His Mistletoe Wager

by Virginia Heath

  Half the time Hal had absolutely no idea what was going on in her head, the other half he felt a strange kinship with her. Lady Elizabeth Wilding was a conundrum indeed and one he was intrigued to understand. To understand her, it stood to reason he would need to spend more time with her. A lot more time. To that end, he was counting the days until the Marquess of Danbury’s house party at the weekend. There were exactly two of them.

  Hal sighed as he came to Noah’s Ark, Mr Hamley’s magnificent toy emporium, annoyed with his current leaning towards unnecessary and incessant introspection. It wasn’t healthy and this odd mood was not conducive to shopping for his nieces. Melancholy might lead him towards toys which were quiet and sensible and that would never do. He had come here intent on buying something noisy and entertaining for them for Christmas—something special from their naughty uncle. Something which would drive his sister and brother-in-law mad and whip the children into a state of perpetual excitement and he needed his wits about him to do it. Last year’s matching, miniature soldiers’ drums, complete with jaunty bright uniforms and a genuine cavalry bugle, had caused mayhem and sent Connie into one of the best temper tantrums Hal had seen in years. By hook or by crook he was duty-bound to top that. The girls were depending on him.

  The bell tinkled as he pushed open the door and he took a moment to soak up all the sights and sounds. In deference to the season, shiny boughs of holly edged all the shelves and hung from red ribbons in gay balls from the ceiling. All around him were toys of every kind. Amongst all this bounty, the shop was filled with customers, no doubt all here on the same mission as he was.

  Seeking out the perfect gift for Christmas morning.

  A few children giggled with excitement in one corner, while their harried parents tried to prise them away from the displays, and every shop assistant was engaged in either serving or wrapping. Clearly, Hal was going to be here for some time. He didn’t mind. Shopping for toys was hardly shopping in the literal sense. Literal shopping was painful. Noah’s Ark was pure pleasure.

  His feet instinctively took him towards the instruments, seeing as they were undoubtedly loud, and his eyes were drawn to the brass trumpets. Connie had loathed the bugle most of all, but were trumpets too similar? He would hate to become predictable. No... Not instruments again. He was turning in a slow circle, seeking inspiration, when a familiar waft of roses brought him up short and, like a dog, he began to sniff the air to locate the source just on the off chance it might be Lizzie. He followed the smell around the other side of a tall cabinet and grinned.

  ‘Hello, fair maiden and woman of my dreams.’

  She practically jumped ten feet in the air and dropped the handful of tin soldiers she had been holding.

  ‘Hal!’ She appeared horrified to see him and he tried not to be miffed. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Hunting down the most unsuitable toys to give to my troublesome nieces for Christmas. So...this is the mysterious thing you do every Tuesday and Thursday when Stevens says you are genuinely not at home. You shop.’

  She was blinking rapidly and for a moment appeared flummoxed. ‘Yes... Yes... I shop. Every Tuesday and Thursday. Nothing mysterious about it at all.’

  ‘Your terrifying butler gave the impression you were doing something far more mysterious.’

  Her response was to laugh, somewhat falsely, and blink some more. Puzzled, and keen not to continue talking about a topic which had clearly made her batten down those defensive hatches and pull up the drawbridge once again, Hal crouched down to pick up the soldiers and frowned at her selection. ‘You really can’t give him these.’

  ‘Him? What do you mean him?’ She had stopped blinking. Now her eyes were as wide as saucers. Obviously, she was unused to being caught by surprise and he had clearly terrified her in the process. And in a toy shop of all places.

  ‘Your brother has a young son, does he not?’

  ‘Yes! Yes, of course... These are for Frederick... My nephew.’ She smiled, although it did not quite touch her eyes as he dropped the tiny soldiers back into her palm. She stared down at them mournfully and then appeared confused as his latter comments permeated her thoughts. ‘Why can’t I give him these? Little boys like to play with soldiers.’

  ‘Of course they do—but those are soldiers from the Netherlands. I am sure they are jolly nice fellows, and they are our allies, but I am certain your nephew would much prefer proper British soldiers when he sends them into battle on the carpet.’ Hal reached out and plucked a tiny cavalry officer astride a charging horse from the shelf. ‘Look at this fearsome chap. Proper smart crimson regimentals, that splendid black hat and his sabre poised ready to strike down any of Napoleon’s army silly enough to stand in his way.’

  He handed her the lead figurine and she smiled properly this time. Those beguiling cornflower-blue eyes lit up and caused Hal’s throat and groin to tighten simultaneously. Lord, she was lovely. Inside and out. ‘I can see you are an expert on little boys.’

  ‘I used to be one, so I suppose that does give me a bit of an advantage.’

  ‘Seeing as you are so knowledgeable on toy soldiers, I wonder if I might trouble you to help me select a few more.’

  ‘It would be my pleasure.’ Hal was telling the truth. Spending time with her outside their arrangement was perfectly all right by him, especially as the topic of toy soldiers had apparently done the trick and melted her impenetrable guard. ‘How many do you want?’

  ‘How many do I need?’

  As he was in danger of gazing wistfully at her—goodness knew where that had come from—and had the ridiculous urge to sniff her perfume and touch her hair, he turned away to study the lead battalions stood neatly on the shelves and pretended to give the matter some serious thought. ‘Are you adding to an existing collection of soldiers or starting from scratch?’

  ‘These will be his first soldiers.’

  ‘Music to my ears, fair maiden, and so much simpler. We should start with the basics then.’

  ‘Which are?’

  Hal was already picking up men. ‘Well, you will need a Wellington. That’s for sure. Somebody needs to be in charge. And a Napoleon, else who would be defeated at the end of the game?’ He pressed the two toys into her outstretched palm and wished neither of them were wearing winter gloves so that his fingers could graze her soft skin. ‘We will need a selection of British officers of all ranks...cavalry...infantry. A few Highlanders. Ignore the fact those soldiers are wearing skirts. They are warriors at heart and put on such a good show for us at Waterloo.’ Her cupped hands were overflowing, so he began to gather the others in a pile on the shelf. ‘And we are going to need cannons. Lots of cannons.’

  ‘Isn’t it all a bit extreme when we only have one Frenchman to fight?’

  ‘You make a good point. Much as it pains me, we are going to have to buy some Frenchies.’ He grabbed a handful and scowled at them, and swore he felt himself grow a few inches in height when he heard her giggle.

  ‘You have been so particular about the British troops, shouldn’t we take the same care with the French? Won’t they also need officers, cavalry and the like?’

  ‘They are the enemy, madam, and need I remind you that we beat them. Thrashed them into surrender because they are a rag-tag, disorganised and dissolute group made up of illiterate, drunken peasants and smelly cheese makers. Of course we will not need French officers and cavalry. We have to keep things realistic and the French guillotined all their leaders years ago.’

  * * *

  He really was very charming, especially when he was being irreverent, and Lizzie was grateful he had saved her from purchasing the wrong soldiers. Her son would have noticed instantly that they were wearing the wrong uniforms and it would have given her father the opportunity to point out that this was exactly why her son needed a father. Much as it pained her to admit it, it would never hav
e occurred to her to buy officers or cavalry or an enemy army for them to fight against.

  ‘Thank you.’ She felt quite emotional, knowing she would be giving Georgie a Christmas gift he would love. Sometimes being a mother to a little boy was a challenge and getting more so now he was growing. The whole journey to and from their weekly jaunt to Richmond Park, he had talked about nothing else but how much he wanted a proper army to play with. This was what he had meant and she had potentially ruined it because she did not know the difference between the enemies or the allies. Thank goodness she had run into Hal—although he had given her quite a fright.

  One minute she had been thinking about him, hardly a surprise when she had been incessantly thinking about him since his impertinent kiss on the Benfleet terrace, and then he had been stood next to her as if she had conjured him with her mind. Looking all windswept and handsome. Then he had saved her again. He had an irritating habit of being in exactly the right place at exactly the right time—something which probably had a great deal more to do with luck than the niggling suspicion that Henry Stuart, the charming and handsome Earl of Redbridge, might be someone she could depend on. ‘I think it is only fair I return the favour.’

  She was being nice. Towards a man who she was not related to. Whatever next? Yet as out of character as the offer had been, Lizzie did want to do something nice for Hal. He had saved her from one balding dullard, twice from Lord Ockendon and he had just saved Christmas morning. ‘You say you are here to find presents for your nieces, a task I am eminently suitable for—seeing as I used to be a little girl.’

  ‘I don’t want anything sensible. Or quiet.’

  ‘Why ever not?’

  ‘As the naughty uncle it is my duty to purchase toys which will drive their parents to distraction. Last year it was drums and a bugle. I had to stuff handkerchiefs in each ear to drown out the cacophony and went to bed with a headache.’ Hal smiled boyishly, clearly very pleased with himself. ‘It was marvellous.’

  ‘Oh, I see. You have not come here to buy gifts for your nieces at all, merely gifts for yourself.’

  He appeared affronted at the suggestion. ‘My nieces always love my gifts. They are the highlight of every Christmas morning.’

  ‘And are they played with after Christmas?’ Because Lizzie had the distinct impression they miraculously disappeared, consigned to the attic with all the other inappropriate toys. His dark brows drew together and after a long pause he huffed.

  ‘Now you come to mention it, no. They aren’t.’

  ‘Then wouldn’t it be better to choose something different? Something they’ll love and their parents can live with? Something truly special which can be played with all year? From their favourite naughty uncle.’

  ‘Hardly a naughty uncle if I am giving sensible gifts. I’ve been training Prudence and Grace to be hellions since the day they were born. Girls saddled with such pious names should always be a handful.’

  Lizzie’s mouth curved into a smile at his belligerent expression. ‘Although I already know I shall regret asking this question, but how does one train one’s nieces to be hellions?’

  Mischief twinkled in his green eyes and he leaned towards her, covertly looking both left and right, as if the information he was about to give her was of the utmost secrecy. ‘It has been a three-pronged attack. Firstly, I have always actively encouraged naughtiness. Hiding just before they are due to go out, sliding down banisters, inappropriate horseplay. Lots of high-pitched noise—especially when there are guests in the house. I find a bit of quiet praise after the event or a well-placed dare works wonders.’ The image of him playing with children came easily. Except, for some reason, she could not picture him playing with any other child except little Georgie. ‘Secondly, to be proper hellions, I have made sure their arsenal of weapons is always well stocked. I have invested hours schooling them in the subtle art of practical jokes and taught them to be resourceful with the materials at hand. Jam, cobwebs, flour, et cetera. Creepy crawlies are always good. Connie loathes things with lots of legs and, although he would rather die than admit it, my brother-in-law Aaron does, too. Therefore, I have meticulously shown the girls where to hunt for the best specimens, how to trap them and keep them safe until exactly the right moment. Timing is everything, after all.’ His voice dropped to a whisper and Lizzie found her head intimately close as she strained to listen. He smelled of fresh air. Spicy cologne and something heady, wholly him and completely unidentifiable. It was probably the aroma of sin. ‘Last spring, totally unprompted, Prudence filled her mother’s favourite riding boots up with frog spawn. I cannot tell you how proud it made me.’

  The bubble of laughter surprised her and she covered her mouth with her hand. ‘Your poor sister. I feel so sorry for her.’

  ‘Don’t you dare. It is nothing more than her just deserts. She tortured me as a child. Mercilessly. Being older, she was always so much bigger and used it to her advantage. I have lost count of how many times she overpowered me, rolled me up in the nursery rug and then sat on me. I’ll have you know I spent hours incarcerated in that blasted rug. I have suffered violence at that woman’s hand and as a gentleman, I could never physically retaliate and she knew it. On one occasion, she then went on to use my father’s razor to shave off one of my eyebrows. It took months to grow back and made me the laughing stock of the village. Is it any wonder I now shudder at the sight of a tightly-weaved Persian?’

  ‘Maybe I feel a little less sympathy for your sister now, but I still think you should buy something for your nieces which they will love and continue their hellion training on the sly.’

  ‘I cannot say I am happy about it, but I shall bow down to your better judgement. You were once a little girl after all, as you say, although I doubt you were a hellion.’

  ‘Why ever not?’

  He pretended to study her, then frowned. ‘You are far too—nice.’

  ‘Good gracious! Your life must be filled with dreadful people if you think I am one of the nicer ones.’

  ‘Actually, my mother is thoroughly nice. My sister Constance is predominantly nice but has moments when she is terrifying, and her husband Aaron is the best friend a fellow could wish for. I am surrounded by decent sorts so I know one when I spot one. You may try to hide your niceness from the world at large, but I know the truth. In fact, I am of the opinion you are really far too nice be associated with a man who is wilfully training his nieces to be hellions.’ He gently took her hand and curled it about his arm and began to lead her to another part of the shop. Lizzie tried not to feel content at the closeness or the compliments.

  ‘On the subject of your hellion-training—what, pray tell, is the third prong in your three-pronged strategy?’

  ‘Oh, that is the easiest part.’ The wolfish grin made her pulse instantly flutter. ‘I make sure I always lead by example. I am, Lady Elizabeth, a thoroughly naughty boy.’ And Lord help her, that was exciting.

  With her guidance, Hal reluctantly bought two beautiful wax dolls of the highest quality. Then he happily allowed Lizzie to select different outfits for the dolls so the girls could play dressing-up games with them. As he walked her back to her carriage, insisting on carrying all the many packages himself, it occurred to her that she had had a thoroughly enjoyable time in his company and was disappointed to be going home.

  ‘You will be at Danbury’s tiresome house party this weekend, won’t you? My mother is insisting on going.’

  Lizzie was trying to avoid it. ‘I hope not.’

  His handsome face fell. ‘Oh, don’t say that! I was relying on you to be there and now I am doomed for certain. Please come, Lizzie. The hordes will be there en masse and there are few places to hide at a house in the country, apart from the countryside, of course, and it is frightfully cold. I shall be for ever in your debt.’

  ‘I don’t know...’ She dithered and he grabbed her hand and stare
d mournfully into her eyes.

  ‘Have you any idea how dangerous a house party is for a confirmed but deliciously eligible bachelor? I would sooner run the gauntlet than attend one undefended. There will be parlour games. What if they play Hot Cockles? Everyone knows that is merely a flimsy excuse to kiss someone you’ve got your eye on. Without you as my partner, I will be a target. The hordes will stampede towards me and I might well end up crushed. And then there will be wassailing and there is no telling what danger I will be in once those young ladies are emboldened by alcohol. I shall have to keep my bedchamber door barricaded as I wouldn’t put it past a few of the more ambitious ones to visit me in the dead of night and then claim I ruined her. This house party is the single most perilous event of the whole Christmas season because there is literally nowhere safe for me to hide. I will be a captive and will hold you entirely accountable if I end up compromised into marriage.’

  He gripped her fingers and gave her a pitiful gaze. ‘Please come. We have as good as sworn an oath of allegiance to one another. You save me and I save you.’ He was sounding increasingly desperate and looking totally miserable. Adorably miserable. ‘How about this? Regardless of our arrangement, if you come to the Danburys’ I shall owe you a huge favour which you can demand from me any time of the course of my entire life. In the small hours if need be and in the Highlands of Scotland. Or even that desolate place they send convicts in the Antipodes. No distance is too far. I will ride through wind and rain, climb mountains... I am now literally begging you. Throw me a bone... I will be at your beck and call. Just do me this one favour, Lizzie darling.’

  Her pulse fluttered at the word ‘darling.’ It shouldn’t have, but it did. ‘I’m not sure...’

  ‘But I am at your mercy. Take pity on a poor, irresistible, terrified earl!’

  It was only one weekend, she supposed, wavering, and they did have an arrangement. He had rescued her from Ockendon and smoothly extricated her from his vile company and he had just saved her from inadvertently buying the wrong soldiers for her son. ‘All right.’ It was just two nights away from Georgie and would please her father. ‘I shall be there. But under duress.’