A Lady’s Christmas Rake

by Andresen, Tammy

  “Do you intend to tell them who I am?”

  Frowning, Wesley hesitated. Clearly, he hadn’t made up his mind yet.

  “After all, I’m not a blood relative of yours,” Christine reminded him, and the way he met her eyes told her that he was very well aware of that fact. “Would the servants not spread rumours as well? Would people not be surprised to hear that Christine Dansby is staying at two places at once?” Grinning at him, Christine wiggled her eyebrows.

  Wesley took a slow breath, a hint of exasperation in his eyes. “I’ve not yet made up my mind,” he admitted, clearly uncomfortable at not having thought everything through as well as he thought he had. “As far as I know Catherine has been to Sanford Manor only once for a couple of days, and that was months ago. Maybe the servants do not remember her all that well, which means that you can easily pass for her.”

  Christine frowned, enjoying the way he fidgeted in his seat. “But would it not be strange for my sister to be spending the weeks before Christmas alone in a remote manor with only her brother-in-law to keep her company?”

  As his jaw clenched, Wesley inhaled deeply through his nose, his eyes narrowing as he regarded her.

  “You have to admit that I’m right.”

  Almost imperceptibly, his head bobbed up and down. “Do you have a suggestion then?”

  “You could tell them I’m your mistress,” she blurted out before her nerves could fail her.

  Wesley’s eyes bulged. “Excuse me?”

  Ignoring the touch of heat that burned in her cheeks, Christine nodded. “You have to admit it makes the most sense.”

  “Does it?” he growled, shock evident in his clear blue eyes. “How so?”

  Christine once more rolled her eyes at him. “Please, Wes, you are a man of the world. Do not pretend that you do not know what I’m talking about. Tell me this: what would society think of a woman who accompanies an unrelated man to his country estate without at least a chaperone?”

  Wesley’s brows drew down as he regarded her with curiosity.

  “You know I’m right,” Christine challenged, delighted with the dark tension that had come to his posture. It made him seem wildly dangerous. Willing her heart to slow, she held his penetrating gaze. “We can give them a fake name, and I will make certain that any resemblance between me and my sister is as little as possible.”

  Swallowing, Wesley cleared his throat. “Are you not worried about your reputation should anyone find out who you truly are?”

  Christine shrugged. “Was it not you who suggested Sanford Manor for the very reason that it was off the main road?”

  “While the probability of being discovered is remote,” he huffed, “it is not non-existent.”

  Christine laughed. “Are you afraid you could be pressured into marrying me?”

  His eyes narrowed. His lips, however, curled up into a small smile.

  Unsettled for a second, Christine rushed on. “If you are, allow me to put your mind at ease. I have no intention of ever marrying…anyone. I assure you this is not a clever way to trap you into marriage.”

  If possible, his eyes narrowed even more as he regarded her with curiosity. “Is that so? Well, then I suppose there is no reason to think of another explanation, is there?”

  A relieved smile came to Christine’s face. “Not at all. I’m glad you agree with my line of reasoning. After all, it’s irrefutable.”

  Wesley chuckled. “You are an unusual woman, Christine Dansby.”

  “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.”

  Cocking her head to the side, she glared at him. “Be that as it may. At least, my explanation promises a little excitement.” A smile on her face, she bit her lower lip. “I’ve never been anyone’s mistress before.”

  Again, his eyes bulged, and he stared at her as though she had just sprouted another head.

  * * *

  When the carriage drew up to Sanford Manor, it was already late at night. The snow reflected the few dim lights shining in some of the downstairs windows and thus allowed for a vague impression of the small manor house. Judging from the expression on Christine’s face, it was worse than she had expected.

  “Stay in the carriage,” Wesley instructed once it had pulled to a stop. “I’ll speak to Thompson−”

  “Who?”

  “The butler.” Glancing out the window, Wesley heaved a sigh of relief when the front door remained closed. Clearly, they had not been noticed yet. “I’ll speak to him,” he continued, turning his attention back to the woman sitting across from him, “and inform him of,” he gritted his teeth, slightly cringing at the words to come, “let’s say, the nature of our relationship.” At what point had he completely abandoned sanity and agreed to this? “He will instruct the rest of the household to stay out of our way as much as possible.”

  “That seems like a good idea,” Christine agreed. However, a good idea by her standards was probably still a bad one.

  After waving away Thompson’s apology for not having prepared for his arrival, which of course he couldn’t have considering that they hadn’t given him any notice, Wesley informed him of the delicacy of the situation.

  With each word, Thompson’s countenance grew darker, and try as he might, he could not hide his displeasure from his master. “I’ll have the rooms readied immediately and a warm supper brought up…my lord.”

  Clearing his throat, Wesley nodded. He couldn’t blame the man for his disapproval; after all, Wesley could not say why he had agreed to Christine’s suggestion in the first place. Was it truly because it had been the most reasonable explanation? He desperately wanted to believe so. However, he had to admit the thought of her as his mistress was most intriguing.

  Escorting Christine into the house, Wesley noticed with relief that no curious eyes and ears were lurking in the shadows−-at least as far as he could tell. “This is to be your chamber,” he stated, stepping into the largest of the upstairs bedrooms. Anything less would have probably sent her back out into the night. As it was, she merely crinkled her nose and surveyed her new surroundings with a touch of displeasure in her dark green eyes.

  In that moment, Wesley felt the desperate desire to simply lock her in this room and only return for her once the situation at Harrington Park had been resolved with satisfaction−however long that would take.

  As it was, that was not an option, and so he gestured for his trusted coachman to deposit her trunks in a corner of the room before closing the door behind him. “I must ask you to stay in this room,” he implored, eyes searching hers, hoping that she would understand the gravity of the situation after all. “Everything you require will be brought up to you.”

  Christine huffed, incredulity clouding her eyes. “Surely you’re jesting.”

  “May I enquire what you are referring to?”

  Stomping her foot, she fixed him with an unwavering glare, her hands resting on her shapely hips. “Allow me to make one thing clear, my lord. I refuse to spend my time at Sanford Manor in this shoe box of a room.”

  Gritting his teeth, Wesley shook his head. He was merely trying to protect her. Why would she make this so difficult?

  Holding his gaze, she shook her head once more. “I will not.”

  “How can you−?” he broke off before he would say something unwise. Raking his hands through his hair, Wesley stomped toward her, eyes searching her face, desperately trying to understand the strange wanderings of her ever arguing mind. “You do understand that come morning the entire household will believe you to be my mistress, do you not?” he hissed, waiting…hoping…searching for a sign of shock−a slight widening of the eyes, a touch of red colouring her cheeks−any sign truly that suggested she understood the gravity of the situation they found themselves in.

  However, Christine merely shrugged. “Is that not what we’ve agreed to?” she asked, an amused curl to her lips.

  Wesley growled under his breath. If he didn’t know any bett
er, he’d think she was doing this on purpose. Squinting his eyes, he stared at her. Did he know any better? After all, he had only met her a mere two years ago and scarcely laid eyes on her ever since his brother’s wedding day. How was he to know what kind of a woman she was? Had his instincts truly led him astray?

  Wesley recalled that he, himself, had stated that she was far from being a proper woman. However, he had spoken in jest and not meant it in the most scandalous way.

  “You seem troubled,” Christine remarked, her smoky green eyes searching his face as she stepped closer and laid a gentle hand on his arm.

  Wesley swallowed. What had he gotten himself into?

  Although different in disposition, the two Dansby sisters were of a respectable family. Never had Wesley heard anything untoward mentioned with regard to their conduct. Neither out loud, nor whispered behind their backs. And although Christine was far more forthright compared to her younger sister, she knew the rules of society and obeyed them, willingly or not. At least as far as he knew.

  “Wes,” she whispered when he remained silent. “Is something wrong?”

  Feeling the soft weight of her hand on his arm, Wesley took a slow breath, seeking to clear his thoughts. If only for his peace of mind, he needed to clear the air and address the unspoken issue between them. “I assure you I mean no disrespect,” he said, gathering his courage to ask a young lady such an intimate question, “however, I feel obliged to enquire…” He took a deep breath as his heart hammered in his chest. Never in his life would he have thought that a woman could make him feel this way.

  Inexperienced. Foolish. Immature.

  “Yes, Wesley,” she whispered, her breath a caress as it brushed over his lips, inevitably drawing his eyes down to hers.

  Clearing his throat, he swallowed, forcing his gaze back up.

  In answer, the corners of her mouth curled into a knowing smile before she once more bit her lower lip, a hint of shyness in her eyes. Could this woman be any more contradicting?

  “Allow me to ask,” he began once more, “do you…? I mean…you do not object to being considered someone’s mistress as any proper woman ought to, which leads me to wonder whether you…eh…I mean, you’re not…You haven’t…?”

  “I am no one’s mistress,” Christine stated in a calm voice, all hint of shyness vanished, “nor have I taken a lover. At least, not yet.” The last part she added as though it were merely an afterthought. Oh, no, it doesn’t rain. At least, not yet.

  “Not yet?” Wesley croaked, his own voice barely more than a stunned whisper as he stared at her sparkling eyes.

  Christine fixed him with a chiding look in her own. “Would you judge me for taking a liberty you demand for yourself simply because I’m a woman?”

  Opening his mouth to answer−although he had no idea how to reply−Wesley couldn’t get a single word out before she interrupted him.

  “You yourself are still unmarried,” Christine observed, her dark eyes looking into his, “and yet, I assume you are not unaware of the ways between a man and a woman.”

  “I…” Wesley stammered as heat shot up his neck, and he thought his face had to be glowing like a beacon in the dark. Blinking, he stared at her, uncertain whether his ears had deceived him.

  “Do not deny it for it’s written all over your face,” Christine continued, her own cheeks merely having a rosy touch to them. “Would you deny me that experience?”

  “Not at all,” Wesley replied possibly a bit too hastily. Averting his gaze for but a moment, he cleared his throat. “As long as it is with your husband.”

  Christine snorted. “As you’ve only lain with your wife?” Calmly raising an eyebrow, she held his gaze. However, the rapidly beating pulse plainly visible in her graceful neck bespoke of the emotions hiding under her composed exterior.

  For the millionth time that night, Wesley cleared his throat. “That is none of your concern.”

  “Then it is neither any of your concern who I invite into my bed.”

  Shocked beyond comprehension, Wesley took a step back as his world slowly became unhinged, bit by bit, with every word she spoke. “I’d ask you not to leave this room,” he repeated, unable to process the myriad of information he had just received. “I bid you a good night.” Then he turned on his heel and strode from the room, hoping against hope that he was already asleep and all this was merely a bad dream.

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Five − A Most Unwelcome Proposal or Two

  Staring out at the snow, Christine cursed under her breath. Two days had passed since their arrival. Two days that she had spent sitting in her room. Alone.

  Since the night of their arrival, Wesley seemed to be avoiding her. Although he had promised to serve as her entertainment−which had sounded so promising at the time−something had frightened him off. Had she been too forthright? Did men not appreciate women who…?

  Again, Christine cursed under her breath. She was a renowned woman of the world, well-versed in every area of life. She was well-read, intelligent and even more so she rejoiced in those attributes and prided herself on her accomplishments. However, in this one area, she was a novice. Never had she had the courage to venture into the unknown and explore the secrets reserved for the marriage bed with a willing man of her acquaintance. Despite her own reasoning, she had always been too uncertain of herself and had shied away in the last moment.

  However, with Wesley, it was different.

  With him, Christine felt as though she could be herself. She had been so certain that he would approve of her outlook on life and welcome her rather unusual proposal. A proposal, she had to admit, she hadn’t quite put into words. At least, not explicitly.

  Had he understood her meaning? Judging from the look on his face, he had. But why had he been so shocked? Did he not find her desirable?

  Christine shook her head. No, that could not be it. For some reason that eluded her, he had been scandalised by her words. Surprisingly so.

  Pacing the length of the room, Christine contemplated what to do next. If she allowed Wesley to have his way, she’d spent her entire stay at Sanford Manor−however long that would be−confined to her room. That thought made her physically ill and was, therefore, not even worth considering.

  “Bloody hell,” Christine cursed and having made up her mind strode toward the door and yanked it open. At least, he had not gone so far as to lock it.

  When she found the corridor to be empty, she ventured from her bedchamber without a second thought. Realising that she had no idea which room was Wesley’s, Christine pulled open the first door on her right, only to find it empty.

  After two more failed attempts to locate him, the soft echo of booted footsteps echoed to her ears, and without hesitation, she proceeded to the other end of the corridor. Throwing open the door, she barged into the room.

  “What the−?” Spinning around, Wesley froze as he beheld her. His hands dropped from the cravat he’d been attempting to tie. “What are you doing here? This is highly improper.”

  Laughing, Christine threw the door closed. “Don’t you dare!” Hands on her hips, she strode toward him, eyes ablaze with fury.

  With a frown drawing down his brows, Wesley turned to face her. “Is something wrong?”

  Inhaling through her nose, she seethed with anger at his feigned ignorance. “You promised!” she snarled.

  “I promised what?”

  “To keep me company!” Shaking her head, she stepped in front of him, her hands trembling with barely contained rage. “I haven’t seen you in two days! I haven’t seen anyone in two days! I feel as though I’m going crazy!”

  His eyes shifted to the door before they returned to her, and he took a step closer. “Would you lower your voice?”

  Staring up at him in disbelief, Christine felt the last string of her patience snap. Without conscious thought, her hand flew forward, sailing toward the left side of his face.

  However, instead of allowing her the satisfaction of
slapping him, he caught her wrist in mid-air. An amused curl came to his lips then, the first sign that something other than indifference rested under his unconcerned exterior. “I’m deeply sorry for upsetting you,” he teased. “Had I known the depth of your displeasure, I would have…”

  “You would have what?” she challenged, welcoming the sudden rush of emotions that invaded her body.

  “I would have…” As though distracted, his eyes trailed lower and for a second lingered on her lips. However, before Christine could seize the moment to her advantage, his head snapped up and he cleared his throat. “I would have recommended a good book or two,” he finished lamely, belatedly realising that his hand was still wrapped around her wrist.

  As though she had struck him, he released her and stepped back.

  Disappointed, Christine took a deep breath, trying to focus her thoughts. “I napped today.”

  A frown came to his face before he simply said, “Good.”

  “Good?” she demanded. “Good? I’m not an old woman! I don’t nap!” Shaking her head, she began to pace around the room. “Do you even know why I napped? Not because I was tired. No, that at least would have been acceptable. No, because I was bored out of my mind! Do you hear me? Bored out of my mind!” As an afterthought, she added, “I’ve never been bored in my life.”

  “I’m sorry,” was all he said as he stood there, the mask of indifference back on his face.

  Seeing red, Christine stormed toward him.

  Apparently aware of the murderous gleam in her eyes, he lifted his hands in appeasement.

  However, fuelled by two days of immobility, Christine could not contain her anger. With her hands balled into fists, she attacked him, pummelling his chest.

  For a brief moment, he did not stop her. However, when her efforts increased, he once more grabbed her wrists. “What do you want me to do?” he snapped, lowering his head and looking into her eyes. “We are both stuck here for the time being. After your infamous revelations, I was merely concerned for your reputation.”