Chapter Eight
Rosalind left her brother and his mad plans alone in the entry hall. If what he was saying was true, then their marriage must have been as frustrating as Elise had claimed. The man had no clue what was wrong or how to fix things. And, worse yet, he refused to stand up to his wife, no matter how much she might wish for it.
This would be more difficult than she’d thought.
As she walked past the door to the library she paused, noticing the mistletoe ball from the doorway had fallen to the floor. She stared down at it in dismay. That was the problem with bringing live things into the house in such cold weather. There was always something wilting, dying or shedding leaves. And even with the help of the servants, she was hard pressed to keep pace with the decay. She shook the tiny clump of leaves and berries, patting it back into shape and re-tying the ribbon that held it together. Then she looked up at the hook at the top of the doorframe. It was hardly worth calling a servant, for to fix the thing back in place would be the work of a moment.
She reached up, her fingers just brushing the lintel, and glanced across the room at a chair. She considered dragging it into place as a step, and then rejected the idea as too much work. The hook was nearly in reach, and if she held the thing by its bottom leaves and stretched a bit she could manage to get it back into place, where it belonged.
She extended her arm and gave a little hop. Almost. She jumped again. Closer still. She crouched low and leaped for the hook, arm extended-and heard the stitching in the sleeve of her dress give way.
The mistletoe hung in place for a moment, before dropping back on her upturned face.
‘Do you require assistance?’ She caught the falling decoration before it hit the floor and turned to see the head of Nicholas Tremaine peering over the back of the sofa. His hair was tousled, as though he’d just woken from a nap. And he was grinning at her, obviously amused. Even in disarray, he was as impossibly handsome as he had been the day she’d met him, and still smiling the smile that made her insides turn to jelly and her common sense evaporate.
She turned away from him and focused her attention on the offending plant, and the hook that should hold it. ‘Have you been watching me the whole time?’
Tremaine’s voice held no trace of apology. ‘Once you had begun, I saw no reason to alert you to my presence. If you had succeeded, you need never have known I was here.’
‘Or you could have offered your help and saved me some bother.’
He paused, and then said, ‘If you wished assistance, you would have called for a servant. I thought perhaps you drew some pleasure from it.’ He paused again. ‘I certainly did.’
She reached experimentally for the hook again. ‘You could at least have done me the courtesy to mention that you were in the room. Or in the house, for that matter. You said that you wished to be gone.’
He sighed. ‘I assumed you had looked out of the window this morning and guessed the truth on your own. You were right and I was wrong. I am told by your brother that the roads are quite impossible, the drive is blocked, and I am trapped. So I have gone to ground here by the library fire, and I was doing my best to keep true to my word and stay out of your path.’ She heard the rattle of china and glanced over her shoulder to see his breakfast things, sitting on the table beside the couch.
‘When you realised that your plan was not working, you could have given me warning that I was being observed. It would have spared me some embarrassment.’
He gave a slight chuckle. ‘It is not as if I am likely to tell the rest of the company how you behave when we are alone together.’
She cringed. ‘I did not say that you would. I have reason to trust your discretion, after all.’
‘Then are you implying that my presence here embarrasses you.’ He let the words hang with significance.
It did. Not that it mattered. She turned back to look at him. ‘Perhaps it is my own behaviour that embarrasses me. And the fact that you have been witness to more than one example of the worst of it.’
He laughed. ‘If I have seen the worst of your behaviour, then you are not so very bad as you think.’
She gave him her most intimidating glare, which had absolutely no effect. ‘Tell me, now: are you accustomed to finding Elise leaping at doorframes, like a cat chasing a moth?’
‘No, I am not. But then, she would not have need to.’ His eyes scanned over her in appraisal. ‘She is much taller than you are.’
‘She is tall, and poised as well, and very beautiful.’ Rosalind recited the list by rote. ‘She will never know how vexing it is to find everything you want just slightly out of reach. It all comes easily to her.’ And Elise, who had two men fighting over her, would never have to cope with the knowledge that the most perfect man in London still thought of her as a silly girl. Rosalind glared at the hook above her. ‘I must always try harder, and by doing so I overreach and end up looking foolish.’
‘Perhaps you do.’ His voice was soft, which surprised her. And then it returned to its normal tone. ‘Still, it is not such a bad thing to appear thus. And I am sure most people would take a less harsh view of you than you do of yourself.’
She picked at the mistletoe in her hands, removing another wilted leaf. Behind her, there was a sigh, and the creak of boot leather. And then he was standing beside her and plucking the thing from between her fingers.
She looked up to find Tremaine far too near, and grinning down at her. ‘I understand your irritation with me, for we agreed to keep our distance,’ he said. ‘I have been unsuccessful. But what has that poor plant ever done to you, that you treat it so?’
She avoided his eyes, focusing on the leaves in his hand, and frowned. ‘That “poor plant” will not stay where I put it.’
He reached up without effort and stuck it back in its place above their heads. Then he tipped her chin up, so she could see the mistletoe-and him as well-and said innocently, ‘There appears to be no problem with it now.’
As a matter of fact it looked fine as it was, with him beneath it and standing so very close to her. For a moment she thought of how nice it might be to close her eyes and take advantage of the opportunity. And how disastrous. Some lessons should not have to be learned twice, and if he meant to see her succumb again he would be disappointed. ‘Do not try to tempt me into repeating mistakes of the past. I am not so moved.’
He smiled, to tell her that it was exactly what he was doing. ‘Are you sure? My response is likely to be most different from when last we kissed.’
Her pulse gave an unfortunate gallop, but she said, in a frigid tone, ‘Whatever for? What has changed?’
‘You are no longer an inexperienced girl.’
‘Nor am I as foolish as I was, to jump into the arms of a rake.’
He smiled again. ‘But I was not a rake when you assaulted me.’
‘I assaulted you?’ She feigned shock. ‘That is doing it much too brown, sir.’
‘No, really. I cannot claim that I was an innocent babe, but no one would have called me a rake.’ He held a hand over his heart. ‘Not until word got round that I had seduced some sweet young thing and then refused to do right by her, in any case.’
‘Seduced?’ The sinking feeling in her stomach that had begun as she talked to Harry was back in force.
‘The rumours grew quite out of proportion to the truth when Elise cast me off. Everyone was convinced that something truly terrible must have happened for her to abandon me so quickly.’
Her stomach sank a little further.
He went on as though noticing nothing unusual. ‘And it must have been my fault in some way, mustn’t it? Although I was not exactly a pillar of moderation, I had no reputation for such actions before that time. But it is always the fault of the man, is it not? Especially one so crass and cruel as to refuse to offer for the poor, wounded girl because I was already promised to another. And then to deny her father satisfaction, for fear that I might do the man injury.’ He leaned over her. ‘For I am a crac
k shot, and a fair hand with a blade. And your father, God protect him, is long past the day when he could have hurt me.’ He put on a face of mock horror. ‘And when I refused to make a full explanation to my betrothed, or give any of the details of the incident? Well, it must have been because it was so very shameful, and not because it would have made the situation even more difficult for the young lady concerned.’
‘You needn’t have used my name. But I would not have blamed you for giving the truth to Elise. It was not your fault, after all.’ She wished she could sink through the floor, along with the contents of her heart.
‘When she came to me with the accusation, I told her that the majority of what she had heard was true. I had been caught in an intimate position with a young lady, by the girl’s father. But I had not meant to be unfaithful to her, it would not happen again, and she must trust me for the rest.’ He frowned. ‘That was the sticking point, I am afraid. Her inability to trust. The woman has always been quick to temper. She broke the engagement and went to Harry. I happily gave myself over to sin. And thereby hangs a tale.’
‘So you are telling me not only did I ruin your engagement, and spoil Christmas for ever, I negatively affected your character?’
‘It is not so bad, having a ruined character. I have found much more pleasure in vice than I ever did in virtue.’ He frowned. ‘And after all this time the woman I once sought has come back to me.’
Her anger at him warred with guilt. Elise and Harry were in a terrible mess, and she might have been the cause of it all. But how could Tremaine stand there, flirting so casually, as though it did not matter? ‘She might have come back, but she is foolish to trust you. What would she think of you, I wonder, if she found you and I here, alone together?’
‘I think she would go running right back into Harry’s arms, as she did once before.’ He seemed to be considering something for a moment, before reaching out to brush his knuckles against her cheek. ‘But enough of Elise. I know what she has done these past years, for we have been close, although not as close as I once wished. At no time did she ever mention that Harry had a sister.’
Rosalind cleared her throat, to clear her head, and stepped a little away from him, until he was no longer touching her. ‘Half-sister.’
‘Mmm.’ His acknowledgement of her words was a low hum, and she thought she could feel it vibrating inside her, like the purr of a cat. ‘If it was not a trick, as I first suspected, is there some reason that they kept you so well hidden?’
She swallowed hard, and when she answered her voice was clear of emotion. ‘Harry and my father do not get on well. He was sent away to school when we were still young, and took the opportunity to spend all subsequent holidays with his own father’s family, until he was of age. Then he came to London.’ She hung her head. ‘I remained at home, where I could not be an embarrassment to the family.’
He was still close enough that if she looked up she could admire his fine lips, see the cleft in his chin. And she remembered the feel of his cheek against hers, the taste of his tongue. She had lost her freedom over a few kisses from that perfect mouth. And somehow she did not mind.
She could feel him watching her so intently that she feared he could read her thoughts, and he said, ‘What did you do in the country, my little black sheep? Did you continue in the way you set out with me? Were there other incidents of that kind, I wonder, or was I an aberration?’
Rosalind pulled herself together, pushed against his chest and stepped out of the doorway further into the room. ‘How rude of you to assume that there were. And to think that I would tell you if I had transgressed is beyond familiar.’
He turned to follow her and closed the distance between them again. ‘But that does not answer my question. Tell me, my dear Rosalind, have there been other men in your life?’
‘You were hardly in my life. And I most certainly am not your dear…’
‘Ah, ah, ah.’ He laid a finger on her lips to stop her words. ‘Whether I was willing or no, I was your first kiss. But who was the second?’
‘There has not been a second,’ she answered, trying to sound prim. But his finger did not move from her lips, and when she spoke it felt rather as though she were trying to nibble on his fingertip. His mouth curled, and she shook her head to escape from the contact. ‘I learned my lesson, I swear to you. There is nothing about my conduct of the last years that is in any way objectionable.’
‘What a pity.’ He leaned away from her and blinked his eyes. ‘For a moment I thought Christmas had arrived, in the form of a beautiful hostess every bit as wicked as I could have wished. But if you should have a change of heart and decide to throw yourself upon my person, as you did back then, I would make sure that you would have nothing to regret and much more pleasant memories.’
She turned away and looked out of the window, so that he could not see the indecision in her face. The offer had an obvious appeal. ‘How dare you, sir? I have no intention of, as you so rudely put it, throwing myself upon your person.’
‘Did you have that intention the last time, I wonder?’
‘I have no idea what I thought to accomplish. It was the first time I had drunk anything stronger than watered wine, and I did not know my limitations. One cup of particularly strong Christmas punch and I lost all sense.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘And how is the punch at this house?’
‘Nothing I cannot handle.’
‘If you have returned to the straight and narrow, then you are no use to me at all.’ He turned and walked away from her, throwing himself down on the couch as though he had forgotten her presence. ‘Whatever shall I do now, to give Elise a distaste of me? For if that fool brother of yours does not come up to snuff soon and reclaim his wife, I am likely to end up married to her after all.’
She looked at him in surprise, and then she blurted, ‘Do you not mean to marry Elise?’ It was none of her business, but it turned the discussion to something other than herself, which suited her well.
‘Elise is already married.’ He said it flatly, as though stating the obvious, and stared up at the ceiling.
It was her turn to follow him. She stood before him, hands on hips, close enough so that he could not pretend to ignore her. ‘Elise is separated from Harry. If she can persuade him, she will be divorced and free. What are your intentions then?’
‘Divorce is by no means a sure thing,’ he hedged. ‘I would have to declare myself in court as her lover. And even then it might amount to nothing. But it would drag the whole affair into the public eye.’
‘Do you have issues with the scandal of it?’
He shrugged. ‘If I did, then I would be a fool to escort her now. It is no less scandalous to partner with her while she is still married.’
‘Would you think less of her should she be free? Would she be beneath you? Because that would put things back to the way they were before I spoiled them.’ She sighed, and dropped her hands to her sides, remembering the look in her brother’s eyes when he had seen his wife in the doorway. ‘Although it would hurt Harry most awfully.’
Nicholas gave her a tired look, and stretched out on the couch with his feet up and a hand over his eyes. ‘There is nothing wrong with Elise, and no reason that I would find her unfit to marry if she were free. Save one.’ He looked as though the words were being wrenched out of him. ‘I do not love her.’
‘You do not…’ Rosalind looked confused. ‘But she has come back to you again, after all these years. And when I spoke to her, she seemed to think…’
‘What she understands to be true is in some ways different from what I have come to believe.’ He turned his head to her, and there was a look of obvious puzzlement on his face. ‘At one time I would have liked nothing better than to meet her in church and unite our futures. But in the years since she turned me down in favour of Harry?’ He shrugged. ‘Much time has passed. I still find her beautiful, and very desirable-for, while I am circumspect, I am not blind to her charms. I enjoy her
company, and I value her friendship above all things. But I seriously doubt, should we marry, that I will be a more satisfactory husband than the one she already has. Once the novelty began to pale she would find many aspects of my character are wanting. And for my part? She broke my heart most thoroughly the first time she chose another. But I doubt when she leaves me this time that it will cause similar damage.’
‘How utterly perfect!’ Rosalind reached out and pulled his boots onto the floor, forcing him to sit up.
‘Oh, really?’ He was eyeing her suspiciously. ‘And just why would you say that?’
She sat down on the couch beside him, in the space his legs had occupied, trying to disguise her obvious relief. ‘I will explain shortly, if you can but answer a few more questions to my satisfaction. If you do not want her, then why did you take her back?’
He scratched his head. ‘I am not sure. But I suspect that force of habit brought her to me, and force of habit keeps me at her side.’
‘That does not sound very romantic.’
‘I thought at first that it was lust. A desire to taste the pleasures that I was once denied.’ He gave her a significant look. ‘But our relationship has not yet progressed to such a stage, and I find myself most content with things as they are.’
‘You two are not…? You do not…?’ Rosalind took her most worldly tone with him, and hoped he could not tell that she lacked the understanding to ask the rest of the question. For she was unsure just what should be happening if the relationship had ‘progressed’. But she had wondered, all the same.
‘We are not, and we do not.’ He was staring at her in surprise now. ‘Are you seeking vicarious pleasure in the details of Elise’s infidelity? For you are most curious on the subject.’
‘Not really.’ She gave him a critical appraisal in return. ‘I think it is quite horrid that she left Harry, and even worse that you took her in. But if it was all for an ember of true love that smouldered for years, though untended, it would give me some measure of understanding. And I would find it in my heart to forgive her.’
The Mistletoe Wager Page 8
