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

by Anna Campbell

  But the sight of it always stunned Sidney, enough for Tristan to land a blow to his chin and win the match. Was it guilt he felt? He’d never drank to excess again after that night. He always insisted they take a hackney cab to their next location late at night. Tristan was like a brother, and he’d been confronted with losing him.

  He sighed. Tristan had risked his life to save Sidney, and that was a heavy debt to carry.

  “I don’t blame myself, but I’ll never let it happen again. I took a risk, and someone else got hurt. That doesn’t sit well with me, but my answer is to move on and not let it happen again.”

  “How?”

  He turned to face her. “By staying in control. I changed my ways. If your answer is not to drive the cart again to prevent another tragedy, then don’t. You are in control of that decision at least.”

  Her eyes glittered with emotion. “Thank you.”

  Sidney nodded.

  They stared at that tilted wooden cross for another moment. He took peeks at her, but she seemed engrossed in her thoughts. After a time, they returned to the cart, and though they remained silent, the silence was comfortable. For the first time, they had shared real thoughts and feelings. This was not part of his plan, but it had just happened. He meant to maintain distance from her, but her hurt and fear had been palpable, and he’d acted before thinking. But he couldn’t regret it. He hoped he’d helped her in some way. He wanted to do more, take her hand, hold her if she needed it, but he remained rooted to his place, hands on the splintered fence, gaze forward.

  Tonight would be his last chance to dance with her, to touch her, no matter how innocently. To see her dressed in all her finery, dazzling her young suitors.

  He’d be dazzled too, but he had to hide it. To protect them both, he had to pretend he didn’t want her.

  As Cassie stared at Old Bill’s aged cross, she spoke from her heart but not out loud, expressing her regret and her hurt. Quite possibly she did feel a little better. Sidney stood by her side for as long as she needed, a quiet pillar of strength. She wanted to reach out to him, to take his hand, to be folded in his arms and surrounded by his steady energy. He proved just how perfect he was for her, accepting her weakness, not judging her, but lending her strength.

  Tonight, oh tonight, everything between them would change, and she had more hope than ever that this was the right path. A kiss would seal their fate.

  Returning home, after leaving the charity baskets at the vicarage in the care of Mr. Hughes, Cassie wanted to linger in the hall with Sidney and prolong every moment. However, her brother appeared and pulled Sidney away.

  The moment by the fence faded all too quickly, but she refused to let go of the hope that was born there. She went to her room and ordered a bath to prepare for tonight.

  Inspired by a look from one of the more fashionable ladies of the ton, Cassie had ordered a special dress and mask just for this masquerade. An emerald-green satin dress that hugged her curves, displaying her breasts in a tasteful yet decadent way, but she would hide the expanse of skin with a fichu. Her mask was covered in peacock feathers that fanned high on one side, curving around her head, but until her moment with Sidney, she would wear a plain black mask more appropriate for her age. More feathers would be tucked into her hair, and she had a matching fan, but those too would stay hidden until she revealed her intentions to Sidney with her new style. The green of her dress gave her hair a deeper hue, and her eyes appeared brighter behind the mask.

  After a long soak, she powdered and perfumed herself, her nerves finally catching up with her. Her maid helped her dress and style her hair, declaring her the loveliest she’d ever been.

  “You’re sure to meet your match tonight under the Mistletoe,” Mary said as she pinned the final curl in place.

  “I hope so,” Cassie said, reminding herself not to forget the peacock feathers and other adornments she would need to alter her costume. She still needed to get through dinner with her family.

  “Do you have a special gentleman in mind?”

  Cassie bit her tongue. She’d never revealed her true feelings about Sidney to anyone, and Mary could be quite chatty in the kitchens. “No. If it is meant to be, it will be.”

  “I’ve never known you to put so much faith in fate. You’re a young woman of action.”

  Cassie smiled at Mary. They’d been together since Cassie had graduated from the nursery to her own room in the family wing. But this plan was more action than Mary would approve of. Cassie had pushed limits all her life. She hated being excluded, and when she compared her life to her brothers, her brother’s was far more interesting. She was taking control, just as Sidney had said. Of her future and her heart.

  Arriving at the ball, her brother quickly bid his adieu to stalk the card room, but before they parted, Sidney requested the last dance before supper. Cassie hesitated. She was going to have a footman slip Sidney the note before supper. She couldn’t do that without being seen if she were with him on the dance floor.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

  His brow furrowed just barely, a rare show of confusion.

  “I’ve already agreed to dance with Mr. Matlock.”

  “We’ve just arrived,” he said, his voice flat.

  Cassie floundered. “He asked me yesterday, in the market.”

  He nodded. His expression turning into emotionless granite, his usual facade. Under the plain, black silk mask he wore tonight. Amazing that she could read him with half his face covered by the plain black silk mask he wore tonight, but it wasn’t that she could see his thoughts. Rather, she felt them, like invisible rain drops before the true deluge began.

  But it wasn’t like him at all to be so transparent. Even with her. Especially not with her.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I take no offense, I assure you. I was only doing a duty in place of your brother. He did not ask you, so I thought I should. Enjoy your evening.” And then he turned with a swirl of his cape, disappearing into the masses of disguised guests.

  Cassie’s stomach quivered with uncertainty. Her father had taken his leave, and unaware of Cassie’s turbulent thoughts, her mother ushered her toward a set of chairs and familiar matrons. There Cassie would have to sit until a suitable gentleman asked her to dance. She’d be allowed to leave the chairs only in the company of no more than three women her age or by escort of a gentleman to either the dance floor or the refreshment table. She was on strict orders that if a gentleman were to escort her to the refreshment table, she was to return promptly to her mother with a glass of champagne. Her mother loved champagne but only indulged at balls.

  And Cassie was her champagne fairy.

  Cassie had learned that it only took three glasses for her mother to become delightfully amused and oblivious to Cassie’s comings and goings. Therefore, Cassie’s immediate goal was to promptly supply those three glasses, freeing herself for the evening. Her father never noticed this. He spent the bulk of his time in the card room. He would emerge before supper to collect his wife for prime seating and then retreat back after one obligatory dance with his wife.

  Cassie caught the eye of Mr. Matlock, a kind fellow who might be the safest gentleman here. He wore an elaborate ruby red mask and a coat made of draped red satin to look like…a rose?

  He bowed before her. “Lady Cassandra?”

  “Very discerning, Mr. Matlock.”

  “And what, pray tell, is your costume?”

  “I’m…” Drat. She was a peacock, but she wouldn’t be a peacock until her moment with Sidney.

  “I’m undecided,” she said, “and you are?”

  He ruffled his shoulders. “Why a blooming red rose.”

  “Red is quite becoming on you.”

  “I know it.” He peeked at her mother. “Would you like some refreshment while the punch is cold?”

  Her mother turned their way, having been eavesdropping from the start. “Darling, would you be so kind?”

  “Champagne, of course, M
other.”

  Cassie rose and accepted Mr. Matlock’s arm. “Like a well-tuned clock,” Cassie murmured.

  “Predictable? And you’ve learned to take advantage of it,” Matlock returned.

  “It’s boring to sit around and wait for a man to come to you.”

  “I came to you.”

  “You don’t count.”

  He snorted and tossed his golden locks, his blue eyes piercing her. “Why is it that I don’t count?”

  “I know you have no interest in me, Mattie. We’re friends. We get along, and I don’t try to flirt with you. You said it was my best quality.”

  “’Tis true. I should probably marry you for that reason alone. You don’t question my lack of interest.”

  Cassie faced forward and blinked. “Don’t say that word within hearing of others. It will get back to my mother.” But there was something about his words that puzzled her. He was a fop, through and through, with a decadent taste for all things fashionable, but he derided the attention he gained from women.

  “Where did your brother run off to? I suppose I shall dance with you since he never does.”

  “I should tell you that you’ve already claimed my pre-supper dance, but we shall not be dancing.”

  He turned to face her as they arrived at the table bearing champagne flutes, punch, and an assortment of desserts.

  “Why? What are you planning?”

  Cassie had never told him of her infatuation with Sidney, though she suspected he knew. “I can’t tell you.”

  “But now I really very much want to know,” he whispered. “Don’t tease me so.”

  Cassie clamped her mouth shut.

  Matlock handed her a glass and took another two for himself and her mother. They reversed direction back to the matrons.

  “You’re planning to make use of the mistletoe tonight,” he stated.

  “It’s not your concern, now is it?”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “It’s your reputation, not mine.”

  “I’m not planning to ruin my reputation.”

  “Says everyone who has ever been ruined. Those events are never planned well. It’s either poor planning or deuced bad luck.”

  Cassie sighed. “The less you know the better. No more questions.”

  He chuckled. “I look forward to watching this night unravel, but do be careful. We are friends, as you say.”

  “I will.” They reached her mother, and after reminding Cassie of their pending dance, he departed with a wink.

  Cassie pretended not to see it, so her mother wouldn’t be curious enough to start asking questions. Now that she’d freed up her time before supper, she needed to devise a plan for getting the note to Sidney. Discreetly. Without triggering any interest from nosy staff and other guests.

  Chapter 4

  Meet me in the south parlor. Alone. Midnight.

  Sidney folded the note and slipped it inside his jacket. He scanned the room, but no woman caught his attention with a sly smile. He wasn’t enthusiastic about a secret tryst, but he needed anything to get Cassie out of his head. Perhaps another woman would distract him just enough to get through the evening without losing his control. Tristan was off with his latest liaison, the widowed Mrs. Hornberry. Sidney could slip away unnoticed if he wished. But did he wish to? He checked his pocket watch. He had thirty minutes to think it over.

  He wasn’t in the mood. As strange as that sounded even to him. After Cassie’s odd refusal, he’d been out of sorts, and he didn’t like it. He’d wasted time and money in the card room before leaving Tristan to his own devices and stalking the ballroom for any sort of distraction. The only woman who dared approach him was Lady Delilah. She’d made her interest clear, but she wasn’t one to be involved in trysts. She was the daughter of the Marquess of Fenley, and her mind was set on marriage. He’d avoided her as much as one could without causing insult, but the lady was determined.

  Her father was a powerful man, and when they last played a hand of cards together at Whites, Lord Fenley had dropped hints about a match. Sidney had pretended to be oblivious. He didn’t want to have the discussion, period. Lord Fenley had been known to use debts owed to him as leverage. Sidney had none, but friends of his did.

  Thankfully, not Tristan. Tristan had a shrewd mind for cards, and he never bet more than he had in his pockets.

  Sidney found a quiet hall and leaned against the wall, scrubbing his hands over his face in frustration. He was tired and bored. Not the right mindset to answer a seductive summons, but he couldn’t leave, not when he was a guest of Lord and Lady Summers. He was many things, but rude was not one of them. He prided himself on his manners, even if he did indulge his wilder vices with Tristan. He had a family name and history to be proud of. He had honor and pride.

  But he had no direction.

  Which was part of the reason he needed to go to Star Frost. To get away from the monotony and spend some time with his cousin, who was only a little older but a lot wiser. Sort of an older brother Sidney had never had. The duke had suffered so much, losing his wife in a fire and one of his daughters horribly injured. But he’d stayed strong, caring for his two girls, removing from the society that would make a spectacle of them and taking them somewhere safe. He’d put his family first, even before his own wounds had fully healed.

  Sidney had come to respect him so much. He’d always idolized Calvin, but after the loss of his wife and their ancestral terrace home on the outskirts of London, he’d seen a strength in Calvin that amazed Sidney. Most had turned their backs on Calvin, afraid of his sadness, or how to relate to him, but not Sidney. He’d found new facets to his cousin, and he wanted to be a source of comfort and perhaps normalcy.

  And he hoped, just maybe, Sidney could gain a bit of wisdom from Calvin, in regard to his situation with Cassie and how to put these feelings behind him.

  He patted his pocket, not that he could feel the note there, but he carried a metaphorical weight. He could stand around pitying himself, or he could live.

  His cousin had said those very words to him after salvaging what he could from the rubble of his home.

  The right decision didn’t always come easy. But pleasures did. He made up his mind. He’d go and meet this mysterious woman and take the moment one breath at a time.

  Heart racing after she arranged a footman to give the note to Sidney, Cassie went to the retiring room to change her mask and remove the fichu she used to conceal the more titillating qualities of her dress. She inspected her appearance, pinning the special piece of beaded black lace she’d secretly bought to add to her bodice. Donning the mask and fixing her hair, she plucked the peacock feathers from her reticule and tucked them in her hair and in the lacy beading on the bodice of her dress. She donned her feathered mask. Her transformation complete, she ignored the nervous flutters in her stomach and stashed her domino and plain mask behind a potted plant.

  She could hardly recognize herself in the reflection. What would Sidney think? This was not the appearance of a girl fresh from her first season. This was a woman who had desires of her own, and she wanted one thing. Him.

  Taking a deep breath, she left the retiring room. Masked heads turned her way. She could feel their gazes following her as she passed, but she ignored them, her path sure, her destination far from the bustling festivities of the ballroom. She entered the south parlor and paced before the empty hearth, clutching her own sprig of mistletoe.

  It was nearly midnight, but the room was dark and cold, not inviting of a once-in-a-lifetime first kiss. Cassie knelt before the hearth and removed her gloves to swiftly build up a small fire. She paused to warm her hands as tiny flames licked the kindling and caught. She put a small log on top and rose.

  “Am I disturbing you?”

  Cassie froze, all her nerve endings coming awake.

  Sidney.

  She knew his voice like she knew her own.

  “Of course not,” she replied, her voice breathless and meek.

  She darted
a look over her shoulder.

  He closed the door and sauntered toward her. “You built a fire?”

  “The room was cold.”

  “How very practical of you. But it’s still so dark.” He went to a table and turned up the oil lamp. Light washed over the room. “I want to see you.”

  Cassie sucked in a breath afraid for him to see her. Why? She’d planned this. She couldn’t let herself be afraid of the execution. She forced herself to turn to face him.

  He took her in with his eyes. “Stunning.”

  His voice deepened. The warm appreciation in his gaze bolstered her courage. She strolled toward him, affecting a casual and—hopefully seductive—stride. But halfway to him she realized she’d left her mistletoe by the hearth on the floor. Cassie pivoted and turned back toward the hearth. She bent to pick it up, and when she turned to face him again, her confidence hanging on by a thread, he’d moved closer.

  “You don’t need that.”

  Her heart pounded, but she held it up, anyway. She had imagined this moment in her mind over and over, but she was not prepared for the sight of Sidney, sly half smile, ducking under her pathetic twig. Her heart and knees melted. She swallowed, praying her voice wouldn’t tremble.

  “It wouldn’t be the Mistletoe Masquerade without mistletoe.”

  “I wanted to kiss you since the moment I entered the room. And here I thought this night would be boring. That I’d leave with nothing but regret.”

  “Oh?” Cassie could hardly get the word out she was so breathless.

  He took the mistletoe and held it over her head. “May I?”

  “Please,” she whispered, already leaning toward him. She couldn’t look away from his daring honey brown eyes, those full lips of his, but her vision blurred as he dipped his head, and their mouths sealed. She thought her heart might explode with joy. Heat and pleasure shot through her. He smelled like brandy and fresh bread, and he tasted like mint and spice. She fell against him, her hands spreading over his chest, lost in a sea of longing and long-held desire. She could crumble at his feet now, and she wouldn’t care. This was her first kiss, and it would always belong to him.