His Mistletoe Wager

by Virginia Heath

  The trickle of unease had begun the moment Ockendon had arrived. His wily old eyes had scanned the room, searching for her. She had known it emphatically when they had briefly locked with hers. She had seen him smile maliciously, then slowly turn towards his companion in introduction. The satisfied, knowing smile he wore was unsettling. At first, she had not known who it was. His back had been to her as he removed his greatcoat; the coat finally gone, Ockendon’s companion turned around and nausea slammed into her. Lizzie literally couldn’t breathe. All the air had rushed out of her in a stinging swoosh the moment she saw Rainham, tight bands of panic wrapped around her ribs prevented her from sucking any more in and, like a frightened deer, she had bolted towards the French doors.

  The dire implications did not need to be spelled out because she had feared them for five long years. Ockendon knew she had secrets. Perhaps not all of them, but enough ammunition to force his suit. Aside from her secret, her poor papa had been through so much already. Her debacle, his wife’s untimely death soon after—he did not deserve to see his life’s work and good name ruined, too, because of her mistake.

  If only she had had the courage to put her escape plan in to action sooner. The little house was waiting for her and Georgie in the north. Had been waiting for two months now. She had wanted to give her dear papa one last Christmas, putting off the dreadful day when she had to tell him she was leaving and taking his beloved grandson with her—she knew how much this would upset her father. Suddenly, that upset seemed kinder than what was about to happen. Her carefully constructed façade, the façade her father had worked hard to create on her behalf, was on the brink of collapsing like a house of cards. Unravelling into the mother of all scandals.

  Hal was still in a state of complete incredulity. ‘But everyone believes you called off the wedding.’

  ‘No. My fiancé had found another, richer prospect. A duke’s daughter. They were bound for Gretna Green—but intercepted before her life was ruined, too. Two silly young ladies had a lucky escape that day, I think.’ His hand came up to rest on her cheek and she saw the pity. The need to understand. To help. To fix. As if he could, by some miracle, make the tangled web of lies and secrets disappear. Why did he keep doing things that made her heart melt?

  Lizzie turned her head away from his touch. Much as she wanted his comfort, and she did want his comfort, she dared not confess all. There was too much at stake to risk baring her hand completely. Even to Hal. Not yet. Not when there still might be a chance to avoid it. ‘My father used his government connections to get it all hushed up.’

  She also suspected he had paid a fortune and pulled all manner of high-placed strings to completely ruin Rainham and have him banished from society. Her father was not a cruel man, but as a parent herself she understood he would have done whatever was necessary to protect his offspring. She would happily murder anyone who tried to hurt Georgie. Murder them and then happily hide the corpse. She sincerely doubted her father would feel any different. He was fiercely loyal and devoted to his family. It was no coincidence that her fiancé, normally a stalwart at all society functions, had disappeared so completely. He would not have disappeared without some serious persuading. Or some serious threats. Threats which would end her papa’s career in disgrace if the world suddenly found out he had abused his power in such a self-serving way. Lizzie had been so content knowing she would never see the wretch again, she had never asked her father to explain. Now she wished she had, although she doubted he would have told her even then. In her papa’s mind, women needed protecting from the world. Even fallen women.

  Why had Charles surfaced here? Why now? To see him with the slimy Ockendon, hot on the heels of the odious old Earl’s unexpected and creepy proposal, set alarm bells ringing. And the way Ockendon had looked at her—mentally undressing her, making no attempt at even trying to charm her. Behaving as if a union between them was little more than a formality.

  Inevitable.

  It was all too coincidental.

  Her mind was racing, trying to understand what the pair of them were up to and what, if anything, she could do about it. Lizzie needed to choose her next words very carefully. ‘I haven’t seen him since the day before the wedding.’ Blithely climbing down the wisteria, his passion spent in her willing body, his traitorous lips still lying to the end as he had blown her a final kiss goodbye.

  Was he now in cahoots with Ockendon?

  Probably. After what he had done, she would put nothing past Charles. He was the lowest of the low. Lower. If he was in league with Ockendon, then the old Earl knew he had lain with her. What else did he know? Her mind was spinning with questions. Had she slipped up somewhere? Had Georgie been seen? Had a servant talked? One glance at the sorry excuse for a man she had nearly married confirmed categorically what she had always suspected. Her son was the image of his father. The same dark hair. The same dark eyes. It would not take a genius to put two and two together.

  Lizzie needed to speak to her father.

  Hal took one look at her, saw the acute sadness, the distress and the fear, and instantly went on the offensive.

  ‘He broke your heart!’ She had never seen him so furious. ‘How dare he jilt you!’ He shot upright and she saw his hands fist, apparently ready to avenge her for the slight and she loved him for that. ‘I think that snake and I need to have words!’

  ‘No, Hal. The last thing I want is for him to ever know he mattered.’ She reached for his hand. Squeezed it. And because she wanted to hold it tight, lace her fingers with his and rest her head on his shoulder again and stay there for ever, she dropped it and went back to worrying the handkerchief she had ruined. ‘Or for the world to learn of the truth.’ At least that was the truth. There were more reputations at stake here than her own. Her father’s. Perhaps Lord Bulphan’s, too. Other good men who had helped her father erase Rainham from her life. Even the lovely, furious Earl stood quaking with rage in front of her. Earls could be rakes. In youth, it was practically expected. But regardless of his youthful indiscretions, he did not deserve to be pulled into this scandal when all he was guilty of was protecting her from her father’s matchmaking attempts. She had to distance herself from him, too. Now. Before it was too late.

  ‘I still want to kill him. But I won’t—if you don’t want me to.’ Hal was clearly still furious, but loyally bowed to her logic.

  ‘Seeing him was a shock. I simply needed a few minutes to gather myself together. When I greet him, I want to be dispassionate, not...not like this.’

  ‘Then you will greet him with me. On my arm. I want him to know I will skewer him if he so much as mentions anything to embarrass you.’

  ‘Agreed.’ Hal would act as a shield one last time until she knew what was at play. She also needed his strength and his presence more than she cared to acknowledge. ‘Just give me a few more minutes to compose myself.’ Her enemies would not see her with puffy eyes, her nose red from crying. They would see only the formidable and detached Lady Elizabeth Wilding. The one the world still believed had a pristine reputation.

  Hal nodded, snapped a fresh handkerchief out of his pocket and waited for her to fix her face. As she did so, he began pacing back and forth in front of the bench like a caged tiger. His angry breath sawing in and out in frozen, white puffs, his powerful long legs tearing up the ground. Gone was the erudite and charming face he presented to the world. The man who lacked both substance and purpose was nowhere to be seen. Stripped of that mask, Hal was formidable. His height and strong build had never been more apparent. There was so much more to him than the dashing rake. If anyone could intimidate her would-be fiancé and her former fiancé, it was Hal.

  When she finally stood, it was on shaky legs. Her knight in shining armour smiled, although there was ice in his eyes and a hardness about his jaw she had never seen before. Physically he appeared to have grown. Devoid of his veneer of charm, he was huge. Menaci
ng. Ready to charge into battle like one of the lead soldiers he had picked out for her little boy. ‘Are you ready to step into the lion’s den, fair maiden?’ The charming smile was false this time. Pasted on for her benefit to make her feel better. Beneath it his temper was tangible.

  ‘As ready as I will ever be.’ At least she had a tiger on her side as she ventured forth into the lion’s den. For the time being anyway. Their liaison was only ever meant to be a convenient sham, yet he was once again going above and beyond the parameters of their bargain. Ockendon and Rainham were a completely different kettle of fish to the dullards he had agreed to keep at bay. But, of course, when they had made the arrangement, she had no inkling her secrets were on the cusp of being exposed. A way to enjoy a month of peace before she began a new life.

  Far away.

  From everyone and everything she held dear.

  With a jolt, she realised she would miss Hal, too. When this was all over, if she emerged from it all unscathed, she would still see her papa on high days and holidays when she moved north. If the scandal erupted, her dear papa would probably be forced to withdraw permanently to his estate in Cheshire, and if Georgie’s existence became public knowledge, Lizzie supposed she could at least retire there, too. Either way, she would never see Hal again. The realisation rooted her to the spot for a moment as she gazed at him, pathetically trying to sear his image in her mind. Exactly as he was now. Solid. Strong. Loyal to a fault. Ready to defend her even though he did not know the half of what it was he was offering to defend.

  He saw her hesitation as further evidence of her fear and wrapped her chilled hand about his arm. ‘Come on then, Lizzie darling. Let’s show the snake you are unfazed.’

  An eerie calm settled over her as she stepped back into the Danburys’ enormous drawing room. Hiding or running would not put off the inevitable. The guests had thinned out this close to dinner, all gone to change or rest or whatever people did when there was a gap in the proceedings. Her father was missing, probably frantically searching for her, and so were their hosts. The Earl of Ockendon and the Marquess of Rainham were not. In fact, their strategic position in the very centre of the room could only mean one thing. They wanted her to see them. It was why they were here, after all.

  Beneath her palm she felt the corded muscles in Hal’s forearm stiffen. Aside from that he was the very picture of casual male confidence as he led her on a path directly towards them. His strength prevented her step from faltering when her former lover turned to look at her for the first time. Smiled nervously, then eagerly stood when Ockendon nudged him, just in case she tried to avoid conversing with him.

  ‘Lizzie. You look wonderful.’ There was a tremor in his voice. Fear? Guilt? ‘The years have been kind to you.’

  She could not say the same. He appeared to have aged far more than five years. Still handsome, he was paler. The dark hollows under his eyes suggested he was a creature of the night or did not sleep well. She hoped for the latter although suspected he was too shallow to have a conscience. Although it was plain to see he was not comfortable to be in this room. There was a jerkiness about his posture—as if he was on the cusp of running away. His breathing was uneven. His face sweating. His dark eyes, so like Georgie’s, watched her carefully. It was strange that one could unconditionally love and despise the same set of eyes at the same time.

  Regally she inclined her head. ‘You are too kind, my lord.’ Lizzie feared she would snarl if she said his actual name. It reminded her that he knew her far too well. All of her. She flicked her eyes to Ockendon who, she noted, had failed to stand in her presence. There was no sign of discomfort in his demeanour. He was enjoying this. ‘My Lord Ockendon.’ Another polite nod, although she made sure he saw her true feelings by turning her face up partially in disgust. He would not see how much he frightened her. Not now. Not ever.

  ‘Gentlemen.’ Hal, too, nodded and then smiled lazily at her. It was the sort of secret smile that couples shared. One which warned the two men she was his. To her it said something else entirely. It said I’ve got you. Don’t worry. It buoyed her to be bold. After all, there was no point beating about the bush. They were here for a purpose and one which likely included blackmail.

  ‘Lady Danbury had assumed you were not coming, Lord Ockendon.’ Lizzie was baiting him, as she feared his purpose. She also knew she could not fight against whatever he had planned unless she was appraised of the plan beforehand. If scandal was inevitable, she would meet it head on and then decide how to play it, if indeed she could. She had already decided she would do practically anything to protect her son—or her father. With a shiver, she realised, that might have to include marrying Ockendon.

  He eyed her up and down somewhat lasciviously, his rheumy eyes lingering too long on her bosom again. ‘Oh, I always intended on coming, lovely Lizzie. You knew that, though. Didn’t you? After our last little chat, I believe I left you in no doubt of my intentions.’

  She felt Hal tense and squeezed his arm to stop him replying. ‘I have still not given you leave to call me by my first name, sir. Nor will I ever.’

  The Earl smiled smugly. ‘Oh, I think you will. One day soon.’

  Hal’s thumb began to slowly caress the back of her hand.

  Obviously.

  It drew both men’s’ eyes very effectively, as he had intended. ‘There is something pathetic about an older man chasing a young woman, don’t you think? Especially when it is blatantly obvious her affections are directed elsewhere.’

  His gaze pulled her in and she was powerless to do anything except stare up into his hypnotic mossy-green eyes. Hal would think it was for show. Self-preservation in front of her two tormentors, and in part that was true, however, Lizzie also knew she was branding him into her memory. Squirrelling away the possessive gleam in his expression, wishing for once that it was more than just pretend. Wishing circumstances were so very different.

  ‘As far as I see things, Redbridge, nothing is set in stone until a lady walks back up the aisle with a ring on her finger.’ A blatant dig which told her he knew she had been left at the altar. He grinned at his companion. ‘Isn’t that right, Rainham?’

  True to form, Charles appeared devoid of any guilt for what he had done to her. He nodded at his odious friend, too eagerly, and then vainly avoided looking back towards her. Gone was the confident rake she had fallen for and in its place was a subservient lapdog; Ockendon was undoubtedly his master. ‘The absence of a ring means a lady is still fair game.’

  Chapter Twelve

  Hal sensed there was more going on here than he knew—however, he knew enough to intervene. As much as he wanted to feel Rainham’s nose shatter against his fist, his first duty was to help Lizzie save face and get through this uncomfortable and unexpected ordeal with her head held high. He forced the corners of his mouth to curve upwards. Forced himself to stick out his hand. Tried not to allow the revulsion show on his face as he shook Rainham’s heartily and took some comfort from the slightly bewildered and obviously terrified expression on the bounder’s face. Rainham was here under duress. Ockendon had some hold on him too.

  ‘We are all adults here...this nasty undercurrent is completely unnecessary. If anything, I should thank you, Rainham. Had you not been such a thoughtless, money-grabbing scoundrel, then I would have been denied the opportunity to have my darling Lizzie now.’

  He watched Ockendon’s eyes narrow and forced himself to pat the man on the back jovially, too. ‘I know Rainham here jilted her, old boy. Lizzie and I have no secrets from each other.’ Or they wouldn’t once he had got to the bottom of whatever was going on behind those guarded cornflower eyes. And he would get to the bottom of it. Of that he was determined.

  Ockendon knew something about her, something dreadful if Hal was any judge, and was going to use it to snag himself an heiress. His father had been as mercenary whenever money was concerned so he reco
gnised the signs. Locate the weakness, put pressure on that point mercilessly until it gave way, then reap the ill-gotten rewards. Whatever Ockendon had planned would not come to fruition. As soon as he got back to town, Hal was going to thoroughly investigate the man’s business affairs and any other affairs while he was about it. Rainham’s, too. He would dig and dig until he found dirt he could use. Their weaknesses. As much as he hated his father’s methods, Hal had been well schooled in the art of forcing the hands of others from the moment he could talk. He might not usually have the stomach to sink to such dastardly depths, but Ockendon had made himself fair game. He needed to speak to Lizzie. ‘If you will excuse us, gentlemen. We need to change for dinner.’

  ‘If I might have a word with Lady Elizabeth in private...’

  Hal’s face came within inches of the Earl’s. ‘You may not.’

  ‘I believe that is for the lady to decide.’

  As she was still holding on to his arm as if her life depended on it, Hal had felt her body stiffen at the request. ‘She has already decided she does not want you. Therefore, keep your inappropriate comments and filthy, impertinent looks to yourself. Tell the world your little friend here left her standing at the altar. It is in the past and she has me now. Try to frighten her or leer at her again and I will hunt you down and destroy you for it. Better yet, take this sorry excuse for a man back to whatever debauched and debased hellhole you found him in. Tonight. If either of you has the audacity to be seated at the table at dinner, then I will not be held accountable for my actions.’