His Mistletoe Wager

by Virginia Heath

  ‘Oh, right. The terrace. I found her shivering behind a statue hiding from Ockendon. And for your information, I believe Ockendon saw us, although there was no mention of needing witnesses in our original terms. As a gentleman and a peer of the realm, you have my word the kiss occurred and I am frankly offended you would think I would lie.’

  Aaron appeared disgruntled, but nodded. ‘Fair enough. I cannot deny I am disappointed with Lady Elizabeth for allowing it to happen. However, I am reassured by the knowledge that stealing four more is likely to be more problematic. She will see through you in no time, if she already hasn’t. Her father appeared particularly scandalised by your association and that will also work in my favour. In fact, if I am any judge of character, she will already be bitterly regretting her lapse in judgement and has already resolved never to go near you again. Mornings have a habit of reminding one of the folly of the evening’s mistakes.’

  Hal smiled enigmatically as he rose from the table. Aaron did not need to know about the alliance yet or the fact that Lizzie and Hal would be spending a great deal of time together for the sake of their own sanities, lest he try to sabotage it. Such things were always saved and discussed at great length during the required post mortem of a wager. It was part of their ritual, after all, and always done over a good bottle of cognac.

  Chapter Six

  Lady Bulphan’s annual Christmas Concert was always a dull affair. For some inexplicable reason, despite having more than enough money to pay for a proper orchestra, Lady Bulphan thought it was fun to assemble a rag-tag group of musicians, and the world’s worst choir, drawn from the ranks of society. At best, their musical stylings were dismal. Famously dismal and after so many years no longer funny. But because Lord Bulphan was one of Prinny’s advisers, they were too well connected for anyone to dare to ignore their invitation so the affair, though no longer a crush, was always well attended. The sensible had ready-made excuses months in advance. Lord Bulphan also happened to be one of her father’s oldest and dearest friends, so not only were they always in attendance, they had also come early in a show of support.

  It was all right for Papa. He was ensconced at the ‘secret’ card table, known only to those in the inner circle and would remain so for hours and thus spared the pitiful and painful renditions of Christmas carols from the Bulphan Ensemble. They were currently murdering ‘Hark! The Herald Angels Sing’, or at least that was what Lizzie assumed it was meant to be. It was difficult to tell over the screeching of the ten violins. Ten violins who all appeared to be playing from completely different parts of the score.

  To make matters worse, in her attempt to sit as far away from the performance as possible, she had chosen one of the most uncomfortable chairs she had ever had cause to sit upon. And her corset was too tight. In a rare flash of vanity, she had insisted her maid tighten it to allow her to wear this particular blue gown, and Lizzie now bitterly regretted it. Why had she been so determined to emphasise her eyes when she was not intending to attract anyone? At least not consciously. Subconsciously, she had been oddly nervous about this evening, or more specifically about her planned liaison with a certain handsome and charming rake this evening. It was his fault her corset pinched and her mood was foul.

  ‘Good evening, Lady Elizabeth.’ She smelled the Earl of Ockendon before she saw him and her misery was complete. ‘We missed our dance the other evening.’ In deference to the musicians he was speaking just above a whisper and far too close. She recalled Hal’s claim the man’s breath had nearly singed his eyebrows and sympathised with the comment.

  ‘As I do not recall you either asking me to dance or heard myself accepting it, I shall have to take your word for it.’ Lizzie turned her head rudely to focus her full attention on the caterwauling from the choir. Still, he sat in the next chair but one to her. What was it with men and sitting where they were not welcome of late? Maybe she was not sending out clear enough signals as to her ambivalence to all things male.

  ‘I did not give you leave to sit, sir.’

  ‘You have a tart mouth, madam—but I confess I like that about you. Amongst other things.’ He looked pointedly at her bosom and his thin lips curved into a slimy smile. Lord save her! Another reason to regret this uncharacteristically glamourous and exposing choice of gown.

  ‘Your good favour is wasted on me when I find I like nothing about you.’

  ‘Your father wants you wed and I am merely putting myself forward as a candidate for your consideration.’

  In horror, Lizzie faced him and allowed her rampant disgust to show in her expression. ‘I have no desire to be wed and even if I did, it certainly would not be to you, my lord.’

  He chuckled and for some reason it sent a chill through her. ‘I hope to convince you otherwise.’

  ‘Something that I can assure you will never happen.’

  ‘Never say never, Lady Elizabeth. I am a powerful man who can be very persuasive. Perhaps all you need is the right incentive to lure you out of spinsterhood?’

  There was something about the way he answered, as if there was an underlying threat which made her breath shorten, even as she stared back at him blandly. ‘I can assure you I am stubbornly and happily wedded to spinsterhood.’

  ‘And why is that, Lady Elizabeth? Is there some dreadful, deep, dark secret which keeps you from committing yourself to Holy Matrimony? Something you keep hidden, perhaps? Something that has scandalously been hidden for years?’

  An odd thing to say, unless... Unease made her spine stiffen. Did he know? The man moved in powerful circles, it was true. Had somebody let something slip inadvertently? Nausea threatened, but Lizzie forced herself to remain unaffected as he watched her carefully. The way his eyes narrowed slightly suggested he might suspect something, but there was enough of a hint of question to reassure her he was still unsure. She needed to speak to her father, but getting up now and rushing to do so would give the game away for certain. All Lizzie could do in the interim was sit impassively and brazen it out.

  ‘You are astute, sir. There is a dreadful deep, dark scandalous secret I have been keeping hidden.’ The knowing half-smile she offered him was borne out of the fierce desire to protect Georgie. Ignoring her acute physical disgust, she leaned closer and fought the urge to gag. ‘You see, my lord, I discovered early on that I despise all men and want nothing to do with any of them. Your good self, included.’

  ‘Really? Aside from Redbridge, I presume. You appeared quite partial to him yesterday, as I recall. And then there was that erstwhile fiancé of yours. What was his name?’ He tapped his chin thoughtfully, his cold, dead eyes never leaving hers for a second. ‘Ah, yes. The Marquess of Rainham. You were quite partial to him as well.’ His eyes swept up and down her body and lingered on her bosom again. ‘Quite...partial.’

  ‘Yet I shall never feel partial to you, my lord. Of that I am quite certain.’

  ‘Passion and a tart mouth. A splendid dowry...and of course, your hidden secrets. What a tantalising package you are, Lady Elizabeth’ His thinly veiled threats and coded words hit too close to home for her comfort.

  ‘Go tantalise another spinster, my lord. I am sure there must be someone desperate here who would lower themselves to consider you.’

  He chuckled and stared at her bosom again while she fought the urge to dash away and bathe. ‘You will make a fine wife indeed, Lady Elizabeth. A fine, young and fertile wife...’

  ‘I have been looking everywhere for you.’ Hal strode confidently into the fray and smiled at her. Lizzie had never been so pleased to see another person in her life.

  ‘I am sorry I am late, Lizzie dearest. My sister had a hairdressing crisis, delaying our arrival.’ Like her own personal bodyguard, he smoothly sat in the tiny chair which separated her from the odious Earl, forming a pleasant-smelling, solid buffer between them. ‘Have I missed much, aside from your delightful company of cours
e?’

  The easy smile and casual manner did not hide the question in his intelligent eyes. Lizzie had no idea how much he had heard of her whispered conversation with Ockendon, but he had heard enough to be irritated on her behalf. His arms were folded stiffly across his chest, his thighs spread just wide enough to edge the old Earl away and let him know his presence was unwelcome.

  Acting bored despite her unsettled nerves, Lizzie smiled at Hal in what she hoped resembled outright adoration. ‘You missed an interesting rendition of “While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks by Night”. Lady Bulphan pretended to be a shepherdess, complete with crook and stuffed sheep. She acted out the words.’

  ‘Then I am sorry I missed it. Was it as tuneful as “Hark! The Herald”?’ Hal had angled his body ever so slightly towards her. His broad shoulders and back shielded her from seeing Ockendon while effectively shutting him out of the conversation like the ramparts around a castle. It gave her some comfort, though not enough. Her skin suddenly felt dirty and her stomach was churning.

  ‘Sadly, there were no violins.’ Lizzie hoped her voice was not as rattled as she felt. For Georgie’s sake she had to appear calm.

  ‘None? A travesty indeed, when all ten of them sound quite splendid from the refreshment table. But then again, there is a significant amount of rum in the punch, so I suspect it deadens the ears. Come, let us avail ourselves of a cup or two so that we might enjoy the subtle nuances of the music better.’ Hal was on his feet in an instant as if he had known she needed to escape. ‘If you will excuse us, Ockendon.’ He waved his already crooked arm in open invitation and Lizzie was only too happy to take it. The old Earl’s questions and crude insinuations had frightened her and she clung to Hal’s arm with slightly shaking legs and a racing mind.

  What had he meant by deep, dark secret? Passionate, partial and fertile. A coincidental choice of words? She doubted it. It all felt a little too convenient, had been said so pointedly, to have happened by chance.

  Hal poured them both a cup of punch, then manoeuvred her towards an alcove, away from anyone else.

  ‘What was all that about?’

  ‘The Earl of Ockendon has put himself forward as a potential husband.’ Yet if he knew about her son, he knew she was soiled goods. It had to be the stupid dowry. His talk of being persuasive and offering her the right incentive hinted at blackmail. Or maybe she was allowing her vivid imagination and over-protectiveness of her child to weave fanciful meanings into his words which were not there. Five years of deception tended to make one paranoid.

  ‘I didn’t care for his tone or for the way he looked at you.’

  Neither did she. Lizzie still felt violated from the brief episode. The way his eyes had lingered on her bosom, the way they had darkened when he spoke of passion. However, until such a time as her secret was exposed—or wasn’t—Lizzie would continue to keep it hidden. ‘It hardly matters. It is no secret Lord Ockendon has long wanted a wife young enough to give him heirs.’ The shiver was involuntary. Ockendon terrified her. ‘I should imagine I am merely one of the many lucky ladies he has approached on his quest. Or perhaps he has exhausted all other possibilities and is now scraping the bottom of the barrel to be considering me?’ Those mossy-green eyes regarded her thoughtfully, unsettling her further.

  ‘Maybe he is simply drawn to the unattainable. You present a challenge.’

  ‘I thought you said once a gentleman knows a lady’s heart is engaged elsewhere he will cease his attentions towards her. He saw you kiss me. He certainly alluded to it, yet it only appears to have spurred him on.’

  ‘Some gentlemen have thicker skins than others. Ockendon’s is clearly like leather. You have my word he will yield once he realises who he is up against.’ The serious, steely tone vanished as soon as it started, replaced with the roguish devil-may-care man he usually presented, and Lizzie realised the handsome, flippant new Earl of Redbridge was not quite as superficial as he wanted the world to believe. ‘With any luck, with my fortune, title and dashing good looks, he will quickly realise he has no hope for your affections against such a magnificent opponent.’

  ‘I sincerely hope you are right. The man puts my teeth on edge.’

  His hand came to rest warmly over hers. ‘Do not worry, fair maiden. I shall stick to you like glue all night and if Ockendon comes within ten feet of you I will challenge him to a duel. I promise.’ Something about the way he said it made her believe him.

  * * *

  True to his word, Hal did exactly that until her father finally surfaced. Her papa laughed off her fears about Ockendon, refusing to discuss it beyond the trivial, but granted her the excuse of pleading a headache and summoning the carriage early. Because, as he rightly stated, who wouldn’t have a headache with the Bulphan Ensemble playing so enthusiastically. Clearly the card game was as lacklustre as the music because he happily accompanied her home.

  ‘Ockendon is harmless, Lizzie, a silly old fool who is barely tolerated in the Lords. You are reading far too much into his words because you are a good mother who wants to protect her son. But let me put your mind at rest. Only Lord Bulphan knows of little Georgie’s existence and he would never break my confidence. The servants are too loyal to have betrayed us and we have always been scrupulously careful about any excursions. Besides, poor Ockendon has never had a talent for being particularly charming, I doubt he has the first clue about how to go about wooing a woman. Perhaps the fellow said what he said as an attempt to intrigue you. It’s a bit of mild, and slightly pathetic, flirting, I’ll wager, and nothing more. A bid to get your attention.’ His lack of concern went some way to reassuring her she was imagining things and her father briskly changed the subject. He patted her hand and his demeanour changed from counselling to casual. A little too casual. ‘I had the great good fortune to be seated next to Lord Hewitt at the card table and I was heartily impressed by him. He works at the Home Office and by all accounts is doing a sterling job. He is thirty. A perfectly respectable age for a young buck to take a wife and rather fortuitously he is seeking one as we speak. Now there’s a catch...’

  Lizzie rolled her eyes in exasperation and glared at her father across the carriage. ‘I wish you would stop matchmaking, Father.’ They both knew she only called him Father when she was angry and he bristled. ‘I do not want a husband. Not now nor never. Why do you continue to refuse to accept that?’

  ‘You might at least give Hewitt a chance. I am not suggesting you marry him, merely talk to him. You seemed to find it no great chore to chat away to that scoundrel Redbridge all night.’

  ‘I have no interest in him either. He is not the sort to settle down into marriage, therefore conversation with him is blessedly harmless as we are both quite averse to it. That is the full extent of our attraction towards one another!’

  ‘He does not regard you with aversion, young lady. Why, he can barely contain his pleasure at looking at you!’

  Did he? Lizzie was quietly pleased with this piece of information until she caught herself. She did not want anyone looking at her covetously, whether they be Redbridge or Hewitt, or, Heaven help her, Ockendon. ‘The Earl of Redbridge is a devout rake. I dare say he looks at every woman in possession of a pulse in much the same way. As I have already stated, I am quite immune to his charms.’

  ‘That is as maybe, but can you not see while he is sniffing around you he is scaring off all of the other young men who might make you a suitable husband? I selected several for you to dance with the other night and because of him they were denied the opportunity to impress you.’

  Thank goodness. Which was exactly the reason she needed Hal in the first place. As usual, her papa was determined to continue in the same vein he had for the last five years no matter what she said. He had promised her mother, after all, and he wasn’t getting any younger. They just kept going around in ever-decreasing circles. ‘It will take more than one silly dance to co
nvince me that I need a husband, Father.’

  He scowled and they both glared at each other stubbornly across the benches until he relented. ‘Perhaps you are right, Lizzie. One dance will hardly change your mind.’

  Chapter Seven

  There was a lull in yuletide entertainments after the Bulphan Christmas Concert. After two days, Hal was practically climbing the walls with boredom. At least he hoped it was boredom, although rather alarmingly he was coming to suspect his restlessness had rather more to do with a curious desire to spend some more time with Lizzie than genuine boredom. Genuine boredom came from inactivity, and there might not be any balls or parties to go to, but he had been inordinately busy.

  Estate business had occupied a great many hours, as had his speculations on the Stock Exchange. However, during each of those tasks the image of her had floated into his mind and made him forget what he was supposed to be doing. Hal had even dragged himself to a gaming hell in the hope it would distract him, but the card tables held no allure and the hostesses less. He’d left after less than an hour because he could not seem to stop thinking about her. Just as he was now, as he was idly strolling down High Holborn on a particular errand on this dull Thursday afternoon. It was most disconcerting.

  It stood to reason he would think of her occasionally. Hal was only one kiss down and still had four more to claim in less than three weeks, but it was not the bet he kept mulling over. It was that kiss. The subtle scent of roses from her perfume. Or the way her eyes sparkled when he said something which amused her. The way she flipped between regarding him with wary hostility to forgetting she distrusted him and became entertaining with interesting, witty conversation. The peculiar sense of unease he had every time he recalled the tense exchange between her and Ockendon. The way she had been skittish afterwards. And scared. Ockendon had frightened her, yet he had no idea why such a confident and vibrant young woman would feel bothered by anything that silly old fool had to say.