Have Yourself a Merry Little Scandal: a Christmas collection of Historical Romance (Have Yourself a Merry Little... Book 1)

by Anna Campbell

  “If, as I suspect, there is someone here you are interested in, then I shall do all in my power to entice our visitors to remain for what is, after all, my sister’s greatest entertainment of the year at Quamby House.”

  “You’d really do that?”

  Fanny was surprised at his tone. While she detected a note of confusion, that was only to be expected, for naturally he’d be surprised at her perception in discovering the state of his heart, and of his motivations. But there was hope in his voice, also.

  “If you so desire it, Mr Wells. Yes, I will make our current house party visitors complete captives.”

  Though she said it with a degree of gentle mockery, it seemed to offer him some relief. “I would be grateful if you did, Lady Fenton.” He looked out at the flat, gray lake. “It would be a great disappointment if any of the current party were to leave before the Christmas Ball.”

  “You were right, Antoinette. Sebastian is utterly smitten with Miss Reeves!” Fanny felt more gratified saying these words than she’d expected. She raised her arms as far as the cut of her elegant sprigged muslin would allow as she reclined on the chaise longue by the window while Fenton rested his hand on her ankle while reading a book.

  Lord Quamby, who was playing whist with his Venetian personal dresser to whom he seemed to have taken an even greater shine the last day or so, raised his head to say with a degree of pride, “My wife is right on the mark when it comes to matters of the heart.” He caught Antoinette’s eye, adding fondly, “Aren’t you, my girl?” before returning his attention to Fenton and the room at large to say in more general terms, “Why, it was she who recognized Giuseppe’s talent and suitability for his new role. Not only have I never looked better, I’ve never felt better!” He patted the orange curls of his new wig with satisfaction while Giuseppe reached across to adjust his master’s neckcloth, his look of pride and acknowledgment compensating for his lack of English competence as he said, “Hees Earlship look bellissimo, non?”

  “But what of Arabella?” asked Fenton, ignoring Giuseppe’s entreaty to add his endorsement to his brother-in-law’s handsome looks. “Does she return Sebastian’s feelings?”

  Fanny and Antoinette sent Fenton a sharp look, and Fanny’s twinge of concern was relieved by Antoinette’s confident, “Indeed she does! Why Fanny, you may have wondered why I was all a-bother in the passage this morning. It was because I’d come upon poor Arabella weeping. When I asked her the reason, she said she’d just learned her father would be arriving in the next day or two to attend the ball, after all, and that he was hardly likely to approve of the man who has stolen her heart, now, any more than he did four months ago.”

  “Then why not tell me so directly instead of sending me out to learn what you already knew?”

  “Because, Fanny, you never quite believe me when I tell you who is in love with whom. I wanted you to elicit Sebastian’s feelings for Arabella for yourself. And now that you have confirmed that our very handsome Sebastian Wells’s feelings are in direct accord with our very flighty, but pretty Arabella Reeves’s youthful but no less intense feelings, I can rest assured that all will be well.”

  Fenton, who’d appeared to be deeply engrossed in his book, looked up to ask, “Surely Sebastian is a fine match for Arabella? Why should Arabella’s father not approve when our esteemed Sebastian is in line for a viscountcy?”

  “Because Arabella’s father is highly ambitious and wishes his daughter to marry Lord Yarrowby, who is in line for an earldom.”

  “And whom she’s been going to marry for years, apparently,” said Quamby. “They grew up together.”

  “But Arabella declared Lord Yarrowby as dull as dishwater when she changed her mind about marrying him four months ago.” Fanny felt the heat around her collar. She knew what it was to be forced to marry a gentleman of one’s parent’s choosing. Not too many years had passed since Fanny’s own ambitious mama had arranged a match for Fanny with Lord Slyther on account of his pocketbook and willingness to look past the fact she came with no dowry. She shuddered at the memory, even now. Lord Slyther had been so odious, she’d rather have thrown herself into the Thames wearing an iron chastity belt.

  Instead, she’d released the chastity belt, taken the greatest chance of her life—and thrown herself into Fenton’s bed.

  With glorious success.

  “Well, it’s all settled then.” Sounding satisfied, Antoinette rose, brushing down her skirts while the rest of them looked up in surprise.

  “What’s settled?” Fanny asked.

  “Why, the outcome of the Christmas Ball.” Antoinette smiled. “I predict that as midnight chimes, we’ll all be clinking glasses in celebration of Miss Arabella Reeves’s and Mr Sebastian Wells’s impending marriage.”

  Chapter 8

  Venetia gripped the cold iron door handle of the castle folly as she persuaded herself she had no reason to hesitate.

  Sebastian had made it abundantly clear he still felt for her as he had before. And that was all that mattered.

  She supposed he had no idea of the extent to which his father had opposed his proposed match with Venetia.

  But that was in the past. Sebastian had done the old man’s bidding. He’d married Dorothea and provided the son and heir so desperately desired.

  Now Dorothea was dead, and Sebastian still loved Venetia—and wasn’t that all that mattered?

  If the flame that burned between them was still alight in Venetia’s heart, old Mr Wells could no longer prevent them from being together.

  She gripped the door handle tighter, yet still she hesitated.

  She’d never told Sebastian what his father had said to her all those years before: that a match between his son and Dorothea was the price to be paid if the estate were to remain in the family’s hands. It wasn’t just that the union between the children of two old friends and neighbors would ensure peace and prosperity long into the future. Old Mr Wells was deeply indebted to Dorothea’s father.

  He’d told Venetia that if his son were to be swayed by his feelings for Venetia, then they were all doomed.

  Venetia drew in a deep breath. Glancing out at the partly frozen lake, frost glittering on the bulrushes beneath a weak sun, a bird warbled a tune.

  And suddenly, Venetia was overcome by a wave of the most profound joy.

  Sebastian had done his father’s bidding, and now he was free to follow his heart.

  Yes, Sebastian had a son and heir. He had discharged his duty toward the family line. Toward his father. The debt to Dorothea’s father had been discharged.

  Venetia and Sebastian were free to follow their feelings.

  And now Sebastian was here.

  Waiting for her. Nothing now prevented them being together. Not even past entanglements, for as long as Sebastian loved Venetia above all other women, that was good enough for her.

  “Venetia!” The door opened suddenly from the inside and there was Sebastian looking down at her. “Thank heavens you came, after all! I wasn’t sure if you’d get cold feet.” There was nothing awkward or diffident about him as he seized her wrist and drew her inside, locking the door, then embracing her before lowering them both onto the sofa by the fireplace, Venetia across his lap.

  The room was small but lofty with a desk by the window and, through the doorway that opened into the next room, a large, commodiously cushioned bed dominated the room.

  "For a second, I nearly did, Sebastian. I feel...so different from the girl you once knew.”

  “You don’t look any different.” He untied her bonnet and tossed it toward the fireplace, where it lodged itself upon the firebrand. “Damn! I was hoping to burn it,” he said as he turned back to look at her, running his fingers through her hair. “At least, you don’t, now,” he added with a grin. “And I certainly haven’t changed.”

  “I find that hard to believe,” she scoffed, though with a smile, for the same humorous light danced behind his eyes. “You’ve seen the world and—”

  “And
I’ve experienced hope and disappointment, love and loss.” He sobered, taking both her hands and setting them across her knees. “But the greatest loss was you.”

  “And now I’m here.” Ridiculously, she felt tearful. “And...you say there’s nothing to keep us apart?” Earlier, this might have been a combative statement; before he’d swayed her with his sincerity. Now, she just wanted to be reassured this was true. If he wanted to kiss her, and make love to her, she would ask no further questions. The prospect of happiness was too alluring, and the more she allowed herself to hope, the more she feared something could intervene to spoil it. Unless she seized it with both hands. Now.

  “Dorothea can no longer do that, God rest her soul.”

  Venetia shook her head. “She was...a good person. I’m sorry.” What else could she say? There’d been nothing objectionable about Dorothea. Her vapid existence had simply turned into a malignant force in Venetia’s life. But that had not been Dorothea’s fault.

  “When Dorothea died...truth be told...I felt released. Released to find you, Venetia. Does that reflect badly on me?”

  “Not if you were a faithful and honorable husband.” Now that she’d exorcised her own doubts, Venetia didn’t want to talk anymore about the past. But it seemed Sebastian wished to unburden himself.

  “I was. But I was made a fool of by Lady Banks.” He looked into the flames, and Venetia felt his thoughts drift to places she no longer wanted them to go. But if it helped him to speak of it, she’d stay silent. “I’m ashamed of what happened, but I promised I would tell you the truth.”

  Resigned, Venetia waited. Let him dismiss, in his own words, the two women with whom the gossipmongers claimed he’d been associated, and then he and Venetia could move on to reclaiming what they had lost.

  And embrace their future.

  “I told you that Lady Banks had no basis for impugning my reputation, for I did nothing more than help her sell some diamonds to honor a debt.” He cleared his throat. “Of course, her husband took a different view, but that’s old news.” He flicked her a lopsided grin. “Mrs Compton, Barbara Compton, however, is a different story.”

  “I don’t want to hear it.” Venetia shook her head. She hesitated, biting her lip as she tried to make sense of his troubled gaze. “Unless you still love her.”

  “God, no!” A look of horror crossed his face as he shook his head. “I never did. She tricked me into her bed after inviting me to a soiree at which I was the only attendee. I was a fool for succumbing to her lures!” He released her hands to cup her face. “Please forgive me, Venetia.”

  “The past is the past, Sebastian.” She reached up to trace the line of his brow. “I understand. You could not have known you’d ever see me again.” The tentative hope in her breast that there might in fact be a future for them was beginning to swell. Sebastian was everything she wanted in a man: kind and strong; sensitive and brave.

  And he loved her. She had no doubt of that now.

  “If you have told me everything I need to know before I give myself to you, body and soul,” she whispered, “then I am satisfied.” She felt like a flower, the petals opening up slowly, as it received the warmth and encouragement needed to flourish. “If your conscience is clear, and if you love me, then I will embrace everything that is about to happen between now...and long into the future.”

  She thought he’d kiss her then, with the same fervor, but he hesitated. “I love you, Venetia. I love you as much as I ever have.” He seemed to struggle with his words. “You’re right...I could not have known, four months ago…that I would ever see you again. I did things, and made promises, I never would have—if I’d had an inkling that we would be together again.”

  “Come here and kiss me, Sebastian,” she whispered, standing up and going to the bed in the next room where she drew back the counterpane.

  The bed linen was crisp and clean, an inviting space for the short time they could be together. She removed her walking boots and her pelisse, then climbed onto the bed, patting the sheets beside her, before lying back upon the pillows. “Make love to me, Sebastian. I want things to be like they were between us—before.”

  The bed dipped beneath him as he climbed onto the mattress to lie beside her, holding her close against his side.

  “I want you, now, and for always, like we once hoped it could be.” She took his hand and put it on her breast for he seemed to be holding himself back, whereas Venetia was on fire. “Lady Indigo will want me to read to her before I dress her for this evening, and we don’t have long.” She closed her eyes as Sebastian began to unbutton her gown, stroking her into the long-missed, familiar sensations of love and lust.

  “How much time do we have?”

  “She’s sleeping now, but I need to be back with her in less than an hour.”

  “Less than an hour!”

  Venetia opened her eyes, smiling at his horror, then, resting her head on her hands, she watched, fascinated and excited in equal measure, as he slid to the floor and began to unbutton the fall front of his buckskin breeches after removing his boots.

  His movements were now hurried, his expression intense, as he came toward her so he could divest her of her outer layers of clothing.

  She felt no shyness. It was just as it had been before: urgent, exciting, and sincere. And when she was beneath him, her dress laid safely over a chair, her petticoats rucked up and her breasts partly exposed, she felt only the deepest excitement as he took one nipple into his mouth and his hands gently stroked her bare skin.

  “You’re even more beautiful than when I last saw you,” he murmured, trailing featherlight kisses along her jawline before tantalizing her with his tongue once more.

  Completely naked, he cut an even finer figure than she’d remembered, though she didn’t say it. Sebastian had grown into a man; his shoulder width and chiseled jaw proclaiming the strength he was still developing when they’d been young and in love—both of them so hopeful but fearful, too. As they’d had every reason to be.

  “I love you, Venetia.” He paused, his eyes pools of warmth and desire.

  “And I love you, Sebastian.” She raised her hands to cup his face.

  “Forever?” he asked. And then he was trailing those dangerous, tantalizing kisses down her belly until he reached the juncture of her thighs where she was already so wet and willing. And where she almost dissolved into a puddle of need as he swept his long, clever tongue the length of her cleft.

  “Forever!” she gasped, laughing her pleasure as he primed her for what was to come, his probing fingers and sensitive tongue sending her into a maelstrom of shivering desire.

  This is what her body had been crying out for since the moment he’d kissed her against the wall two nights earlier.

  “You liked that? Do you want me to continue?” His face loomed above hers once more; his mouth quirked in an expression of both amusement and longing. “Please say you do.”

  Venetia shuddered with an intensity of desire so great she didn’t know what to do with herself.

  “Yes! I want you to come inside me,” she whispered on a half groan as she felt the tip of his shaft nudge between her legs. She did not care about the risks, for he was going to marry her.

  At last, they were going to be together.

  The warmth and strength of his young, steely body pressing down upon her unleashed the longing within her. Venetia’s first sexual encounter with Sebastian had revealed an earthiness and enjoyment of the act that had surprised her. For so many years, she’d had to subsume that side of her character.

  Now, the tenderness of his touch, as he cupped her cheek, entering her slowly—with infinite care and gentleness—rekindled the past like a flame to a hayrick.

  Enough of restraint. Enough of denying the past and pretending to be someone she was not.

  She gripped him tightly, her legs about his waist as she arched into him, desire nearly overtaking her as he moved above her.

  “I love you!” he cried as he thrus
t deeper, withdrawing before plunging in once more. Now his passionate gasps echoed hers as, together, they spiraled toward the brink.

  “Oh yes!” he burst out as he came, withdrawing at the last moment to spill his seed on the bedclothes beside her, closing his eyes upon a rapturous smile as he groaned, collapsing on top of her before rolling to one side.

  For a long time they lay like this; Venetia conscious of his soft breathing, and also the gentle stroking of her breast.

  Finally, he spoke. “I never thought I could be happy again.”

  She rested her cheek against his chest. She’d have to go soon, but she wanted to revel in the closeness, to feel the beating of his heart, for as long as she could.

  “But now we can be,” she whispered.

  Sebastian had reawakened the dormant thrill of living that had been subdued for so long she’d forgotten what it felt like to have hope in the future.

  But, there it was, shining like a beacon of light in the sky.

  Yet entirely within reach.

  Chapter 9

  Sebastian waited a good ten minutes after Venetia’s departure before leaving the folly to head back through the woods toward Quamby House.

  His heart was pumping, not just from the excitement occasioned by such wonderful, clandestine activities, but also from concern at possibly compromising Venetia's reputation in the eyes of anyone else.

  He glanced about him, relieved to see he was alone.

  Yes, she was going to be his bride, but he wanted her to walk down the aisle of the church with her head held high and not a whiff of scandal attached to her good name. As she deserved. Venetia was the purest, sweetest, most divine creature he'd had the good fortune to meet during his long years of hoping happiness really would become a state of normality—not something to be remembered wistfully from the few glorious weeks he'd spent with the darling girl before his marriage.