Have Yourself a Merry Little Secret : a Christmas collection of historical romance (Have Yourself a Merry Little... Book 2)

by Collette Cameron

  So far, her few weeks in London had been filled with balls, musical evenings, supper parties, and visits to places like the museum and the art galleries. In exchange for his money and being scrupulously entertained by him, the rakishly handsome earl merely wanted an heir from her. Naturally, that would never happen. She meant to do no more than make false promises to keep him trailing after her. False promises worked on a man as effectively as on a woman.

  An expert, lying seducer had taught her this.

  She doubted anything but Westerham’s pride would be hurt when she ended the farce, an expectation that somewhat eased her mind. No one outside the family knew that he thought she would marry him. Of course she couldn’t. A kind and considerate man like him deserved so much better.

  For the past few days she had managed not to be left alone with him, for her own sake rather than his. His kiss had almost caused her to confess to him what she had done, but at this stage, when she didn’t know if she would suffer the consequences, she thought she could keep her worries a secret.

  She put the bank note into her reticule and walked downstairs to Westerham’s study, a large room off the hallway. He spent most mornings here, no doubt taking care of estate matters, the same way Eden did. His door stood open. She noted the way the morning light reflected from the highly polished wood of his desk, which sat in view of the door. A halo of light shone on his head, giving his hair a burnished glow. “Make sure you get these into today’s post,” he said to his secretary in a mild voice. His gaze turned to her, noticing she stood in the hallway. “Good morning, Lady Mary. Do come in. Have you met my secretary, Mr. Plum?”

  She curtsied to the gentleman, whom she had seen in passing. “Good morning, sir.”

  He bowed and, slightly pink faced, mumbled a few shy words in greeting. She smiled at him before focusing on her main object, the earl. “I received this bank note from Eden. May I have one of your footmen to escort me to the bank?”

  The earl held out an imperious hand. “I’ll bank it for you.”

  “I want the money today.” This morning, she had developed a headache, and she didn’t want to argue with him. She passed over the note.

  “Attend to this, Plum.”

  His secretary nodded.

  “He’ll exchange the note for cash, I hope.”

  The earl shrugged. “If you want five hundred guineas in your hand today, I’m sure Plum can provide them. But that’s too a great amount of money to be carrying around.”

  “I want to pay the dressmaker for the last gown I ordered, and settle my account with the milliner.”

  His forehead creased. “It’s best to pay on delivery.” He appeared put out.

  “That seems a little callous when the dressmaker and the milliner have to buy the materials.”

  “They would have them on hand. They only need to pay their workers.”

  “Is that the way it’s normally done?”

  Eyeing her with a steely gaze, he managed a terse nod. “What are your other plans for the day?”

  Apparently, her only plan had been dismissed by him. She had to pay her bills before he did, for she had no intention of being beholden. If she said so, he would explain again that buying his wife, or in her case, his to-be wife, her season’s wardrobe would be his pleasure. Him buying a single article for her was a burden she didn’t intend to bear, especially not today when the throbbing in her head seemed to want to take over her every thought. Therefore, she had no choice other than to lie to him. “I must visit the library. Alice will go with me.”

  Strangely, seeing him in his study wearing a plain brown jacket over mustard colored breeches made him look more approachable. In evening dress, when he shone like a star on a still night, she had kissed him in a storage room. Fortunately, since then, she hadn’t been alone with him. She’d made sure of that, for reality had set in for she had no plan to marry anyone. Nevertheless, the experience with him had been well worth having, delightful, in fact, even though kissing him had been her plan to keep him interested enough to let her finish her season.

  “You won’t need money for the library.” He glanced down at the papers on the desk as if he dismissed her.

  “I might want to buy ribbons while I am out,” she said, stubbornly, her head pounding.

  He stared into her eyes, and shifted around in his chair, delving into his jacket pockets. Finally he found a handful of guineas, which he passed to her, perhaps hoping that his largesse would stave her off for a while. “That should be enough to buy ribbons.”

  “How long before I can have my own money?” she said tiredly, rubbing at the small of her back.

  “Are you determined to hold five hundred guineas in your hand?”

  “Yes.”

  He heaved a sigh. “Well then, later today.”

  She closed her eyes for a moment. Now she had to find Alice, visit the library, and buy ribbons when she would much prefer to pay the dressmaker the money she owed. At least that would get her out of the house and keep her away from him for a while.

  That night, she began her menses, which explained her headache. Her weariness began to disappear. She attended a supper party in a much better mood, and laughed so hard at one overheard joke, that Westerham eyed her with suspicion for some time.

  Chapter 10

  Westerfield had trouble understanding Lady Mary’s moods. One moment she was almost frenetically happy, sparkling with life. During those times, he wanted to hug her as if the physical contact might transfer her joy to him. The next moment she behaved absently mindedly, and stared at him as if she couldn’t remember who he was. Amazingly enough, he accepted the latter with barely a blink. Not only did he desire her, he also liked her. She appeared to be able to manage any situation with grace.

  The way she treated the servants was a delight to behold. Her dresser’s eyes shone with stars when she gazed at her mistress, who could clearly never do wrong. The footmen hastened to open and close doors for her, and his butler, a stickler at the best of times, had relaxed a few of his rules to accommodate her, the latest being carrying her hat boxes as she walked up the stairs. Westerham could swear that one of the footmen was willing to fight for the right to be her carpet, but Lady Mary didn’t appear to notice how she affected the people around her. She simply smiled and wandered where she would.

  He tried to broach the subject with his secretary, Plum, who usually loved an excuse to gossip, but Plum simply said, “She cares for people.”

  All well and good, but did she care for him? After kissing her in the storage room, he had expected blushes or a conscious smile from her when they met at breakfast the following morning, but her face told him nothing. He couldn’t believe she had forgotten the incident, except for the fact that she almost avoided him, during the next few days. That told him that she did remember but didn’t want to repeat the experience. His former self would have said he should remind her, but she had somehow shattered his conceptions about himself.

  He had thought he was a good catch. He had thought he didn’t have a heart to lose. He had thought that he would never finish mourning the death of one brother and the maiming of the other. After revisiting his emotions, he decided that his sadness over the death of his second brother would last his whole life, but should no longer affect how he behaved. While he would always love and miss his brother, he had somehow learned to live without his sage advice.

  He also now realized his living brother didn’t need constant sympathy. He merely needed an older brother who didn’t keep reminding him that he was maimed, not that he had said so, but his patience with Westerham said that for him. In the meantime, Westerham had no other choice than to treat Lady Mary the way she treated him—with circumspect behavior. She gave him no sign that she noticed.

  Instead, she had a busy week accepting invitations from all and sundry. He considered not accompanying her tonight for a violin recital. If she expected his escort after they married, she would need to rethink her priorities when accepting
invitations. He sat, arms crossed, trying to shut his ears against the screech of the strings. Even the prettiness of the young debutante trying to impress her hoped-for suitors with her talents didn’t mitigate his agony. As he tried to get the attention of Mary, hoping she would agree to leave, a tap on his shoulder caused him to turn. He arose instantly, his mood lightening.

  Eden, Lord Thornton, stood, his arms folded across his chest, grinning like a fool. “Come with me,” he said in a tone slightly above a whisper. His sideways flick of his head indicated the direction.

  Westerham didn’t even try to motion to Mary, who appeared to be wrapped in the atrocious music. Instead, he hurried out of the room with her brother. “When did you arrive in town?” he asked, as he followed Thornton to the supper room.

  “About half an hour ago. Della refused to accompany me here, which is lucky for the violinist, because Della is short tempered and would likely grab that violin and bash it against the wall.” Eden always spoke in extremes. His lovely wife would have crossed her arms and sat with an expression of saintly patience on her face. “As for me, I haven’t had a bite to eat since we stopped at a hotel on the way here.”

  Westerham had scarcely found himself a plate on the buffet table, when Mary arrived in the room, pink cheeked with delight. She threw herself at her brother and hugged him. “So much money,” she said, her voice breathless. “Thank you, dear Eden. I am about to be the proud possessor of another three gowns and two hats.”

  “Good,” Eden said, patting his sister on the back, while trying to balance his half-filled plate. He glanced at Westerham as if he needed saving.

  Westerham leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. Thornton showed as much interest in hats and gowns as Westerham. As long as Mary didn’t waste her money on gowns that didn’t suit her, he didn’t mind what she wore. In his opinion, she looked elegant now that she had started caring about her appearance. The difference between the bland Lady Mary who had accepted his proposal, and the Lady Mary who stood beside him at the supper table couldn’t have been imagined even three weeks ago. Now, her elegance couldn’t be surpassed. Add to that her personality, one of interest in everything, and her habit of caring for miscellaneous people, and he knew he had found the perfect wife.

  In fact, so perfect that he decided to see his mistress the next day. No point in dragging out their association. She would accept her dismissal with a shrug, for the right price. Fortunately, he could afford to be generous. The thought of touching any woman other than Mary sent waves of repugnance through him. He wanted his fresh and pure Lady Mary and no one else.

  When he had met her as an adult, he’d seen nothing but muddy colors and a drab face. She had seemed perfect for the role he meant to assign her, that of a convenient wife, who would be content to live quietly in his country house and stay away from him while he amused himself in town. Naturally, he would have provided every luxury, other than an attentive husband. Now being her faithful husband had become the most important item on his list of needs. He couldn’t imagine himself anywhere other than at her side.

  His Mary had a purity of bone structure that fascinated him. Even in the morning at breakfast, he sat mesmerized by her clean cut jaw line, the soft curve of her cheek, the way her eyelashes framed the beauty of her eyes, so large, so clear, so honest, so Mary. She walked with dignity, her motion fluid, her posture perfect. His mother adored her. His brother would too, since like her, he was friendly and open-hearted.

  The only problem Westerham could see with her was that she didn’t appear to have the same interest in him as he had in her. She treated him as casual marauder. He sighed, turning to Thornton. “Be grateful, you sod, that she is using your money for herself rather than passing it off to any beggar with a good story.”

  Thornton nodded. “Mary can’t be trusted with money. Remember that. The last time I gave her notes to spend on herself, she had the piano in the rectory replaced. The rector knows his way around females, that’s certain.” He gave Westerham a knowing wink.

  Mary appeared stricken. “We needed that piano for the Christmas carols.” She knotted her fingers so tightly together that her knuckles turned a pale ivory.

  “If Della had known, she would have bought a better one. The piano he ordered was cheap and nasty. According to Della, it will constantly need repairs. And who will pay for them? Yes, you.”

  “I won’t,” she said, her face hardening “Because the money he saved he spent on his furnishings.”

  Eden looked puzzled. “Doesn’t the Bishop provide his living?”

  Mary didn’t answer, giving Westerham the impression that she no longer wanted to support either side. She took the seat he offered to her with a strange expression on her face and sat with her arms crossed. Finally Eden involved her in a conversation about her mother and sister who would be in town within the next few days. Lady Lucy still needed a husband, a subject that engrossed the siblings for a while, Mary maintaining that Lucy deserved to have time to choose.

  Westerham spent a few seconds on wondering why Mary had been so tight-lipped about the rector, who had clearly been embezzling charitable funds. “Your rector sounds like a sod of a man. He should be dismissed. Does the Bishop know?” he asked Mary who appeared to know more about rectory than her brother.

  She turned to him. “He doesn’t know that I know. I overheard him speaking to a woman about it. I haven’t said anything because I don’t care what he does and I don’t want to speak about him again.” She rose to her feet. “I’ll no doubt see you in the next few days, Eden.”

  Westerham watched her leave. “She seems a little moody tonight. She is usually even tempered. I wonder what has put her out.”

  “You don’t have sisters, do you?” Eden scratched his ear. “Every month you have to put up with this. It’s terrifying. You need to watch your words when it happens.”

  Westerham nodded. Fair enough. He would watch his words, making sure he didn’t say anything that could be misread. His mistress had put him through a fit of temper once when he hadn’t been careful about his word during her ‘time.’ At least he understood now, what Mary’s moodiness indicated. He would be patient and the world would still keep spinning.

  Chapter 11

  Three days later, Mary arose without cramps or a headache, and feeling cheerful. The few days she had been resting quietly, she had refused all invitations. She’d spent some of her time with her brother and her sister-in-law, who were preparing their town house for her mother and sister to arrive. No doubt she would go out and about with both after they called, but she didn’t want to stay in the Thornton residence. She had become accustomed to the comfortable bond she had formed with the countess.

  Now revitalized by the past few days of not worrying about her future, she had time to think and re-plot her life. Fortunately, she could return to the track she had begun many years ago, marriage, and then children, in the right order. However, she still couldn’t see herself married to Westerham. His idea of a marriage consisted of the partners living separate lives after the requisite heir and spare were presented. She’d thought she wouldn’t have a problem with that, because she had planned not to go through with the wedding. Her situation had now changed, but her fickle mind hadn’t.

  Unfortunately, Westerham’s open attitude had caused her to fall deeply in love with him. Not only did he present with gifts, he presented her with his company, his undivided attention, and smiles that any woman would adore. Wherever she went, or whatever she did, he smoothed the way for her. As a woman who was used walking a rocky road alone, his attention was a pure luxury.

  She spent her morning walking in the park with Alice, and her afternoon taking tea with Lady Westerham’s favorite gossip-monger, who talked non-stop about everyone. Fortunately the various scandalous doings of people Mary didn’t know didn’t interest her enough to remember or repeat. While she nodded and smiled, she mentally put together her wardrobe for the ball tonight.

  She happened t
o adore balls because Westerham always chose her as his waltzing partner. Since only her family and his knew about her betrothal, his attention to her had been noted by the society doyens, which greatly added to her consequence. Streams of partners rushed to her as soon as soon as he returned her to her seat and wandered over to prop his magnificent shoulders against the nearest wall. Although her partners consisted of many eligible bachelors, having waltzed with Westerham, she couldn’t blank him out her mind long enough spare a second glance at another man.

  If she hadn’t fallen in love with him, she would marry him, but the thought of being tied to a man whose interests didn’t include being faithful to his wife would stab too many wounds into her soul to be able to bear. She loved everything about him, his physical attractiveness, his kindness, his stupid sense of humor, and even the mere touch of his hand. She loved the way he leaned over to smile into her eyes as if he had to aim every single curve of his mouth at her.

  She thought about his smile as Alice dressed her that night. Although Westerham hadn’t liked her in pink, and she had agreed with his opinion, she and the countess had recently chosen a musky pink ball gown with a layer of sheer, flesh colored fabric dotted with gold-embroidered clusters of flowers. The same embroidery encircled the neckline and edged the short puffed sleeves. Discovering that the pink being muted suited her better than the clear pinks she tried on before, she bought the delicate creation. In the shoe shop, she matched the tone with pink and brown dancing slippers.

  “The countess has sent this for you to wear.” Alice shook out a fur lined cloak in a pale beige color and proudly held it up for Mary to see. “She thinks the embroidery on your gown would catch on a shawl.”

  Suddenly Mary’s throat clogged up. She knew she couldn’t say a word without sentimental tears beginning to form. Turning toward the long mirror, she swallowed and breathed deeply. “How very thoughtful of her.”