Harry 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 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.

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. And 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….

The Mistletoe Wager

Harlequin®Historical

MILLS & BOON

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Author Note

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 parlor games. As I was doing the research for this story, I came across a game that 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
The Mistletoe Wager

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To Jim and the boys. Christmas comes but once a year.

But it lasts twelve months.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteeen

Chapter Seventeen

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.

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