and you really will whisk me out of this room and drag me to..." He left the words hanging.

  "There is a summerhouse by the lake. A little folly like a castle that is out of sight of Quamby House." Venetia felt an unexpected thrill at the shocked look on Sebastian’s face. Yet she was not sorry that the impulsiveness she’d spent her life trying to curb had gained the upper hand. She did still love Sebastian. There was no point denying it. Now she just had to prove that he loved her as much as she needed him to.

  “Venetia,” he murmured, taking a moment to recover his footing as he twirled her around the far edge of the ballroom and out of earshot. “Please stop toying with me. I know just how determined you can be,” he rasped. “But I also know how you do love to play games.”

  “I’m in deadly earnest.” She drew in a tremulous breath. “Just as I was in deadly earnest the last time...and you were equally shocked.” She could feel her excitement reflected in him while the look on his face suggested her dare had more than rekindled the old memories that were now making her heart skitter, and the blood fizz in her veins.

  They slowed by an enormous fern that concealed them momentarily from their neighbors. With a glance to where Miss Reeves and the dancing tutor were talking animatedly, Sebasti
an moved his head closer to Venetia’s ear and whispered, “You don’t know what I’d give to enjoy a lifetime with you, Venetia. Do you remember the last night we shared?” He drew back a little to stare into her eyes. “I hope you remember it like I do, sweetheart.”

  Her heart hitched. Sebastian had always been true to his word. A gentleman. Yes, a gentle, determined man, quick to passion with only the mildest of encouragement from her.

  After their friendly companionship had paved the way for more intense feelings, and then in the despair of knowing they might soon be parted, Venetia had been the one to instigate a greater and more dangerous intimacy.

  She’d also set the conditions: that if a child was not conceived as a result of the magical few days they shared, then Sebastian was duty-bound to honor his father’s longstanding desire that Sebastian and Dorothea be wed.

  “Those memories are what have kept me going,” she now whispered as he brushed a tendril of hair from her forehead, not caring that Miss Reeves was so close. For Miss Reeves was locked in Signor Boticelli’s arms, their concentration with each other making it clear they were oblivious to the intimacies Venetia and Sebastian were sharing.

  “I haven’t even established how long you are staying. Of course you’ll still be here for the Christmas Ball?” Sebastian sounded urgent. The music was winding to a finish.

  Venetia bit her lip. “Lady Indigo insists we must be gone by then. She can’t abide noise and large groups of people.”

  He tightened his grip on her hand as he prepared to let her go, dropping his lips to her ear. “You must find a way to remain here.” His tone was filled with dismay. “I cannot leave Quamby House before the ball. Libby has asked Lord Quamby to announce her betrothal, and I cannot abandon her.”

  “Libby is coming here?” Venetia was flooded with happy memories of her schoolroom days. Libby had been a good friend. “And she’s to be married?” One look at Sebastian’s face made her say sharply, “Your father does not approve?”