His Mistletoe Wager

by Virginia Heath

  ‘The Earl has gone.’ Obviously, it had not had the same impact on Sullen Lizzie, because not only was she heartily unimpressed, she was also briskly removing his coat as if she found it as offensive as his kiss. She thrust it at him unceremoniously. ‘Never do that again!’

  ‘Perhaps I was a tad over-zealous.’ He forced a rakish grin to cover his disappointment at her reaction.

  ‘I am certain there are other ways to bestow your amorous attentions on me without having to resort to that. We should go back inside. The very last thing I want, aside from dancing with foul-smelling old men, is to be ruined by you.’ She shuddered and then marched back towards the French doors, before stopping briefly to rally him. ‘Come along, Hal, let’s go put on a show.’

  Hal tried not to feel offended. He had only sought her out because of the wager, sort of. There had been an odd part of him which had been desperate to seek her out the moment he had arrived at the Benfleet soirée, however he had put that down to his excitement at winning the bet and besting Aaron. Although Hal was trying not to think about the bet because every time he did he experienced something akin to indigestion, churning up his gut and making him feel uncomfortable about the way he was deliberately deceiving her. Then again, his conscience did feel lighter knowing she was also benefiting from the situation, albeit in a roundabout way. He was doing her a favour and favours were noble. Yet despite all that, he had been unexpectedly moved by the kiss. It hadn’t been particularly long and by his standards it had been remarkably chaste, yet it had affected him.

  Affected him? Now there was something to ponder, he thought miserably as he trailed behind her back into the crowded ballroom. Something was undoubtedly wrong with him. First a lack of vigour, the bizarre allure of controlling his father’s estate, the gnawing constant niggle which hinted dangerously at a lack of real fulfilment in his life and now he was going all pie-eyed and wobbly over one silly kiss with a woman who was, at best, ambivalent to him. Or perhaps that was exactly what was wrong. Her unenthusiastic reaction had dented his male pride, ergo he was feeling unsteady.

  Hal took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was overthinking things and that was also very unlike him. Hal preferred to think on his feet. On a positive note, he was one kiss down and she hadn’t slapped his face or severed their fledgling alliance upon receiving it. Which in turn meant there would be another opportunity to steal a kiss from her over Christmas. Poor Aaron would be spitting teeth later.

  That thought buoyed him and, by the time he got to the refreshment table, Hal was feeling normal. Thankfully, Lizzie spotted an ambitious-looking matron and her daughter a few seconds before he did and slipped her hand possessively through his arm. It had the most staggering effect. One minute they had been prowling towards him with definite intent, the next they suddenly veered off to the right, pretending they were looking for someone else.

  ‘Well saved, my lady. That was close. An eligible man must keep his wits about him at all times. I knew you would be a sterling deterrent.’

  ‘I am glad I could be of service.’ She smiled tightly, her eyes locked on something in the distance and gripping his arm with far more force than was necessary. ‘I would greatly appreciate it if the favour was immediately reciprocated.’ The smile was now so false it might have been painted on to a mask. Hal followed her eyes and spotted a determined gentleman scurrying in her direction and tried not to smile when the first bars of the waltz began. More by luck than judgement, fate was working in his favour.

  ‘I believe this waltz is mine.’ The interloper shot daggers at Hal when he saw her arm still looped through his. There was far too much pomade in the fellow’s thin hair, either that or it had not been washed in the last week. Patches of his bald pate shone through the greasy strands and the poor chap was at least two inches shorter than Lizzie, a feat in itself when she was barely a few inches above five feet.

  ‘I’m afraid there has been a mistake, old chap. The lady has already promised this dance to me.’

  The bald man was outraged. ‘It was arranged with the Earl of Upminster himself. I watched him write my name down on her card.’ He puffed out his pigeon chest in indignation. ‘We are colleagues at the Foreign Office!’ One effeminate hand, more suited to clerical work than seduction, shot out and lunged for the card hanging from Lizzie’s wrist, but Hal was closer and grabbed it before the upstart did.

  For the most part, being blessed with height was something he was always mindful of. Those less fortunate tended to become a little intimidated if one loomed and he was too good natured to want to make others uneasy. However, occasionally a situation called for it. This one did. Pulling himself up to his full six feet and three impressive inches, Hal glowered down at the irritating fellow before him, forcing him to crane his neck up to look directly into his steely glare. ‘This dance is mine.’

  ‘No, it isn’t. I specifically asked for the waltz. Upminster pencilled me in for it. I demand to see that card!’ The pigeon’s chest was now so puffed the buttons on his coat were straining around the heavy padding. ‘Hand it over immediately!’

  There was no need for any words. They were causing enough of a scene without further unseemly conversation. Rather splendidly, Aaron was paying them particular attention behind a potted palm. Hal tried not to look at his brother-in-law. Already, in less than a day since they’d struck the wager, he had stolen one kiss and secured the possibility of many different locations to kiss his lady again. Now all he had to do was choose the right opportunities to do so. That would take finesse. Clumsy, eager overtures would not be welcomed, of that Hal was quite certain. This fair, prickly ice maiden was too guarded. Wary and suspicious of everything, including him. However, she had just insisted he return the favour and save her from another man and that had nothing whatsoever to do with his bet and everything to do with his fortuitous alliance with Lizzie.

  With deliberate slowness, Hal lifted it with a smile and slowly tore the offensive dance card into tiny pieces, then sprinkled them like confetti into Mr Pigeon’s outstretched hand. He turned towards his fairly startled-looking new ally and made a great show of kissing her hand.

  ‘You promised me this dance, Lady Elizabeth.’

  Chapter Five

  There was challenge and amusement in his eyes. Half of the ballroom were watching them, whilst pretending not to. The fevered whispering behind so many hands and raised fans nearly drowned out the orchestra, yet she quite admired the bare-faced audacity of the man. Even though he had already left her completely unsettled after the kiss, and knowing the very last place she would ever find her missing equilibrium was in his arms again, dancing with him was infinitely preferable to the sorry specimen her father had sent. And this was all a charade after all. To her ultimate benefit. The perfect decoy for a month of blissful peace. Her last month of pretence.

  ‘Yes, Hal, I did.’

  His warm palm came to rest affectionately on her hand. The possessive all-male gesture sending a clear message to everyone in the room.

  She’s mine.

  Lizzie’s corset suddenly felt tight at the tingle of excitement it gave her and nerves began to jump in her tummy. Hal took his time leading her to the middle of the floor, obviously used to being the centre of attention and enjoying the spectacle they presented. A tiny part of her did, too—the rest of her was frankly terrified by it all. This was all so bizarre and out of character. She never danced, nor did she ever show any interest in any men, yet here she was, being escorted into the parting sea of obviously shocked couples by possibly the most eligible bachelor in the room. Amongst the openly curious onlookers, she felt the weight of several pairs of female eyes as they glared at her with outright hostility. His hordes. Judging by the amount of dismayed expressions, there were quite a number of them.

  ‘You’re supposed to look besotted, not like you are being led to your execution.’ The subtle hint from h
er smiling partner reminded Lizzie theirs was a mutually beneficial arrangement. They were supposed to be protecting each other. She could do this. For peace from her father for their one, final society Christmas. Lizzie forced herself to relax and beamed at him as he took her in his arms.

  Once she had got over the fact every eyeball in the Benfleet ballroom was locked on them, dancing with him was quite heady. Of course, she hadn’t waltzed in five long years, she reasoned as he glided her effortlessly around the floor, and the waltz was meant to be heady. It had nothing to do with the arrogant, yet amusing, Earl of Redbridge. Despite being completely immune and impervious to men, Lizzie could see what his hordes found so appealing. He was a fine specimen of manhood. Beneath his coat she felt actual muscle—not padding—and he was exceptionally handsome. The dark hair had deep auburn strands running through it, which predictably the chandeliers picked out perfectly. However, both of those things paled into insignificance when one looked deep into his eyes.

  Hal had a way of gazing at her which made Lizzie nervous. As if those mossy depths saw right through her. She did not faze him, when she proudly terrified every other man who had tried to get near her, and that was disturbing and strangely thrilling. In fact, if anything, Lizzie was rather enjoying their new little secret just as she had enjoyed the way he had effectively neutralised her father’s matchmaking in one fell swoop by tearing up her dance card so publicly. His menacing glare was like a warning shot. She sincerely doubted any more dullards would venture towards her again this evening. The handsome Earl was the perfect deterrent. Even the prospect of remaining at this ball for the duration no longer seemed tiresome now that he would be close by.

  * * *

  Hal woke in a fabulous mood. It made no difference that he had crawled into bed in the small hours or that his troublesome nieces were playing noisily outside his bedchamber door. He had succeeded in kissing Sullen Lizzie once. How marvellous an achievement was that?

  Except, if he was honest with himself, he had thoroughly enjoyed spending time with her. After their waltz, they had stood for the better part of an hour near the refreshment table, both revelling in the pithy comments they were parrying back and forth about the dullards and the hordes. The woman had an excellent sense of humour when she let her ironclad guard down, he had to give her credit for that, and was extremely knowledgeable on a wide range of subjects from literature to politics. The latter was fascinating and proved to be a topic she felt safe discussing. She stopped frowning and became animated. Her father’s elevated position in the Foreign Office gave her insights Hal had never considered before and he asked her a million questions to gently pry her out of the hard shell she hid within. For once, he did not flirt or flatter, knowing such things would be wasted on her. Instead they talked to each other as equals and retired back to the wallflower chairs for another hour until her father came to claim her.

  The Earl of Upminster had greeted Hal unenthusiastically. He had looked him up and down, narrowed his eyes and then told his daughter he remembered all the names of the other gentleman who still wanted to dance with her should she require them. As he had promised, Hal behaved like an ardent and besotted potential suitor while she largely appeared indifferent to him until her father had ostensibly left them to their own devices when his daughter showed no desire to comply. However, in reality this meant he took himself to a spot less than twenty feet away and made no secret of the fact he was watching Hal closely.

  The pair of them had subtly laughed about it afterwards and then watched the festive nonsense whirl around them from their blissfully solitary position at the furthest edge of the ballroom. It had been strangely fun conversing with a woman and not trying to bed her—not that he would have minded bedding her if she had been inclined. Enjoying intelligent conversation with her did not render him blind to her feminine charms. If anything, her obvious intelligence and rapier wit made her more attractive.

  Lizzie was intriguing. Interesting as well as caustically witty, still very guarded which bizarrely gave her an enticing aura of the mysterious, and she was undeniably the single most beautiful woman in the ballroom. The corkscrew golden curls and animated cornflower-blue eyes tended to draw his gaze, as did her lush mouth when she spoke. Even without the wager those plump, pink lips would tempt him to kiss them. He would still win it, but they both benefited from the association as Lizzie was plainly delighted at successfully thwarting her father’s matchmaking attempts. A great weight off Hal’s newly discovered conscience regarding women. Or more particularly, his conscience regarding one woman. Her.

  Dressed and shaved, Hal had a jaunty spring in his step as he left his bedchamber and scooped up each of his irritating red-haired nieces to hold them wriggling and giggling under each arm. As was his prerogative as naughty uncle, he deposited each one on the ornate curved banister, cocked a long leg over himself, to sit behind them lest they fall off, and began to slide the three of them downstairs.

  ‘Henry!’ The ominous tones of his sister Connie did not faze him and he grinned at her as they whizzed past at speed. ‘How many times have I told you not to teach them to behave like hellions? The girls are boisterous enough without your help.’

  Hal came to a sedate stop at the ostentatious gold acorn at the bottom of the stairs and gave his sister a peck on the cheek. ‘As I recall, it was you, dear Sister, who taught me the quickest route down these stairs.’

  ‘We were children.’

  ‘As are Grace and Prudence. Although why you called these two monsters after such ladylike virtues is beyond me.’

  ‘At some point, you need to grow up, Hal.’

  He winked at his nieces. ‘Never.’ For good measure, and to vex his sister further, he roughly tossed a squealing Grace over his shoulder before picking up Prudence by her foot and carrying her upside down into the breakfast room.

  ‘Good morning, Aaron! And if I may say so, what a splendid morning it is.’

  His brother-in-law glared at him through narrowed eyes over the top of his newspaper while his sister poured them all tea.

  ‘Somebody is particularly jovial this morning. I couldn’t help noticing you spent most of the evening intimately ensconced with Lady Elizabeth Wilding. Does she have a bearing on your good mood?’ Connie smiled at him hopefully as she placed a steaming cup in front of him. Recently, and to his complete annoyance, she too had made numerous hints about him settling down. ‘Absolutely everyone was gossiping about you.’

  ‘Gossip must be very light on the ground if a simple conversation and one dance are being misconstrued.’ Hal was pleased he sounded sufficiently bored enough that his sister’s face dropped. When she turned back towards the sideboard to fetch her husband’s tea, he took the opportunity to flick one plump, white mistletoe berry at Aaron across the table cloth. His brother-in-law’s eyes narrowed further as he pocketed the damning fruit. They both knew better than to alert Connie to their wager. She still hadn’t forgiven them for causing the shocking scene at the Serpentine last summer. ‘Although I believe Sullen Lizzie was quite taken with me.’ He shot Aaron a pointed looked and stifled the bark of laughter when he saw him practically foaming at the mouth in indignation at being thwarted.

  ‘Sullen Lizzie? What a dreadful nickname. I hope you are not the root of it, Hal. Nicknames can destroy a young woman’s confidence.’ She shuddered involuntarily at the memory, making her husband scowl. Thanks to Aaron, Connie had been known as the Ginger Amazonian for years on account of her unusual height and vibrant red hair. It was something his brother-in-law still felt guilty about.

  ‘Am I never going to be forgiven for that one, stupid mistake?’ Aaron said.

  ‘Of course not, darling. You know I live only to make you miserable.’ But the pair of them were staring at each other soppily again, something they did a great deal, and for once Hal found himself envious of their obvious affection rather than baffled by it. It must be wond
erful to have a person look at you like that. To know you completely and understand you so well...

  Something which brought him up short. What the blazes had got into him? He was not yet thirty and had far too many wild oats still to sow.

  * * *

  The rest of the meal was its usual chaos. His mother arrived, echoing Connie’s sentiments about his current interest in Lizzie. Then his nieces made a mess and a lot of noise whilst doing it and the adults were forced to converse across the table in a volume usually reserved for the hard of hearing in order to be heard above it. Hal loved these occasions in the Berkley Square town house as they would never have been allowed in his father’s time. The Stuarts and Wincantons had been at loggerheads for centuries before Aaron had married his sister despite the fact their country estates were next door to each other. But now, with Aaron’s town house sold and his father festering in the ground, they all gathered here together. The once-cold house almost felt like home.

  Except, there was something missing. Something untenable and ethereal which kept niggling at him. Something he kept trying to put out of his mind, yet which kept creeping back in again. His discontent was beginning to anger him, so he tried to ignore it while he ate his breakfast.

  When the ladies disappeared to sort the children, Aaron launched like a cannon ball. ‘You kissed her, then?’

  ‘I did indeed.’

  ‘I will need details.’

  ‘A gentleman never tells.’

  ‘The pertinent details which allow me to ascertain if the terms of the wager have been fulfilled. Where did you kiss her?’

  ‘On the lips. They tasted like cherries and she smelled of pink summer roses.’ Hal sighed for effect because bating Aaron was fun.

  ‘Not details of the kiss, you buffoon. The location!’