A
Yuletide Invitation
The Mistletoe Wager
Christine Merrill
The Harlot’s Daughter
Blythe Gifford

www.millsandboon.co.uk

The Mistletoe Wager

About the Author

CHRISTINE MERRILL lives on a farm in Wisconsin, USA, with her husband, two sons, and too many pets – all of whom would like her to get off the computer so they can check their e-mail. She has worked by turns in theatre costuming, where she was paid to play with period ballgowns, and as a librarian, where she spent the day surrounded by books. Writing historical romance combines her love of good stories and fancy dress with her ability to stare out of the window and make stuff up.

Dear Reader,

When I set out to write about Christmas in the Regency, I had to unlearn a lot of our current Christmas traditions. Much of what we do now to celebrate the season did not become popular until Victorian times. No Christmas cards or Santa, of course. And Christmas trees were still quite a novelty in the early nineteenth century.

With no television or radio to entertain them, people passed the time eating and drinking holiday foods, and playing parlour games. As I was doing the research for this story, I came across a game which didn’t make it into this book. A player must answer every question asked of him with the word “Sausage.” When he laughs, he loses his turn.

A week later, my sons returned from summer camp. They had been surviving without electricity for a week and had learned to play “Sausage” to pass the time.

So although the showier aspects of the Christmas season were years away, people had already found ways to amuse themselves that are still able to tame bored teenagers in the twenty-first century. Very impressive!

Merry Christmas and happy reading,

Christine Merrill

To Jim and the boys. Christmas comes but once

a year. But it lasts twelve months.

CHAPTER ONE

HARRY PENNYNGTON, Earl of Anneslea, passed his hat and gloves to the servant at White’s, squared his shoulders, and strode into the main room to face his enemy. Nicholas Tremaine was lounging in a chair by the fire, exuding confidence and unconcerned by his lesser birth. To see him was to believe he was master of his surroundings, whatever they might be. He reminded Harry of a panther dozing on a tree branch, ready to drop without warning into the lives of other creatures and wreak havoc on their nerves.

And he was a handsome panther at that. In comparison, Harry always felt that he was inferior in some way. Shorter, perhaps, although they were much of the same height and build. And rumpled. For, no matter how much time or money Harry spent on his attire, Tremaine would always be more fashionable. And he did it seemingly without effort.

On the long list of things that annoyed him about the man, his appearance was at the bottom. But it was on the list all the same.

The room was nearly empty, but Harry could feel the shift in attention among the few others present as though there had been a change in the wind. Men looked up from their cards and reading, watching his progress towards Tremaine. They were curious to see what would happen when the two notorious rivals met.

Very well, then. He would give them the show they hoped for. ‘Tremaine!’ He said it too loudly and with much good cheer.

His quarry gave a start and almost spilled his brandy. He had recognised the voice at once, and his eyes darted around the room, seeking escape. But none was to be had, for Harry stood between him and the door. Harry could see the faint light of irritation in the other man’s eyes when he realised that he would have no choice but to acknowledge the greeting. ‘Hello, Anneslea.’ Then he returned his gaze to the paper he had been reading, showing no desire for further conversation.

How unfortunate for him. ‘How goes it for you, old man, in this most blessed of holiday seasons?’

The only response was a nod, followed by a vague grunt that could have indicated satisfaction or annoyance.

Harry smiled and took a chair opposite the fire, facing Tremaine. He took a sip from the brandy that a servant had rushed to bring him. He examined the liquid in the glass, holding it out to catch the firelight. ‘A good drink warms the blood on a day like this. There is a chill in the air. I’ve been tramping up and down Bond Street all morning. Shopping for Christmas gifts. Tailors, jewellers, whatnot. And the fixings for the celebration, of course. What’s not to be had in the country must be brought back with me from town.’ He waved his hand at the foolishness of it. ‘I do not normally take it upon myself. But now that I am alone …’ He could almost feel the ears of the others in the room, pricking to catch what he would say next.

Tremaine noticed as well, and gave a small flinch. It was most gratifying.

Harry looked up from his drink into Tremaine’s startled face. ‘And, by the by, how is Elise?’ It was a bold conversational gambit, and he was rewarded with a slight choke from his opponent.

The other man turned to him and sat up straight, his indolence disappearing. His eyes glittered with suppressed rage. ‘She is well, I think. If you care, you should go and ask her yourself. She would be glad of the call.’

She would be no such thing. As he remembered their last conversation, Elise had made it plain that if she never saw Harry again it would be too soon. ‘Perhaps I will,’ he answered, and smiled as though they were having a pleasant discussion about an old friend and nothing more.

It must have disappointed their audience to see the two men behaving as adults on this most delicate of subjects. But their moderate behaviour had not quelled the undercurrent of anticipation. He could see from the corner of his eye that the room had begun to fill with observers. They were reading newspapers, engaging in subdued chat, and gazing out of the bay window while sipping drinks. But every man present was taking care to be uninterested in a most focused fashion, waiting for the cross word that would set the two of them to brawling like schoolboys.

If only it were so easily settled. If Harry could have been sure of a win, he would have met his opponent on the field of honour long before now. The temptation existed to hand his jacket to the nearest servant, roll up his sleeves, raise his fists and lay the bastard out on the hearth rug. But physically, they were evenly matched. A fight would impress no one, should he lose it. And Elise would think even less of him than she did now if he was bested in public by Nicholas Tremaine.

He would have to strike where his rival could least defend himself. In the intellect.

Tremaine eased back in his chair, relaxing in the quiet, perhaps thinking that he had silenced Harry with his indifference. Poor fool. Harry set down his empty glass, made a great show of placing his hands on his knees, gave a contented sigh and continued the conversation as though there were nothing strange about it. ‘Any plans for the holiday?’

‘Has Elise made plans?’ There was a faint reproof in the man’s voice, as though he had a right to take Harry to task on that subject. Harry ignored it.

‘You, I mean. Do you have plans? For Christmas?’ He smiled to show all the world Elise’s plans were no concern of his.

Tremaine glared. ‘I am most pleased to have no plans. I intend to treat the day much as any other.’

‘Really. May I offer you a bit of advice, Tremaine?’

He looked positively pained at the idea. ‘If you must.’

‘Try to drum up some enthusiasm towards Christmas—for her sake, at least.’

In response, Tremaine snorted in disgust. ‘I do not see why I should. People make far too big a fuss over the whole season. What is it good for, other than a chance to experience diminished sunlight and foul weather while in close proximity to one’s fellow man? I find the experience most unpleasant. If others choose to celebrate, I wish them well. But I do not wish to bother others with my bad mood, and I would prefer that they not bother me.’ He stared directly at Harry, so there could be no doubt as to his meaning.

Perfect. Harry’s smile turned sympathetic. ‘Then I wonder if you will be any better suited to Elise than I was. She adores this season. She cannot help it, I suppose. It’s in her blood. She waits all year in anticipation of the special foods, the mulled wine, the singing and games. When we were together she was constantly dragging trees where they were never intended to be, and then lighting candles in them until I was quite sure she meant to burn the house down for Twelfth Night. I doubt she will wish to give that up just to please you. There is no changing her when she has an idea in her head. I know from experience. It is you who must alter—to suit her.’

A variety of emotions were playing across Tremaine’s face, fighting for supremacy. Harry watched in secret enjoyment as thoughts formed and were discarded. Should he tell Anneslea what to do with his advice? It had been offered innocently enough. Accuse him of ill treatment in some way? Not possible. Should they argue, Tremaine would gain nothing, for society would find him totally in the wrong. Harry’s only offence was his irrational good humour. And Tremaine was at a loss as to how to combat it.

At last he chose to reject the advice, and to ignore the mention of Elise. ‘I am adamant on the subject. I have nothing against the holiday itself, but I have no patience for the folderol that accompanies it. Nor am I likely to change my mind on the subject to please another.’

‘That is what I thought once.’ Harry grinned. ‘And now look at me.’ He held out his arms, as if to prove his honest intentions. ‘I’m positively overflowing with good will towards my fellow men. Of course, once you have experienced Christmas as we celebrate it at Anneslea Manor …’ He paused and then snapped his fingers. ‘That’s it, man. Just the thing. You must come out to the house and see how the feast is properly done. That will put you to rights.’

Tremaine stared at him as though he’d gone mad. ‘I will do no such thing.’

The other men in the room were listening with obvious interest now. Harry could hear chuckles and whispers of approval.

‘No, I insist. You will see how the season should be shared, and it will melt your heart on the subject. I doubt there is a better gift that I could offer to Elise than to teach you the meaning of Christmas. Come to Lincolnshire, Tremaine. We are practically family, after all.’

There was definitely a laugh from somewhere in the room, although it was quickly stifled. And then the room fell silent, waiting for the response.

If it had been a matter of fashion, or some caustic witticism he was directing at another, Tremaine would have loved being the centre of attention. But today he hated the idea that he was the butt of a joke, rather than Harry. There was a redness creeping from under Tremaine’s collar as his anger sought an outlet. At last he burst out, ‘Not in a million years.’

‘Oh, come now.’ Harry pulled a face. ‘We can make a bet of it. What shall it be?’ He pretended to consider. ‘Gentlemen, bring the book. I am willing to bet twenty pounds to Tremaine, and any takers, that he shall wish me a Merry Christmas by Twelfth Night.’

Someone ran for the betting book, and there was a rustling of hands in pockets for banknotes, pens scratching IOUs, and offers to hold the stakes. It was all accompanied by a murmur of agreement that hell would freeze before Tremaine wished anyone a Merry Christmas, so well known was his contempt for the season. And the chance that anything might induce him to say those particular words to Harry Pennyngton were equal to the devil going to Bond Street to buy ice skates.

But while the room was raised in chaos, the object of the wager stared steadfastly into the fire, refusing to acknowledge what was occurring.

Harry said, loud enough for all to hear over the din, ‘It does not matter if you do not wish to bet, Tremaine, for the others still wish to see me try. But it will be easier to settle the thing if you will co-operate.’ Then he addressed the room, ‘Come out to my house in the country, all of you.’ He gestured to include everyone. ‘Bring your families, if you wish. There is more than enough space. Then, when Tremaine’s resolve weakens, you will all be there to witness it.’ He stared at the other man. ‘And if it does not, if you are so sure of your position, then a wager on it will be the easiest money you could make.’

The mention of finances brought Tremaine to speech—just as Harry had known it would. ‘I no longer need to make a quick twenty pounds by entering into foolish wagers. Especially not with you, Anneslea. A visit to your house at Christmas would be two weeks of tedious company to prove something I already know. It would be an attempt to change my character in a way I do not wish. It is utter nonsense.’

Harry grinned. ‘You would not find it so if the wager were over something you truly desired. Now that you have received your full inheritance, I suppose twenty quid is nothing to you. I have no real desire to spend a fortnight in your company either, Tremaine. For I swear you are one of the most disagreeable fops in Christendom. But I do care for Elise’s happiness. And if she means to have you, then you must become a better man than you are.’ He touched a finger to his chin, pretending to think. ‘I have but to find the thing you want, and you will take the wager, right enough.’ Then he reached into his pocket and pulled the carefully worded letter from his breast pocket. ‘Perhaps this will change your mind.’

He offered it to Tremaine and watched the colour drain from the man’s face as he read the words. Others in the room leaned forward to catch a glimpse of the paper, but Harry stepped in to block their view.

‘For Tremaine’s eyes only, please. This is a matter between gentlemen.’ For a moment he gave vent to his true feelings and let the words drip with the irony he felt at having to pretend good fellowship for the bastard in the seat in front of him. Then he turned back to the crowd. ‘The side bet will in no way affect our fun. And it will be just the thing to convince our victim of the need to take a holiday trip to Anneslea.’

Or so he hoped. Tremaine was still staring at his offer, face frozen in surprise. When he looked up at Harry their eyes locked in challenge. And it was Tremaine who looked away first. But he said nothing, merely folded the paper and tucked it into his own pocket before exiting the room.

Harry smiled to himself, oblivious of the chaos around him.

And now he had but to wait.

CHAPTER TWO

ELISE PENNYNGTON straightened her skirt, smoothed her hair, and arranged herself on the divan in her London sitting room so that she could appear startled when the door to the room opened. Her guest was in the hall, just outside, and it would be careless of her to let him find her in true disarray. With a little effort she could give the impression that she awaited him eagerly, without appearing to be desperate for his company.

As he paused in the open doorway, awaiting her permission to enter, she looked at Nicholas Tremaine and steeled her nerves. Taking a lover was the first item on her list, if she truly wished to be emancipated from her husband. And if she must have male companionship, Nick was the logical choice. In her mind, he had been filed under ‘unfinished business’ for far too long. He was as elegantly handsome as he had been when he’d first proposed to her.

And she’d turned him away and chosen Harry.

But, since Harry did not want her any more, she was right back to where she had started.

‘Nicholas.’ She pushed the annoying thoughts of Harry from her mind, and held out her hands to the dashing gentleman before her.

He stepped forward and took them, raising her fingers to his mouth and giving them a brief touch of his lips. ‘Elise.’ His eyes were still the same soul-searching blue, and his hair just as dark as the day they’d met, although it had been more than five years.

There was no grey in her hair, either. And she took special care that when they met she looked as fresh and willing as she had at eighteen. Her coiffure was impeccable and her manner welcoming. And her dress was dotted with sprigs of flowers that perfectly matched the blue of her eyes.

Or so Harry had always claimed.

She gave a little shake of her head to clear away that troublesome memory, and gazed soulfully at the man still holding her hands. She was not the naïve young girl he had courted. But surely the passage of time on her face had not been harsh?

If he noticed the change the years had made in her, he gave no reason to think it bothered him. He returned her gaze in the same absently devoted way he always had, and she could see by his smile of approval that he found her attractive.

‘Come, sit with me.’ In turn, she took his hands in hers, and pulled him down to sit on the divan beside her. He took a place exactly the right distance away from her body—close enough to feel intimate, but far enough away not to incite comment should someone walk in on them together.

She hoped that she had not misunderstood his interest. For it would be very embarrassing if he were resistant to the idea, when she had raised sufficient courage to suggest that they take their relationship to a deeper level. But she had begun to suspect that the event would not happen until she had announced herself ready. It would be so much easier if he were to make the first move. But he had made it clear that he would not rush her into intimacy until she was sure, in her heart, that she would not regret her actions.

For a well-known rake, he was annoyingly protective of her honour.

‘Are you not glad to see me?’ She gave a hopeful pout.

‘Of course, darling.’ And after a moment he leaned forward to kiss her on the lips.

There was nothing wrong with the few kisses they had exchanged thus far. Nicholas clearly knew how to give a kiss. There was no awkwardness when their mouths met, no bumping of noses or shuffling of feet. His hands held her body with just the right level of strength, hinting at the ability to command passion without taking unwelcome liberties. His lips were firm on hers, neither too wet nor too dry, his breath was fresh, his cheek was smooth.

When he held her she was soft in his arms, languid but not overly forward, giving no sign that he need proceed faster, but neither did she signal him to desist immediately.

The whole presentation smacked of a game of chess. Each move was well planned. They could both see the action several turns ahead. Checkmate was inevitable.

Of course if it all seemed to lack a certain passion, and felt ever so slightly calculated, who was she to complain of it? She had thought about Nicholas in the darkest hours of her unhappy marriage and wondered how different it might be had she chosen otherwise. Soon she would know.

And if it would ever be possible to gain a true divorce from Harry she must accept the fact that at some point she would need to take a lover, whether she wanted one or not. Her confirmed infidelity was the only thing she was sure the courts might recognise as grounds. But even then, whether she could persuade her husband to make the effort to cast her off was quite another matter.

The matter was simple enough, after all. Harry must have an heir. Since she had been unable to provide one for him, he would be better off free of her while he was still young enough to try with another. But she had grown to see a possible divorce as one more thing in her marriage for which she would need to do the lion’s share of the work, if she wished the task accomplished. The last five years had proved that Harry Pennyngton could not be bothered with serious matters, no matter how she might try to gain his attention.

And now Nicholas had pulled away from her, as though he could not manage to continue the charade.

She frowned, and he shook his head in embarrassment. ‘I’m sorry if I seem distracted. But the most extraordinary thing happened at White’s just now, and we must speak of it. I received an invitation to Christmas.’

She stared at him with a barely raised eyebrow. ‘Hardly extraordinary, darling. Christmas is less than two weeks away. It is a bit late, I suppose. You should have made plans by now.’

‘Certainly not.’ Nicholas, had he had feathers, would have ruffled them. ‘I do not make it a habit of celebrating the holiday. It is much better to use the time productively, in reading or some other quiet pursuit, and to avoid gatherings all together. With so many others running about country drawing rooms like idiots, hiding slippers and bluffing blind men, it makes for an excellent time of peaceful reflection.’

Nicholas Tremaine’s aversion to Christmas was well known and marked upon. She had commented on it herself. And then she had placed it on the list of things that she would change about him, should their relationship grow to permanence. ‘You are most unreasonable on the subject, Nicholas. If someone has chosen to call you on it, it can hardly be a surprise.’

‘But the invitation came from a most unlikely source.’ He paused. ‘Harry. He’s asked me up to the house ‘til Twelfth Night, and has bet twenty quid to all takers that he can imbue me with the spirit of the season. He says the celebration at Anneslea Manor is always top drawer, and that I cannot fail to bend. And he invited all within earshot to come as well.’ He paused. ‘I just thought it rather odd. He’s obviously not keeping bachelor’s hall if he thinks to hold a house party.’ He paused again, as though afraid of her reaction. ‘And to induce me to yield he gave me this.’ He removed a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and handed it to her.

She read it.

I, Harry Pennyngton, swear upon my honour that if I cannot succeed in making Nicholas Tremaine wish me a Merry Christmas in my home, by January the fifth of next year, I shall make every attempt to give my estranged wife, Elise Pennyngton, the divorce that she craves, and will do nothing to stand in the way of her marriage to Nicholas Tremaine or any other man.

It was signed ‘Anneslea’, in her husband’s finest hand, and dated yesterday.

She threw it to the floor at her feet. Damn Harry and his twisted sense of humour. The whole thing had been prepared before he’d even entered into the bet. He had gone to the club with the intent of trapping Nicholas into one of his stupid little jokes, and he had used her to bait the hook. How dared he make light of something that was so important? Turn the end of their marriage into some drawing room wager and, worse yet, make no mention of it to her? Without thinking, she reverted to her mother tongue and gave vent to her frustrations over marriage, divorce, men in general, and her husband in particular.

Nicholas cleared his throat. ‘Really, Elise, if you must go on so, please limit yourself to English. You know I have no understanding of German.’

She narrowed her eyes. ‘It is a good thing that you do not. For you would take me to task for my language, and give me another tiresome lecture in what is or is not proper for a British lady. And, Nicholas, I am in no mood for it.’

‘Well, foul language is not proper for an English gentleman, either. Nor is that letter. If you understood the process, Elise … He is offering something that he cannot give. Only the courts can decide if you are granted a divorce, and the answer will often be no.’

‘We will not know until we have tried,’ she insisted.

‘But he has done nothing to harm you, has he?’ Nick’s face darkened for a moment. ‘For if he has treated you cruelly then it is an entirely different matter. I will call the man out and we will finish this quickly, once and for all, in a way that need not involve the courts.’

‘No. No. There is no reason to resort to violence,’ she said hurriedly. ‘He has not hurt me.’ She sighed. ‘Not physically.’

Nicholas expelled an irritated sigh in response. ‘Then not at all, in the eyes of the court. Hurt feelings are no reason to end a marriage.’

‘The marriage should not have taken place at all,’ she argued. ‘There were no feelings at all between us when we married. And as far as I can tell it has not changed in all these years.’ On his part, at least.

‘It is a natural thing for ardour to cool with time. But he must have felt something back then,’ Nicholas argued. ‘Or he would not have made the offer.’

Elise shook her head and tried not to show the pain that the statement brought her. For she had flattered herself into believing much the same thing when she had accepted Harry’s offer. ‘When he decided to take a wife it was no different for him than buying an estate, or a horse, or any other thing. He did not so much marry me as collect me. And now he has forgotten why he wanted me in the first place. I doubt he even notices that I am gone.’

Nicholas added, in an offhand manner, ‘He enquired after you, by the way. I told him you were well.’

‘Did you, now?’ Elise could feel the temper rising in her. If Harry cared at all for her welfare, he should enquire in person, not make her the subject of talk at his club. ‘Thank you so much for relaying the information.’

Nick looked alarmed as he realised that he had misgauged her response to his innocent comment. ‘I had to say something, Elise. It does not do to ignore the man if he wishes to be civil about this. If you truly want your freedom, is it not better that he is being co-operative?’

‘Co-operative? I am sure that is the last thing on his mind, no matter how this appears. He is up to something.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘And how did you respond to his invitation?’

Tremaine laughed. ‘I did not dignify it with a response. It is one thing, Elise, for us to pretend that there is nothing unusual between us when we meet by accident in the club. But I hardly think it’s proper for me to go to the man’s home for the holiday.’

She shook her head. ‘You do not seriously think that there was anything accidental in your meeting with my husband, Nicholas? He wished to let me know that he is celebrating in my absence. And to make me wonder who he has for hostess.’ She furrowed her brow. ‘Not his sister, certainly.’ She ran down a list in her head of women who might be eager to step into her place.

‘Harry has a sister?’ Nicholas asked, surprised.

‘A half-sister, in Shropshire. A vicar’s daughter. Far too proper to give herself over to merriment and run off to Anneslea Manor for a house party.’

Nicholas frowned. ‘You would be surprised what vicar’s daughters can get up to when allowed to roam free. Especially at Christmas.’

Elise shook her head. ‘I doubt it is her. More likely my husband is trying to make me jealous by sending the hint that he has replaced me.’ And it annoyed her to find that he was succeeding.

‘It matters not to me, in any case,’ Nicholas replied. ‘A tiresome sister is but one more reason for me to avoid Anneslea—the Manor and the man.’

If Nick refused the invitation then she would never know the truth. A lack of response, an unwillingness to play his silly game, would be proper punishment for Harry, and might dissuade him from tormenting her, but it would do nothing to settle her mind about her husband’s reason for the jest.

And then a thought occurred to her. ‘If we are doing nothing wrong, Nicholas, then there can be no harm in a visit, surely?’ Perhaps if she could persuade him to go she would discover what Harry really intended by extending the offer.

Nick was looking at her as though she were no more trustworthy than her husband. ‘I see no good in it, either. Harry is all “Hail fellow, well met,” when we meet in the club, darling. He is being excessively reasonable about the whole thing. Which is proof that he is not the least bit reasonable on the subject. He wants you to come home, and is trying to throw me out of countenance with his good humour. And he is succeeding. I would rather walk into a lion’s den than take myself off to his home for the holiday. God knows what will happen to me once he has me alone.’

‘Do not be ridiculous, darling. It is all decided between Harry and me. There was nothing for us to do but face the facts: we do not suit.’ She put on her bravest smile. ‘We are living separately now, and he is quite content with it. I suspect we will end as better friends apart than we were together. And, while I do not doubt that he has an ulterior motive, I am sure he means you no real harm by this offer.’

‘Ha!’ Tremaine’s laugh was of triumph, and he pointed to her. ‘You do it as well. No truly content couple would work so hard to show happiness over their separation. It is a façade, Elise. Nothing more. If I go to Harry’s little party in Lincolnshire, I suspect we will be at each other’s throats before the week is out. The situation is fraught with danger. One too many cups of wassail, and he will be marching me up a snowy hillside for pistols at dawn.’

‘Harry challenge you over me?’ She laughed at the idea. ‘That is utter nonsense, Nicholas, and you know it.’

‘I know no such thing.’

‘If Harry were the sort to issue challenges, then it is far more likely that I would be there still, celebrating at his side. But he has given no evidence of caring at all, Nicholas, over what I say or do.’ She tried to keep the pain from her voice, for she had promised herself to stop hurting over that subject long ago. ‘It is possible that his invitation was nothing more than it sounded. I know the man better than anyone alive, and I can find many defects in him, but I do not fault his generous spirit.’

He had certainly been generous enough to her. After a two-month separation he was still paying all her bills, no matter the size. If he truly cared he would be storming into her apartments, throwing her extravagances back in her face, and demanding that she remove from London and return home immediately. She gritted her teeth.

‘But his sense of humour leaves much to be desired. Inviting you for the holiday could be nothing more serious than one of his little pranks. It is a foolish attempt to be diverting at Christmas.’

Tremaine nodded. ‘As you will. I will thank him for the generosity of his offer, which has no ulterior motive. And if what you say is true he will be equally polite when I decline it.’

‘You will do no such thing. Accept him at once.’

He stared at her without speaking, until she began to fear that she had overstepped the bounds of even such a warm friendship as theirs.

‘I only meant,’ she added sweetly, ‘that you will never know what his true intentions are until you test them. And if we are to continue together, the issue will come up, again and again. If he is mistaking where I mean to make my future, the sooner Harry learns to see you as a part of my life, the better for all concerned. And you need to see that he can do you no harm once he has accepted the truth.’

‘But Christmas is not the best time to establish this,’ Tremaine warned. ‘In my experience, it is the season most likely to make fools of rational men and maniacs of fools. There is a reason I have avoided celebrations such as this before now. Too many situations begin with one party announcing that “we are all civilised adults” and end with two adults rolling on the rug, trading either blows or kisses.’

‘I had no idea you were so frightened of my husband.’ She hoped her sarcasm would coax him to her side.

‘I am not afraid, darling. But neither do I wish to tempt fate.’

She smiled. ‘If it helps to calm your nerves, I will accompany you.’

He started at the idea. ‘I doubt he meant to invite you, Elise.’

‘Nonsense again, Nicholas. It does not matter what he meant to do. I do not need an invitation to visit my own home.’ And it would serve Harry right if she chose to put in an appearance without warning him. ‘It is not as if we need to go for the duration of the party, after all. A day or two …’

‘All three of us? Under the same roof?’ Tremaine shuddered. ‘Thank you, no. Your idea is even worse than his. But if you wish to visit Harry, you are free to go without me.’

‘If I visit Harry alone, then people will have the wrong impression,’ she insisted.

‘That you have seen the error of your ways and are returning to your husband?’

‘Exactly. But if we visit as a couple then it will be understood. And we will not go for the holiday. We need stay only a few hours at most.’

He covered his brow with his hand. ‘You would have me traipsing halfway across England for a visit of a few hours? We would spend days on the road, Elise. It simply is not practical.’

‘All right, then. We will stay long enough to win Harry’s silly bet and gain his promise that he will seek a divorce.’ She tapped the letter with her hand. ‘Although he probably meant the offer in jest, he has put it in writing. And he would never be so base as to go back on his word if you win.’

If Harry was willing to lose without a fight, then she had been right all along: their marriage was of no value to him, and he wanted release as much as she wished to set him free. But she would never know the truth if she could not persuade Nicholas to play along.

Then a thought struck her, and she gathered her courage along with her momentum. ‘And afterwards we will return to London, and I will give you your Christmas present.’

‘I have given you my opinion of the holidays, Elise. It will not be necessary to exchange gifts, for I do not mean to get you anything in any case.’

‘I was thinking,’ she said, ‘of a more physical token of gratitude.’ She hoped that the breathiness in her tone would be taken for seduction, and not absolute terror at making the final move that would separate her permanently from the man she loved. But if her love was not returned, and there were no children to care for, then there was no reason to turn back. She ignored her rioting feelings and gave Nicholas a slow smile.

Nicholas stared at her, beginning to comprehend. ‘If we visit your husband for Christmas? You cannot mean …’

‘Oh, yes, darling. I do.’ She swallowed and gave an emphatic nod. ‘I think it is time to prove that my marriage is every bit as dead as I claim. If you are convinced that Harry carries a torch for me, or that I still long for his attention, then see us together. I will prove to you that your ideas are false. And if it is true that he wants me back, your presence will prove to him that it is hopeless. We will come away from Lincolnshire with everything sorted. And afterwards we will go somewhere we can celebrate in private. I will be most enthusiastically grateful to have the matter settled.’ And she leaned forward and kissed him.

There was none of the careful planning in this kiss that had been in the others, for she had taken him unawares. She took advantage of his lack of preparation to see to it that, when their lips parted from each other, his defences were destroyed and he was quite willing to see her side of the argument.

When he reached for her again, she pulled out of his grasp. ‘After,’ she said firmly. ‘We cannot continue as we are with this hanging over our heads. After we have settled with Harry, we will come back to town and make a fresh start. You may not enjoy Christmas, but I shall make sure that the New Year will hold pleasant memories.’

CHAPTER THREE

HARRY crossed the threshold of Anneslea Manor with his usual bonhomie. It had always been his way to treat everyone, from prince to stablehand, as though he were happy to be in their presence and wished them to be happy as well. If Rosalind Morley had not been in such a temper with him, she could not have helped but greet him warmly. She could feel her anger slipping away, for it was hard not to be cheerful in his presence.

Although his wife had managed it well enough.

‘Dear sister!’ He held out open arms to her, smiling.

She crossed hers in front of her chest and stood blocking his entrance, in no mood to be charmed. ‘Half-sister, Harry.’

‘But no less dear for it.’ He was not the least bit dissuaded, and hugged her despite her closed arms, leaning down to plant a kiss on the top of her head. ‘Did you receive my letter?’

‘I most certainly did. And a very brief missive it was. It arrived three days ago, missing all of the important details, and strangely late in the season. I wish to know what you are about, sending such a thing at such a time.’

He tipped his head to the side. ‘Sending plans for Christmas? I should think this would be the most logical time to send them. It is nearing the day, after all.’

‘Aha!’ She poked him in the chest with a finger. ‘You know it, then? You have not forgotten the date?’

‘December twentieth,’ he answered, unperturbed.

‘Then you do not deny that in the next forty-eight hours a horde will descend upon us?’

‘Hardly a horde, Rosalind. I invited a few people for Christmas, that is all.’

‘It will seem like a horde,’ she snapped, ‘once they are treated to what is in the larder. You said to expect guests. But you cannot tell me who, or when, or even exactly how many.’

‘It was a spur-of-the-moment invitation, to the gentlemen at the club,’ he said, and his gaze seemed to dart from hers. ‘I am not sure how many will respond to it.’

‘And what am I to give them when they arrive? Napoleon had more food in Russia than we have here.’

‘No food?’ He seemed genuinely surprised by the idea that planning might be necessary before throwing a two-week party. If this was his normal behaviour, then Rosalind began to understand why his wife had been cross enough to leave him.

‘With Elise gone, Harry, the house has been all but shut up. The servants are airing the guest rooms, and I have set the cook to scrambling for what is left in the village, but you cannot expect me to demand some poor villager to give us his goose from the ovens at the baker. We must manage with whatever is left. It will be thin fare.’

‘I am sure the guests will be content with what they have. We have a fine cellar.’

‘Good drink and no food is a recipe for disaster,’ she warned, trying not to think of how she had learned that particular lesson.

‘Do not worry so, little one. I’m sure it will be fine. Once they see the tree they will forget all about dinner.’

‘What tree?’ She glanced out of the window.

‘The Christmas tree, of course.’

‘This is some custom of Elise’s, is it?’

‘Well, of course.’ He smiled as though lost in memory. ‘She decorates a pine with paper stars, candles and gingerbread. That sort of thing. I have grown quite used to it.’

‘Very well for you, Harry. But this is not anything that I am accustomed to. Father allows only the most minimal celebration. I attend church, of course. And he writes a new sermon every Advent. But he does not hold with such wild abandon when celebrating the Lord’s birth.’

Harry rolled his eyes at her, obviously amused by her lack of spirit. ‘It is rather pagan, I suppose. Not in your father’s line at all. But perfectly harmless. And very much fun—as is the Yule Log. You will see.’

‘Will I?’ She put her hands on her hips. ‘I doubt I shall have time to enjoy it if I am responsible for bringing it about. Because, Harry, someone must find this tree and have it brought to the house. And there is still the question of finding a second goose, or perhaps a turkey. If I am to feed a large group, one bird will not be enough.’

‘And you must organise games. Do not forget the games.’ He held up his fingers, ticking things off an imaginary list. ‘And see to the decorations in the rest of the house.’

She raised her hands in supplication. ‘What decorations?’

‘Pine boughs, mistletoe, holly, ivy. Elise has a little something in each room.’ He sighed happily. ‘No matter where you went, you could not forget the season.’

‘Oh, it is doubtful that I shall be able to forget the season, no matter how much I might try.’

He reached out to her and enveloped her in another brotherly hug. ‘It will be all right, darling. You needn’t worry so. Whatever you can manage at such short notice will be fine. Before I left London I filled the carriage with more than enough vagaries and sweetmeats. And on the way, I stopped so that the servants might gather greenery. When they unload it all you will find you are not so poorly supplied as you might think.’

Rosalind took a deep breath to calm herself, and tried to explain the situation again, hoping that he would understand. ‘A gathering of this size will still be a challenge. The servants obey me sullenly, if at all. They do not wish a new mistress, Harry. They want Elise back.’

His face clouded for a moment, before he smiled again. ‘We will see what can be done on that front soon enough. But for now, you must do the best you can. And look on this as an opportunity, not an obstacle. It will give my friends a chance to meet you. They do wonder, you know, that you are never seen in London. I think some of them doubt that I have any family at all. They think that I have imagined the wonderful sister I describe.’

‘Really, Harry. You make me sound terribly antisocial.

It is not by choice that I avoid your friends. Father needs me at home.’

He was looking down at her with a frown of concern. ‘I worry about you, sequestered in Shropshire alone with your father. He is a fine man, but an elderly vicar cannot be much company for a spirited girl.’

It was perfectly true, but she smiled back in denial. ‘It is not as if I have no friends in the country.’

He waved a hand. ‘I am sure they are fine people. But the young gentlemen of your acquaintance must be a bit thick in the head if they have not seen you for the beauty you are. I would have thought by now that there would be men lined up to ask your father for your hand.’

‘I am no longer, as you put it, “a spirited girl”, Harry. I do not need you to act as matchmaker—nor Father’s permission should any young men come calling.’ And she had seen that they hadn’t, for she had turned them all away. The last thing she needed was Harry pointing out the illogicality of her refusals. ‘I am of age, and content to remain unmarried.’

He sighed. ‘So you keep telling me. But I mean to see you settled. And if I can find someone to throw in your path …’

‘Then I shall walk politely around him and continue on my way.’

‘With you so far from home, you could at least pretend to need a chaperon,’ he said. ‘Your father made me promise to take the role, and to prevent you from any misalliances. I was quite looking forward to failing at it.’

Her father would have done so, since he did not trust her in the slightest. But she could hardly fault Harry for his concern, so she curtseyed to him. ‘Very well. I will send you any serious contenders for my hand. Although I assure you there will be no such men, nor does it bother me. I am quite content to stay as I am.’

He looked at her critically, and for a change he was serious. ‘I do not believe you. I do not know what happened before your father sent you to rusticate, or why it set you so totally off the masculine gender, but I wish it could be otherwise.’

‘I have nothing against the masculine gender,’ she argued. In fact, she had found one in particular to be most to her liking. ‘I could think of little else for the brief time I was in London, before Father showed me the error of my behaviour and sent me home.’

‘You are too hard on yourself, darling. To have been obsessed with love and marriage made you no different from other girls of your age.’

‘I was still an ill-mannered child, and my rash behaviour gave many a distaste of me.’ She had heard the words from his lips so many times that she sounded almost like her father as she said them. ‘I am sure that the men of London breathed a hearty sigh of relief when I was removed from their numbers before the season even began.’ At least that was true. At least one of them had been more than glad to see the last of her.

‘But it has been years, Rosalind. Whatever it was that proved the last straw to your father, it has been forgotten by everyone else. I think you would find, if you gave them a chance, that there are many men worthy of your affection and eager to meet you. There are a dozen in my set alone who would do fine for you. But if you insist on avoiding London, then I must bring London to you.’

‘Harry,’ she said, with sudden alarm, ‘tell me you have not done what I suspect you have.’

‘And whatever is that, sister dear?’

‘You have not used the Christmas holiday as an opportunity to fill this house with unattached men in an attempt to make a match where none is desired.’

He glanced away and smiled. ‘Not fill the house, precisely.’

And suddenly she knew why he had been so cagey with the guest list, giving her rough numbers but no names. ‘It is all ruined,’ she moaned.

‘I fail to see how,’ he answered, being wilfully oblivious again.

‘There should be a harmonious balance in the genders if a party is to be successful. And it sounds as though you have not invited a single family with a marriageable daughter, nor any young ladies at all. Tell me I will not be the lone partner to a pack of gentleman from your club.’

He laughed. ‘You make them sound like a Barbarian invasion, Rosalind. You are being far too dramatic.’

She shook her finger at him. ‘You will see the way of things when we stand up for a dance and there is only me on the ladies’ side.’

He ignored her distress. ‘I do not care—not if you are presented to best advantage, dear one. This party will give you a chance to shine like the jewel you are.’

‘I will appear, if anyone notices me at all, to be a desperate spinster.’

‘Wrong again. You assure me you are not desperate, and you are hardly old enough to be a spinster.’ He held her by the hands and admired her. ‘At least you certainly do not look old enough.’

‘That has been the problem all along,’ she said. ‘When I came of age I looked too young to consider.’

‘Many women long for your problem, dear. When you are too old, I expect they will hate you for your youth. It is something to look forward to.’

‘Small comfort.’

‘And you needn’t worry. You will not be the only female, and I have not filled the house to the roof with prospective suitors. I believe you will find the company quite well balanced.’ He smiled as though he knew a secret. ‘But should you find someone present who is to your liking, and if he should like you as well, then I will be the happiest man in England. And to that end, I wish you to play hostess to my friends and to try to take some joy in it for yourself, even though it means a great deal of work.’ He was looking at her with such obvious pride and hope for her own welfare that she felt churlish for denying him his party.

‘Very well, Harry. Consider my good behaviour to be a Christmas gift to you. Let us hope, by the end of the festivities, that the only cooked geese are in the kitchen.’

For the next two days, Rosalind found herself buffeted along with the increasing speed of events. Harry’s carriage was unpacked, and servants were set to preparations. But they seemed to have no idea how to proceed without continual supervision, or would insist that they knew exactly what was to be done and then do the tasks in a manner that was obviously wrong. It was just as it had been since the moment she had stepped over the threshold and into Elise’s shoes. At least she’d managed to gain partial co-operation, by begging them to do things as Elise would have wanted them done, as proof of their loyalty to her and in honour of her memory.

It sounded to all the world as if the woman had died, and she’d been left to write her eulogy instead of run her house. But the servants had responded better to her moving speech then they had to anything she could offer in the way of instruction. At some point, she would have to make her brother stir himself sufficiently to retrieve his wife from London. For Rosalind was not welcome in the role of mistress here, nor did she desire it. But it must wait until after the holidays, for she had made Harry a promise to help him for Christmas and she meant to stick to it, until the bitter end.

At last the house was in some semblance of readiness, and the guests began to come—first in a trickle and then a flood. Arrivals were so frequent that the front door was propped open, despite the brisk wind that had arisen. A steady fall of snow had begun in the late afternoon and followed people across the stone floor in eddies and swirls. She busied herself with providing direction to servants, and praying that everyone would manage to find their way to the same room as their baggage.

Couples and families were talking loudly, shaking the snow from their coats and wraps and remarking in laughing tones about the deteriorating condition of the roads and the need for mulled wine, hot tea, and a warm fire. It seemed that Rosalind was continually shouting words of welcome into an ever-changing crowd, promising comfort and seasonal joy once they were properly inside, making themselves at home. Just to the left, the library had been prepared to receive the guests, for the sitting room would be packed solid with bodies should she try to fit all the people together in that room. The great oak reading tables had been pushed to the edges of the room and heaped with plates of sandwiches and sweets, along with steaming pots of tea, carafes of wine and a big bowl of punch.

There were sounds of gratitude and happiness in response, and for a moment she quite forgot the trouble of the last week’s preparation. And although at times she silently cursed her brother for causing the mess, she noticed that he was behaving strangely as he moved through the hubbub, making many restless journeys up and down the stairs. It was as if he was anticipating something or someone in particular, and his pleasure at each new face seemed to diminish, rather than increase, when he did not see the person he expected.

And then the last couple stepped through the open doorway.

‘Rosalind!’ Elise threw her arms wide and encompassed her in an embrace that was tight to the point of discomfort. ‘So you are the one Harry’s found to take the reins.’

‘Elise?’ The name came out of her as a phlegm-choked moan. ‘I had no idea that Harry had invited you.’

‘Neither does Harry,’ Elise whispered with a conspiratorial grin. ‘But how can he mind? This was my house for so long that I think I should still be welcome in it, for a few days at least. And since he made such a kind point of inviting my special friend, he must have meant to include me. Otherwise he would have left me quite alone in London for the holidays. That cannot have been his intention.’

‘Special friend?’ Elise could not mean what she was implying. And even if she did, Rosalind prayed she would not have been so bold as to bring him here. If Elise had taken a lover, Rosalind suspected that it was very much Harry’s intention to split the two up.

‘Have you met? I doubt it. Here, Nicholas—meet little Rosalind, my husband’s half-sister. She is to be our hostess.’

When she saw him, Rosalind felt her smile freeze as solid as the ice on the windowpanes. Nicholas Tremaine was as fine as she remembered him, his hair dark, his face a patrician mask, with a detached smile. It held none of the innocent mirth of their first meeting but all of the world-weariness she had seen in him even then. And, as it had five years before, her heart stopped and then gave an unaccustomed leap as she waited for him to notice her. ‘How do you do, Mr …?’

But it was too much to hope that he had forgotten her. ‘I believe we’ve met,’ he said, and then his jaw clenched so hard that his lips went white. He had paused on the doorstep, one boot on the threshold, snow falling on his broad shoulders, the flakes bouncing off them to melt at his feet. His clothing was still immaculate and in the first stare of fashion. But now it was of a better cut, and from more expensive cloth than it had been. It hardly mattered. For when she had first seen him, Nicholas Tremaine had been the sort of man to make poverty appear elegant.

If his change in tailor was an indication, his fortunes had improved, and wealth suited him even better. In any other man, she would have thought that pause in the doorway a vain attempt to add drama to his entrance, while allowing the audience to admire his coat. But she suspected that now Tremaine had seen her he was trying to decide whether it would be better to enter the house or run back towards London—on foot, if necessary.

The pause continued as he struggled to find the correct mood. Apparently he’d decided on benign courtesy, for he smiled, although a trifle coldly, and said, ‘We met in London. It was several years ago, although I cannot remember the exact circumstances.’

Liar. She was sure that he remembered the whole incident in excruciating detail. As did she. She hoped her face did not grow crimson at the recollection.

‘But I had no idea,’ he continued, ‘that you were Harry’s mysterious sister.’

Was she the only one who heard the silent words, Or I would never have agreed to come? But he was willing to pretend ignorance, possibly because the truth reflected no better on him than it had on her, so she must play the game as well.

‘I am his half-sister. Mother married my father when Harry was just a boy. He is a vicar.’ She paused. ‘My father, that is. Because of course Harry is not …’ She was so nervous that she was rambling, and she stopped herself suddenly, which made for an embarrassing gap in the conversation.

‘So I’ve been told.’

‘I had no idea that you would be a guest here.’ Please, she willed, believe I had no part in this.

If the others in the room noticed the awkwardness between them, they gave no indication. Elise’s welcome was as warm as if there had been nothing wrong. ‘How strange that I’ve never introduced you. Rosalind was in London for a time the year we … the year I married Harry.’ She stumbled over her own words for a moment, as though discovering a problem, and Rosalind held her breath, fearing that Elise had noticed the coincidence. But then the moment passed, and Elise took Tremaine’s arm possessively. ‘I am sure we will all be close friends now. I have not had much chance to know you, Rosalind, since you never leave home. I hope that we can change that. Perhaps now that you are old enough, your father will allow you to come to London and visit?’

‘Of course,’ she replied, fighting the temptation to remind Elise that Rosalind was her senior by almost two months. Her age did not signify, for her father would never let her travel, and certainly not to visit her brother’s wife. If Elise meant to carry on a public affair, no decent lady could associate with her. And the identity of the gentleman involved made an embarrassing situation into a mortifying one.

Elise continued to act as if nothing was wrong. ‘I am glad that you have come to stay with Harry. He needs a keeper if he has taken to engaging in daft wagers for Christmas. And this party will be an excellent opportunity for you to widen your social circle.’

‘Wagers?’ She looked at her sister-in-law with helpless confusion. And then she asked, ‘What has Harry done now?’

Elise laughed. ‘Has he forgotten to tell you, little one, of the reason for this party? How typical of him. He’s bet the men at the club that he can make Mr Tremaine wish him a Merry Christmas. But Nick is most adamant in his plan to avoid merriment. I have had no impact on him, and you know my feelings on the subject of Christmas fun. It will be interesting to see if you can move him, now that you are in charge of the entertainments here.’

‘Oh.’ This was news, thought Rosalind. For at one time Nicholas Tremaine had been of quite a different opinion about the holiday, much to their mutual regret.

But there was no reason to mention it, for Tremaine seemed overly focused on his Garrick and his hat, as though wishing to look anywhere than at his hostess.

Now Elise was unbuttoning her cloak, and calling for a servant, treating this very much as if it was still her home. It was even more annoying to see the servants responding with such speed, when they would drag their feet for her. It was clear that Elise was mistress here, not her. Rosalind’s stomach gave a sick lurch. Let her find her own way to her room, and take her lover as well. She signalled to the servants to help Tremaine, and turned to make an escape.

And then she saw Harry, at the head of the stairs. The couple in the doorway had not noticed him as yet, but Rosalind could see his expression as he observed them. He saw Tremaine first, and there was a narrowing of the eyes, a slight smile, and a set to the chin that hinted of a battle to come. But then he looked past his adversary to the woman behind him.

Resolution dissolved into misery. The look of pain on his face was plain to see, should any observe him. Then he closed his eyes and took a gathering breath. When he opened them again he was his usual carefree self. He started down the stairs, showing to all the world that there was not a thing out of the ordinary in entertaining one’s wife and her lover as Christmas guests.

‘Tremaine, you have decided to take up my offer after all.’ He reached out to clasp the gentleman’s hand, and gave him a hearty pat on the back that belied his look of a moment earlier. ‘We shall get you out of the blue funk you inhabit in this jolly time.’

Tremaine looked, by turns, alarmed and suspicious. ‘I seriously doubt it.’

‘But I consider it my duty,’ Harry argued. ‘For how could I entrust my wife to the keeping of a man who cannot keep this holiday in his heart? She adores it, sir. Simply adores it.’ There was the faintest emphasis on the word ‘wife’, as though he meant to remind Tremaine of the facts in their relationship.

‘Really, Harry. You have not “entrusted” me to anyone. You speak as though I were part of the entail.’ Pique only served to make Elise more beautiful, and Rosalind wondered if it was a trick that could be learned, or if it must be bred in.

‘And Elise.’ Harry turned to her, putting a hand on each shoulder and leaning forward to kiss her.

She turned a cold cheek to him, and he stopped his lips just short of it, kissing the air by her face before releasing her to take her wrap. ‘This is most unexpected. I assumed, when you said that you never wished to set foot over my threshold again …’ he leaned back to stare into her eyes ‘… that you would leave me alone.’

Elise’s smile was as brilliant as the frost glittering from the trees, and as brittle. ‘When I heard that you wished to extend your hospitality to Nicholas, I assumed that you were inviting me as well. We are together now, you know.’ There was a barb in the last sentence, but Harry gave no indication that he had been wounded by it.

‘Of course. And if it will truly make you happy, then I wish you well in it. Come in, come in. You will take your death, standing in the cold hall like this.’ He looked out into the yard. ‘The weather is beastly, I must say. All the better to be inside, before a warm fire.’

Tremaine cast a longing glance over his shoulder, at the road away from the house, before Harry shut the door behind him. ‘Come, the servants will show you to your rooms.’

‘Where have you put us?’ Elise asked. ‘I was thinking the blue rooms in the east wing would be perfect.’

Rosalind swallowed, unsure of how she was expected to answer such a bold request. Although Harry might say aloud that he wished for his wife to have whatever made her happy, she doubted that it would extend to offering her the best guest rooms in the house, so that she could go to her lover through the connecting door between them.

Before she could answer, Harry cut in. ‘I am so sorry, darling. Had I but known you were coming I’d have set them aside for you. But since I thought Tremaine was arriving alone, if at all, I had Rosalind put him in the room at the end of that hall.’

‘The smallest one?’ Elise said bluntly.

‘Of course. He does not need much space—do you, old man?’ Harry stared at him, daring him to respond in the negative.

‘Of—of course not,’ Tremaine stuttered.

Harry turned back to Elise. ‘And I am afraid you will have to take the room you have always occupied. The place beside me. Although we are full to the rafters, I told Rosalind to leave it empty. I will never fill the space that is rightly yours.’

The last words had a flicker of meaning that Elise chose to ignore. ‘That is utterly impossible, Harry. I have no wish to return to it.’

His voice was soft, but firm. ‘I am afraid, darling, that you must make do with what is available. And if that is the best room in the house then so be it.’ He turned and walked away from her, up the stairs.

Elise hurried after him, and Rosalind could hear the faint hiss of whispered conversation. Nicholas Tremaine followed after, his retreating back stiff.

CHAPTER FOUR

BY THE time they reached the door to her bedroom, Nicholas had made a discreet exit. And for the first time in two months, Elise was alone with her infuriatingly reasonable husband.

‘But, my dear, I cannot give you another room, even if I might wish to. On my honour, they are all full.’

Harry was smiling at her again, and she searched his face for any sign that he had missed her, and had orchestrated the situation just to have her near. But in his eyes she saw not love, nor frustrated passion, nor even smug satisfaction at having duped her to return. He was showing her the same warmth he might show to a stranger. He held a hand out to her again, but made no attempt to touch her.

‘I am offering you the best I have, just as I have always done. And you will be more comfortable, you know, sleeping in your own bed and not in a guest room.’

He was being sensible again, damn him. And it was likely to drive her mad. ‘It is not my own bed any longer, Harry. For, in case you have forgotten, I have left you.’ She said it with emphasis, and smiled in a self-satisfied way that would push any man to anger if he cared at all for his wife or his pride.

Harry responded with another understanding smile. ‘I realise that. Although it is good to see you home again, even if it is only for a visit.’

‘If you were so eager to see me you could have come to London,’ she said in exasperation. ‘You were there only last week.’

Harry looked confused. ‘I was supposed to visit you? If you desired my company, then you would not have left.’ He said it as though it were the most logical thing in the world, instead of an attempt to provoke her to anger.

‘You tricked Nicholas into coming here for Christmas with that silly letter.’

‘And he brought you as well.’ Harry beamed at her. ‘I would hardly call my invitation to Tremaine a trick. I promise, I meant no harm by it. Nor by the arrangement of the rooms. Can you not take it in the way it is offered? I wish Tremaine to have a merry Christmas. And I wish you to feel at home. I would want no less for any of my guests.’ If he had a motive beyond that she could find no trace of it—in his expression or his tone.

‘But you do not expect the other female guests to share a connecting door with your bedroom, do you?’ She had hoped to sound annoyed by the inconvenience. But her response sounded more like jealous curiosity than irritation.

He laughed as though he had just remembered the threshold he had been crossing regularly for five years. ‘Oh, that.’

‘Yes. That, Harry.’

‘But it will not matter in the least, for I have no intention of using it. I know where I am not welcome.’ As he spoke, his cordial expression never wavered. It was as though being shut from his wife’s bedroom made not the slightest difference in his mood or his future.

And with that knowledge frustration got the better of her, and she turned from him and slammed the door in his face.

Nick made it as far as the top of the stairs before his anger got the better of him. In front of him Harry and Elise were still carrying on a sotto voce argument about the sleeping arrangements. In truth, Elise was arguing while her husband remained even-tempered but implacable. In any case, Nick wanted no part of it. And he suspected it would be the first of many such discussions he would be a party to if he did not find a way back to London in short order.

But not until he gave the girl at the foot of the stairs a piece of his mind. Rosalind Morley was standing alone in the entryway, fussing with the swag of pine bows that decorated the banister of the main stairs. She was much as he remembered her—diminutive in stature, barely five feet tall. Her short dark curls bobbed against her face as she rearranged the branches. Her small, sweet mouth puckered in a look of profound irritation.

It irritated him as well that even after five years he fancied he could remember the taste of those lips when they had met his. It was most unfair. A mistake of that magnitude should have the decency to fade out of memory, not come running back to the fore when one had troubles enough on one’s hands. But he doubted she was there by accident any more than he was. And she deserved to know the extent of his displeasure at being tricked by her again, before he departed and left Elise to her husband. He started down the stairs.

She was picking at the boughs now, frowning in disapproval and rearranging the nuts and berries into a semblance of harmony. But her efforts seemed to make things worse and not better. As he started down towards her, the wire that held the thing in place came free and he could see a cascade of needles falling onto the slate floor at her feet, along with a shower of fruit.

‘Damn,’ she whispered to herself, sneaking a curse where she thought no one could hear her.

‘You!’ His voice startled her, and she glanced up at him, dropped the apple she had been holding, and stared fixedly at it as it rolled across the floor to land against the bottom step.

‘Yes?’ She was trying to sound distant and slightly curious, as though she were talking to a stranger. But it was too late to pretend that she had no idea what he meant by the exclamation, for he had seen the panic in her eyes before she looked away.

‘Do not try to fool me. I know who you are.’

‘I did not intend to hide the fact from you. And I had no idea that you would be among Harry’s guests.’

‘And I did not know, until this moment, that you were Harry’s sister, or I’d never have agreed to this farce.’

‘Half-sister,’ she corrected.

He waved a hand. ‘It hardly matters. You were more than half-loyal to him the day you ruined me.’

‘I ruined you?’ She laughed, but he could hear the guilt in it.

‘As I recollect it, yes. You stood there under the mistletoe, in the refreshment room at the Granvilles’ ball. And when you saw me you held your arms out in welcome, even though we’d met just moments before. What was I to think of the offer?’

‘That I was a foolish girl who had drunk too much punch?’

He held up a finger. ‘Perhaps that is exactly what I thought, and I meant to caution you about your behaviour. But when I stepped close to you, you threw your arms around my neck and kissed me, most ardently.’

Rosalind flinched. ‘You did not have to come near to reprimand me, or to reciprocate so enthusiastically when I kissed you.’ She stared down at the floor and scuffed at the fallen pine needles with her slipper, looking for all the world like a guilty child.

He shook his head, trying to dislodge the memory. ‘Believe me, I regret my reaction, no matter how natural it was. That little incident has taught me well the dangers of too much wine and too much celebration.’

‘So you blame me, personally, for ruining Christmas for you?’

‘And my chances with my intended, Elise. For when she got wind of what had occurred she left me and married another.’

Nicholas was surprised to see the girl start, as though she was just now realising the extent of her guilt and the chaos her foolish actions had caused. ‘You were engaged to Elise? The woman who was in the entry with us just now? My sister-in-law?’ Rosalind shook her head, as though she were misunderstanding him in some way.

‘The woman who married your brother after you so conveniently dishonoured yourself and me.’

She gave a helpless little shrug. ‘But I had no idea, at the time, what I was doing.’

‘Because you were inebriated.’ He held up a second finger, ticking off another point in his argument. ‘And on spirits that I did not give you. So do not try to tell me I lured you to disaster. Although you appeared fine to the casual observer, you must have been drunk as a lord.’ He puzzled over it for a moment. ‘If that is even a possible state for a girl. I do not think there is a corresponding female term for the condition you were in.’

She winced again. ‘I was sorry. I still am. And I paid dearly for it, as you remember.’

‘You were sick in the entry hall before your father could get you home.’

If possible, the girl looked even more mortified, as though she had forgotten this portion of the evening in question. ‘I meant when I was sent off to rusticate. I never had the come-out that my father had promised, because he said he could not trust me. I am unmarried to this day.’

‘You are unmarried,’ he said through gritted teeth, ‘because your father could not persuade me that it was in my best interests to attach myself for life to a spoiled child.’

‘I never expected that you would marry me,’ she assured him. ‘And I had no wish to marry you. We had known each other for moments when the incident occurred. It would have done no good to pile folly upon folly trying to save my reputation.’

He smiled in triumph. ‘Miss Morley, I think I know very well what you expected. For now that I have come to this house the picture is suddenly clear to me. You expected Elise would get word of it and that she would choose your brother over me. And that is just what occurred.’

‘Half-brother,’ she corrected. ‘And I did no such thing. To the best of my knowledge, Harry knows nothing of the happenings of that night. Father kept the whole a secret, and does not speak of it to this day. Harry does not enjoy the company of my father, and seldom visited his mother. We had only just arrived in London, and I did not get a chance to call on him before my behaviour forced the family to leave again. Even now, all my brother knows of that visit is that I did something so despicable that I was sent from London in shame, and that the family is forbidden to speak of it. We could not have the thing fall from memory if it was a continual topic of conversation.’

‘You expect me to believe that you were not in collusion with Harry to ruin my engagement to Elise?’ He arched an eyebrow at her and glared, waiting for her resolve to break under his displeasure.

She raised her chin in defiance. ‘Do you honestly think that my brother would destroy my reputation so casually in an effort to defeat you?’

‘Half-brother,’ he corrected.

‘Even so,’ she allowed. ‘You may not like him, but do you think Harry is the sort of person who would behave in such an underhanded fashion as to get me foxed and throw me at you? It is not as if he does not care for me at all. He would have no wish to hurt me.’

He paused and considered the situation, trying to imagine Harry Pennyngton as the mastermind of his destruction. While he could imagine Harry viewing an affair of the heart with the same shrewdness he brought to his business dealings, he would never have orchestrated the disaster with Rosalind Morley. More likely, when he had discovered that Elise was free, he had simply capitalised on an opportunity, just as she assumed.

At last, he admitted, ‘Harry has always been the most even-handed and honourable of fellows. Elise comments on it frequently.’

‘See?’ Rosalind poked him smartly in the chest with a holly branch she had pulled from the decorations during her agitated repairs, and a leaf stuck in the fabric of his jacket. ‘If he’d had wind of it at the time it is far more likely that he’d have called you out for it, or helped to cover the whole thing up, just as my father wished to do. And he’d have never invited you here while I was hostess, even after all this time. If Elise had learned anything about it she would not have greeted me as warmly as she did just now. I doubt that either of them has a clue as to what happened.’ She blinked at him, suddenly worried, and whispered, ‘And I would prefer that it stay that way. Which will be difficult, if you insist on arguing about it in a public room.’

Nick took this information in and held it for a while, examining it from all sides before speaking. If it was in any way possible that the girl told the truth, then he must give her the benefit of the doubt. Revelation of the story at this point would turn a delicate situation into a volatile one. He said, ‘I have no desire to unbury any secrets during this visit, if it is true that we have managed to keep them hidden. What’s done is done. We cannot change the past.’

‘This meeting was none of my doing, I swear to you,’ she said earnestly, before he could speak, again. ‘I would never have agreed to any of it had I known … ‘He could see the obvious distress in her eyes, and she twisted the holly in her hands until the leaves scratched her fingers and the berries had been crushed. ‘I never meant to hurt you or anyone else by my actions. Or to help anyone, for that matter. I simply did not think.’ She looked down at the destruction, dropped the twig, and hurriedly wiped her hands on her skirt. She held them out in appeal. ‘I am afraid I am prone to not thinking things through. But I have worked hard to improve my character, and the messes I make are not so severe as they once were.’

He nodded, though her unexpected presence still filled him with unease. ‘I understand. I am beginning to suspect we are both here for reasons that have little to do with our preference in the matter and everything to do with the wishes of others.’

She said, ‘I think Harry hoped that I would have the opportunity to impress eligible male guests with my ability as a hostess. I doubt that will be the case, since my skills are nothing to write home about. In any case, the single gentlemen he promised have failed to materialise. There is you, of course, but if you are with Elise …’ She trailed off in embarrassment, as she realised that her babbling had sounded like an invitation to court her.

He watched her for a time, allowing her to suffer a bit, for it would not do for the girl to think he was interested. Whatever Harry had planned for him this weekend, he doubted it would include courting his sister. Rosalind could not tell by looking at him what his real feelings might be for Elise, and he had no wish to inform her of them. But if Elise learned the truth before he could escape, there would be hell to pay.

He said, ‘It is very awkward for everyone concerned. Elise wished to come and speak with Harry, and she did not want to come alone. Now that my job as escort has been done, I mean to stay no more than tonight—whatever Harry’s plans might be. I suspect I will be gone shortly after breakfast, and I will trouble you no more.’

Rosalind glanced out of the window at the fast-falling snow. ‘You do not know how treacherous the local roads can be after a storm such as this. You may find travel to be impossible for quite some time. And you are welcome until Twelfth Night in any case.’

But she looked as though she hoped he would not stay, and he did not blame her. ‘Thank you for your hospitality. I trust you will not find it strange if I avoid your company at breakfast?’

She nodded again. ‘I will not think it the least bit odd. As a matter of fact, it is probably for the best.’ She hesitated. ‘Although I do wish to apologise, one last time, for what happened when we first met.’

‘It is not necessary.’

‘But I cannot seem to stop. For I truly regret it.’

He gave a curt bow. ‘I understand that. Do not concern yourself with it. We will chalk it up to the folly of youth.’ And how could he fault her for that? For he had been guilty of folly as well, and was paying for it to this day.

‘Thank you for understanding.’

‘Then let us hear no more apologies on the matter. Consider yourself absolved.’

But, while he might be able to forgive, he doubted he would ever forget her.

CHAPTER FIVE

ELISE glared through the wood of her bedroom door at the man in the hall. She had not thought when she made this trip that she would end up back in her own room. She would be alone with her memories, and scant feet from her husband, while Nicholas was stowed in the remotest corner of the guest wing like so much discarded baggage. Though he showed no sign of it, she was sure that Harry had anticipated her appearance and sought an opportunity to separate them.

But if he did not want her, then why would he bother? So Harry did not mean to come and take her in the night? Fine. It was just as she’d feared. She meant nothing to him any more. And telling her the truth, with that annoying little smile of his, had removed all hope that he had been harbouring a growing and unfulfilled passion since her precipitate retreat from his house. If he cared for her, an absence of two months would have been sufficient to make him drag her back to his bed the first chance he got, so that he might slake his lust. But to announce that he meant to leave her in peace for a fortnight while she slept only a room away …

She balled her fists in fury. The man had not left her alone for a fortnight in the whole time they had lived together. But apparently his visits had been just as she’d feared: out of convenience rather than an uncontrollable desire for her and her alone. Now that she was not here he must be finding someone else to meet his needs.

The thought raised a lump in her throat. Perhaps he had finally taken a mistress, just as she’d always feared he would. It had been some consolation during the time that they had been together to know that he was either faithful or incredibly discreet in his infidelities. For, while she frequently heard rumours about the husbands of her friends, she had never heard a word about Harry.

And to have taken a lover would have required equally miraculous stamina, for even after five years he had been most enthusiastic and regular in his bedroom visits, right up to the moment she had walked out the door. Then, his interest in her body had evaporated.

If they had not married in haste, things might have been different between them. She should never have accepted Harry Pennyngton’s offer when she had still been so angry with Nicholas. She had been almost beyond reason, and had hardly had time to think before she had dispensed with one man and taken another.

But Harry’s assurances had been so reasonable, so comforting, that they had been hard to resist. He had said he was of a mind to take a wife. And he had heard that she was in desperate straits. That her parents were returning to Bavaria, and she must marry someone quickly if she wished to remain in England. If so, why could it not be him? He had described the house to her, the grounds and the attached properties, and told her of his income and the title. If she refused him he would understand, of course. For they were little better than strangers. But if she chose to accept everything he had would be hers, and he would do all in his power to assure that she did not regret the decision.

He had laid it all out before her like some sort of business deal. And although he had not stated the fact outright, she had suspected that she would not get a better offer, and would end up settling for less should she refuse.

That should have been her first warning that the marriage would not be what she’d hoped. For where Nicholas had been full of fine words of love and big dreams of the future, Harry had been reason itself about what she could expect should she choose to marry him.

It had been quite soothing, in retrospect, to be free of grand passion for a moment, and to give her broken heart a chance to mend. Harry had been willing to give without question, and had asked for nothing in return but her acceptance.

They had been wed as soon as he’d been able to get a licence. And if she’d had any delusions that he wished a meeting of hearts before a meeting of bodies, he had dispelled them on the first night.

Elise had thought that Harry might give her time to adjust to her new surroundings, and wished that she’d had the nerve to request it. For intimacy had hardly seemed appropriate so soon. They had barely spoken. She hadn’t even learned how he liked his tea, or his eggs. And to learn how he liked other things before they had even had breakfast? It had all happened too fast. Surely he would give her a few days to get to know her new husband?

But as she had prepared for bed on her wedding night, she had reached for her nightrail only to have the maid pull it aside. ‘Lord Anneslea says you will not be needing it this evening, ma’am.’

‘Really?’ She felt the first thrill of foreboding.

‘Just the dressing gown.’ And the maid wrapped her bare body in silk and exited the room.

What was she to do now? For clearly the staff had more instruction than she had over what was to occur. And it was not likely to be a suggestion that they live as brother and sister until familiarity had been gained.

There was a knock at the connecting door between his bedroom and hers. ‘Elise? May I come in?’

She gave him a hesitant yes.

He opened the door but did not enter. Instead he stood framed in the doorway, staring at her. ‘I thought tonight, perhaps, you would join me in my room.’ He stepped to the side and held a hand out to her.

When she reached to take it, his fingers closed over hers, and he led her over the threshold to his room.

It was surprisingly warm for a winter’s night, and she could see that the fire was built to blazing in the fireplace. ‘I did not want you to take a chill,’ he offered, by way of explanation.

‘Oh.’

Then he helped her up the short step that led to his bed, and jumped up himself to sit on the edge beside her. He brushed a lock of hair off her face, and asked, ‘What have you been told about what will happen tonight?’

‘That it will go much faster if I lie still and do not speak.’

His face paled. ‘I imagine it will. But expediency is not always the object with these things. If you wish to move at any time, for any reason, then you must certainly do it. And by all means speak, if you have anything to say. If I am causing you discomfort I will only know if you tell me. And if something gives you pleasure?’ He smiled hopefully. ‘Then I wish to know that as well.’

‘Oh.’

‘Are you ready to begin?’

‘I think so, yes.’ She was still unsure what it was that they were beginning. But how else was she to find out?

He kissed her, and it was a pleasant surprise, for other than one brief kiss when he had proposed, and another in the chapel after the wedding, he had offered no displays of affection. But this was different. He rested his lips against hers for a moment, moving back and forth, and then parting them with his tongue.

It was an interesting sensation. Especially since the longer he kissed her the more she was convinced that she could feel the kiss in other parts of her body, where his lips had not touched. When she remarked on it, he offered to kiss her there as well, and his lips slid to her chin, her throat, and then to her breast.

It was wonderful, and strange, for it made the feelings even more intense, and he seemed to understand for his lips followed the sensation lower.

She scrambled away from him, up onto the pillows on the other side of the bed. Because she understood what it was he meant to do, and it was very shocking. It was then that she realised her robe had come totally undone and he was staring at her naked body. The feeling of his eyes on her felt very much like the intimate kiss she was avoiding, so she wrapped the gown tightly about her and shook her head.

‘I have frightened you.’ He dragged his gaze back to her face and looked truly contrite. ‘Here, let us start again.’

He climbed past her on the bed, and reached for a pot of oil that rested on the night stand. It was scented with a rich perfume, and he took a dab of the stuff, stroking it onto the palm of his hand.

‘Let me touch you.’

She tensed in anticipation of his caress. But he sat behind her this time. He slipped his hands beneath the neck of the robe to stroke her shoulders, kissing her neck before rubbing the ointment into the muscles there.

‘See? There is nothing to be afraid of. I only mean to give you pleasure.’

And there certainly did not seem to be anything to fear. It was very relaxing to feel his hands sliding over her body, and she found it almost impossible to resist as he pushed the fabric of her robe lower, until he could reach the small of her back.

She was bare to the waist now. And even though he was behind her, and could not see them, she kept her hands folded across her breasts. But soon she relaxed her arms and dropped them to her sides. When he reached around her to touch her ribs, the underside of her breasts and her nipples, she did not fight him. It felt good. And then she leaned back against him and allowed him to play.

When he heard her breathing quicken he put his lips to her ear and kissed her once, before beginning to whisper, in great detail, just what it was he meant to do next.

For a moment her eyes opened wide in alarm, but his hands slipped down, massaging her belly, as his voice assured her that it would be all right. He nuzzled her neck. One hand still toyed with a breast, while the other slid between her legs and teased until her knees parted. The sensation was new, and intense, but he seemed to know just how to touch her until she moaned and twisted against him.

He explained again how wonderful it would feel to be inside her, and demonstrated with his hand, his fingers sliding over her body, inside and out again, over and over, until her head lolled back against him and her back arched in a rush of sensation.

He released her and turned her in his arms, so that he could kiss her again. And then he laid her down on the pillows. And she could see what it was that had been pressing against her so insistently as he had stroked her. She enquired after it.

He explained the differences in their bodies, but assured her that he would enjoy her touch just as she had enjoyed his. Then he kissed her again, and lay down beside her, guiding her hand to touch him.

It gave her a chance to observe him as she had not done before marriage. His own dressing gown had fallen away, and he was naked beside her on the bed. His body was lean and well muscled, although he had never given her the impression of being a sportsman or athlete. His eyes were half closed, and a knowing smile curled at the corners of his lips. He was a handsome man, although she had not thought to notice when he had made his offer to her. His hair was so light a brown as to be almost blond, and he had a smooth brow. His strong chin hinted at power of will, although his ready smile made him appear an amiable companion. There was no cruelty in his green-grey eyes, but a sly twinkle as he reached for her and, with a few simple touches, rendered her helpless with pleasure all over again.

Then he draped his hand over her hip and pulled her close, so her breasts pressed against his chest. His other hand slipped back between her legs, readying her. Her hand was still upon him, stroking gently, and she helped him to find his way to her, then closed her eyes.

He kissed her, and it was almost apologetic as he came into her and she felt the pain of it. But then she felt him moving in her, and against her, and his strength dissolved into need. Finally there was something that she could give to him, an explanation for his generosity. And it all made sense. So she ignored the pain and found the pleasure again, kissed him back as he shuddered in release.

He held her afterwards, and she slept in his arms. The next morning he was cautious and polite, just as he had been before they had married. She remembered the intimacy of the previous night and found it strange that he was still so shy. But she assumed that over time the distance between them would fade.

Instead it was as though the divide between them grew with each rising of the sun. He was friendly and courteous.

He made her laugh, and was never cross with her over small things, as her own family had been. He did not raise his voice even when she was sure he must be angry with her.

But he never revealed any more of his innermost thoughts than were absolutely necessary. If he ever had need of a confidante he must have sought elsewhere, for he certainly did not trouble his wife with his doubts or fears.

In truth there was nothing about their relationship that would lead her to believe she was especially close to him in any way but the physical. At first, she thought that he had chosen her because he could find no other willing to have him. He had been too quick to offer, and with such minimal affection. Perhaps his heart was broken, just as hers had been, and he had sought oblivion in the nearest source?

But as time passed he spoke of no previous alliances, and showed no interest in the other women of the ton, either married or single. She had frequent opportunity to see that he could have married elsewhere, had he so chosen. And the compliments of the other girls, when they’d heard that she was to marry him, had held a certain wistful envy. Although he had offered for her, he had treated them all with the utmost courtesy and generosity, and they would have welcomed further interest had any been expressed.

They had done well enough together, Elise supposed. But he had never given her an indication, in the five years they had been together, that he would not have done equally well with any other young woman of the ton, or that his marriage to her had been motivated by anything other than the fortuitous timing of his need for a wife when she had desperately been in need of a husband.

When night came, there had been no question of why he had married her—for his passion had only increased, as had hers. It had been easy to see what he wanted, and to know that she pleased him, and he had taken great pains to see that she was satisfied as well. To lie in his arms each night had been like a taste of paradise, after days that were amiable but strangely empty. Even now she could not help but remember how it had felt to lie with him: cherished. Adored.

Loved.

It was all she could do to keep from throwing open the door between them right now and begging him to hold her again, to ease the ache of loneliness that she had felt since the moment she had left him.

But what good would that do in the long run? She would be happy at night, when he thought only of her. But at all other times she would not be sure what he thought of her, or if he thought of her at all.

He would be pleasant to her, of course. He would be the picture of good manners and casual affection—as he was with everyone, from shopkeepers to strangers. But he did not seem to share many interests with his wife. While he had always accompanied her to social gatherings, she did not think he’d taken much pleasure in them, and he’d seemed faintly relieved to stay at home, even if it had meant that she was accompanied by other gentlemen. He had showed no indication of jealousy, although she was certain that her continued friendship with Nicholas must have given him cause. Her husband had treated Tremaine with a suspicious level of good humour, although they should be bitter rivals after what had gone before.

In time, Nicholas had forgiven her for her hasty parting with him, and his level of flirtation had increased over the years, overlaying a deep and abiding friendship. She’d enjoyed his attention, but it had worried her terribly that she might be a better friend to another man than she was to her husband.

But if Harry had been bothered by it she hadn’t been able to tell. He’d either seen no harm in it, or simply had not cared enough about her to stop it.

Most important, if their lack of children had weighed on his mind, as it had hers, she had found no indication of it. In fact, he’d flatly refused to speak of it. The extent to which he’d appeared not to blame her for the problem had left her sure that he secretly thought she was at fault. Her own father had always said that girl children were a burden compared to sons. She dreaded to think what he would have said had his wife provided no children at all.

It had been hard to avoid the truth. She had failed at the one thing she was born to do. She had proved herself to be as useless as her family thought her. Harry must regret marrying her at all.

And on the day that she had been angry enough to leave she had shouted that she would return to her old love, for he at least was able to give her an honest answer if she asked him a direct question about his feelings on things that truly mattered.

Harry had blinked at her. There had been no trace of his usual absent smile, but no anger, either. And he had said, ‘As you wish, my dear. If, after all this time, you do not mean to stay, I cannot hold you here against your will.’

Elise had wanted to argue that of course he could. That a real man would have barred the door and forbidden her from talking nonsense. Or called out Nicholas long ago for his excessively close friendship to another man’s wife. Then he would have thrown her over his shoulder and marched to the bedroom, to show her in no uncertain terms the advantages of remaining just where she was.

But when one was in a paroxysm of rage it made no sense to pause and give the object of that rage a second chance to answer the question more appropriately. Nor should she have had to explain the correct response he must give to her anger. For if she must tell him how to behave, it hardly mattered that he was willing to act just as she wished.

So she had stormed out of the house and taken the carriage to London, and had informed a slightly alarmed Nicholas that there was nothing to stand between them and a much closer relationship than they had previously enjoyed.

And if she had secretly hoped that her husband would be along at any time to bring her back, even if it meant an argument that would raise the roof on their London townhouse? Then it was positive proof of her foolishness.

CHAPTER SIX

AFTER a fitful night’s rest, Nick Tremaine sought out his host to say a hasty farewell. He found Anneslea at the bottom of the stairs, staring out of the window at the yard. Nick turned the cheery tone the blighter had used on him at the club back upon him with full force. ‘Harry!’

‘Nicholas.’ Harry turned towards him with an even broader smile than usual, and a voice oozing suspicion. ‘Did you sleep well?’

The bed had been narrow, hard where it needed to be soft, and soft where it ought to be firm. And no amount of wood in the fireplace had been able to take the chill from the room. But he’d be damned before he complained of it. ‘It was nothing less than what I expected when I accepted your kind invitation.’

Harry’s grin turned malicious. ‘And you brought a surprise with you, I see?’

Nick responded with a similar smile, hoping that the last-minute addition to the guest list had got well up the nose of his conniving host. ‘Well, you know Elise. There is no denying her when she gets an idea into her head.’

‘Yes. I know Elise.’

Anneslea was still smiling, but his tone indicated that there would be hell to pay if Tremaine knew her too well. Just one more reason to bolt for London and leave the two lovebirds to work out their problems in private.

He gave Harry a sympathetic pat on the back. ‘And, since you do, you will understand how displeased she shall be with me when she hears that I’ve had to return to London.’

‘Return? But, my dear sir, you’ve only just arrived.’ The other man laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘I would not think of seeing you depart so soon.’

Nick tried to shake off his host’s friendly gesture, which had attached to him like a barnacle. When it would not budge, he did his best to ignore it. ‘All the same, I must away. I’ve just had word of an urgent matter that needs my attention. But before I go, I wanted to thank you and wish you a M—’

Anneslea cut him off in mid-word. ‘Received word from London? I fail to see how. It is too early for the morning post, and, given the condition of the road, I doubt we will see it at all today.’

Damn the country and its lack of civilisation. ‘Not received word, precisely. Remembered. I have remembered something I must attend to. Immediately. And so I will start for London and leave Elise in your capable hands. And I wish you both a Mer—’

‘But surely there is nothing that cannot wait until after the holiday? Even if you left today you would not arrive in London before Christmas Day. Although you might wish to be a miserable old sinner for this season, you should not make your servants work through Boxing Day to get you home.’

Nick sighed, trying to manage a show of regret. ‘It cannot be helped. I have come to tell you I cannot stay. Pressing business calls me back to London. But although I must toil, there is no reason that you cannot have a Merr—’

Before he could complete the phrase sliding from his lips, Harry interrupted again. ‘Ridiculous. I will not hear of it. In this weather it is not safe to travel.’

Damn the man. It was almost as if he did not want to win his bet. Which was obviously a lie, for he had seen the look on Anneslea’s face at the sight of his wife. The man was as miserable without her as she was without him. Nick stared out of the nearest window at the snow lying thick upon the drive. ‘It was safe enough for me to arrive here. And the weather is much improved over yesterday, I am certain. If I depart now I will have no problems. But not before wishing you a M—’

‘Not possible.’ Harry gestured at the sky. ‘Look at the clouds, man. Slate-grey. There is more snow on the way, and God knows what else.’ As if on cue a few hesitant flakes began falling, increasing in number as he watched. Anneslea nodded in satisfaction. ‘The roads will be ice or mud all the way to London. Better to remain inside, with a cup of punch and good company.’

Nick looked at the mad glint in his host’s eye and said, ‘I am willing to take my chances with the weather.’

There was a polite clearing of the throat behind them as a footman tried to gain the attention of the Earl. ‘My Lord?’ The servant bowed, embarrassed at creating an interruption. ‘There has been another problem. A wagon from the village has got stuck at the bend of the drive.’

Anneslea smiled at him in triumph. ‘See? It is every bit as bad as I predicted. There is nothing to be done about it until the snow stops.’ He turned back to the footman. ‘Have servants unload the contents of the wagon and carry them to the house. Get the horses into our stable, and give the driver a warm drink.’ He turned back to Nick. ‘There is no chance of departure until we can clear the drive. And that could take days.’

‘I could go around.’

‘Trees block the way on both sides.’ Harry was making no effort to hide his glee at Nick’s predicament. ‘You must face the fact, Tremaine. You are quite trapped here until such time as the weather lifts. You might as well relax and enjoy the festivities, just as I mean you to do.’

‘Is that what you mean for me?’

‘Of course, dear man. Why else would I bring you here?’

The man was all innocence again, damn him, smiling the smile of the concerned host.

‘Now, was there anything else you wished to say to me?’

Just the two words that would free him of any further involvement in the lives of Lord and Lady Anneslea. Nick thought of a week or more, trapped in the same house with Elise, trying to explain that he had thrown over the bet and her chance at divorce because he had her own best interests at heart. ‘Anything to say to you? No. Definitely not.’

Rosalind stared at the bare pine in the drawing room, wondering just what she was expected to do with it. Harry had requested a tree, and here it was. But he had requested decorations as well, and then walked away as though she should know what he meant by so vague a statement. The servants had brought her a box of small candles and metal holders for the same, sheets of coloured paper, some ribbon, a handful of straw, and a large tray of gingerbread biscuits. When she had asked for further instruction, the footman had shrugged and said that it had always been left to the lady of the house. Then, he had given her the look that she had seen so often on the face of the servants. If she meant to replace their beloved Elise, then she should know how best to proceed—with no help from them.

Rosalind picked up a star-shaped biscuit and examined it. It was a bit early for sweets—hardly past breakfast. And they could have at least brought her a cup of tea. She bit off a point and chewed. Not the best gingerbread she had eaten, but certainly not the worst. This tasted strongly of honey.

She heard a melodious laugh from behind her, and turned to see her brother’s wife standing in the doorway. ‘Have you come to visit me in my misery, Elise?’

‘Why would you be miserable, dear one?’ Elise stepped into the room and took the biscuit from her hand. ‘Christmas is no time to look so sad. But it will be considerably less merry for the others if you persist in eating the lebkuchen. They are ornaments for the tree. You may eat them on Twelfth Night, if you wish.’

Rosalind looked down at the lopsided star. ‘So that is what I am to do with them. Everyone assumes that I must know.’

‘Here. Let me show you.’ Elise cut a length of ribbon from the spool in the basket, threaded it through a hole in the top of a heart-shaped biscuit, then tied it to a branch of the tree. She stood back to admire her work, and rearranged the bow in the ribbon until it was as pretty as the ornament. Then she smiled and reached for another biscuit, as though she was the hostess, demonstrating for a guest.

Rosalind turned upon her, hands on her hips. ‘Elise, you have much to explain.’

‘If it is about the logs for the fireplace, or the stuffing for the goose, I am sure that whatever you plan is satisfactory. The house is yours now.’ She glanced around her old home, giving a critical eye to Rosalind’s attempts to recreate the holiday. ‘Not how I would have done things, perhaps. But you have done the best you can with little help from Harry.’

‘You know that is not what I mean.’ Rosalind frowned at her. ‘Why are you here?’

She seemed to avoid the question, taking a sheet of coloured paper and shears. With a few folds and snips, and a final twist, she created a paper flower. ‘The weather has changed and I was not prepared for it. There are some things left in my rooms that I have need of.’

‘Then you could have sent for them and saved yourself the bother of a trip. Why are you really here, Elise? For if it was meant as a cruelty to Harry, you have succeeded.’

Guilt coloured Elise’s face. ‘If I had known there would be so many guests perhaps I would not have come. I thought the invitation was only to Nicholas and a few others. But I arrived to find the house full of people.’ She stared down at the paper in her hands and placed the flower on the tree. ‘The snow is still falling. By the time it stops it will be too late in the day to start for London. We will see tomorrow if there is a way to exit with grace.’ She looked at Rosalind, and her guilty expression reformed into a mask of cold righteousness. ‘And as for Harry feeling my cruelty to him? It must be a miracle of the season. I have lived with the man for years, and I have yet to find a thing I can do that will penetrate his defences.’ The hole in the next gingerbread heart had closed in baking, so she stabbed at the thing with the point of the scissors before reaching for the ribbon again.

Rosalind struggled to contain her anger. ‘So it is just as I thought. You admit that you are attempting to hurt him, just to see if you can. You have struck him to the core with your frivolous behaviour, Elise. And if you cannot see it then you must not know the man at all.’

‘Perhaps I do not.’ Elise lost her composure again, and her voice grew unsteady. ‘It is my greatest fear, you see. After five years I do not understand him any better than the day we met. Do you think that it gives me no pain to say that? But it is—’ she waved her hands, struggling for the words ‘—like being married to a Bluebeard. I feel I do not know the man at all.’

Rosalind laughed. ‘Harry a Bluebeard? Do you think him guilty of some crime? Do you expect that he has evil designs against you in some way? Because I am sorry to say it, Elise, but that is the maddest idea, amongst all your other madness. My brother is utterly harmless.’

‘That is not what I mean at all.’ Elise sighed in apparent frustration at having to make herself understood in a language that was not her own. Then she calmed herself and began again. ‘He means me no harm. But his heart …’ Her face fell. ‘It is shut tight against me. Are all Englishmen like this? Open to others, but reserved and distant with their wives? If I wished to know what is in his pocket or on his calendar he would show me these things freely. But I cannot tell what is on his mind. I do not know when he is sad or angry.’

Rosalind frowned in puzzlement. ‘You cannot tell if your husband is angry?’

‘He has not said a cross word to me—that I can remember. Not in the whole time we have been married. But no man can last for years with such an even temper. He must be hiding something. And if I cannot tell when he is angry, then how am I supposed to know that he is really happy? He is always smiling, Rosalind.’ And now she sounded truly mad as she whispered, ‘It is not natural.’

It was all becoming more confusing, not less. ‘So you abandoned your husband because he was not angry with you?’

Elise picked up some bits of straw and began to work them together into a flat braid. ‘You would think, would you not, that when a woman says to the man she has sworn herself to, that she would rather be with another, there would be a response?’ She looked down at the thing in her hands, gave a quick twist to turn it into a heart, and placed it on the tree.

Rosalind winced. ‘Oh, Elise, you did not. Say you did not tell him so.’

Elise blinked up at her in confusion. ‘You did not think that I left him without warning?’

‘I assumed,’ said Rosalind through clenched teeth, ‘that you left him in the heat of argument. And that by now you would have come to your senses and returned home.’

‘That is the problem. The problem exactly.’ Elise seemed to be searching for words again, and then she said, ‘After all this time there is no heat.’

‘No heat?’ Rosalind knew very little about what went on between man and wife when they were alone, and had to admit some curiosity on the subject. But she certainly hoped she was not about to hear the intimate details of her brother’s marriage, for she was quite sure she did not want to think of him in that way.

‘Not in all ways, of course.’ Elise blushed, and her hands busied themselves with another bunch of straws, working them into a star. ‘There are some ways in which we are still very well suited. Physically, for example.’ She sighed, and gave a small smile. ‘He is magnificent. He is everything I could wish for in a man.’

‘Magnificent?’ Rosalind echoed. Love must truly be blind. For although he was a most generous and amiable man, she would have thought ‘ordinary’ to be a better description of her brother.

When Elise saw her blank expression, she tried again. ‘His charms might not be immediately obvious, but he is truly impressive. Unfortunately he is devoid of emotion. There can be no heat of any other kind if a person refuses to be angry. There is no real passion when one works so hard to avoid feeling.’

Rosalind shook her head. ‘Harry is not without feelings, Elise. He is the most easily contented, happy individual I have had the pleasure to meet.’

Elise made a sound that was something between a growl and a moan. ‘You have no idea, until you have tried it, how maddening it is to live with the most agreeable man in England. I tried, Rosalind, honestly I did. For years I resisted the temptation to goad him to anger, but I find I am no longer able to fight the urge. I want him to rail at me. To shout. To forbid me my wilfulness and demand his rights as my husband. I want to know when he is displeased with me. I would be only too happy for the chance to correct my behaviour to suit his needs.’

‘You wish to be married to a tyrant?’

‘Not a tyrant. Simply an honest man.’ Elise stared at the straw in her hand. ‘I know that I do not make him happy. I only wish him to admit it. If I can, I will improve my character to suit his wishes. And if I cannot?’ Elise gave a deep sigh. ‘Then at least I will have the truth. But if he will not tell me his true feelings it is impossible. If I ask him he will say that I am talking nonsense, and that there is nothing wrong. But it cannot be. No one is as agreeable as all that. So without even thinking, I took to doing things that I suspected would annoy him.’ She looked at Rosalind and shrugged. ‘He adjusted to each change in my behaviour without question. If I am cross with him? He buys me a gift.’

‘He is most generous,’ Rosalind agreed.

‘But after years of receiving them I do not want any more presents. Since the day we married, whenever I have had a problem, he has smiled, agreed with me, and bought me a piece of jewellery to prevent an argument. When we were first married, and I missed London, it was emerald earbobs. When he would not go to visit my parents for our anniversary, there were matched pearls. I once scolded him for looking a moment too long at an opera dancer in Vauxhall. I got a complete set of sapphires, including clips for my shoes.’ She shook her head in frustration. ‘You can tell just by looking into my jewel box how angry I have been with him. It is full to overflowing.’

‘Then tell him you do not wish more presents,’ Rosalind suggested.

‘I have tried, and he ignores me. Any attempt to express displeasure results in more jewellery, and I am sick to death of it.’ She began to crush the ornament she had made, then thought better of it, placing it on the tree and starting another. ‘Do you wish to know of the final argument that made our marriage unbearable?’

‘Very much so. For I am still not sure that I understand what bothers you.’ Rosalind glanced at the tree. Without thinking, Elise had decorated a good portion of the front, and was moving around to the back. Since the Christmas tree situation was well in hand, Rosalind sat down on the couch and took another bite from of the biscuit in her hand.

‘Harry had been in London for several days on business, and I was reading the morning papers. And there, plain as day on the front page, was the news that the investments he had gone to look after were in a bad way. He stood to lose a large sum of money. Apparently the situation had been brewing for some time. But he had told me nothing of the problems, which were quite severe.’

‘Perhaps you were mistaken, Elise. For if he did not speak of them, they could not have been too bad.’

The tall blonde became so agitated that she crumpled the straw in her hand and threw it to the floor. ‘I was in no way confused about the facts of the matter. They referred to him by name, Rosalind, on the front page of The Times.’

That did look bad. ‘Surely you do not hold Harry responsible for a bad decision?’

‘I would never do such. I am his wife, or wish that I could be. Mine is the breast on which he should lay his head when in need of comfort. But when he returned home, do you know what he said to me when I asked him about his trip?’

‘I have not a clue.’

‘He said it was fine, Rosalind. Fine!’ Elise repeated the last word as though it were some unspeakable curse. ‘And then he smiled at me as though nothing unusual had happened.’

She paced the room, as though reliving the moment.

‘So I went to get the paper, and showed him his name. And he said, “Oh, that.” He looked guilty, but still he said, “It is nothing that you need to worry about. It will not affect your comfort in any way.” As if he thought that was the only thing I cared about. And then he patted me on the hand, as though I were a child, and said that to prove all was well he would buy me another necklace.’

She sagged onto the settee beside Rosalind and stared at the straws littering the floor. ‘How difficult would it have been for him to at least admit that there was a problem in his life, so that I did not have to read of it in the papers?’

‘He probably thought that you were not interested,’ Rosalind offered reasonably. ‘Or perhaps there was nothing you could do to help him.’

‘If I thought it would help I would give him the contents of my jewel case. He could sell them to make back his investment. They mean nothing to me if all is not well. And if that did no good, then I would help him by providing my love and support,’ Elise said sadly. ‘But apparently he does not need it. And if he thinks to keep secret from me something so large that half of London knows it, then what else is he hiding from me?’

‘It is quite possible that there is nothing at all,’ Rosalind assured her, knowing that she might be wrong. For she had often found Harry closed-mouthed about things that pained him greatly. It was quite possible that Elise’s suspicions were well grounded. She wished she could slap her foolish brother for causing his wife to worry, when he could have solved so many problems by telling her the whole truth.

‘And when I told him, in pique, that I quite preferred Nicholas to him, for he at least had the sense to know that I was capable of reading a newspaper, Harry smiled and told me that I was probably right. For Nick had finally come into his inheritance. And at that moment, he had the deeper pockets. But Harry said he could still afford to buy me earrings to go with the new necklace if I wished them. So I left him and went to London. And he bought me a whole new wardrobe.’ The last words came out in a sob, and she stared at Rosalind, her eyes red and watery. ‘Is that the behaviour of a sane man?’

Rosalind had to admit it was not. It made no sense to open his purse when a few simple words of apology would have brought his wife running home. ‘He was trying to get on your good side, Elise. He has always been slow to speak of his troubles, and even slower to admit fault. It is just his way.’

‘Then his way has succeeded in driving me away from him. Perhaps that was what he was trying to do all along.

He certainly made no effort to keep me. I said to him that perhaps I was more suited to Nicholas, and that our marriage had been a mistake from the start.’

‘And what did he say to that?’

‘That he had found our marriage most satisfactory, but that there was little he could do to control how I felt in the matter.’

‘There. See? He was happy enough,’ said Rosalind. She picked up the ornament from the floor and offered it back to Elise, thinking that the metaphor of grasping straws was an apt one if this was all the ammunition she could find to defend her idiot brother.

Elise sniffed and tossed the straw into the fire, then took a sheet of paper and absently snipped and folded until it became a star. ‘He said it was satisfactory. That is hardly praise, Rosalind. And the way he smiled as he said it. It was almost as if he was daring me to disagree.’

‘Or he could have been smiling because he was happy.’

‘Or not. He always smiles, Rosalind. It means nothing to me any more.’

‘He does not smile nearly so much as he used to, Elise. Not when you are not here to see. Harry feels your absence, and he is putting on a brave front for you. I am sure of it.’ There was truth in that, at least.

‘Then he has but to ask me to return to him and I shall,’ she said. ‘Or I shall consider it,’ she amended, trying to appear stubborn as she busied herself with the basket of ornaments, putting the little candles into their holders.

But it was obvious that, despite initial appearances, Elise would come running back to Harry in an instant, if given any hope at all. And Harry was longing for a way to get her back.

Rosalind considered. While neither wished to be the first to make an overture, it might take only the slightest push from a third party to make the reconciliation happen.

And so she began to plan.

CHAPTER SEVEN

HARRY watched Tremaine retreating to the library. Merry Christmas, indeed. Apparently the miserable pest had seen through the trap and was trying to wriggle out of it, like the worm he was. But his hasty departure would solve nothing, and his forestalling of the bet would anger Elise to the point that there was no telling what she might do. If she got it into her head that she was being rejected by both the men in her life, she might never recover from the hurt of it.

Thank the Lord for fortuitous weather and stuck wagons. It would buy him enough time to sort things again, before they got too far out of hand. And if it gave him an opportunity to deal out some of the misery that Tremaine deserved? All the better.

‘Harry.’ Rosalind came bustling out of the drawing room and stopped her brother before he could escape. ‘What is really going on here?’

‘Going on?’ He made sure his face showed nothing but innocence, along with a sense of injury that she should accuse him of anything. ‘Nothing at all, Rosalind. I only wished to entertain some members of my set for the holiday, and I thought …’

His little sister set her hands upon her hips and stared at him in disgust. ‘Your wife is here with another man. And you do not seem the least bit surprised. As a matter of fact you welcomed her new lover as though he were an honoured guest.’

‘In a sense he is. He is the object of a bet I have made with the other gentlemen. I guaranteed them that I could make Tremaine wish me a Merry Christmas.’

‘Why on earth would you do that?’

He grinned. ‘Perhaps my common sense was temporarily overcome with seasonal spirit.’

Rosalind frowned at him. ‘Or perhaps not. Perhaps you have some plan afoot that involves ending the separation with your wife. Or did you bet on her as well? And what prevailed upon the odious Mr Tremaine to accept your challenge? I do not understand it at all.’

‘Then let me explain it to you. I told Tremaine that I would facilitate the divorce Elise is so eager for, if he would come down to the country and play my little game. I knew he would take the information straight to Elise, and that she would insist they attend—if only for the opportunity to come back here and tell me to my face what she thought of the idea. I expect she is furious.’

‘And you think by angering her that you will bring her closer to you? Harry, you do not understand women at all, if that is your grand plan.’

‘But I know Elise.’ He smiled. ‘And so far it is going just as I expected it to.’

‘If you know her so well, then you should have been able to prevent her from leaving in the first place. Do you understand what you have done to her to make her so angry with you?’

He was honestly puzzled as he answered, ‘Absolutely nothing. As you can see from the house, her wardrobe, her jewels, she can live in luxury. And if this was not enough I would go to any lengths necessary to give her more. I treat her with the utmost respect. I do not strike her. I do not berate her in public or in private. I am faithful. Although I have never denied her her admirers, I have no mistress, nor have ever considered a lover. I want no one but her, and I am willing to give her her own way in all things.’ He gestured in the direction of the library. ‘I even tolerate Tremaine. What more can she ask of me? There is little more that I can think to give her.’

Rosalind paused in thought for a moment. ‘You spoil her, then. But you must cut her off if she means to belittle you so. If she has a taste for luxury, deny her. Tell her that you are very angry with her over this foolishness and that there will be no more gifts. Tell her that you wish for her to come home immediately. That will bring her to heel.’

‘Do not speak that way of her.’ He said it simply for he did not mean to reprove his sister, since she got enough of that at home. ‘Elise is not some animal that can be punished into obedience and will still lick the hand of its master. She is a proud woman. And she is my wife.’

‘It seems she does not wish to be.’

‘Perhaps not. But it is something that must be settled between the two of us, and not by others. And perhaps if you had lived her life …’

Rosalind laughed. ‘I would gladly trade her life for mine. You will not convince me that it is such a tragedy to be married to an earl. Even in separation, she lives better than most ladies of the ton.’

He shook his head. ‘You should understand well enough what her life was like before, Rosalind, and show some sympathy. For her parents were every bit as strict to her as your father has been to you. I met her father, of course, when I offered for her. Her mother as well. It would not have been easy for her if she had been forced to return home after the disaster with Tremaine. The man betrayed her, and so she broke it off with him. It was the only reason she was willing to consider my offer.’

Rosalind bit her lip, as though the situation was unusually distressing to her. ‘A broken engagement is not the end of the world. And you saved her from any repercussions. It could not have been so horrible to have you instead of Mr Tremaine.’

He shrugged. ‘Perhaps not. I have endeavoured to make her happy, of course. But in losing Tremaine she lost any dreams she might have harboured that her marriage would be based in true love. Her parents did not care what happened to her as long as her brother was provided for. It was for him that they came to England. They wished to see him properly outfitted and to give him a taste for travel. Her presence on the trip was little more than an afterthought.’ He remembered her brother Carl, who was as sullen and disagreeable as Elise was charming, and gave a small shudder.

‘Before I came into the room to speak to her father I heard him remonstrating with her before the whole family for her refusal of Tremaine. He called her all kinds of a fool for not wishing an unfaithful husband. Told her if her mother had seen fit to provide a second son, instead of a useless daughter, then the trip would not have been spoiled with tears and nonsense. Her father swore it mattered not to him who she might choose, and that if she wouldn’t have me then he would drag her back home by her hair and give her to the first man willing to take her off his hands.

‘When I entered, and she introduced me, I assumed he would show some restraint in his words. But he announced to me that if the silly girl did not take her first offer she must take mine, whether she wanted it or no. He complained that they had spent a small fortune in launching her at what parties were available to them in the winter. They had no wish to do it again in spring, when she might be shown to her best advantage and have a variety of suitors. She stood mutely at his side, accepting the abuse as though it were a normal part of her life.’

Harry clenched his fists at the memory, even after several years. ‘If I was not convinced beforehand that she needed me I knew it then. How did they expect her to find a husband with the season still months away? My offer was most fortuitous.’ He remembered the resignation with which she had accepted him, and the way she had struggled to look happy as he took her hand. ‘And she has been most grateful.’

‘Then why is she not living here with you, instead of at Tremaine’s side in London?’

‘While it was easy enough for her to break the engagement, it has been much harder to tell her heart that the decision was a wise one. And at such times as there is trouble between us, she cannot help but turn to him and wonder if she made a mistake.’ He sighed. But he made sure that when he spoke again it was with optimism. ‘But, since I can count on Tremaine to be Tremaine, if she thinks to stray, she always returns to me, sadder but wiser.’

‘Is he really so bad, then?’

He made note of the curious look in Rosalind’s eyes as she asked the question, as though she was both longing for the answer and dreading it.

‘He is a man. No better or worse than any other. I imagine he is capable of love if the right woman demands it of him.’

A trick of the morning light seemed to change his sister’s expression from despair to hope and back again. So he said, ‘But Elise is not that woman and never has been. He was unfaithful to her, you know.’

‘Perhaps the thing that parted them was an aberration. Things might be different should they try again.’ Rosalind’s voice was small, and the prospect seemed to give her no happiness.

He gave her a stern look. ‘I’m sure they would be happy to know that their rekindled love has your support. But I find it less than encouraging.’

‘Oh.’ She seemed to remember that her behaviour was of no comfort to him, and said, ‘But I am sure she could be equally happy with you, Harry.’

‘Equally?’ That was the assessment he had been afraid of.

Rosalind hurried to correct herself. ‘I meant to say much happier.’

‘I am sure you did. But I wonder what Elise would say, given the chance to compare? Until recently I could not enquire. For at the first sign of trouble, she rushed off to London to be with Nicholas Tremaine.’

Rosalind eyed him critically. ‘And you sat at home, waiting for her to come to her senses?’

For a moment he felt older than his years. Then he pulled himself together and said, ‘Yes. And it was foolish of me. For I knew how stubborn she could be. It is now far too late to say the things I should have said on that first day that might have brought her home. She has ceased arguing with me and begun to talk of a permanent legal parting. But despite what I should have done, or what she may think she wants, I cannot find it in my heart to let her go. There will be no offer of divorce from me, even if Tremaine can remain stalwart in his hatred of Christmas.’ He frowned. ‘Which he shows no sign of doing.’

He cast her a sidelong glance. ‘This morning he seemed to think he could lose easily and escape back to London. But it does not suit my plans to let him go so soon. If there is any way that you can be of help in the matter …’

Rosalind straightened her back and looked for all the word like a small bird ruffling its feathers in offended dignity. ‘Is that why you invited him here while I am hostess? Because if you are implying that I should romance the man in some way, flirt, preen …’

He found it interesting that she should leap to that conclusion, and filed it away for further reference. ‘On the contrary. I mean to make Christmas as miserable an experience for him as possible, and keep him in poor humour until Elise is quite out of patience with him. I was thinking something much more along the lines of an extra measure of brandy slipped into his glass of mulled wine. Enough so that by the end of the evening his mind is clouded. While good humour may come easy at first, foul temper will follow close on its heels in the morning. But the thought of you forced into the man’s company as some sort of decoy?’ He shook his head and smiled. ‘No, that would never do. To see my only sister attached to such a wastrel would not do at all.’ He watched for her reaction.

‘Half-sister,’ she answered absently.

He pretended to ignore her response. ‘No, I think he should have more brandy than the average. I doubt laudanum would achieve the desired effect.’

‘Laudanum?’ She stared at him in surprise. ‘Are you seriously suggesting that I drug one of your guests?’

‘Only Tremaine, dear. It hardly counts. And it needn’t be drugs. If you can think of a better way to keep him off balance …’

‘But, Harry, that is—’ she struggled for words ‘—surprisingly dishonourable of you.’

‘Then, little one, you are easily surprised. You did not think I had invited the man down here to help him in stealing my wife? I am afraid you will find that I have very little honour on that particular subject. So I did not follow Elise to town to compete for her affections? What point would there have been? Look at the man. More town bronze than the statues at Westminster. He has so much polish I swear I could shave in the reflection. I did not wish to go to London and challenge the man, for I doubt I could compare with him there.’

Harry rubbed his hands together. ‘But now we are on my home turf. He knows nothing about country living, or the true likes and dislikes of my wife. And he has no taste at all for the sort of simple Christmas diversions that bring her the most joy. It will take no time at all for him to wrongfoot himself in her eyes, and his disgrace will require very little help from me. When that happens I will be here to pick up the pieces and offer myself as an alternative, just as I did before. If you wish to help me in the matter of persuading Elise to return home, then I wish to hear no more talk of bringing her to heel. Help me by helping Tremaine to make an ass of himself. I will see to Elise, and things will be quite back to normal by Twelfth Night.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

ROSALIND left her brother and his mad plans alone in the entry hall. If what he was saying was true, then their marriage must have been as frustrating as Elise had claimed. The man had no clue what was wrong or how to fix things. And, worse yet, he refused to stand up to his wife, no matter how much she might wish for it.

This would be more difficult than she’d thought.

As she walked past the door to the library she paused, noticing the mistletoe ball from the doorway had fallen to the floor. She stared down at it in dismay. That was the problem with bringing live things into the house in such cold weather. There was always something wilting, dying or shedding leaves. And even with the help of the servants, she was hard pressed to keep pace with the decay. She shook the tiny clump of leaves and berries, patting it back into shape and re-tying the ribbon that held it together. Then she looked up at the hook at the top of the doorframe. It was hardly worth calling a servant, for to fix the thing back in place would be the work of a moment.

She reached up, her fingers just brushing the lintel, and glanced across the room at a chair. She considered dragging it into place as a step, and then rejected the idea as too much work. The hook was nearly in reach, and if she held the thing by its bottom leaves and stretched a bit she could manage to get it back into place, where it belonged.

She extended her arm and gave a little hop. Almost. She jumped again. Closer still. She crouched low and leaped for the hook, arm extended—and heard the stitching in the sleeve of her dress give way.

The mistletoe hung in place for a moment, before dropping back on her upturned face.

‘Do you require assistance?’ She caught the falling decoration before it hit the floor and turned to see the head of Nicholas Tremaine peering over the back of the sofa. His hair was tousled, as though he’d just woken from a nap. And he was grinning at her, obviously amused. Even in disarray, he was as impossibly handsome as he had been the day she’d met him, and still smiling the smile that made her insides turn to jelly and her common sense evaporate.

She turned away from him and focused her attention on the offending plant, and the hook that should hold it. ‘Have you been watching me the whole time?’

Tremaine’s voice held no trace of apology. ‘Once you had begun, I saw no reason to alert you to my presence. If you had succeeded, you need never have known I was here.’

‘Or you could have offered your help and saved me some bother.’

He paused, and then said, ‘If you wished assistance, you would have called for a servant. I thought perhaps you drew some pleasure from it.’ He paused again. ‘I certainly did.’

She reached experimentally for the hook again. ‘You could at least have done me the courtesy to mention that you were in the room. Or in the house, for that matter. You said that you wished to be gone.’

He sighed. ‘I assumed you had looked out of the window this morning and guessed the truth on your own. You were right and I was wrong. I am told by your brother that the roads are quite impossible, the drive is blocked, and I am trapped. So I have gone to ground here by the library fire, and I was doing my best to keep true to my word and stay out of your path.’ She heard the rattle of china and glanced over her shoulder to see his breakfast things, sitting on the table beside the couch.

‘When you realised that your plan was not working, you could have given me warning that I was being observed. It would have spared me some embarrassment.’

He gave a slight chuckle. ‘It is not as if I am likely to tell the rest of the company how you behave when we are alone together.’

She cringed. ‘I did not say that you would. I have reason to trust your discretion, after all.’

‘Then are you implying that my presence here embarrasses you?’ He let the words hang with significance.

It did. Not that it mattered. She turned back to look at him. ‘Perhaps it is my own behaviour that embarrasses me. And the fact that you have been witness to more than one example of the worst of it.’

He laughed. ‘If I have seen the worst of your behaviour, then you are not so very bad as you think.’

She gave him her most intimidating glare, which had absolutely no effect. ‘Tell me, now: are you accustomed to finding Elise leaping at doorframes, like a cat chasing a moth?’

‘No, I am not. But then, she would not have need to.’ His eyes scanned over her in appraisal. ‘She is much taller than you are.’

‘She is tall, and poised as well, and very beautiful.’ Rosalind recited the list by rote. ‘She will never know how vexing it is to find everything you want just slightly out of reach. It all comes easily to her.’ And Elise, who had two men fighting over her, would never have to cope with the knowledge that the most perfect man in London still thought of her as a silly girl. Rosalind glared at the hook above her. ‘I must always try harder, and by doing so I overreach and end up looking foolish.’

‘Perhaps you do.’ His voice was soft, which surprised her. And then it returned to its normal tone. ‘Still, it is not such a bad thing to appear thus. And I am sure most people would take a less harsh view of you than you do of yourself.’

She picked at the mistletoe in her hands, removing another wilted leaf. Behind her, there was a sigh, and the creak of boot leather. And then he was standing beside her and plucking the thing from between her fingers.

She looked up to find Tremaine far too near, and grinning down at her. ‘I understand your irritation with me, for we agreed to keep our distance,’ he said. ‘I have been unsuccessful. But what has that poor plant ever done to you, that you treat it so?’

She avoided his eyes, focusing on the leaves in his hand, and frowned. ‘That “poor plant” will not stay where I put it.’

He reached up without effort and stuck it back in its place above their heads. Then he tipped her chin up, so she could see the mistletoe—and him as well—and said innocently, ‘There appears to be no problem with it now.’

As a matter of fact it looked fine as it was, with him beneath it and standing so very close to her. For a moment she thought of how nice it might be to close her eyes and take advantage of the opportunity. And how disastrous. Some lessons should not have to be learned twice, and if he meant to see her succumb again he would be disappointed. ‘Do not try to tempt me into repeating mistakes of the past. I am not so moved.’

He smiled, to tell her that it was exactly what he was doing. ‘Are you sure? My response is likely to be most different from when last we kissed.’

Her pulse gave an unfortunate gallop, but she said, in a frigid tone, ‘Whatever for? What has changed?’

‘You are no longer an inexperienced girl.’

‘Nor am I as foolish as I was, to jump into the arms of a rake.’

He smiled again. ‘But I was not a rake when you assaulted me.’

‘I assaulted you?’ She feigned shock. ‘That is doing it much too brown, sir.’

‘No, really. I cannot claim that I was an innocent babe, but no one would have called me a rake.’ He held a hand over his heart. ‘Not until word got round that I had seduced some sweet young thing and then refused to do right by her, in any case.’

‘Seduced?’ The sinking feeling in her stomach that had begun as she talked to Harry was back in force.

‘The rumours grew quite out of proportion to the truth when Elise cast me off. Everyone was convinced that something truly terrible must have happened for her to abandon me so quickly.’

Her stomach sank a little further.

He went on as though noticing nothing unusual. ‘And it must have been my fault in some way, mustn’t it? Although I was not exactly a pillar of moderation, I had no reputation for such actions before that time. But it is always the fault of the man, is it not? Especially one so crass and cruel as to refuse to offer for the poor, wounded girl because I was already promised to another. And then to deny her father satisfaction, for fear that I might do the man injury.’ He leaned over her. ‘For I am a crack shot, and a fair hand with a blade. And your father, God protect him, is long past the day when he could have hurt me.’ He put on a face of mock horror. ‘And when I refused to make a full explanation to my betrothed, or give any of the details of the incident? Well, it must have been because it was so very shameful, and not because it would have made the situation even more difficult for the young lady concerned.’

‘You needn’t have used my name. But I would not have blamed you for giving the truth to Elise. It was not your fault, after all.’ She wished she could sink through the floor, along with the contents of her heart.

‘When she came to me with the accusation, I told her that the majority of what she had heard was true. I had been caught in an intimate position with a young lady, by the girl’s father. But I had not meant to be unfaithful to her, it would not happen again, and she must trust me for the rest.’ He frowned. ‘That was the sticking point, I am afraid. Her inability to trust. The woman has always been quick to temper. She broke the engagement and went to Harry. I happily gave myself over to sin. And thereby hangs a tale.’

‘So you are telling me not only did I ruin your engagement, and spoil Christmas for ever, I negatively affected your character?’

‘It is not so bad, having a ruined character. I have found much more pleasure in vice than I ever did in virtue.’ He frowned. ‘And after all this time the woman I once sought has come back to me.’

Her anger at him warred with guilt. Elise and Harry were in a terrible mess, and she might have been the cause of it all. But how could Tremaine stand there, flirting so casually, as though it did not matter? ‘She might have come back, but she is foolish to trust you. What would she think of you, I wonder, if she found you and I here, alone together?’

‘I think she would go running right back into Harry’s arms, as she did once before.’ He seemed to be considering something for a moment, before reaching out to brush his knuckles against her cheek. ‘But enough of Elise. I know what she has done these past years, for we have been close, although not as close as I once wished. At no time did she ever mention that Harry had a sister.’

Rosalind cleared her throat, to clear her head, and stepped a little away from him, until he was no longer touching her. ‘Half-sister.’

‘Mmm.’ His acknowledgement of her words was a low hum, and she thought she could feel it vibrating inside her, like the purr of a cat. ‘If it was not a trick, as I first suspected, is there some reason that they kept you so well hidden?’

She swallowed hard, and when she answered her voice was clear of emotion. ‘Harry and my father do not get on well. He was sent away to school when we were still young, and took the opportunity to spend all subsequent holidays with his own father’s family, until he was of age. Then he came to London.’ She hung her head. ‘I remained at home, where I could not be an embarrassment to the family.’

He was still close enough that if she looked up she could admire his fine lips, see the cleft in his chin. And she remembered the feel of his cheek against hers, the taste of his tongue. She had lost her freedom over a few kisses from that perfect mouth. And somehow she did not mind.

She could feel him watching her so intently that she feared he could read her thoughts, and he said, ‘What did you do in the country, my little black sheep? Did you continue in the way you set out with me? Were there other incidents of that kind, I wonder, or was I an aberration?’

Rosalind pulled herself together, pushed against his chest and stepped out of the doorway further into the room. ‘How rude of you to assume that there were. And to think that I would tell you if I had transgressed is beyond familiar.’

He turned to follow her and closed the distance between them again. ‘But that does not answer my question. Tell me, my dear Rosalind, have there been other men in your life?’

‘You were hardly in my life. And I most certainly am not your dear …’

‘Ah, ah, ah.’ He laid a finger on her lips to stop her words. ‘Whether I was willing or no, I was your first kiss. But who was the second?’

‘There has not been a second,’ she answered, trying to sound prim. But his finger did not move from her lips, and when she spoke it felt rather as though she were trying to nibble on his fingertip. His mouth curled, and she shook her head to escape from the contact. ‘I learned my lesson, I swear to you. There is nothing about my conduct of the last years that is in any way objectionable.’

‘What a pity.’ He leaned away from her and blinked his eyes. ‘For a moment I thought Christmas had arrived, in the form of a beautiful hostess every bit as wicked as I could have wished. But if you should have a change of heart and decide to throw yourself upon my person, as you did back then, I would make sure that you would have nothing to regret and much more pleasant memories.’

She turned away and looked out of the window, so that he could not see the indecision in her face. The offer had an obvious appeal. ‘How dare you, sir? I have no intention of, as you so rudely put it, throwing myself upon your person.’

‘Did you have that intention the last time, I wonder?’

‘I have no idea what I thought to accomplish. It was the first time I had drunk anything stronger than watered wine, and I did not know my limitations. One cup of particularly strong Christmas punch and I lost all sense.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘And how is the punch at this house?’

‘Nothing I cannot handle.’

‘If you have returned to the straight and narrow, then you are no use to me at all.’ He turned and walked away from her, throwing himself down on the couch as though he had forgotten her presence. ‘Whatever shall I do now, to give Elise a distaste of me? For if that fool brother of yours does not come up to snuff soon and reclaim his wife, I am likely to end up married to her after all.’

She looked at him in surprise, and then she blurted, ‘Do you not mean to marry Elise?’ It was none of her business, but it turned the discussion to something other than herself, which suited her well.

‘Elise is already married.’ He said it flatly, as though stating the obvious, and stared up at the ceiling.

It was her turn to follow him. She stood before him, hands on hips, close enough so that he could not pretend to ignore her. ‘Elise is separated from Harry. If she can persuade him, she will be divorced and free. What are your intentions then?’

‘Divorce is by no means a sure thing,’ he hedged. ‘I would have to declare myself in court as her lover. And even then it might amount to nothing. But it would drag the whole affair into the public eye.’

‘Do you have issues with the scandal of it?’

He shrugged. ‘If I did, then I would be a fool to escort her now. It is no less scandalous to partner with her while she is still married.’

‘Would you think less of her should she be free? Would she be beneath you? Because that would put things back to the way they were before I spoiled them.’ She sighed, and dropped her hands to her sides, remembering the look in her brother’s eyes when he had seen his wife in the doorway. ‘Although it would hurt Harry most awfully.’

Nicholas gave her a tired look, and stretched out on the couch with his feet up and a hand over his eyes. ‘There is nothing wrong with Elise, and no reason that I would find her unfit to marry if she were free. Save one.’ He looked as though the words were being wrenched out of him. ‘I do not love her.’

‘You do not …’ Rosalind looked confused. ‘But she has come back to you again, after all these years. And when I spoke to her, she seemed to think …’

‘What she understands to be true is in some ways different from what I have come to believe.’ He turned his head to her, and there was a look of obvious puzzlement on his face. ‘At one time I would have liked nothing better than to meet her in church and unite our futures. But in the years since she turned me down in favour of Harry?’ He shrugged. ‘Much time has passed. I still find her beautiful, and very desirable—for, while I am circumspect, I am not blind to her charms. I enjoy her company, and I value her friendship above all things. But I seriously doubt, should we marry, that I will be a more satisfactory husband than the one she already has. Once the novelty began to pale she would find many aspects of my character are wanting. And for my part? She broke my heart most thoroughly the first time she chose another. But I doubt when she leaves me this time that it will cause similar damage.’

‘How utterly perfect!’ Rosalind reached out and pulled his boots onto the floor, forcing him to sit up.

‘Oh, really?’ He was eyeing her suspiciously. ‘And just why would you say that?’

She sat down on the couch beside him, in the space his legs had occupied, trying to disguise her obvious relief. ‘I will explain shortly, if you can but answer a few more questions to my satisfaction. If you do not want her, then why did you take her back?’

He scratched his head. ‘I am not sure. But I suspect that force of habit brought her to me, and force of habit keeps me at her side.’

‘That does not sound very romantic.’

‘I thought at first that it was lust. A desire to taste the pleasures that I was once denied.’ He gave her a significant look. ‘But our relationship has not yet progressed to such a stage, and I find myself most content with things as they are.’

‘You two are not …? You do not …?’ Rosalind took her most worldly tone with him, and hoped he could not tell that she lacked the understanding to ask the rest of the question. For she was unsure just what should be happening if the relationship had ‘progressed’. But she had wondered, all the same.

‘We are not, and we do not.’ He was staring at her in surprise now. ‘Are you seeking vicarious pleasure in the details of Elise’s infidelity? For you are most curious on the subject.’

‘Not really.’ She gave him a critical appraisal in return. ‘I think it is quite horrid that she left Harry, and even worse that you took her in. But if it was all for an ember of true love that smouldered for years, though untended, it would give me some measure of understanding. And I would find it in my heart to forgive her.’

‘But not me?’ he asked.

‘I would suspect you of being an unrepentant rogue, Tremaine, as I do in any case. For you seem ready to ruin my brother’s marriage not because you love deeply, but because you are too lazy to send Elise home.’

He flinched at her gibe. ‘It will probably spoil your low opinion of me, but here is the real reason I encouraged her to remain in London. I recognise a friend in dire need, and I want to help her. She is lost, Miss Morley. She will find her way right again, I am sure. But until that time better that she be lost with me than with some other man who does not understand the situation and chooses to take advantage of her weakness.’

‘You are carrying on a public affair with my sister-in-law for her own good?’

Tremaine smiled. ‘And now please explain it to your brother for me. I am sure he will be relieved to hear it.’

‘I think Harry doubts your good intentions.’

His smile widened to a grin. ‘I know he does. I think he invited me down here for the express purpose of keeping me away from Elise during the holiday. To the susceptible, Christmas can be a rather romantic season. I believe we both know what can happen in the proximity of wine and mistletoe.’

He looked at the ceiling and whistled, while she glared steadfastly towards the floor.

‘Do you know how he attempted to trick me into this visit? By offering to divorce his wife if I won his silly bet. He probably thought I could not resist the challenge of besting him. Little did he suspect that I would tell Elise all, and she would insist on coming as well. It must gall him no end to see the two of us here.’

Rosalind cleared her throat. ‘I think you would be surprised at how much he might know on that matter. But pray continue.’

Tremaine laughed. ‘For my part, were I a jealous man, I would be enraged at the amount of energy my supposed intended spends in trying to attract her husband’s attention by courting mine. She means to go back to him, and he is dying to have her back. There is nothing more to be said on the matter.’

‘I will agree with that,’ said Rosalind. ‘For I have never met a couple better suited, no matter what they might think.’

He nodded. ‘We agree that they belong together. And she does want to come home to him, since he did not come to London and get her. So be damned to Harry’s machinations for the holidays. I have devised a plan of my own.’

‘Really?’ Someone else with a plan? She could not decide if she should meet the news with eagerness or dread.

‘Harry’s scheme, whatever it might be, requires my eagerness to win his wife away from him. In this he does not have my co-operation. I have kept her safe from interlopers for two months now, but it is time she returned home. I was hoping to find my host, lose the bet, and make a hasty escape before Elise realised what had happened. In no time, I would have been back in London. And she would have been back here with Harry, where she belongs.’

She shook her head. ‘Until such time as Harry loaned her a coach so that she could leave him again. Which he will do, the moment she asks. It will do no good at all if you leave only to have Elise following in your wake.’

Tremaine grimaced in disgust. ‘Why on earth would Harry lend her a coach? I have brought her as far as Lincolnshire. If he lacks the sense to hold on to her once he has her again then you can hardly expect me to do more.’

Rosalind replied, ‘Elise’s main argument with the man seems to be that he is too agreeable. And he has admitted to me that he would deny her nothing. If she wished to leave, he would not stop her.’

‘Damn Harry and his agreeable nature,’ he said. ‘In any case, the snow is keeping me from the execution of my plan, since it required a rapid getaway and that appears to be impossible.’ He stared at her for a moment. ‘But finding you here adds an interesting ripple to the proceedings. Considering our history together, and the results that came of it, I thought perhaps …’

‘That I would allow you to dishonour me again to precipitate another falling-out with Elise?’ She gave him a sceptical glare. ‘While I cannot fault you for the deviousness of it, I do not see what good it would do. You might have escaped marriage to me once, but I expect Harry would call you out if you refused me now.’

He glared at her. ‘Very well, Miss Morley. You have proved my plans to be non-starters. I shall fall back on my last resort, of taking all my meals in this room and avoiding both the lord and the lady of the house until I can leave. Unless you have a better idea?’ The challenge hung in the air.

She smiled back. ‘I was hoping you would ask. For I have a far superior plan.’ Or rather Harry had, if she could get Tremaine to agree with it. It would be quite hopeless if he meant to hide in the library the whole visit.

He favoured her with a dry expression, and reached for his teacup to take a fortifying sip. ‘Do you, now?’

‘Of course. You admit you are concerned with Elise’s welfare. And, while I wish her well, I am more worried about Harry. If we are in agreement that what they need for mutual happiness is each other, then it makes sense that we pool our resources and work together to solve their difficulties.’

‘Because we have had such good luck together in the past?’

She sniffed in disapproval. ‘I would not be expecting you to do anything more than you have done already. Pay courteous attention to Elise. Be her confidant, her escort, her friend. But to do that you must come out of this room, participate in the activities I have planned, and see that she does as well. Your mere presence may be enough to goad Harry to action on the matter, if he is the one who must apologise.’

‘That is exactly what I fear.’ Tremaine shuddered theatrically. ‘Although Harry seems to be a mild-mannered chap, I’ve found in the past that this type of fellow can be the most dangerous, when finally “goaded to action”. If your plan involves me meeting with violence at the hands of an irate husband …’

‘I doubt it will come to that.’

‘You doubt? Miss Morley, that is hardly encouraging.’ He spread his hands in front of him, as though admiring a portrait. ‘I can see it all now. You and the other guests look on in approval as Harry beats me to a bloody pulp. And then, Elise falls into his arms. While I wish them all the best, I fail to see the advantages to me in this scenario.’

‘Do not be ridiculous, sir. I doubt Harry is capable of such a level of violence.’ She considered. ‘Although, if you could see your way clear to letting him plant you a facer …’

‘No, I could not,’ He stared at her in curiosity. ‘Tell me, Miss Morley, are all your ideas this daft, or only those plans that concern me?’

‘There is nothing the least bit daft about it. It is no more foolish than taking a lover in an effort to get her to return to her husband.’ She stared back at him. ‘You will pardon me for saying it, but if that is the projected result of an affair with you, it does not speak well of your romantic abilities.’

‘I have the utmost confidence in my “romantic abilities”. But if you doubt them, I would be only too happy to demonstrate.’

She cleared her throat. ‘Not necessary, Tremaine. But, since you are concerned for your safety, we will find a way to make Harry jealous that involves no personal harm to you. Is that satisfactory?’

‘Why must we make him jealous at all? If I stay clear of him, and we allow time to pass and nature to take its course …’

‘Spoken as a true city-dweller, Tremaine. If you had ever taken the time to observe nature, you would have found that it moves with incredible slowness. The majestic glaciers are called to mind. So deliberate as to show no movement at all. And as cold as that idea.’

He shook his head. ‘Spoken by someone who has never seen the ruins of Pompeii. They are a far better example of what happens when natural passions are allowed their sway. Death and destruction for all who stand in the way. Which is why I prefer to keep my distance.’

‘You have seen them?’ she asked eagerly.

‘Harry and Elise? Of course. And I suspect that, although they do not show it outright—’

‘No. The ruins of Pompeii.’

He stopped, confused by the sudden turn in the conversation. ‘Of course. I took the Grand Tour. It is not so unusual.’

She leaned forward on the couch. ‘Were they as amazing as some have said?’

‘Well, yes. I suppose. I did not give it much thought at the time.’

She groaned in frustration. ‘I have spent my whole life sequestered in the country, drawing the same watercolours of the same spring flowers, year after year. And you have seen the world. But you did not think on it.’

‘You are sequestered in the country because you cannot be trusted out of sight of home,’ he snapped.

‘Because of one mistake. With you.’ She pointed a finger. ‘But I notice you are to be trusted to go wherever you like.’

‘That is because I am a man. You are a girl. It is an entirely different thing.’

‘Please cease referring to me as a girl. I am fully grown, and have been for some time.’ She glared up at him. ‘My diminutive stature has nothing to do with youth, and should not render me less than worthy—despite what Elise might have to say on the subject of what constitutes a good match.’

He was staring at her with a dazed expression. ‘Indeed. You are quite tall enough, I am sure. And what does Elise have to do with it?’

‘She was speaking on the subject of her marriage to Harry,’ Rosalind admitted. ‘I still find it very hard to understand, but she seemed to think it important that Harry was tall.’

Tremaine furrowed his brow, and took another sip from his cup. ‘That makes no sense. He is no taller than I, certainly. Perhaps even a little shorter.’

‘But just right in the eyes of Elise, I assure you. She made a point of assuring me that physically he is a magnificent specimen, and that they are very well suited.’

Tremaine choked on his tea.

‘Is something the matter?’

‘Not at all. It is just I think you have misunderstood her.’

‘Whatever else could she mean?’

He was looking at her in a most unusual way. ‘Perhaps at another time we can discuss that matter in more detail. But for now, do not concern yourself with it. I suspect it means that there are parts of married life that she is eager to resume. And that I have brought her home not a moment too soon. We need not concern ourselves with Harry’s good qualities. If we wish success, we would be better served to improve on his deficiencies. And, much as I dislike the risks involved, we must do what is necessary to make him reclaim his wife’s affection.’

Rosalind smiled at his use of the word ‘we’. Perhaps they were working towards the same end, after all. ‘My thoughts exactly.’

He returned her smile. ‘Well, then. What does she want from him that we can help her achieve?’

‘I know from experience that Harry can be the most frustrating of men.’ She frowned. ‘If he does not wish you to know, it is very hard to divine what it is that he is thinking. Hence our current predicament. I have no doubt that he adores Elise. But she cannot see it, even after all these years.’

Tremaine frowned in return. ‘Can she not see what is obvious to the rest of us?’

‘I think she wishes him to be more demonstrative.’

‘Which will be damned difficult, you will pardon the expression, with her hanging upon my arm. If he has never made any attempt to dislodge her from it, I fail to see what I could do to change things.’

She patted him on the arm in question. ‘You have hit on the problem exactly. She wishes him to do something about you.’

Tremaine ran a hand over his brow. ‘And I would rather he did not. Is there anything else?’

‘She wishes he would talk to her so that she could better understand him.’

He furrowed his brow. ‘They have passed the last five years in silence? That cannot be. I would swear that I have heard him utter words in her presence. Is it a difficulty of language? For I have found Elise’s comprehension of English to be almost flawless.’

Rosalind closed her eyes for a moment, attempting to gather strength. ‘She wishes him to speak about important matters.’

‘Matters of state, perhaps? How odd. She has shown no interest in them when speaking to me.’

Rosalind burst forth in impatience. ‘This has nothing to do with English lessons or a sudden interest in politics, Tremaine. Elise wishes Harry to speak openly about matters that are important to her.’

‘Oh.’ He slumped in defeat. ‘Then it is quite hopeless. For he would have no idea what that would be. The minds of women are a depth that we gentlemen have not been able to plumb, I’m afraid.’

‘Don’t be an idiot,’ she snapped. ‘There is nothing so terribly difficult to understand about women, if you make an effort. We two are conversing well enough, aren’t we? You do not require the assistance of a guide to understand me?’

He paused for a moment and answered politely, ‘Of course not. But you are more direct in your communication than Elise.’

She smiled graciously, preparing to blush and accept the compliment.

Then he said, ‘Almost masculine.’ He paused again. ‘And why do you persist in calling me just Tremaine, and not Mister? If you prefer, you may call me Nicholas.’

‘I do not.’ She stood up and moved away from him. ‘Nor do I think your behaviour proves you worthy of an honorific. Tremaine will do. And you may continue to call me Miss Morley. And now that we have got that out of the way, are we in agreement about the matter of Elise and Harry? Will you help me?’

‘Since it is likely to be the only way you will allow me any peace? Yes, I will help you, Miss Morley. Now, go about your business and let me return to my nap.’

CHAPTER NINE

HARRY sighed in satisfaction as he climbed the stairs towards his bed. The day had gone well enough, he supposed. The house had buzzed with activity. Wherever he went he had found people playing at cards or games, eating, drinking and merrymaking, with Rosalind presiding over all with an air of hospitable exasperation. The only faces that had seemed to be absent from the mix were those of Tremaine and his wife.

The thought troubled him, for he suspected that they might be together, wherever they were, enjoying each other’s company. And it would be too obvious of him to pound upon his wife’s door and admit that he wished to know if she was alone.

He almost sighed in relief as he saw her in the window seat at the top of the stairs. She was just where she might have been if there had been no trouble between them, sitting in her favourite place and looking out onto the snow falling into the moonlit park below.

He stepped up beside her, speaking quietly so as not to disturb her mood. ‘Beautiful, is it not?’

‘Yes.’ She sighed. But it was a happy, contented sigh, and it made him smile.

‘I expect it will make tomorrow’s trip into the trees a difficult one.’

‘You still mean to go?’ She looked at him in obvious surprise.

‘Of course. It will be the morning of Christmas Eve. We went out into the woods together often enough that I have come to think of it as a family tradition. Would you like to accompany me?’

She looked excited at the prospect, and then dropped her gaze and shook her head. ‘I doubt that would be a good idea.’

He laughed. ‘It is not as if we are planning an assignation. Only a sign of friendship. If we cannot be lovers we can at least be friends, can’t we?’

‘Friends?’ The word sounded hollow and empty coming from her. She was making no attempt to show the world that she was happy with their situation.

It gave him hope, and he continued. ‘Yes. We can have a truce. If you wish Tremaine to be your lover, then why can I not occupy the position he has vacated and be your trusted friend?’

‘You wish to be my friend?’ Now she looked truly puzzled.

‘If I can be nothing else. Let us go out tomorrow, as we have done in the past. We will take Tremaine with us, so that he can share in the fun. If he is what you want, then I wish to see him well settled in my place before I let you go. Tomorrow I will pass the torch.’

‘You will?’ If she wanted her freedom, his offer should give her a sense of relief. But there was nothing in her tone to indicate it.

‘Yes. I had not planned on your visit, but now that you are here it is a good thing. We cannot settle what is between us with you in London and me in the country. If you wish an end to things, then it is better if we deal with them face to face, without acrimony. Only then will you truly be free.’ He let the words sink in. ‘You do wish to be free of me, do you not?’

‘Yes …’

There was definitely doubt in her voice. He clung to that split second of hesitation as the happiest sound he had heard in months.

‘Very well, then. If there is nothing I can do that will make Tremaine lose the bet, on Twelfth Night I will honour my word and begin divorce proceedings. For above all I wish you to be happy. Merry Christmas, Elise.’

‘Thank you.’

She whispered it, and sounded so very sad that it was all he could do to keep from putting his arms around her and drawing her close, whispering back that he would never let her go.

‘Let us go to bed, then, for it will be an early morning.’

She stood and walked with him, towards their rooms.

Would it be so wrong to take her hand and pull her along after him to his door? Although her manner said that she might not be totally opposed to the idea, neither was there proof that she would be totally in favour of it. It would be best if he waited until he had a better idea of what she truly wanted.

He put his hands behind his back and cleared his throat.

‘About our disagreement of yesterday, over the arrangement of the rooms. After we had gone to bed, I realised how it must look to you. And I apologise if you took it as an effort to control your behaviour. You have made it clear enough to me that it is no longer any business of mine what occurs in your bedroom. If there is a reason that you might wish to lock the connecting door, I will allow you your privacy.’

‘For what reason would I wish privacy?’ She sounded confused by the idea. Perhaps even after two months Tremaine was an idle threat to their marriage. She shrugged as though nothing could occur to her, and gave a tired laugh. ‘In any case, what good would it do to lock the door against you? You have the key.’

He held his hands open in front of him. ‘I have all the keys, Elise. I could open the door of any room in which you slept. You must have realised that when you came home. But do you really think me such a villain that I mean to storm into your room without your permission and force myself upon you?’

She caught her breath and her eyes darkened. For a moment his threat held definite appeal.

Then he cleared his throat and continued, ‘Am I really the sort who would take you until you admitted that there was no place in the world that you belonged but in my arms and in my bed?’

She froze for a moment, and then glared at him. ‘No, Harry, you are not. On more careful consideration, I think that I have nothing to worry about. Goodnight.’

And, perhaps it was his imagination, but the way she carried herself could best be described as stomping off to her room. When the door shut, he suspected that the slam could be heard all over the house.

The next morning Harry was up well before dawn, had taken breakfast and dressed in clothes suitable for the weather before going to roust Tremaine. He could not help but smile as he pounded smartly on the door to the poor man’s bedroom. He could hear rustling, stumbling noises, and a low curse before the door in front of him creaked open.

Tremaine stood before him, bleary-eyed and still in his nightshirt. ‘Eh?’

‘Time to get up, old man.’

Tremaine squinted into the hall and croaked, ‘Is there a problem?’

‘No problem at all. Did I forget to tell you last night? So sorry. But you must be a part of today’s proceedings. Elise is expecting you.’

‘Then come for me in daylight.’

‘No, no. What we are about must be done at dawn. And on the morn of Christmas Eve. There is no better time. Pull on some clothes, man. Warm ones. Your true love is awaiting you in the hall.’

At the mention of Elise Tremaine’s eyes seemed to widen a bit. Then he stared back at Harry, as though trying to gauge his intentions. At last he sighed with resignation, and muttered something that sounded rather like, ‘Damn Rosalind.’ Then he said, ‘A moment.’ And then he shut the door.

‘A moment’ proved to be the better part of a half an hour. Tremaine appeared at the door again, no happier, but reasonably well dressed for Harry’s purposes, in a fine coat of light wool and soft, low shoes. He stepped into the hall and shut the door behind him. It was only then that he noticed the axe in Harry’s hands. ‘What the devil—?’

Harry nudged him with the handle and gave him a mad grin. ‘You’ll see. You’ll see soon enough.’

Tremaine swallowed. ‘That is what I fear.’

‘Downstairs.’ He gestured Tremaine ahead of him, and watched the cautious way the man passed him. There was a tenseness in his shoulders, as though his back was attempting to climb out of his coat while his head was crawling into it. His neck seemed to have disappeared entirely. He did not relax until he saw Elise, pacing on the slate at the foot of the stairs, probably assuming that Harry would not cut him down dead in front of a lady.

‘There you are.’ Elise was trying to display a mixture of irritation and trepidation at what was about to occur, but she could not manage to disguise the same childlike excitement that she had shown whenever they had done this in the past. It made Harry happy to look at her. ‘I was not sure if you would still hold to the practice.’

Harry smiled. ‘Perhaps if you had not come home I might have forgone it. But if you are under this roof then Christmas will be every bit as full as you would wish it to be. And if we are to do it at all, then we must bring Tremaine, so he will know what is to be expected of him next year.’

If she meant to rescue the poor man, she gave no indication of it. Instead, she nodded with approval. ‘Let us go, then.’

‘Go where?’ Tremaine had found his voice at last.

‘Outside, of course. To cut the Yule Log.’

‘Oh, I say. You can’t mean …’

‘A massive oak. I have just the thing picked out.’ He turned back to his wife, ignoring the stricken look on Tremaine’s face. ‘You will approve, I’m sure, Elise. The thing is huge. Sure to burn for days, and with enough wood for two fireplaces.’

‘Really?’ She was smiling at Harry as though he had offered to wrap her in diamonds. Any annoyance at the chill he would take tramping about the grounds in a foot of fresh snow was replaced by the warm glow of her presence.

But the Christmas spirit did not seem to be reaching Tremaine. He grumbled, ‘Surely you have servants to do this?’

Harry shook his head. ‘I could never expect them to do such. It is tradition that we choose one ourselves. Elise is very particular about the choice, and she enjoys the walk. I could not begrudge her the experience.’

Elise looked at Tremaine in disapproval. ‘You are not dressed for the weather.’

‘Here—we can fix that.’ Harry removed his own scarf and wrapped it twice around Tremaine’s neck, pulling until it constricted. ‘There. All better. Let us proceed.’ He opened the front door wide and shepherded them through.

Elise took to it as he had known she would. Though she might claim to adore the city, she needed space and fresh air to keep her happy. She strode out into the morning, with the first glints of sunlight hitting the fresh snow, twirled and looked back at them, her face shining brighter than any star. ‘Isn’t it magnificent?’

Harry nodded in agreement. As he looked at her, he felt his own throat close in a way that had nothing to do with the tightness of a scarf. She was so beautiful standing there, with the dawn touching her blonde hair. And he thought, You used to be mine. He chased the thought away. He would make her come home again. For if he had lost her for ever he might just as well march out into the snow, lie down and wait for the end.

He looked around him—anywhere but at Elise. For until he had mastered his emotions he could not bear to look in her face. And he saw she was right: with a fresh coating of snow over everything, and frost and icicles clinging to the trees, it was a most beautiful morning indeed.

Tremaine merely grunted.

‘This way.’ Harry pointed to the left, up a low hill at the side of the house. ‘In the copse of trees where we used to picnic.’ He set off at a brisk pace.

Elise followed him easily in her stout boots and heavy wool skirt. ‘You do not mean to take the tree where we …’ She was remembering their last picnic in the oak grove, and her cheeks were going pink in a way that had nothing to do with the cold.

He cleared his throat. ‘Not that one, precisely. But very nearby. This tree is dying, and we will have to take it soon in any case. Why should it not serve a noble purpose?’

Behind them he could hear Tremaine, stumbling and sliding and cursing his way up the hill. He was falling further behind as Elise drew abreast of Harry.

She said softly, ‘I am still amazed that you are willing to do this after what has gone on between us. Although you always complied with my wishes, you complained about the bother of it in years past.’

He appeared pleased, and looked at the ground. ‘Perhaps I did. But I found, though I meant to leave it off, that the habit was ingrained. Although I complained to you, perhaps I enjoyed it more than I knew.’ He glanced back over his shoulder. ‘In future you will have Tremaine to complain over it, when he takes my place. But for myself I mean to spend a quiet hour on a winter morning, watching the sun come up.’

She smiled at him in approval, and then blushed and looked away. He glanced back again, so that she could not see his answering smile, and called, ‘Keep up, Tremaine, or you shall miss the best part.’

The tree he had chosen had been carefully notched by a servant, so that most of the work was done and it would fall correctly. In truth, there was so little left to do that it was fortunate the thing had not fallen on its own in the storm. A few blows of the axe would give the impression to his lady love of manly competence without undue exertion.

He stepped around to the far side and swung the axe into the wood. It struck with a satisfying clunk that made Tremaine flinch. ‘See? We strike thusly.’ Harry swung again, and felt the unaccustomed labour jar the bones of his arms. After several Christmases just like this, at least he was prepared for the shock. It was much better than it had been the first time his wife had suggested the activity. ‘It takes only a few strokes to do the job.’ He smiled at his adversary again. ‘Step away from that side, sir. For the tree is likely to come down when I least expect it.’ He took a short pause, turned so that Elise could not see the expression on his face, and stared at Tremaine, not bothering to smile. ‘I would hate for an accident to befall you.’

Tremaine fairly leapt out of the way, standing safely behind him. The man was terrified of him.

Harry grinned to himself and swung again. ‘It is a dangerous business, using an axe.’ Clunk. ‘No end of things can go wrong. Should the handle slip in my hands, for example.’ Clunk.

He glanced up at his wife’s friend, who had gone bone-white with cold and fear. Harry offered him the axe. ‘Here. You must try. For I expect Elise will wish you to learn the ways of this.’

Tremaine muttered low, under his breath, ‘If you think next year will find me chopping wood for the holiday, you are both quite mad. I have no property in the country, nor do I plan to acquire one. And I seriously doubt that I will be motivated to march through Hyde Park with a weapon in my hands, doing damage to the landscaping.’

‘Oh, Nicholas,’ Elise laughed. ‘What a droll idea.’

But Tremaine took the axe from Harry’s hands, and looked relieved to have disarmed him. Harry stepped back as the other man took a mighty swing at the oak, overbalanced, and fell on his seat in the snow.

‘Hmm. It does not seem that you have the hang of it yet. Best let me finish it after all.’ He retrieved the axe, and a few more chops and a stout push was all it took. There was a loud cracking noise, and he put out an arm to shield Elise. Tremaine scrambled to safety, away from the falling tree.

It crashed to the ground and they stared at the thing for a moment—Tremaine in disgust, and Elise with obvious satisfaction. Then Tremaine said, ‘I suppose now you will tell me that we must drag it back to the house?’

Elise giggled, and Harry said, ‘Oh, no. Of course not. This is still much too green to burn. This is the log for next year’s festivity. Some people save the cutting for Candlemas, but we have always done it on Christmas Eve morn. And this year it is my gift to you, Tremaine. You will need it next year, when you celebrate Christmas with Elise.’ He gestured to the enormous tree on the ground before them. ‘You can take the whole thing back with you when you return to London. The servants will take care of it in good time. They are just now bringing in last year’s log. We shall see it when we go back to the house.’

‘Mad.’ Tremaine stared at them in amazement. ‘You are both quite mad.’ Then he turned from them and stalked back to the house, sliding ahead of them on the downward slope.

Harry looked after him. ‘I do not think Tremaine appreciates my gift.’

Elise looked after him as well, trying to look stern, although a smile was playing around her lips. ‘That was horrible of you, you know. To drag the poor man out in weather like this. And so early in the morning. He abhors mornings.’

Harry tried to focus on the snow-covered back of the retreating man. Not on the beautiful woman at his side and what her smile might tell him about her intimate knowledge of Nicholas Tremaine’s morning routine. ‘A pity. For it is the most beautiful time of day. You still enjoy mornings, do you not? Or have your ways changed now that you are not with me?’

‘I still enjoy them,’ she admitted. ‘Although they are not so nice in the city as they are here. It is the best time to ride, though. For many are still sleeping from the night’s revelry, and the park is nearly empty.’

‘Oh.’ He tried not to imagine what a handsome couple his wife and Tremaine would make on horseback in Rotten Row.

‘But the city is quite empty at Christmas. And I will admit it would have been lonely to remain there.’ She hesitated. ‘I must thank you for inviting … Tremaine.’

She had remembered, too late, that she had not been included in the invitation. There was an awkward pause.

‘I am glad that you chose to accompany him,’ Harry said firmly. ‘For I would not wish you to be alone. And I hope Christmas will be very much as you remember it.’ He glanced down the hill towards the house. ‘You have brought many changes to Anneslea since we married.’

‘Really?’ She looked surprised, as though she did not realise the merriment she’d brought with her when she’d come into his life. ‘Was not Christmas a joyous time when you were a boy?’

He shrugged. ‘Much like any other day. When I was small my father was often ill, and there was little cause for celebration. My stepfather, Morley, did not hold with foolishness on a holy day. And once I came here, to stay with Grandfather?’ He shrugged again. ‘It was a very quiet festival. There was dinner, of course. And gifts.’ They had arrived back at the house. A footman grinned as he opened the front door, and they entered the front hall to the smells of pine and spices and an air of suppressed excitement. He looked around him. ‘But it was nothing like this. Thank you.’ His voice very nearly cracked on the words.

‘You’re welcome, Harry.’ Her eyes were very round, and misty blue in the morning light. Then she looked away from him quickly, letting a servant take her outer clothes and enquiring about tea, which was already poured in the library, just as it had been in years past. It was still early, but any guests who had risen would be in the dining room taking breakfast. For a time it would be just the two of them, alone together.

In the library, she glanced around the room with a critical eye. And Harry noted with some satisfaction that she seemed unconcerned by the presence of only two cups on the tea tray. Apparently, after his disgrace in the woods, she did not care that Tremaine would be left to fend for himself.

‘Do you mean to have Rosalind here for Christmas from now on?’ she said softly.

‘It depends, I suppose, on whether Morley allows it. But I do not know what I would have done without her help this year.’

Elise looked up from her cup, her eyes still wide with sympathy. ‘Does she know that the family recipes as they are written are not accurate?’

‘Eh?’

‘Rosalind. There are changes in the Christmas recipes, and she should remember to remind Cook.’

Harry waved a dismissive hand. ‘I expect she will manage as best she can. It will be all right.’

‘Perhaps I should help her.’

‘No,’ Harry said, worried that her sudden interest in the menu was likely to take her away from him again. ‘There is no need, I’m sure. No one will notice if things are not quite up to standard.’

She stared at him. ‘Really, Harry. You have no idea how difficult a house party can be.’

He looked warmly at her. ‘Only because you made it look so easy, my sweet. But you need not bother.’ He gave a slight sigh. ‘I will want you here tonight, of course. When it is time to light the Yule Log. For it is still very much a part of you, since you helped me to choose it. And I’ve still got a piece of last year’s log, so that we may light the new one properly.’

Her agitation seemed to fade, and she smiled a little, remembering.

‘If we have any regrets from the old year we can throw them on the fire,’ he announced. ‘Next year we shall start anew.’

She set her teacup down with a click. ‘And behave as if none of this has happened?’

He sighed. ‘Is it really necessary to retread the same ground? If you are ready to come home, then I see no reason to refer to any of this again.’

‘If I am ready to come home?’

He had spoken too soon, and ruined all that had gone before. For the coldness had returned to her voice, and she was straightening up the tea things and preparing to leave him.

‘Perhaps I should go to my room and dress for the day. If you will excuse me?’

He followed her to the door and in a last act of desperation held up a hand to stop her as she crossed the threshold, touching her arm and pointing above them. ‘Mistletoe.’

She frowned. ‘You can’t be serious.’

‘Not even for old times’ sake?’

‘Certainly not.’ She reached up and caught the thing by a twig. She pulled it down, then threw it to the floor at his feet.

He stared at it, unsure whether to be angry or sad. ‘Pity. I would have quite enjoyed it. I think it is your kiss I miss the most. But there are so many things about you that I miss it is hard to tell.’

‘Miss me?’ She laughed. ‘This is the first I have heard of it. It seems to me that you are managing quite well without me, Harry.’

‘It bothers you, then, that I have put Rosalind in charge?’

‘Not particularly.’

‘But something has made you unhappy again. Are you ready to discuss why you are here?’ he asked.

‘Whatever do you mean?’

‘You have come back to me, Elise, just as I knew you would. It was no real surprise, seeing you. I had a devil of a time persuading Tremaine to take the invitation, but I knew if he came you would not be able to stay away. And I was right.’ He looked at her, searching her expression for some evidence that she was weakening again.

‘It should not be so terribly strange that I would wish to return with him. I lived here for several years, and associate many happy memories with the place.’

Harry sighed. ‘Do you really? When you left I thought you never wished to see the place again. Or was it just the owner you wished to avoid? Because you must have known I’d be here as well.’

‘I hold you no ill will,’ she insisted, staring at him through narrowed eyes and proving her words a lie. ‘And, since you have not said otherwise, I assume you agree that our separation is for the best.’

‘You wished to part, not I. Do not mistake my unwillingness to beg for you to return as agreement.’ And then his desire to hold her got the better of him, and he stepped even closer. ‘There is very little separation between us at this moment.’ He grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him, so her body rested tight against him.

‘That is none of my doing and all of yours.’ But she did not push him away.

He calmed himself so as not to alarm her. Then he put his mouth to her ear and whispered, so softly that only she could hear, ‘Kiss me, Elise. Just one more time. I will enjoy it, and you will as well. I would make sure of the fact.’ He felt her tremble and knew that he was right. When his lips met hers he would make her forget all about her argument with him. She would think of nothing but how he made her feel, and that would be the end of their troubles.

‘I did not come here because I missed your kisses.’ She pulled away from him, and the small rejection stung worse than all the others combined.

‘And yet you were the one to come home.’

‘For a brief visit. There are things in my room …’

‘Things?’ He laughed, for he had been sure that she would come up with a better lie than that when they finally had a chance to speak. ‘If that is all you wanted, then you could have saved me a small amount of personal pride had you come alone, in January, rather than trailing after Tremaine when the house is full of guests.’

‘I am not trailing after him,’ she snapped.

Harry took a deep breath, for it would not do to lose his temper with her. ‘It is all right,’ he responded. ‘I’ve grown quite used to it, really.’

But clearly it was not all right to her. He had misspoken again, and she was working herself into a rage. ‘You did not expect me to live for ever alone, once we parted?’

‘That is not what I mean, and you know it. I knew when you finally left me that you would go straight to Tremaine for comfort. I have expected it for many years.’

Anger and indignation flashed hot in her eyes, as though she could pretend the truth was not an obvious thing and her leaving had been all his fault. ‘When I finally left you? What cause did I ever give you to doubt me?’

‘It was never a question of doubt, Elise.’ He tried to keep his tone matter-of-fact, for there was no point in fuelling her anger with his. ‘I have always known that I was your second choice.’

‘How utterly ridiculous,’ she snapped. ‘I married you, didn’t I? Are you saying you doubted my innocence?’

‘I am saying nothing of the kind. I am saying that I was not your first choice when you wed. You might have accepted my offer, but Tremaine offered for you first. You might have chosen me, but you always regretted that it could not have been Nicholas. I have had to live with the fact for five years, Elise.’ He struggled to hide the hurt in his tone, and instead his voice sounded bitter. ‘I had hoped that you would put him behind you once you were married. I would not have offered for you otherwise. But I realised almost from the beginning that it was not to be the case.’

‘You realised?’

There was something in the sound of her voice that was almost like an accusation, and he could feel his carefully managed control slipping away. ‘It did not take you long to make up with the man. Less than a year. The quarrel that parted you would have mended easily had you been willing to wait. It was really most annoying to listen to you complain, at the end, about my lack of devotion. For you have been so clearly devoted to another. Did you expect me to remain for ever the benighted fool who had married you? In the face of your continued indifference? In time one learns to harden one’s heart, Elise.’

He was almost shouting by the time he’d finished. And then he laughed again, at the shocked expression on her face. ‘Although what you expect by accompanying your lover to our home for Christmas I cannot imagine. Did you hope to create a dramatic scene for the diversion of my guests? Is it not bad enough that you have finally worked up the courage to be unfaithful to me? Must you parade it in front of me as well?’ He shook his head, and his voice returned to normal. ‘I never in all these years felt you to be so cruel. Perhaps I did not know you as well as I thought.’

Which was foolish, for he had known all along that that was what she would do. He had wanted her to come with Tremaine, had planned for the eventuality. And now he was angry to the point of shouting because his plans had come to fruition. It made no sense at all.

But it was too late to call back the words, or to explain that he wished to discuss things with her in a rational manner. Elise’s cheeks had grown hot with anger and shame, but no words were issuing from her lips, and she was staring at him as though she no longer knew him.

As he waited for her response, a part of him wanted to beg her forgiveness, forestall her reaction. But why should he take all the blame when she was the one who had left? It was long past time for her turn to be hurt and frustrated and embarrassed.

It did him no good to feel sure that he was in the right on this. Instead of vindication, he was suddenly sick with the taste of truth. He had spoken too much of it, all in one go, and it sat in his stomach like an excess of Christmas dinner.

Did she expect him to swallow his pride as well, before she was willing to come home? If the silence went on much longer she would see him on his knees, begging her to return.

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