His green eyes brightened as his face split in the biggest grin, making him look quite boyish and even more adorable, if such a thing was possible. ‘If we weren’t in public, I would kiss you!’ And rather bizarrely, if they weren’t in public, she was sorely tempted to let him. She was still all a quiver at his throwaway use of the word ‘darling.’ ‘Oh, to Hell with it, nobody is looking...’ Before Lizzie could stop him, he had opened the carriage door to shield them from view, lifted her off the floor, spun her in a quick circle, then briefly touched his lips to hers. ‘Thank you, Lizzie darling! You are a life-saver.’
It had not been anything more than boisterous exuberance brought about by his gratefulness, but regardless, being held in those strong arms for just a few seconds was quite something. Even the chaste, friendly kiss fizzed through her system till she felt it all the way down to the tips of her toes. Her nerve endings were still tingling when he stepped away. Her lips still tingled as he helped her up into the carriage. Her thoughts were jumbled; she didn’t know whether to sigh or moan or laugh, his kiss had scrambled her wits so effectively. It was rather like being struck by lightning. Quick, unexpected and potentially deadly. Something which made her feel quite unsettled all the way home.
Chapter Eight
‘A message just arrived for you.’ Hal’s sister Connie swept into his study, grinning. ‘One of the Earl of Upminster’s footmen hand-delivered it. Said it was most urgent.’ She plopped her bottom resolutely on his desk before she handed it to him. A clear sign she intended to stay while he read it. Hal tried to ignore the tickle of excitement as he stared at the feminine, sloping writing on the front, or the desire to slowly trace the pad of his index finger over the pen marks. Since he had waved off her carriage this afternoon he had done nothing but mope. Whilst it had hardly been much of a kiss, ostensibly done out of opportunism to smugly press the second mistletoe berry into Aaron’s hand, Hal wasn’t fooling himself. At the time, he had not given the wager a thought, he had simply needed the contact. His body still hummed from the effect it had had on him and he was not entirely sure what to make of that fact. Had she felt it, too? Against all his better judgement he did hope she might say as much in her unexpected letter.
Unless it was a chastisement?
Or worse.
‘Thank you. I shall read it later.’ He placed it on the corner of his desk and stared back down at his ledger, hoping Lizzie was not reneging on her promise to attend the Danbury house party after all. If she was, he might have to resort to throwing himself down the stairs in order to sustain a believable injury to get out of going. Without Lizzie it would be dreadful and he was strangely excited about spending time with her.
‘It might be important.’
‘I sincerely doubt it.’
‘It might be from her.’
Hal shrugged and began to add up a column of figures in a last-ditch attempt to convince his sister he was ambivalent. It was the wrong move. Connie’s hand shot out and grabbed the letter, then she scampered to the other side of the study with it, giggling, just as she had when they were children, banished to the nursery because their father was at home and he found their very presence an irritant. The seal was cracked open before he could get to her and she swiftly sidestepped his attempt to lunge for it.
‘That is my private correspondence, Connie! Give it back.’
‘“Dear Hal...”’ She gave him a knowing look as they circled each other like gladiators across the Persian rug. ‘That’s nice. You are on first-name terms.’
‘I’m warning you, Connie!’
‘“I have an emergency...” How exciting! And you are the first person she turns to.’
‘If you don’t give it back...’ He lunged again and managed to grab her arm, but being a tall woman and a terminally vexing one, she simply used her other hand to hold his precious letter and read it at arm’s length.
‘“And you did say that if I had an emergency, no matter where or when it was, you would come and rescue me...” Be still my beating heart. I never thought I would see the day when my irritating little brother would grow up to become a knight in shining armour.’
Desperate times called for desperate measures. Hal hooked his leg around hers and grabbed her firmly around the waist, but despite his best efforts to stop her wriggling, the damn letter remained resolutely out of his reach. With no other option, he seriously considered toppling her to the floor and rolling her up in the rug. ‘Give me my letter now, Connie—or so help me!’ He tightened his arm around her ribs and squeezed in warning. Hardly an act of war, but what else could he do under the circumstances? She was a woman and, even though she was a termagant and often his torturer, he was morally incapable of physically harming her. Being a human corset was the best he could do.
‘“I would be eternally grateful...”’ Squeeze. ‘“If you could...”’ Squeeze. ‘“Come to dinner tonight. I know...”’ Really big squeeze. ‘“It is short notice and I apologise. We always eat promptly at eight. Lizzie.”’
When only one hand and her vibrant red head poked unapologetically out of the cage he had formed around her, a breathless Hal finally snatched the note out of her frantically waving and ridiculously long arm and scanned it himself, but that was all there was. Five sentences leaving him none the wiser, but elated. Not only had she not retracted her promise to be at the dreadful house party as he had initially feared, she wasn’t telling him off for the stolen public kiss and wanted to see him. Hal could not bring himself to care about the particular circumstances although he suspected it might be dullard related.
‘Shall I inform Cook that we will be one less this evening?’ There were times he wished he wasn’t a gentleman so that he could strangle his smug sister. Even physically restrained, she always had something to say. Hal did not bother answering as he let her go and paced to the opposite side of the room to read the letter again to see if he could glean any more from it.
‘I believe this is a first for you.’
‘I have dined with women before. On numerous occasions.’
‘Yes, but I assume on those occasions you dined alone with them.’ Connie settled her bottom into his vacated chair and began to twiddle with his letter opener. ‘This will be vastly different.’
He should ignore her; he knew that from old. ‘How so?’
‘Well, for a start, you will be in company.’
Hal had assumed as much. Lizzie was hardly the sort of woman who would ignore propriety and there would be at least one dullard in attendance as well. ‘I eat dinner in your company every day and to the best of my knowledge I haven’t managed to disgrace myself once. Well, not in the last few years at least.’
‘That hardly counts seeing as we are family...’ His sister smiled the patronising smile she used when she thought she knew better than him. Unfortunately, damn her, she usually did. ‘However, to the best of my knowledge, Brother dearest, this is the first dinner you have ever taken with a woman and her father. You are going to be on display. Scrutinised. Judged. The Earl of Upminster is a well-respected member of the Government. Only the best sort will pass muster for his daughter. From what I witnessed at the concert he heartily disapproves of you already. This dinner could be a potentially painful and dangerous affair, fraught with pitfalls. It could ruin your chances like that.’ She clicked her fingers for emphasis and stared back at him seriously.
As their alliance was a mutually beneficial sham, brought about by a secret wager with Connie’s husband, who was blissfully ignorant of the separate bargain he had made with Lizzie to win his wager with Aaron, it seemed prudent to respond with casual uninterest.
It hardly mattered to Hal what Upminster thought of him. It was not as if he was really applying for the position of the man’s son-in-law. Too many wild oats, et cetera, but if he appraised his sister of his alliance with Lizzie to stop her vexing him she was boun
d to tell Aaron, because she told Aaron everything. And if she got wind of the Mistletoe Wager then both he and Aaron were as good as dead because they had both promised Connie faithfully they would never enter into another wager again after the unfortunate incident at the Serpentine.
Good grief! This was all becoming unnecessarily confusing. His sister watched his face carefully as he considered it all, clearly searching his reaction to try to gauge the strength of his feelings for Lizzie.
‘If you make a hash of this dinner, her father could forbid Lady Elizabeth from seeing you.’
Which rather put a different spin on things and gave him more to worry about than his complicated deceptions. Lizzie would be at the mercy of Ockendon, he would be chased by the hordes and Aaron would gloat while Hal had to shovel dung.
A quick glance at the mantel clock alerted him to the fact that it was less than an hour until eight. Instantly, he was off the floor and dashing to his bedchamber, determined to make a good impression.
* * *
Lizzie wanted to pace the floor of the drawing room or to stare expectantly through the lace curtains to see if Hal was going to come and rescue her. However, as her father’s hostess, she was stuck making small talk with the insipid bunch of gentlemen he had foisted on her for the evening. She should have anticipated this scenario the moment her wily papa had conceded that one dance would hardly convince her to take a husband. Two paltry hours’ notice was all he had given her for tonight’s impromptu, informal little dinner, as he had sprung it on her the moment she arrived home from the toy shop.
Although it did not appear to be particularly impromptu as far as he was concerned. No, indeed! A great deal of planning had gone into this little shenanigan. Georgie had been fed and was safely ensconced in the nursery and any sign there was a child in the house had been eradicated by the servants before she had learned they were expecting company. Not including her father there were three single gentlemen in total and not one single lady apart from herself. ‘This is merely a meeting of colleagues,’ he had said by way of explanation. ‘An informal gathering arranged in haste so we hardly need to stand on ceremony. None of the gentlemen will expect it.’
They came in all shapes and sizes, she had to give her father credit for that at least, because he had considered variety even if the gentlemen in question were all drawn from the junior ranks of the government. But each and every one was only here for either her dowry or to impress her powerful father. In reality, all three were probably here for both. Lizzie was nicely trapped and doomed to get to know these crushing bores far better than she ever wanted.
Lord Hewitt was everything she had suspected he would be. Sensible, bland and filled with an overwhelming sense of his own importance. Lord Cheshire, on the other hand, looked as though he wouldn’t say boo to a goose and blushed pink to the tips of his ears every time he so much as glanced in her direction and the least said about the stick-thin Lord Roseby the better. Like a lapdog he was hanging on her every word, a little too close, a little too cloying. His pale skin had a blue hue about it which made him appear ill.
Blue, pink and bland. A fine bunch of dullards, who would be here for hours trying to impress her properly seeing as they had been denied the opportunity on the dance floor. If that wasn’t bad enough, her papa was currently listing her virtues like a litany. Intelligent, kind-hearted, accomplished, a sensible household manager, a good hostess... Of course, he was conveniently omitting her other attributes. Ruined. Compromised. Soiled. Comes with additional baggage you will need to find room for. No doubt it would take a significant amount of palm-greasing to erase those stains.
* * *
At five minutes to eight, when their butler came in to the drawing room looking harried, Lizzie almost visibly slumped with relief. ‘The Earl of Redbridge is on the doorstep, my lord, and he is most insistent he has been invited here to dine.’
‘Why, that is preposter—’
‘He has, Stevens. Do show him in.’ Lizzie stood and smiled sweetly at her father’s outraged expression. He was not the only one who could casually lie and scheme on the quiet. ‘Seeing as this impromptu dinner is a meeting of your colleagues, I didn’t think you would mind if I invited someone to converse with when the conversation inevitably turns to state matters. Besides, with the Earl of Redbridge we are now six and six diners perfectly balances the table. You know I hate odd numbers.’
‘If you wanted to balance the table, you should have invited some ladies!’
‘So should you. Had I been given more notice of this evening’s plans I would have. At such a late stage I could only extend an invitation to one of our close neighbours. The Earl resides around the corner in Berkeley Square.’
‘There must be a great many young ladies living closer, Lizzie!’
‘Oh, there are, but I do so enjoy Hal’s company, Papa.’ Clearly she had to abandon her original plan to appear disinterested in the Earl of Redbridge’s attentions in front of him. However, as her father had taken an immediate dislike to Hal he would likely be relieved when their sham courtship came to its natural conclusion in the new year, so she was hardly giving him false hope and banished the pang of guilt.
‘If the gossips are to be believed, a great many women enjoy Redbridge’s company, Lady Elizabeth. I am surprised you would tolerate him.’
How marvellous. Lord Hewitt was patronising as well as condescending and bland. Lizzie shot a warning glance at her papa and set her jaw stubbornly. ‘If my chosen guest is not welcome with the present company, Father, then I shall take tea with him in the morning room and then eat my dinner alone in my room. On a tray.’ The temptation to poke out her tongue and flounce off was enormous.
‘Of course he is welcome, Daughter. If you have invited him as a guest, then I am sure he has a great many redeeming qualities which make him deserving of a place at my table and I should be glad to learn of them over the course of the evening. As I am sure you will make every effort to learn about the redeeming qualities of our other guests as well.’ Lizzie loathed it when her father used his politician’s voice. His mouth said one thing, but his tone and expression said quite another.
There was not time to make a pithy retort to that effect as Hal strode into the dining room confidently, clutching the most beautiful bouquet of hothouse flowers, and his eyes locked warmly on hers. A wonderful extravagance which must have cost a small fortune in December and one which nicely told the dullards he had no need of her dowry. Nestled amongst the blooms were pink roses and one single stem of prickly holly. The holly made her feel all funny because she knew he had put it there deliberately. For her.
‘Lizzie, you look stunning.’ He gave her the flowers and then very slowly kissed her hand, gazing up at her with questioning eyes. She supposed it was right that she should appraise him of the reason for her summons although the feel of his lips on her skin was making casual, coded conversation difficult.
‘I am so glad you were able to come, on such short notice, but as you can see, my father decided at the last minute to invite some of his government colleagues and you know how dull I sometimes find matters of state.’
‘Ah...yes.’ People could say what they liked about Hal’s dubious scandalous reputation, but there was no denying the man was as sharp as a tack. He gave her a saucy wink. ‘State matters. Very dull indeed. I am glad I could come to your aid.’ He squeezed her hand reassuringly before dropping it. Only then did he turn to the other men in the room. ‘Thank you for having me Lord Upminster. It is a great honour to finally be here.’ She watched Hal’s eyes wander towards Stevens before he smiled at the scowling butler triumphantly.
Her father smiled stiffly and Lizzie tried not to be openly amused at how Hal cheerfully greeted his guests and how they responded with barely disguised disdain. Lord Hewitt attempted to look down his nose at him—however, being more than several inches shorter, he had to do so l
ooking upwards which rather spoiled the effect and drew attention to the frightening size of his flared nostrils and the profusion of hair growing within them. Pink Cheshire was clearly intimidated up against such a powerful specimen of obvious, confident manhood and did his best to blend into the wallpaper whilst Roseby began to resemble a ghost stood next to Hal, a pale, reedy apparition who would blow away like mist in a strong gust of wind.
If only they all would.
Thankfully, they were called in to dinner at the stroke of eight. In hopeful anticipation of being saved, Lizzie had arranged a sixth place setting without her father’s knowledge and had also had the good sense to swap around the name tags he had placed strategically on the table hours before. Now, the pompous Lord Hewitt was seated next to her dear papa at the opposite end of the table, Hal was sat to her right and pink Cheshire was to her left. Never having spoken to any of the other men before, it was undoubtedly a stroke of luck she had accidentally placed herself next to the shy one as he was hardly going to dominate her time. That said, the uncomfortable silence around the table as they all waited for the soup was quite painful and as hostess she supposed the task of finding an initial topic of conversation fell to her.
‘Are any of you attending Lord Danbury’s house party this weekend?’
Both Hewitt and Cheshire nodded, but only Bland Hewitt spoke. ‘Indeed I shall—but for the hunting, you understand. Nothing more. I find the typical yuletide entertainments puerile. I am of the opinion silly parlour games should be played by children, not grown men.’
‘Oh, I don’t know, there is something to be said for the odd parlour game. Occasionally, they can be fun.’ Her papa was a great lover of charades and quite ridiculously competitive at all games involving cards. Speculation was a particular favourite because he always insisted it was played for money and tended to be a very sore loser if he lost his. This comment earned him a frown from Lord Hewitt.
His Mistletoe Wager Page 9
