Home for the Holidays

by Johanna Lindsey

  The original motive of revenge wasn’t helping to ease his conscience at all in the matter of his becoming her lover, when he had counted on it doing so. The only thing that might help now was to not let it ruin her reputation as he’d planned to. As long as it didn’t become public knowledge, she could still find a good marriage.

  He didn’t doubt that Hale would marry her either way. He was smitten by her beauty, could care less whether she was a virgin. But could he stomach watching another man pursue her, when just speaking of it last night, he’d wanted to punch the man in the face?

  Larissa recovered first from his outburst, explained calmly, ”I’m sorry. When I told Mary this morning that we would be living here permanently now, she no doubt decided she could make herself more at home here, and she feels most at home in a kitchen.”

  Vincent flushed. And he couldn’t correct her about living there permanently-not yet. His silence on the matter would confirm it in her mind, but that couldn’t be helped. He still expected her father to show up, even if she didn’t And when Ascot did, then Vincent could be done with this bloody business of revenge, deliver the final blow to the man, and then get on with his own life.

  He mumbled something about their both keeping their servants in line, and hoped she’d leave it go at that. She did. She even smiled at him, which had the effect of making it worse. He couldn’t leave it go himself now. She was such a sweet, gullible chit, and he’d been an absolute bastard in his dealings with her from the start- and was still going to be. 1 he least he could do was make her happy in the meantime, and keep his foul moods to himself.

  He moved around the table io her side. He would have kissed her it they were alone, but there were servants entering and leaving, so he merely bent down and whispered to her, “Forgive me for that boorish greeting. And thank you tor the most wonderful gift I’ve ever received.”

  “What gift?”

  “You.”

  He could feel the heat of her blush, though he was standing behind her and couldn’t see it. Her cheeks were still pink when he took his seat across from her and gazed at her. But he detected the barest trace of a smile, proving it wasn’t embarrassment making her cheeks glow.

  The meal progressed. She chatted aimlessly merely to fill the silence, nothing of import, merely relaxed conversation that he found himself enjoying. She could be amusing when she wasn’t nervous, and she wasn’t the least bit nervous with him at the moment.

  But then she mentioned the Christmas decorations again. He’d already had them fetched. He could just tell her that and nothing more. But this was too ideal an opportunity to mention that the rest of her stored valuables were gone, not when she was requesting them, but while she assumed she wouldn’t have to sell them now, so the loss wouldn’t hit her so hard. They’d be “found,” of course, after her father returned. Vincent had no intention of stealing anything from the Ascots, other than their good reputation.

  He didn’t consider dispensing with the theft story. He’d already seduced her, yes, but now he had to worry that she would ask him directly about marriage, and if she did, he wasn’t going to lie about it. Which would put her back to thinking she had to leave, which he still wasn’t willing to let her do. When her father returned would be soon enough to give her up. So having her think she had no means to leave would still be beneficial- for him.

  To that end, he managed a suitably grave expression before saying, “Speaking of those Christmas decorations, they arrived here this morning, but I’m afraid some bad news was delivered with them.”

  “They’ve been damaged?” she asked in alarm.

  “Not that I’m aware of,” he quickly assured her. “But apparently there was a robbery late last night at the warehouse where your belongings were stored. The report from the attendant who keeps a watch on the place was that it was a selective robbery, which isn’t uncommon, since it can be accomplished in the least amount of time.”

  “I’ve been robbed?” she said incredulously.

  “We have been robbed,” he clarified. ‘I had a few valuables stored there myself. But most of your possessions are still there. As I said, the thieves were selective. They took only what they considered valuable and easily movable, paintings, vases, and other small pieces of art. They were in and gone in under ten minutes, which was the amount of time the attendant was indisposed.”

  ”I had plans for those paintings,” she said in a forlorn whisper.

  He hadn’t counted on her stricken look. He now knew exactly how his secretary had felt that night when she’d turned this look on him. Vincent didn’t have the luxury of resigning from what he’d started, however, without admitting he was a despicable liar.

  He could, however, lessen the blow, and assured her, “I’m not writing this off, Larissa. The robbery has been reported to the authorities, but I’ve already assigned my own people to track down these culprits. What was taken will be recovered. If your portion isn’t found by the beginning of the New Year, I will replace the value myself.”

  “You , . . don’t have to do that,” she replied. “It’s not your fault-“

  He didn’t let her finish. “I disagree. It was my warehouse, after all, and I should have had it protected better. I’m afraid I’m not used to owning it yet, and frankly, I wasn’t planning to keep it, just haven’t got around to disposing of it yet.”

  “Then why did you buy it?”

  He relaxed. Her expression was merely curious now, the horror gone from it. He’d managed to ease her mind and accomplish his goal, and all he-cause she didn’t have a suspicious bone in her pretty little body.

  “I didn’t buy it. It came into my possession a few months ago, was the last asset from my brother’s business that didn’t succumb to his creditors when he died.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

  Bloody hell, there it was again, sympathy for him pouring out of her. She’d just been delivered a devastating blow, yet had room to feel compassion for him as she realized what he’d said meant his brother had only recently died.

  He quickly made light of it in offering her a shrug and a slight change of subject. “Have you no other assets at all, aside from your jewels?”

  “There is a piece of land in Kent that’s been in my family’s possession longer than anyone can remember. There is a ruined castle on it, believed to have belonged to one of our ancestors, an ancient one. But that rumor has never been confirmed. Unfortunately, it only takes one generation

  by, uninterested in preserving family history, for that history to be lost.”

  “The land is valuable, though?”

  “I suppose it is, but I can’t sell it. My father hasn’t been declared dead yet, for me to be able to. The same goes for his company, his ships, any stored cargoes or valuables he has locked in the small storeroom at the company, none of which I can dispose of yet. And his personal belongings, jewelry and the like, sailed with him.”

  Vincent stiffened. Talk of ships in relation to her father brought a very unacceptable-to him-

  thought.

  It hadn’t occurred to him, until that moment, that Larissa’s father fit the description of the current possessor of La Nymph, and that she had paintings she meant to sell … No, that would be too easy, too convenient-and make her family incredibly rich. But just in case it wasn’t a coincidence, he would visit the warehouse after luncheon to examine those paintings himself that had been moved to the secured storeroom in the back of the building. And he hoped, he really did, that he wouldn’t find La Nymph there.

  CHAPTER 17

  Vincent returned to his house in a much better mood than he’d been in upon leaving it. The trip to the warehouse showed that the Ascots were in possession of seven old paintings, two by well-known artists, but none of them the notorious La Nymph that he was searching for. So he didn’t have to face the dilemma of making the Ascots very rich, something that just did not fit into his plans for their ruination.

  And then he had his mood utterly ruined a
gain by finding Jonathan Hale in his parlor with Larissa and her brother, Thomas, who’d been allowed out of the sickroom for the express purpose of decorating the Christmas tree. Such a homey scene, and so foreign to him.

  It was the laughter and smiles, the sheer enjoyment they were having, that hit Vincent the worst. He wasn’t part of it, nor ever would be. And it wasn’t even strictly related to Christmas, though that was the present reason for it. They simply knew how to have fun doing simple things, while the concept of fun had never been part of his own life, even as a child.

  More than once his brother had tried to show him how to have fun, would drag him from his studies, explain some imaginary game, then be disappointed when Vincent couldn’t get the hang of it. There were simply too many real concerns always plaguing Vincent as a child for him to let go of them long enough to have fun. But that Albert had tried to include him in that aspect of life was one reason he had tolerated his brother’s many weaknesses throughout the years. Albert had tried to teach him. Vincent hadn’t really tried to learn.

  Larissa noticed him standing there in the doorway and gave him a brilliant smile. She took his breath away, she was so incredibly beautiful.

  Jonathan saw it as well and stood there mesmerized. Thomas, noticing both men, rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. Obviously he was used to men behaving like idiots around his sister.

  “I didn’t think you would return in time to help,” she told Vincent, motioning him forward.

  He didn’t move. “Help?”

  “It’s your tree, really. Our decorations are only being added to the contributions your servants have already made. Look at this one from your grouchy cook.” She pointed out a small shiny spoon that had a hole punched in the end of it so it could be tied to a branch with a bright ribbon. “He even blushed as he put it on.”

  “I have no decorations to add.”

  “There are plenty here to choose from. Come, put this angel on the top.”

  There was a sturdy chair placed next to the tree, to use to reach the upper branches. Vincent simply couldn’t picture himself standing on it, yet he found himself walking forward. She was the draw, not the silly tree, which had no business being inside a house.

  He took the ornament from her, glanced at the top of the tree, which was a good three feet above

  his head. He stood on the chair. She stood behind it, holding the back to keep it steady for him. He looked down at her, caught his breath yet again. She looked so delighted. It was too easy to make her happy. She took joy in such little things.

  He placed the angel on the top of the tree. Not correctly, apparently, since she began to direct him to try again, and again. Hale started making jokes about angels becoming fallen in his hands, which fortunately, Larissa saw no double meaning in, but Vincent certainly did.

  Finally she clapped and said, “Perfect!”

  Thomas, standing across the room to view it from a different angle, said, “It’s crooked.”

  “Bah, don’t listen to him, Vince, he’s being ornery.”

  Hale chimed in, “Crooked.”

  “See? Majority rules.” Thomas chuckled.

  “You don’t have a majority yet without my vote,” Vincent heard himself saying.

  “Well, then, what’s the verdict?”

  Vincent stepped off the chair, moved about the room looking at the tree from different directions, keeping them waiting while he seemed to give it serious thought. Finally he stopped next to

  Thomas and said, “Crooked. You fix it. I obviously don’t have a knack for it,” and he lifted Thomas up to straighten the ornament, which he did.

  Across the room, Larissa pealed with laughter. “Now it’s crooked.”

  It was infectious this time, her laughter. Vincent heard himself joining in with the others and was amazed at how good it felt. He sat back after that and watched them finish, making a comment here or there, pointing out a few barren spots on the tree that could use some help.

  He still couldn’t quite believe that he had joined their festive group and actually felt a part of it. But then that was Larissa’s doing. It wasn’t that she had a knack for taking command, was more that people simply wanted to please her by doing whatever she requested of them.

  Vincent couldn’t not invite Hale to dinner after all his help, much as he would have preferred it otherwise. While the child had been present in the parlor, Hale had been the perfect gentleman, merely part of the group. But now with the boy sent back to his bed, Hale turned every bit of charm he could muster in Larissa’s direction.

  Vincent was disgusted. He would have said something to warn Jonathan to back off, but Larissa was doing too good a job of evading, and for the most part, ignoring or simply not understanding some of the more subtle overtures coming her way. And he realized, after a while, that he had nothing to worry about.

  For the time being, and until she learned the truth, she considered herself soon to be married, which meant she would ignore any offerings from other men. Yet because Vincent hadn’t asked her to marry him yet, she couldn’t use that as an excuse to refuse invitations from others; she had to be creative in her turndowns instead.

  She was doing an admirable job of that, much to Jonathan’s chagrin. Yet she did it in such a way that Hale didn’t lose hope, much to Vincent’s chagrin. He would have preferred the man go away and not come back. No such luck, he was sure. And he did notice, when she declined going to the theater, that she seemed rather disappointed to have to refuse.

  He wondered then if she had ever been to the theater before, and rather doubted it. Reclusive, she had been, from all accounts, and unknown to the ton. Her father could have taken her, but she had

  only just come of age, and taking her prior to that would have been inappropriate.

  He decided to invite her himself, when he joined her later tonight. A small thing that might give her a lot of enjoyment. The least he could do, and besides, it might distract her from asking pertinent questions that he needed to continue to avoid himself.

  CHAPTER 18

  As a distraction, inviting Larissa to the theater worked wonders. She had intended to address the issue of marriage that night when Vincent joined her in her room. That had been fairly obvious by her nervousness. And she even began the question he didn’t want to hear.

  But having expected it-since he was quite aware that while they were alone was really the only chance she would have to bring up anything that personal- he was swift in cutting her off with the invitation. And before they were done discussing the particulars of him taking her on such an excursion, he was kissing her. And of course, once that began, there were no further thoughts about anything other than the pleasure lo come.

  The guilt was still there and bothering him, but it didn’t stop Vincent from making love to Larissa again that night. That was a compulsion that far outweighed any remorse he might be feeling. And his conscience did seem to absent itself nicely once he gathered her in his arms. It was only later, when she wasn’t near him, that the guilt would set in to bedevil him again.

  He avoided her the next day up until it was time to leave. She had claimed that she had appropriate clothes lor such an outing, since her Season wardrobe had beep made, long before the new Season began. He had cautioned her against anything too fancy, and she had complied. The clothes did determine which theater they would go to, after all, and there were many to choose from, the more esteemed establishments frequented by the ton to the common variety that one might find a chimney sweep standing in line for.

  She had done exactly as he’d asked. Her rose velvet gown could have been worn for day wear with the short, fur-trimmed cape covering the deep scoop of the neckline. But once the cape was removed, the gown was definitely evening wear, and definitely too elegant for a theater frequented by the lower masses.

  One of her servants accompanied them. Chaperonage was good, in his opinion. It kept him from touching Larissa, kept him from seeming the least bit proprietary-kept him from r
avaging her in the coach on the way to the theater district, which might have been a definite possibility, as lovely as she looked that night.

  It turned out to be a complete blunder on his part, however, to take her anywhere where she would be seen. She enjoyed it immensely, yes, but he could have found some other way to amuse her.

  The results began the next morning. No fewer than seven young dandies showed up at his door to call on the young beauty they had glimpsed with him last evening. And worse, he wasn’t there to fend them off, had gone on his morning ride in the park. By the time he returned home, Larissa was holding court in his parlor, next to her Christmas tree. And the parade of young bucks continued

  that afternoon with another five gentlemen calling.

  The only thing that Vincent was able to console himself with was that Larissa was still declining all invitations. How much longer that would last, though, when she didn’t have an actual verbal commitment from him yet, was the burning question he had to deal with.

  She was his on borrowed time. When her father showed up, she wouldn’t be his any longer. And unlike her, he didn’t expect that time to continue more than a few more days. Which was the only reason his current evasive tactics were going to work. Her question couldn’t be put off indefinitely, when it was too important to her to get an answer. And he was sure she would like to be able to say officially, “I’m engaged, leave me alone,” to all her new admirers.