Christine Merrill - A Yuletide Invitation - The Mistletoe Wager / The Harlot's Daughter

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.’

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.