The room went silent, waiting to see what would happen next. When Harry yanked off the blindfold he looked, for a moment, as though he were torn between staying and following her. And then he smoothed his hair and let out a hearty laugh, to prove that there was nothing seriously wrong.
The guests relaxed and laughed with him.
Rosalind caught Nick before he could leave the room to find Elise. He frowned at her. ‘You need some practice, I think, in your tying of the blindfold. Your brother could see us all, clear as day.’
She let out an exasperated puff of air. ‘Of course he could. It would make little sense for him to have wandered around blind.’
‘That is the point of the game, is it not?’
‘When you are in a room with your wife and her lover it is never a good idea to be blind.’
‘He has pretended blindness on the subject long enough,’ said Nick, with a growing understanding of Harry’s predicament.
‘But now it is long past time for him to stop pretending.’ She glared in the direction of her brother. ‘I am so angry with Harry that I can hardly speak. He must have known what I was about by tying the handkerchief the way I did. I gave him an excellent opportunity and he wasted it. But if I question him on it, he will claim that he knows his wife better than I. And she will return to him in her own good time and there is little else to be done about it.’
‘You gave him no choice but to act as he did, Rosalind. I had my doubts, when he welcomed me into his home, but the man does have his pride. He wants his wife back, but he does not want to be forced to admit the fact in front of an audience.’
‘And why ever not? Admitting that you love your wife is nothing to be ashamed of.’
Nick shook his head. ‘Perhaps not. But to solve this problem someone must be willing to sacrifice their pride. And each one is still hoping that it can be the other.’
‘It might be easier for us to reconcile them were they not so perfectly suited in their bullheadedness.’
He glared at her. ‘It might also be easier if you would include me in the plans that you are making. At least a small warning would have been welcome just now. The man positively mauled me, and I had to stand there and take it in good humour.’
‘It serves you right,’ she said with vehemence. ‘You are quite horrible, you know.’
‘I am no worse than I have ever been.’
‘And no better than you should be. Harry is right in one thing, Tremaine. You need to change your ways. And, while it pains me to see Harry and Elise struggling with pride, I have no compunction in sacrificing yours. If this season gives you a chance to do penance, then so be it. You may start afresh in the New Year.’
‘What if one suspects that no matter what one does the next year will be no different from the last?’ He shook his head. ‘I find it no cause for celebration.’
‘Only if you are unhappy with your life,’ she said. ‘I thought you claimed to be content. If so, another year of the same will not bother you.’
Damn her for making him think on it. For as he did he realised that he was far too bored to claim contentment. ‘And you are so content in yours, then?’ He gave her a sour smile.
She lifted her chin. ‘My view of the future is somewhat more optimistic than yours. I do not worry myself over the things I cannot change, and apply myself diligently to those things that I can. I view the New Year as a promise that things do not always have to be the same.’ She held out a hand. ‘While the book is closing on 1813, there is no telling what 1814 will bring us. You might be a better man.’
Nick stood too close to her, and was satisfied to see the flash in her eyes that proved she was not so immune to his charms as she pretended. ‘Are you still convinced there is something wrong with me as I am now?’
Instead of responding playfully to his comment, she looked at him in all seriousness and said, ‘Yes, there is. You wonder how it is that you manage to be in such trouble with Harry, and why your life does not change from year to year. But you have only your own behaviour to blame for it.’ She glanced towards the hall, in the direction of the absent Elise. ‘I saw the two of you together when I brought Harry into the room. And I saw the look you gave her as she left. Do not tell me that you were not about to follow her. It is more than difficult, trying to get the two of them to co-operate and reconcile. If you can muster enough sense to set her free, then it will be much easier for all of us.’
Chapter Eleven
The next day, Nick was lying on his back on the library sofa, struggling to enjoy the peace and quiet of Christmas afternoon. The roads to the village were better, but still suspect. So the party had forgone church and let Harry lead them in morning prayer in the dining room. After luncheon, the servants had hitched up sleighs, and Harry had taken the majority of his guests to go ice skating on a nearby stream. Others had retired to their rooms. There had been no sign at all of Elise since she had taken to her room the previous evening.
He felt a touch of guilt over that point. But jollying her back into good spirits would mean he must forfeit the afternoon, which was going just as he preferred it: dozing with a full stomach, in air scented faintly with pine and punch, and none of the frenetic eagerness to make fun where none was needed. Nor did he wish to give Rosalind Morley fuel for her spurious argument that he did not know how to let well enough alone when it came to his ex-intended. If Elise needed cheering, then perhaps it was time for her husband to do the job.
It had occurred to him that if he wished any real peace, it would be a far better idea to stay in his own bedroom than to stretch out in a common area, where he was likely to be interrupted at any moment. But he had rejected the idea for the illogical reason that it would give him too much privacy. Rosalind would not think to look for him if he rested in his room. And he had to admit that he was growing to expect a disruptive visit from the sweet Miss Morley as part of his daily routine. He had promised to stay out of her way, and he had meant to be true to his word. It was no fault of his that she insisted upon searching him out.
His mind ran over and over their conversation of the previous evening. She seemed to think that he was still to blame for the troubles between Harry and Elise, even though he was doing everything in his power to rejoin them. Had he not brought her home? Was he not doing his best to stay clear of them while they sorted out their difficulties?
And had he not immediately fallen back into his role of devoted admirer the minute he’d seen Elise’s unhappiness? Damn it all, he did not want to lie with her any more than she wanted his attentions. But the suggestion of it had been enough of a distraction to coax her back to the punch bowl.
Now, despite nagging doubts about the wisdom of it, he would leave Elise to have her sulk. He would be sure to point the fact out when Miss Morley put in an appearance with whatever scheme she was currently hatching. There was no telling what chaos she was likely to bring with her when she came today. He smiled. Although she was a most annoying young lady, at least she did not bore him.
Nick glanced at his watch, and was surprised to see it was almost three. Several hours had passed in relative silence, and he should have been able to settle his mind and get the sleep he’d been craving. Although the library sofa was much more comfortable than the miserable mattress his host had allotted him, he could not seem to find peace.
He looked over the back of the couch at the mistletoe, still hanging in its proper place above the door. On impulse he rose and removed it from the hook, dropping it on the floor under a table. Then he went back to his place by the fire and pretended to sleep.
Rosalind came into the room a short time later, but took no notice of the missing decoration. Instead, she strode directly to his hiding place, coming round to the front of the couch to slap at the sole of his boot. ‘Wake up, Tremaine. I have plans for you.’
He pretended to splutter to consciousness, looked up at her, and hurriedly closed his eyes again. ‘Then I am most assuredly still asleep. Please leave me in peace.
’
‘There is much work to be done if you wish to go home alone.’
‘Far more than that, I wish to go home alive. And the best way to assure my safety is to stay right here, far away from Harry. The man laid hands on me yesterday. He cannot be trusted.’
‘You are being silly again. It was an innocent game.’
When she scolded him, her curls bounced in a most amusing fashion, and he had to force himself not to smile at her. ‘The game was innocent enough. But I do not trust some of the players any further than I can throw them.’ No more than he trusted Rosalind. He suspected that she had other reasons for wishing him to play.
‘You have nothing to fear from Harry. I have known the man almost a quarter of a century. Although he might threaten, he would never do you bodily harm.’
He laughed. ‘When you reach that advanced age, little one, and make such claims, then I shall take your word.’
She glared down at him. ‘Twenty-five is not an advanced age, and it is most unflattering of you to call it so. The fact that I am near to it does not put me so far beyond the pale.’
Four-and-twenty? But she could barely be eighteen now. He was convinced of it. He looked at her more closely. But hadn’t he thought the same thing when he had met her the first time? And that had been years ago. If she was twenty-four, then…He counted upon his fingers.
His silence must have unnerved her, for she said, ‘Do not fall asleep again, Tremaine. The festivities have not been so strenuous as to require rest in midday. And if you mean to imply that my conversation bores you to unconsciousness, I swear I shall box your ears.’
He gave a little cough. ‘Twenty-four?’
‘Twenty-five next month.’
‘But you are…’
She gritted her teeth. ‘Older than Elise. Just barely. And still single. But I look much younger and always have. Or were you about to say tiny? For if you mean to comment on my lack of height as well as my advanced age then you will have nothing more to fear from Harry. I will do more damage to you than he ever shall.’
For a moment, he could swear that he was looking at the same gamine he had found in the hallway at the Grenvilles’ ball, five Christmases ago. The only change in her was the cynical glint in her eyes and the determined set to her mouth. ‘You look no different than you did when I first met you.’
She put her hands on her hips. ‘Considering how well our first meeting went, I hardly know what you mean by that. But I shall assume you mean to compliment me. I hope you are not so cruel as to torment me with my appearance? There is little I can do to change it.’
‘I thought you much younger when we first met. You were standing in the doorway of the ballroom, behind a potted palm, watching everyone else dance.’
She smirked. ‘You remember that now, do you?’
‘I never forgot it.’
‘But when my father caught us kissing you announced, “I have never seen this girl before in my life.” I assumed that we were keeping to the established lie and pretending that our dance had never occurred.’
‘It was only an hour before we kissed. So technically I had not met you before. Not before that night, at any rate.’
‘Technically?’ She nodded sceptically. ‘My father assumed that I had kissed a man without even taking the time to learn his name. It was very awkward for me.’
‘But when we danced,’ he said haltingly, ‘you told me that you were not yet out.’
‘I’d have made my come-out in spring, if Father had allowed me to remain in London. Twenty would have been a bit later than the other girls, of course. But not too late.’ There was a wistful note in her voice, and she took a moment to crush it before continuing in a normal, businesslike tone, ‘But a come-out is not necessary for a happy life. Only so much foolishness.’
‘You were nineteen?’
‘As were you, once.’ There was another long pause as she came to understand him. ‘You mean when we first met? Well, yes. Of course I was. You did not think I had escaped from the schoolroom to accost you? It was only my father’s stubbornness, not my age that left me lurking outside the ballroom instead of dancing with the others.’
‘But you were nineteen,’ he repeated numbly.
‘The night we met?’ She shrugged. ‘It did not matter. My father has very strict ideas on what is proper and improper for young ladies. Girls who are not out should not dance, no matter their age.’
As he remembered that night, he knew there had been girls much younger at the party, giggling in corners, begging for gentlemen to stand up with them and being no end of a nuisance-just as there were in the house today. He had assumed Rosalind to be one of them. But she had been of marriageable age, and yet still denied the pleasure of adult company. Her actions made more sense.
‘That was rather strict of him.’
‘Perhaps. But there was little to be done about it.’
‘And you say you had not tasted wine unwatered?’
She stared at him, as if daring him to doubt her. ‘I had not. If you were to speak to my father on the subject, I still have not.’ She made a face. ‘He does not approve of strong spirits. He drinks his wine with water as well, and forgoes brandy entirely. He says that consumption of alcohol by gentlewomen is most improper.’ She smiled. ‘It is fortunate for me that I am the one who does the pouring in our household. For, while he trusts me to follow his wishes, he really has no idea about the contents of my glass.’
He tried to imagine what it would be like to have to forgo wine with a meal and could not comprehend it. It was as if she had been trapped in childhood, with no escape on the horizon. ‘And he still does not allow you to travel to the city, even after years of good behaviour?’
‘I am not encouraged to leave the house at all. He sent me to Harry, of course, because my brother was in need. But I suspect that says more about his disapproval of Elise than anything else.’ Rosalind made another stern face. ‘He has much to say on the subject of foreigners and their strange ways, and he is none too secret about the satisfaction he feels at Harry’s marital difficulties. He will expect a full report of them when I return home. Which will be very soon, should he get wind of the festivities I have organised. I do not care to hear what he will say when he finds out that I have been stringing holly on a Yule Log.’
‘How utterly absurd,’ Nick replied. ‘It is an innocent enough diversion, and most enjoyable.’ If one could manage to ignore the nuisance of going into the woods and focus on the blazing fire in the evening. He gave a nod to her. ‘And I must say, the thing was most attractively decorated, before Harry set it to light.’
Rosalind looked amused. ‘Are you a defender of Christmas now, Saint Nicholas?’
‘I do not defend Christmas so much as believe that small pleasures are not a threat to character or a black mark upon the soul.’
‘On that point you and Harry agree. It is one of the reasons I see so little of Harry, for he cannot abide my father’s treatment of his mother, nor of me. And Father has very little good to say about him.’ She sighed. ‘But my father means well by it, although he may seem harsh to others. It has done me no real harm. And I must admit, I bring much of his censure on myself. For I have a tendency to small rebellions, and can be just as stubborn as Harry when I’ve a mind.’
It made Nick unaccountably angry to see her resigned to her future, caring for a man who was obviously impossible to please. And the idea that she had to moderate a temperament which he found quite refreshing, irritated him even more. He said, ‘If a wild bird is caged long enough, even for its own protection, it will beat its wings against the bars. If it does itself an injury, whose fault is it? The bird’s or the one who caged it?’
‘If you are attempting to draw some parallel between me and the bird, then I wish you would refrain from it. The fault would lie with the bird. For, while such creatures are lovely to look at, they are seldom held up as an example of wisdom and good sense.’
She was standing close enough
to him that the smell of her perfume blended with the pine boughs on the mantel and the other inescapable smells of Christmas, turning the simple floral scent she wore into something much more complex and sensual. It was just as tempting as he remembered it, and just as hard to ignore. He wondered if it had been the same for her. For all along she had been old enough to understand temptation, but lacking the experience to avoid it. He smiled in sympathy. ‘It seems I have done you an injustice, Miss Morley. For this explanation of your behaviour on the night we met puts the event in a whole new light.’
‘I thought we had agreed not to speak of that again,’ she muttered, and tried to turn away.
He put a finger under her chin and urged her to look up at his face. ‘After you were forced to apologise repeatedly for something which was no real fault of yours? What you were doing was not so unusual, compared with other girls of your age. If you lacked seasoning or sense, it was because your family did not train you to know what was expected of you. They thought that they could confine you until the last possible moment and then thrust you into the light, where you would exhibit flawless behaviour with no practice. When you failed, it was more their fault than yours.’ He hung his head. ‘And mine as well. I might have behaved quite differently had I known the circumstances involved. And I do not remember at any time giving you the apology that you deserve in response.’
She swallowed. ‘It is not necessary.’
‘I beg to differ.’ He moved so that he was standing before her, and said, ‘Give me your hand.’
She was obviously trying to come up with a response that would make things easier between them, but none was forthcoming.
So he reached, and took her hand in both of his. ‘I am sorry for what occurred that night,’ he said. ‘The fact that you were behaving without caution did not require me to respond in kind. If anything, I should have been more circumspect, not less. You have been punished inordinately for it, although I have always deserved the majority of the guilt. Please forgive me.’
The Mistletoe Wager Page 13