A Renwick House Christmas Boxed Set

by Rachel Van Dyken

  They were alone, very alone.

  He should have laughed at their circumstances; had he not, merely days ago, been planning on fully ruining the girl in hopes that she would cry off? And the day after finally giving up and realizing how deeply he cared for her, he found himself completely alone with the girl.

  His conscience fought an epic inner battle as his eyes continued to rake over her. He couldn’t force his gaze away from her as desire and interest swirled around his chest like a windstorm.

  “When will we marry?” Katherine asked, breaking the silence.

  Benedict wasn’t sure what the correct answer was to be. After all, weddings were sort of a sacred ritual to women. They were cause for great joy, weeping, insanity… so he needed to tread carefully. “When would you like to marry?”

  “Oh, you mean it?” She clasped her hands together in excitement allowing him to exhale with relief.

  “Of course.” His chest puffed, just slightly.

  “Tomorrow, let’s marry tomorrow.”

  “Pardon?” He coughed.

  “Tomorrow,” she said slower and reached out to touch his arm. “I’m already ruined. We both know I don’t need any sort of fanfare. After all, the ton has seen my knees, have they not?

  Benedict chuckled.

  “I know we wanted to wait until after the Kringle Ball, but I truly cannot wait to start our lives. Don’t you agree?”

  He suddenly felt very, very hot, and deuced uncomfortable, and the innocent look in her eyes haunted him.

  “Er, yes.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

  “To think! In just a few hours, I’ll be able to move into your house, and we’ll be able to…” She blushed profusely and looked at her hands.

  “Be able to?” He leaned forward and lifted one eyebrow in question.

  “You know…”

  “No, I truly don’t.”

  Her look was incredulous. “Benedict!”

  “Katherine.”

  She scowled. “We’ll be able to really be together.”

  “Like we are now?” He played innocent. Gads how he loved the way she became so easily flustered. Her cheeks took on the most beautiful shade of pink, tempting his tongue to caress the spot right below her jaw where the pink met ivory skin.

  “No, not like we are now.” Her little bum shifted in the chair.

  He leaned even closer, placing both hands on either side of the chair until his face was so near, he could hear her shallow breaths. “You mean like this?” His hands reached out to touch her neck and then moved down her shoulders, her arms, and finally to her legs. With little effort, he lifted her into his arms showing her how to wrap herself around him, and just held her there as he placed long lingering kisses on her neck and face.

  “Y-yes… Oh, heavens yes, like this.” Her head fell back exposing her throat.

  Careful, his inner voice warned him. Take it slow.

  But he was never one to listen to his good conscience.

  So he laid her across the dusty bed and hovered over her, watching her squirm and sigh beneath his touch.

  “Benedict.” Her voice was hoarse.

  “Yes, love?”

  “Will your servants like me?”

  What an odd question. And dreadful timing considering his hand was already placed halfway up her creamy thigh.

  He kept his arousal in check and tried to answer the question, mentally going through every person in his employ.

  And then his body went cold.

  Maria.

  Suddenly, he was disgusted with himself. Withdrawing his hand from the pleasure of her leg, he leaned back on the bed and shuddered.

  “What is it?” Katherine asked.

  “It’s just that…” Benedict couldn’t even look her in the eyes his shame was so great. “I had forgotten about some business at the house, business I need to attend to before I welcome you with open arms.”

  “Oh.” She looked down.

  “But…” he interjected. “It won’t take long. Before you know it, you’ll be the mistress of the house.” He gulped against the bile that rose in his throat at the use of the word mistress. Could he have not come up with a better description? She was so much better than that.

  And he, the Devil, did not deserve her.

  If she knew…

  Well, if she knew, she wouldn’t continue to give him a chance. He was afraid, devil take it; he was terrified that if she truly knew about some of the things that had taken place under the roof of that house, she would be more than scandalized.

  “Let me buy you a house.” The words fell out of his mouth in a rush.

  “A house? You want to buy me a house?” Katherine shook her head. “Whatever’s wrong with your house?”

  “It’s old.”

  “Alright…” Katherine’s eyes searched his. “And you want to buy a newer house, is that it?”

  “Yes. I want you to have the best.” At least that part was true. “I’ll buy you a house, move you into it…” Why in the blazes was he going on in this fashion? As if she was some type of mistress. “Naturally, I’ll live there too,” he added.

  “I should hope so.” Katherine laughed. “We are to be married.” She lifted her hand to cup his face. “After all, you won’t get a traditional ton marriage from me.”

  “I won’t?” He feigned depression, though he couldn’t have been more pleased.

  “No.” The minx leaned closer to him, her arm hooking his neck like a shepherd’s crook, pulling him down closer and closer until he once again hovered over her. “I’ll want you by my side every day.”

  “That can be arranged.”

  “And in my bed every night.”

  What was that? Angels singing?

  “I believe I can manage to agree to your terms.”

  “Promise.” Her eyes sparkled in the moonlight.

  He took a shuddering breath before lowering his lips to hers and mumbling against them, “Promise.”

  Now all he needed to do was make sure she never found out his secret, never know the depths of his depravity, lest she lose that sparkle he so adored.

  Something was bothering Benedict, though Katherine hadn’t a clue what it could be. By all standards, he was acting the perfect gentleman.

  That should have been her first hint.

  Originally she had thought he was going to seduce her, not that she minded one whit.

  And then he had pulled back, a look of absolute horror on his face as he began to sputter nonsense about buying a new house.

  He was wealthy. Everyone knew how wealthy. Even though he gambled as if he truly desired to lose his entire fortune, he never lost.

  So it could not be lack of funds.

  She bit her lip and looked at him again. Benedict had kissed her and then told her to sleep.

  As if she could sleep after his hands had been halfway up her thigh.

  Ridiculous!

  Perhaps, she thought as she closed her eyes and tried to relax, he was embarrassed about the state of his house? After all, bachelors were known to be careless in their décor as well as their upkeep. The poor man probably didn’t even pay a full staff.

  What his house needed was a woman’s touch! There was no need for him to spend money for her sake.

  A smile curved her lips. That was it! She would surprise him. Tomorrow after he dropped her off, she would quickly change, and then arrive at his house and offer her help. After all, the way things were going, they were planning on gaining a special license as soon as possible. It wasn’t as if she were not already ruined.

  With a grin, she finally relaxed enough to try to sleep, all the while thinking of ways she could surprise Benedict.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Not All Surprises Are Welcome

  By the time the carriage dropped Katherine off at her home, it was some ungodly time of the night. At least two or three a.m.

  The footman had taken another hour to trudge back to the cabin with different transportation.
The snowstorm had let up enough for them to continue on at last.

  Though… there was a part of Benedict that wished he and Katherine could have stayed in that cabin forever, away from his past, away from his uncertain future.

  Stupidity seemed to be the only way to describe his actions. How had he not remembered Maria?

  Or the six before her?

  Exhausted, his legs felt as if he had poured sand into his boots. Slowly, he made his way into his house and heading straight up the stairs, not bothering to deal with the situation as of yet. He would need energy and sustenance to do what he had to do.

  He pushed open the door to his room and cursed.

  “I’ve been waiting for you,” a lush feminine voice said in the darkness.

  He wanted to hit something. How the devil did she know he would be arriving at such a time?

  “You must be exhausted,” the throaty voice continued. “Let me relieve some of that tension, your grace.”

  “No.” His response was cold, angry.

  “No?” Maria laughed as Benedict lit the candle nearest the bed.

  The woman was draped with nothing but a sheet, her hair tumbling around her waist, a coquettish pout on her lips. “Spirited tonight, hmm?”

  Benedict pinched his nose and prayed for patience. “Listen to me.”

  She leaned forward giving him a view that made him ill with disgust.

  “If you do not leave within the next five seconds, I’m going to remove you myself, and I guarantee you there will be nothing sensual or erotic about it. Now, get out of my bed chambers.”

  Maria’s smile fell, her eyes narrowed. “Is this a new game?”

  “No!” he yelled. “Get out!”

  Slowly, because Maria was provocative about everything, she pulled back the blankets of the bed, exposing herself to him. With languid movements, she reached for the nearest robe, wrapped it around her naked body and, with a seething glare, slammed the door.

  “That went well.” Benedict cursed again, then tumbled into bed. It was too late, and he was too irritated and upset with himself to deal with the woman tonight. In the morning… he would fix everything in the morning.

  And hire a new housekeeper as soon as possible.

  His eighth in the past two years.

  Meaning, he had been going through at least four mistresses a year, hiring each of them as his housekeeper in order to keep things…

  Convenient.

  Their jobs were simple: be available to pleasure him at all hours of the day and night, and he would not only pay them a salary, but on their parting terms give them a special bonus.

  He laughed bitterly.

  A bonus?

  For what?

  Sex?

  Convenience?

  Utterly sickened, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep. Tomorrow would be the day the Devil came to terms with his demons.

  Katherine woke earlier than usual and quickly dressed in a simple white muslin. If she was to be decorating and surprising Benedict, she didn’t need to wear anything more lavish.

  Besides, she would not be making any morning or afternoon calls. At least not today.

  Excited for her idea, she quickly went to Bond Street and made several appointments for the house redecorating. Giddy with excitement, she made her way to Benedict’s home.

  It was located in Mayfair, much like hers. But it was big, so much bigger than she imagined it would be.

  Nervous, she bit her lip and knocked.

  A crisp-looking butler opened the door and peered down at her through spectacles.

  “His grace has enough servants.”

  Katherine laughed. Did she truly look that horrendous? “No, I’m sure his grace wouldn’t mind for me to visit. You see, I’m his fiancée.”

  At that, the butler’s lips quirked into a smile and then his eyes darkened. “You poor thing.”

  “Pardon?”

  He sighed. “I’ll see if he is receiving callers. Why don’t I show you to the Lavender room? Would you care for some tea, miss?”

  “Lady Katherine Bourne.”

  “Pardon, did you say Lady Katherine Bourne?”

  “Yes.”

  “W-well, why don’t you have a seat, there, right there.” His shaky hand pointed to the settee. “And I’ll have Ma—” he coughed. “That is to say, I will have someone, anyone bring you tea.”

  “Alright.” She smiled warmly and leaned back against the sofa, taking in the beautiful room surrounding her.

  It was done up in purples and eggshell colors, beautiful actually, and not masculine at all. After a few minutes, she began to feel the need to snoop. After all, he was to be her husband in a manner of days.

  Her eyes fell on the large bookcase at the far end of the room. Her gloved hand traced the furniture as she made her way to the books and began reading the titles.

  Odd, they were all in strange languages. Curious, she picked one up.

  And promptly dropped it to the floor.

  What type of man kept books with pictures like — like that?

  She tried another.

  Same thing.

  And another, until she had looked through at least ten books. All of them with graphic pictures she would never be able to remove from her memory as long as she lived.

  Carefully, she put them all back, the last one, however had fallen on its spine causing the first page to flutter open.

  Scrawled across the page were the words, My love, Maria.

  Who in the blazes was Maria?

  A sudden commotion took place outside the doors. A woman’s voice. A man's. And then suddenly the door burst open.

  A beautiful woman with dark hair and dark eyes came into the room. Her uniform was typical of a servant, and in her hand was a tray with tea and biscuits.

  “Hello,” Katherine greeted.

  The woman glared.

  Katherine cleared her throat. “You must be the housekeeper?” she guessed.

  “Yes,” the woman answered crisply.

  A butler who stuttered and laughed, and a beautiful exotic woman with the manners of a streetwalker.

  Apparently before any decoration was to take place, Benedict needed a new staff.

  “Please, sit.” The woman’s eyes fell to the book in Katherine’s hands then snapped back up to her face. “Find anything interesting, my lady?”

  “O-oh, this? No, no, it fell, so I was putting it back.” She felt heat rise to her cheeks as she pushed the book into its rightful place and shuffled back to the sofa where the housekeeper was laying out the biscuits and tea.

  Katherine couldn’t help but notice how striking the woman was. She could not be much older than Katherine herself. Jealousy surged, but Katherine fought it with everything in her. Perhaps Benedict was extending a courtesy. After all, a woman this striking would surely find herself in a house of ill repute if left to her own devices to survive. Shame washed over her jealousy.

  As the woman made a curtsy to leave, Katherine reached out the only way she knew how, politeness. “Thank you… Apologies, I did not catch your name?” Not that it was typical for ladies to ask such things, but this woman did not need to know that.

  The woman gave a hollow laugh. “Maria, his grace’s seventh housekeeper in two years.”

  Odd. “Does he have trouble keeping housekeepers, Maria?” Katherine asked with amusement tickling her voice.

  Maria turned cold eyes to Katherine. “Let us just say his grace has a variety of tastes.”

  Benedict awoke with a start.

  His butler, Marsail, hovered over him, worry etched in his every feature.

  “What the devil are you doing in my room?”

  Marsail cleared his throat. “A young lady is here to see you, your grace. I thought it best to keep her away from other parts of the house, but I fear…”

  “Who? Who is it?” Benedict demanded.

  Marsail began to perspire. “She claims she is your fiancée, but that is a ridiculous notion, is it not?�
� He patted his forehead with a handkerchief.

  Benedict reached for Marsail’s coat and pulled him close. “Tell me that Maria is no longer here. Tell me that Lady Katherine has been locked in the very room you put her in.”

  Marsail looked away. “Maria stole the key.”

  “How does a tiny woman steal a key from you, of all people?”

  Marsail began to shake.

  “Never mind.” Benedict cursed and pulled on his clothes in rapid fashion. His valet rolled his eyes when he strolled into the room, but aided in making him presentable, mumbling something under his breath that at least his grace was choosing to wear clothes after such a late evening.

  Benedict chose not to comment.

  He raced down the stairs and pushed open the doors to the Lavender room with such urgency he could have sworn they were going to fly off their hinges.

  Katherine sat prim and proper, tea in hand, but her eyes were distant.

  “Katherine?”

  She licked her lips. “I shouldn’t have come.” She placed her tea on the table and rose.

  “No, don’t.” Benedict reached out to her, but she pulled away.

  “Benedict.”

  “Yes?” His voice felt shaky. Devil take it, he was nearly trembling with fear, shame… all of the above.

  “Why have you had seven housekeepers in the last two years? Why would a man need that many replacements… unless…”

  She was assuming the worst, not that he didn’t deserve it. “You should sit back down.”

  “I don’t want to sit back down!” she yelled, her arms clenched at her sides. “Explain to me why you would need so many housekeepers.” Her eyes pleaded with his. It was as if she was begging him to lie, to tell her that her suspicions were not correct.

  He looked down at the floor. He couldn’t bear to look at her, not now.

  She walked toward him then. He saw her shoes beneath her dress, and slowly raised his eyes to meet her face.

  “Tell me,” she said.

  “A man doesn’t need seven housekeepers in two years, not unless he’s the absolute devil. Not unless he hires them to be his live-in mistress. Not unless he’s so deranged that he values convenience above all else.”