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

by Anna Campbell

  Confused, her hand poised midair with her needle, she listened to Miss Reeves ask, “So...you think my father could be persuaded to drop his insistence that I marry Lord Yarrowby if he were to talk with...Mr Wells?"

  "Mr Wells is utterly charming. How could your father not be thoroughly satisfied by such a replacement for Lord Yarrowby? It's true that Mr Wells is not titled, but he is in line to inherit from his uncle, I understand. I also believe a large part of your father's objection might stem from the fact that Mr Wells has an infant son so you would not in fact be the mother of Mr Wells’s heir—that is, if he should come into the viscountcy. But, as has been said, Mr Wells is very comfortably settled, and your father surely would not stand in the way of the happiness of his only daughter if he knew she'd be well provisioned." Lady Quamby sighed and put her hand to her breast. "Nothing should be allowed to stand in the way of true love."

  True love? Venetia caught herself when she realized she must be staring, openmouthed, at Miss Reeves; though, of course, no one ever noticed the quiet companion, sitting unobtrusively in her corner. But...true love? Miss Reeves and...Sebastian?

  Lady Fenton cleared her throat and addressed Miss Reeves. "Do reassure us, Arabella, that your heart is set on this? It's not some foolish flight of fancy? I know that the two of you met at a house party four months ago, but I gather you’ve not had many occasions to be together.” She hesitated. “I would hope you’ve not become estranged from your father for a trifling flirtation? Have you received a formal proposal...or just an indication that a marriage offer will be forthcoming?"

  Venetia swallowed. What was the girl going to say? How had Venetia not known about this?

  "I've been madly, desperately in love for months!" Miss Reeves declared, looking rather desperately toward the door. "Why, when you invited me to be your guest, I could not contain my delight at discovering that it would be possible to be united with...the only man I could ever love! I...I just need my father to understand how determined I am.”

  “But my dear, has he made a formal proposal yet?”

  Miss Reeves reddened. “Not yet,” she whispered.

  “But he feels as you do?”

  Miss Reeves bit her lip. “I...I’m almost certain he does. When we met four months ago, I was in no doubt but—”

  “But what, Miss Reeves?” Lady Fenton’s question sounded a trifle sharp in the anticipatory silence, and Venetia waited with bated breath. “Tell us honestly, for that is the only way we can help you, since that is what we wish to do.”

  “He seems...distracted. I was so certain he’d be delighted to see me when we met unexpectedly a few days ago. Since our first meeting, we’ve exchanged letters, and in all these months, his feelings about wanting to marry me were not in doubt! But he’s said nothing about marriage since we met again a few days ago.”

  “Perhaps he was simply as surprised as you to find that you were both under the same roof and, knowing that your father was so set upon you marrying Lord Yarrowby, he was concerned that we, his hostesses, would take a dim view of a union between the two of you.” Lady Quamby seemed to think she’d hit upon this as the reason for she went on, “Nevertheless, when your papa arrives tomorrow, I have no doubt that you—and he—will make a compelling case for putting your desires above your papa’s. Mr Wells is a very persuasive young man.”

  “He is? You really think Mr Wells might be the man to persuade my father out of insisting upon marriage between Lord Yarrowby and myself?" She twisted her hands in her lap as she added, “That this might be what makes Yarrowby accept, once and for all, that there can be nothing between us?”

  "If anyone can do that, Mr Wells can," Lady Fenton said comfortably, just as Sebastian himself arrived upon the threshold of the room.

  "And what can Mr Wells do that no one else can?"

  "We were commending you on your persuasiveness." Lady Quamby resettled herself on the sofa so she could smile up at him, and Venetia had the strongest desire to slap her face as she ran, screaming, from the room.

  She felt like a rabbit, trapped between adversaries, whose only salvation lay in doing what she did best: being very quiet and unobtrusive.

  Lady Indigo rapped her cane on the floor, making Venetia jump. "Yet not even Mr Wells can persuade me that it's not time for my bed, or upon an early start in the morning," she said, turning to look at Venetia. "Go and see that my warming pan has been put at the end of the bed, my girl, and then report back to me. None of this dilly-dallying like last time, eh?"

  Venetia rose to her feet, barely able to look at Sebastian or Miss Reeves through the gathering tears as she quit the room following a quick curtsy for her employer.

  She walked quickly, her throat thick with emotion. Sebastian and Miss Reeves had formed an attachment four months ago? They’d not known each other would be at Quamby House? Now Miss Reeves was concerned that his feelings for her had waned?

  Which would accord with the time Sebastian unexpectedly was reunited with Venetia.

  But why had Sebastian said nothing about his past relationship with Miss Reeves?

  Head bent, she walked quickly down the corridor, reaching the Great Gallery before she heard Sebastian behind her.

  "Venetia!" She turned at the sound of his voice and stepped back against the window embrasure as Sebastian strode toward her, his expression quizzical. "Darling, are you all right?" He stopped before her and put out his hand, dropping it when he registered the hostility in her expression. "How have I offended you?”

  She drew in a quick breath, stiffening and biting her lip as she prepared to unleash the hurt she felt. “You said you’d ended all...entanglements.” The accusation in her tone made her feel ashamed. “Decisively.”

  A shadow of discomfort crossed his face before he said, “Venetia! We spoke about this yesterday. After Dorothea’s death I became entangled with…more than one woman, as I told you. The second was…well, you said you didn’t want to hear about it. Suffice to say, she threw herself at me!”

  Reluctantly, Venetia allowed him to take her in his arms.

  He tucked her head beneath his chin and held her gently. “I’m so sorry…I was going to tell you everything but...the details seemed unimportant when we had so little time.”

  “Did you ask her to marry you?” Venetia jerked her head up, her breath quickening.

  “God, no!”

  “Well, that’s what she wants.”

  “I know.” He sounded miserable. “Some months ago, when she told me about…” He stopped, sighed, and started again. “It’s possible I gave her the impression that I would marry her. But that was only if...I was required to do the honorable thing.”

  “The honorable thing?” Venetia burst out. “What else haven’t you told me, Sebastian?”

  “But I thought you knew, my darling! I thought you’d forgiven me?”

  Angrily, Venetia dashed away a tear. “She seems to think there is still a great deal between you.”

  “There is nothing between us. Not since I met you again—though that goes without saying.” He spoke with energy before his tone changed and he said, wearily, “I just wish she’d accept that there will continue to be nothing between us and...leave me alone.”

  Halting footsteps sounded and then the thumping of a cane upon the floorboards which heralded Lady Indigo’s arrival.

  “Venetia! You’ve been gone an age, and I’m ready for my bed! What do you think you’re doing? Talking to a young gentleman? I beg your pardon, Mr Wells, but Venetia has work to do. My warming pan, for starters! And my warm milk. Now! It’s late, and I need to be up early. We both do!”

  Venetia curtsied, sending Sebastian a baleful look before she pushed her shoulders back and proudly offered her arm to her employer.

  Sebastian bowed. “Good evening, Lady Indigo. Miss Stone,” he said formally as Venetia turned her back on him and took a few steps away. “I hope you’ll both sleep well.” He cleared his throat, adding, after them, “And, Miss Stone, I hope you’
ll remember that this changes nothing…”

  Venetia looked over her shoulder.

  “Here,” he added softly, putting his hand to his chest.

  For a moment, she hesitated. Sebastian stood, watching her in the light cast by the moon that shone through the diamond panes of the window embrasure; every bit as handsome and tall and proud as she remembered him. With his hand still on his chest, there was no doubting his sincerity.

  That was the problem.

  His, but also hers.

  And as her gaze took in the scene, dominated by everything she’d ever hoped and dreamed of, she realized that it really was just as much her problem, as his.

  Sebastian still loved Venetia, and that was all that was important.

  Much less important, surely, than her pride and wounded feelings.

  The thought gave her strength as she returned her attention to her employer who was saying something about wanting Venetia to darn a stocking before the morning.

  Venetia’s responses tripped off her tongue like an automaton.

  Meanwhile, her mind raced over what would be required for Sebastian to disappoint Miss Reeves’s unfounded girlish hopes.

  For that was what would have to happen in order for Venetia to claim her future with the man she loved.

  And whom she deserved so much more than Miss Reeves.

  Chapter 11

  “Well, sister dearest, your matchmaking nose was not quite following the right scent, it would appear,” Fanny said when Arabella had left the drawing room. Arabella had remained quite a long time after Lady Indigo had made her departure, as Fanny and Arabella had quizzed her on her feelings toward marriage—either with or without her father’s blessing.

  Gazing toward the doors, Fanny added, thoughtfully, “Nor, to be fair, was mine.”

  “Well, Arabella is madly in love.” Antoinette nibbled her little fingernail on her right hand while she toyed with the cards on her lap with the other.

  “While Sebastian’s ardor has cooled. Clearly.” Fanny pondered the situation. She had been quite sure she’d seen Sebastian gazing mournfully after Miss Reeves on a number of occasions. He also had seemed a little jittery—very much a hallmark of a gentleman in love. “Do you suppose he’s nervous at the prospect of having to confront Miss Reeves’s father? Old Mr Reeves and old Mr Wells are on friendly terms, I believe, but old Mr Reeves is set very much on a match between Arabella and Yarrowby.” She hesitated, adding cautiously, “Or perhaps Sebastian is afraid of being horsewhipped by Arabella’s father for his bad behavior.”

  “Goodness! We hadn’t taken account of the...baby who’s on its way!” Antoinette put her hands to her mouth. “Sebastian was such a model husband to Dorothea, but in the twelve months since her death, he’s certainly distinguished himself by the scandals in which he’s become embroiled.”

  Fanny nodded. “Of course, things like duels can be forgotten, but...a child is not so easy to discount.”

  “Do you believe Sebastian when he claims it’s not his? He was quite vehement in his denials several days ago. I overheard Quamby mention the topic in conversation.” She dropped her voice to whisper loudly, “It was very much secret gentleman’s business, but naturally I managed to hover close enough to hear.”

  “Naturally,” Fanny agreed, drily.

  “Sebastian became quite hot under the collar when Quamby charged him with it.” Antoinette clicked her tongue, her eyes wide with the excitement of the intrigue, before reaching for the bell. “Goodness, I think I need a drink while we decide what to do.”

  “Well, don’t call for the servants just yet if you want to continue this discussion,” Fanny said sharply, rising and going to the sideboard. She removed the stopper of the brandy decanter and poured themselves both a measure before a creaking chair made her say with a start, “Goodness Venetia, how long have you been sewing in the dark? I suppose I should offer you a drink, though I’m not sure if Lady Indigo would approve. Especially since you do have an early start in the morning.”

  “I would like a drink very much,” the girl said, glancing away as Fanny handed her a glass of the amber liquid.

  “I didn’t notice you come in.” Fanny smiled, while she tried to think back over whether she and her sister had spoken on matters unsuitable for Miss Stone’s ears: like their relief that Lady Indigo would be gone in the morning.

  “I came back a few minutes ago because Lady Indigo wanted her stocking darned before tomorrow’s journey, and I needed the light.”

  “I wasn’t calling you to account,” Fanny said, amused. And relieved. She peered more closely at the young woman, suddenly concerned by the sheen she saw in her eyes. “You look upset, my dear.” She hadn’t taken much account of Lady Indigo’s companion. The girl had hardly spoken two words in all the time she’d been under their roof, other than to answer Lady Indigo when required and declare she wished to continue the dancing lessons.

  “I’m perfectly—”

  “It’s the disappointment, isn’t it?” Antoinette interjected after taking a sip and leveling a compassionate look at Venetia. “No need to blush so fiercely. I could tell.” Sighing, she looked at Fanny. “I said that we wouldn’t let the lack of a ball gown prevent Venetia from attending tomorrow’s Christmas Ball, but Lady Indigo was having none of it.”

  “Very disappointing,” Fanny agreed. “And now I see you’ve finished your brandy in quick time which, I suppose, is not to be wondered at since you have such an early start.”

  The two sisters watched Venetia put down her glass then rise after gathering up her sewing receptacle.

  “Promise me you’ll not lose too much sleep over all this,” Fanny said kindly, feeling a greater surge of sympathy when she saw the devastation in Venetia’s eyes. “I know this seems like a lost opportunity never to be repeated, but I’m sure that in a few days’ time it will have paled into insignificance.”

  It was hardly to be wondered at that Venetia barely slept.

  Feeling ill with fatigue the next morning after breakfast, she sat with her book of poetry, tucked away behind a couple of large plinths topped with Roman busts.

  Here, she’d sought cover from Lady Indigo’s ill temper after her employer had overslept. Of course, she’d blamed it on Venetia.

  Though, really, it was the maid who was supposed to have rapped on their door who hadn’t done her job.

  What was strange was that Lady Indigo was generally such an early riser. Yet, she’d woken up an hour later than she generally did, saying she’d felt woolly-headed. She’d even suggested Venetia had laced her evening milk with some sleeping draft or herb to minimize her snoring.

  It would have been nice if such a potion existed to mitigate the nocturnal noises that so often kept Venetia awake when they shared close accommodation. She would have to make it a point of extending her investigations in this area, she thought.

  Especially considering she had many years of Lady Indigo’s snoring from the next room to disturb her rest.

  She covered her mouth to muffle the sound of yet another uncontrollable sob for she’d just heard several guests enter.

  Drawing her knees up to her chin, she tried to focus on the words of the book through her teary vision.

  Sebastian thought he had discharged his obligations regarding full disclosure by admitting to the fact that he’d formed a relationship four months earlier. What he hadn’t told her was that Miss Reeves now claimed he was the father of her child.

  A claim he disputed.

  A claim which could only be disputed if he and Miss Reeves had never…

  Dropping the book in despair, she pushed the heel of both her palms into her eyes.

  But if he and Miss Reeves had taken their relationship to the same level of intimacy that he and Venetia had, and if Miss Reeves was with child...then how could Sebastian and Venetia, in good conscience, be married?

  Venetia was not with child. But Miss Reeves was?

  Which therefore meant Sebastian was honor-bound
to wed Miss Reeves.

  It didn’t matter how much he truly did love Venetia—and she knew he did—he would have no choice but to marry Miss Reeves.

  Her eyes felt puffy from crying as she stared out of the window and onto the lawn, now lightly dusted with snow.

  Tonight, the entertaining rooms would be perfumed by beeswax candles and bodies of various scents pressed together as nearly one hundred guests enjoyed the Christmas festivities primarily on Lord and Lady Quamby’s ballroom floor.

  She heard Lady Fenton cry, “It looks marvelous!” as a couple of maids struggled through the doors bearing an enormous vase of hothouse blooms, adding, “You have heard Lady Indigo slept in! First time ever, she says! And now it’s too late to make the journey in a day so she’s decided to remain another night.”

  “But she’ll keep to her room since she hates large gatherings,” she heard Lady Quamby reply.

  Venetia watched her step back and instruct a change of position for the floral arrangement before she returned to the painful subject of Sebastian and Miss Reeves.

  Venetia would rather not hear it, but she was trapped.

  “Both the young people’s fathers will be in attendance, which was not at all expected. And Mr Reeves is bringing along Lord Yarrowby, who will no doubt try and pressure Arabella into a marriage she does not desire.”

  A sudden surge of hope made Venetia stiffen into awareness. Could Lord Yarrowby be the father of Miss Reeves’s child? They had, after all, been on the verge of announcing their betrothal four months earlier, she’d heard.

  Perhaps Venetia was leaping to conclusions before she had given Sebastian the benefit of the doubt. After all, she hadn’t given him a proper opportunity to defend himself against the charges.

  It was one thing to have become romantically entangled four months ago...and quite another if, in fact, that entanglement went no further than kisses and hand-holding.

  Slipping the book back into the bookshelf as her hostesses moved to the far end of the room to discuss further decorations, Venetia made her escape without the ladies even knowing she’d been there.