His Mistletoe Wager

by Virginia Heath

  * * *

  Georgie was having a whale of a time with Hal, who was attempting to teach her son the rudiments of fencing when her father came in. The sight brought him up short. As he stared at them, Lizzie noticed how old and tired he suddenly appeared. He was suffering, too, yet they had barely exchanged a single word since they returned from the ill-fated Danbury house party.

  She walked towards him and threaded her arm through his and his hand instantly came to rest on hers tightly. They were both apologising without words, yet both knew there were many things still to say. None of them was likely to be pleasant, not when their secrets were about to implode.

  ‘Stevens informed me he visited yesterday, asking to speak to Master George. Your son seems to like him a great deal, Lizzie.’

  ‘Hal is easy to like, Papa. He wants to help us.’

  ‘I can sort this all out, there is no need to trouble yourself or...’ Stubborn to a fault. Always trying to protect her.

  ‘I met with Ockendon yesterday.’

  The air left his body in a whoosh. ‘You shouldn’t have done that.’

  ‘He knows about Georgie, too—and how you and Aylesbury had Rainham dispatched to Botany Bay.’

  ‘I see.’ She felt him wobble and guided him to a seat. He sat heavily, looking every inch his sixty-two years. ‘At the time...well...’

  ‘I do not judge you for it. If somebody tried to hurt Georgie I would happily do the same. However, as I am sure you have already worked out, he is threatening to turn you over to the authorities unless I agree to marry him.’

  ‘Let him. I would rather that than—’ She held up her hand before he could protest.

  ‘I would rather not have to see you go to gaol or, Heaven forbid, hanged because of me. If it comes to it, I will marry Ockendon.’ Her dear papa appeared suddenly so bereft. ‘Hal is of the opinion we can stop Ockendon and I would never forgive myself if I did not at least try to prevent that man from destroying my life. You need to tell us the truth. All of it.’

  His eyes flicked to the fencing match and Hal met his stare head on. He smiled, then went back to entertaining Georgie to give them some privacy. ‘Do you trust him, Lizzie?’

  A silly question when her heart was positively bursting with affection and gratitude for the man. ‘Implicitly.’

  Her son jabbed the point of his sword in Hal’s belly. He clutched the imaginary wound, staggered left, then right and then proceeded to die noisily on the carpet. When Georgie giggled, he jumped up again, hoisted him into the air, flipped him upside down and marched him dangling by his feet towards them. The sight made her yearn for such a heart-warming picture every day. Her son’s laughter. A happy home. One which Hal shared. If only her circumstances had been different.

  ‘Are we making my snowman’s lady-friend now, Hal?’

  ‘We shall make her this afternoon. I have to speak to your grandpapa first.’

  ‘What about?’

  Hal tapped the side of his nose conspiratorially. ‘Christmas surprises, young man. Secret Christmas surprises for nasty little boys who love bugs. Now, off with you. Go and pester your nanny, or, even better, Stevens. I will wager good money the man is loitering just outside the door.’

  Lizzie took his chubby hand and led him out. Conscious that her days with him were limited, she did not hurry to settle him with his nanny. These moments were now too precious and she would not squander one no matter how dire things were for her. By the time she returned to the drawing room, her father and Hal were sat, heads together, in deep conversation. They had been joined by Viscount Ardleigh, who appeared a little stunned at what he was hearing, but no less engaged. They paused as she entered and for the briefest of moments she could tell her father was on the brink of dismissing her in his usual over-protective way. Hal patted the space next to him on the sofa. ‘I have brought Aaron up to speed with your situation, Lizzie.’

  ‘This is all my fault.’ Her papa’s voice was choked with guilt. ‘I should have let the Duke of Aylesbury have him killed or left him to rot in Botany Bay.’

  ‘Why did you bring him back?’ Although Lizzie suspected she already knew the answer. Her father did not have a mean bone in his body.

  ‘I don’t know.’ He sighed and shook his head. ‘When I packed him off, I was careful. Nobody knew his true identity. The ship’s captain believed him to be a fraudster, a man who had a reputation for impersonating people to defraud them. That way, I assumed nobody would listen to him ranting about being a peer of the realm. But of course, then I had no idea you were carrying the man’s child. Once I learned that, and after Georgie was born, the guilt ate away at me. I couldn’t stomach the thought of my grandson asking about his father and knowing that I had sent him to hell to die. I used my connections to have him brought back—but knew I never wanted him near you both. I threatened him with Aylesbury, his creditors...whatever I could to keep him away, and like a fool I let him go back to his estate, certain he would never darken our doors again. I shouldn’t have done that. I put you in harm’s way.’

  ‘I put myself in harm’s way, Papa. Ockendon saw me with Georgie in Richmond Park, then followed me repeatedly to be sure. As he said, I am a creature of habit. Every Tuesday and Thursday...’

  Hal turned towards her and took her hand. As usual her pulse stepped up a notch at his touch. ‘We need to know word for word what he said to you yesterday. What do you remember?’

  Lizzie remembered it all. How could she not? It had been the singularly most important and terrifying conversation of her life. She had spent the entire night recalling Ockendon’s chilling words and mourning her own stupidity. Realising you had been instrumental in your own downfall was devastating. Her outings to Richmond had given Ockendon everything he had needed. Step by step, she repeated the conversation, pausing to answer the numerous questions Hal or his brother-in-law threw at her. How did he look when he said that? Did he stipulate why he needed a wife with a large dowry? Like the most thorough lawyers they cross-examined every word, every nuance in Ockendon’s behaviour, searching for clues to help. She briefly considered withholding some of the disgusting insinuations the old Earl had made about her fertility and their marriage bed, but decided against it. The information might be pertinent and if there was the slimmest chance of escaping her fate, Lizzie intended to grasp it and so did Hal. Therefore, only the truth would suffice.

  * * *

  At the end of her testimony, Hal stood and began to pace, royally furious on her behalf. ‘We need to work swiftly if we are going to silence Ockendon. Let’s find his weak spot. I shall use my contacts in the city to see if our Earl has made any foolhardy investments of late or taken out any loans.’ It was obvious he was keen to get started. He was in danger of wearing a hole in the carpet.

  ‘And I shall do some digging in Whitehall.’ The old fire had relit in her papa’s eyes. Yet another thing she owed to Hal. ‘If he has got himself into trouble somewhere, somebody there is bound to know something. You are right—the more dirt we can find on that old fool the better. He will rue the day he threatened my daughter!’

  ‘We could probably do with some extra help finding his accomplice. I shall head to Bow Street and engage some Runners. Rainham has to be somewhere close. The weather turned nasty the night he parted company with Ockendon and the best place to hide a wastrel is London.’ Lord Ardleigh stood, too, and took her hand. ‘Ockendon is nowhere near as clever as he thinks himself to be. He will have slipped up somewhere. Try not to worry.’ Shocked at his kindness, Lizzie merely nodded. She barely knew this man, yet he was here, loyally supporting her because of Hal.

  ‘What can I do?’ Suddenly doing nothing felt like the worst sort of punishment. She would go quite mad with worry.

  ‘Georgie needs you.’ Hal’s voice was soft. Sympathetic. ‘And I think you need him, too.’

  It dawned on her t
hen that this very well could be her last ever Christmas with her son. The last stretch of uninterrupted time she might ever be allowed to have with him again and the sudden tears filled her eyes and threatened to spill down her cheeks. Stoically, Lizzie turned her face towards the window, hoping for some composure. Now was not the time for either tears or panic. She had some hope and she would cling resolutely to it until it died. If it died.

  ‘If you do not mind me saying, Lady Elizabeth, you shouldn’t be alone.’ Lord Ardleigh pressed a clean handkerchief into her hand. ‘You need to keep occupied. I have a wonderful wife who will be more than happy to keep you company and two equally wonderful daughters who are about the same age as your son and would love another playmate. I have already sent word to Berkeley Square and expect them here presently. I’ll wager they will help to take your mind off things.’

  Hal stalked to the door, impatient to get started and ready to do battle again on Lizzie’s behalf. His mossy eyes locked on hers as his hand hovered on the handle. ‘Can you apologise to Georgie for me? Tell him I will be back to build the snow lady as I promised.’

  He remembered her son.

  Lizzie nodded and stared stunned at the now-closed door. Amidst all the panic and the plotting and the impending threat of scandal, he remembered he had made a promise to her little boy. The tears fell from her eyes so she closed them, lest her father or Lord Ardleigh see the tell-tale emotion swirling in them. The gratitude, the wonder, the trust, the yearning, the absolute certainty which only came from one thing.

  Love.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The next few days passed in a blur. The men were on a quest to save her from Ockendon, so she saw her father rarely and Hal not at all. She had no idea where he had gone. All she knew was he had left London unexpectedly on her behalf and she was now worried sick about him, too. Hal had departed in such a haste that he had neglected to appraise either her papa or Aaron of his destination, except to say that he was following a rumour.

  A rumour!

  Did the man seriously think that was explanation enough at a time like this? However, thanks to Connie and Hal’s mother, Lizzie was never left alone with her thoughts, something which was just as well as they kept turning very dark very quickly when she finally collapsed exhausted in her bed at night. The days, however, despite her inner turmoil, were filled with Christmas and the wonderful sounds of children laughing as Georgie had the time of his life with the hellions-in-training Prudence and Grace.

  The Christmas part was wholly unexpected and strangely therapeutic. Every year her father closed up his Mayfair house for a week and the family travelled to Cheshire for Christmas, so aside from a holly wreath on the door Lizzie had never bothered doing anything else to honour the season whilst in town. This year, thanks to the drama she was embroiled in, the Wildings were staying put and the Stuart family had adopted them all into their own festivities.

  Hal’s sister Connie had been a godsend. The first time she had visited, she had come alone, insisted on Lizzie eating something, then had sat and listened quietly to the whole sorry tale without judgement. Everything had poured out, from the first moment her fiancé had scrambled up the wisteria to the dreadful ultimatum she had received from the Earl of Ockendon. The only bits Lizzie kept private were the personal and intimate details involving Hal. Although Connie was being lovely, it was unlikely she would want to hear that a totally unsuitable woman had fallen head over heels for her noble brother, or that Hal had proposed before he had known about Georgie and undoubtedly regretted it now. Lizzie’s feelings hardly mattered. To her credit, Hal’s sister was nothing but supportive.

  The next time Connie had visited, she had brought her daughters and her mother, and the children played boisterously while the ladies chatted. Once Connie learned that there were no Christmas plans in place, she had galvanised the whole house into action, pointing out, quite rightly, that her son deserved to have a wonderful, magical time, and certainly did not need to see his mother fretting while the menfolk sorted out the ‘other nonsense.’

  So that was what Ockendon’s threats became. The other nonsense. Nonsense which would all come to naught because Aaron and Hal would fix it. Connie and her mother were so certain of this fact, it gave Lizzie lingering hope they might be right. Even if they weren’t, she wanted to believe it. Just for a few days. Just in case this truly was her last ever Christmas with her son and her father. The fear and stress was still there, but instead of mulling over it, Lizzie allowed the Stuart family to take over her life and force her to bring Christmas kicking and screaming into Grosvenor Square.

  Now, if she said so herself, the finished article was very festive. She had never seen so much holly. Shiny sprigs decorated every nook and cranny, winter greenery was woven through chandeliers, framed every fireplace and doorway and the poor kitchen was working overtime to bake every cinnamon-and spice-infused delight known to man. With the snow, and with two playmates close to his own age, Georgie was in his element, a smile of perpetual childish ecstasy permanently glued to his face. He was having a positively marvellous Christmas Eve.

  ‘Stevens—we need more carrots.’ The flame-haired Prudence issued this order as if she was the lady of the house and the soft-hearted butler stopped pushing the giant snowball he had been instructed to roll and brushed the sticky, fresh snow from his gloved hands.

  ‘I shall enquire in the kitchens, my lady, although cook was complaining only yesterday about the amount of carrots which have recently been procured by the three of you.’ He cast his eyes pointedly over the battalions of carrot-nosed snowmen now littering the lawn. All snowmen. Georgie stubbornly refused to have any ladies because his new hero Hal had promised they would build one together.

  ‘If it helps the kitchen, we could make do with parsnips.’ Prudence gave the butler a regal nod. ‘And we shall use Georgie’s chalks to colour them orange.’

  Despite the weight of the world on her shoulders, the peculiar exchange made Lizzie smile as she remembered how Hal had bragged he encouraged his nieces to be resourceful with the materials at hand. The idea of them all colouring parsnips in the snow was as ridiculous as it was charming. Oh, to be a child and have such a simplistic view of the world. If only all problems could be solved with some coloured chalks!

  ‘Is that my daughter issuing orders?’

  ‘Papa!’

  Aaron strode across the garden in his greatcoat, grinning, and his two girls squealed simultaneously and flew at him. He picked them both up boisterously, then went to kiss his wife with a wriggling daughter tucked under each arm. The public show of family affection made her envious, so she looked away, only to see her son watching the reunion intently. She walked towards him and began to assist him in slapping snow on to the body of the lopsided snowman currently under construction.

  ‘Where is my papa?’

  That knot of guilt she always carried was worse than usual. ‘Far, far away, my darling.’ At one point, she now knew, Australia—and by her father’s hand—now back to haunt her again. Lizzie adjusted her son’s woollen hat so that it covered his ears and tried to distract him. ‘I think we need more snow for his head.’

  ‘Is Hal my papa?’

  Lizzie’s chest tightened. ‘No.’

  ‘Are you sure? Only he is far, far away at the moment, isn’t he? And we do have the same dark hair...just like Prudence and Grace have their mother’s red hair. Your hair is blonde so I must follow my father. I think Hal and I look similar, don’t you? And he carries me like Lord Ardleigh carries Grace and Prudence. Better, in fact, because he carries me upside down.’

  With a catch in her voice, Lizzie smiled, completely flummoxed as how to answer him and yet reluctant to crush his childish dreams—or hers—just yet. ‘As it’s Christmas Eve, have you made a wish?’

  As she’d hoped, her little boy turned to her quizzically. ‘I have to m
ake a wish? How do I do that?’

  ‘When you go to bed tonight, you have to close your eyes and concentrate hard on whatever it is you want the most.’

  ‘What sort of things can I wish for?’

  ‘Well...’ She began to pat more snow on to the snowman’s body, absurdly grateful Georgie was distracted by the thought of wishes. She wasn’t ready to talk about his father yet and would put it off for as long as was humanly possible. For ever, maybe. ‘At Christmas time, people usually wish for something they do not have. A new toy, perhaps? Wooden tops, building bricks...an entire army of lead soldiers...’

  His eyes lit up. ‘If I wish for it, will I get it?’

  ‘That depends on how hard you wish for it.’

  ‘Then I shall go to bed early and wish all night.’ In view of her desperate situation, Lizzie decided to do exactly the same.

  * * *

  It was two in the morning by the time Hal’s horse trotted wearily into Mayfair. Fortunately, the skies had remained clear for his entire journey home from Norfolk, and although thick snow showed no signs of melting it had been crisp and easy to navigate. Perhaps riding through the night had been foolhardy, but he had wanted to be able to tell Lizzie his news as soon as possible, knowing she must still be worried sick. The last time he had seen her she had been so demoralised and broken, and like her knight errant he had been determined to avenge her.

  He contemplated knocking on the front door, but that would mean waking the house and he selfishly wanted her all to himself first. She probably wouldn’t like it, but for a myriad of complicated reasons which he did not want to have to analyse in case he thought better of it, he was going to climb the wisteria again.

  Bone weary and frozen stiff, the ascent took more out of him than it had the first fateful time, and the sash window was very definitely now locked. Hal rapped on the glass and hung on for grim death. Immediately, the heavy curtains were torn apart and Lizzie’s startled face appeared in the window. She was a sight for sore eyes. Her golden hair loosely plaited. The frothy nightgown an explosion of feminine lace. Her rosebud lips slightly parted in shock. At some point in the very near future, he fully intended to kiss them as he had thought of them constantly for days, although he needed to be able to feel his own lips first. The two icy strips of flesh that framed his mouth were probably unattractively blue and completely numb. He wanted to be able to feel her when he briefly succumbed to the temptation. Feel her and taste her properly because she was like a drug he craved and had gone far too long without, so it stood to reason he needed to thaw out sufficiently first. Hal gave his best approximation of a grin, which under the circumstances was less than half-hearted, and she fumbled with the catch and slid the window upwards.