Tis the Season to Be Sinful

by Adrienne Basso

  “You are serious?”

  “I am.”

  Her eyes narrowed and he knew she didn’t believe him.

  “You’ll make a dreadful husband,” she stated emphatically. “Spoiled, childish, with a fondness for drink and a wandering eye. Why would any woman take such a risk?”

  George wished he could hotly refute her claims, but embarrassingly there was too much truth in her words for him to feign indignation. “I thought all forthright, moral women longed for the challenge of reforming a reprobate.”

  “Some women might. If they are sure the gentleman in question is worth the effort.”

  “Now who is being cruel, Miss Hardie,” he whispered.

  Her baffled expression turned uncertain. “You are still teasing me,” she said slowly.

  “I am not. I want you for my wife, but realize that you deserve to be properly courted, successfully wooed. Will you agree to allow it, to allow me to become your suitor?”

  She stared at him as if he had just sprouted wings and announced he intended to fly to London. “You are the son of a duke and I am the daughter of a copper miner. It’s unthinkable!”

  “Why?”

  She flushed adorably, huffing with agitation. “I am a commoner with no dowry, no distinguishing talents, no great beauty. I could never become your wife.”

  “The dowry is unimportant, your talents are many, including modesty, and your beauty goes beyond your pretty face straight through to your character.”

  “That is perfectly ridicu—wait, you think I’m pretty?” She tilted her head to one side, her breathing shallow.

  “In my eyes you are beauty personified.” He made himself stand very still to avoid lunging at her. She really was a damn pretty woman and spirited, too. She would make a fabulous wife, an exceptional life companion. “Don’t you wish for a home of your own, a family to love and cherish?”

  “A husband to whom I can entrust my heart,” she whispered. A wistful smile appeared on her lips, but then suddenly she shook her head vigorously. “I would never be accepted into your society, never invited into the homes of your peers.”

  George shrugged. “My dear, I am seldom invited into the homes of my peers. You must believe me when I say it is no great tragedy. They are, for the most part, a rather dull and tedious lot.”

  She tried to hide her grin, but George caught a fleeting glimpse of it.

  “It’s just too ridiculous to contemplate. We are so different, nearly opposites in every way,” she muttered. “I even work for a living!”

  Her hands flew up in the air as though that was the gravest of sins, the most insurmountable obstacle imaginable.

  “I know you will find this difficult to comprehend, but so do I.” The moment she opened her mouth, George held up his hand to forestall her argument. “Albeit, not in the same way and manner that you work on a daily basis, but I manage my own investments, oversee a modest estate in Devonshire, and run a small, highly successful import venture.”

  Her eyes glittered with a spark of respect. It made George feel ten feet tall. He held her eyes with his own, daring to hope.

  “Well, then, I will agree you are not as much of a wastrel as I feared, but that makes little difference,” she replied.

  His chest constricted. His arguments had made progress, but not enough. Apparently she needed a tad more convincing. And he knew just how to do it.

  George reached down and wrapped his hands around Miss Hardie’s trim waist. He felt her stiffen, but proceeded anyway, dipping his head purposefully until he reached his prize. Their lips met and melded in a surprisingly gentle kiss.

  Surprising because it held all the ravenous hunger one would expect from a passionate embrace.

  My strong feelings for her must have heightened the intensity , George thought, skimming his lips over hers again before fully taking possession. She made a small sigh and opened her mouth in invitation.

  The tautness inside George became an ache. He could feel the passion inside him rising, the need to conquer and claim starting to overwhelm all other senses. Reluctantly he began to draw away, sliding his tongue across her swollen lips one final time, lingering a moment longer over a regrettably last kiss.

  When it ended, she let out a squeal of distress and pulled away. “That was exceedingly inappropriate.”

  “Admit that you enjoyed it,” he demanded.

  She tore her gaze from him to hide the truth, and George felt a surge of tenderness for her. She was such a proud woman. It would be torture for her to admit such weakness when she felt so unsure of his intentions.

  “It was just a kiss,” she finally said.

  “Just a kiss!” he repeated, the emotion of his restraint getting the better of his temper.

  “One that I did not give you permission to bestow,” she replied, her voice rising.

  “You were repulsed?” he asked, not believing that was possible, when he had been so moved by the act.

  “I was enchanted,” she answered, color flooding her face.

  “Oh, Olivia.”

  George reached for her again and she came willingly forward. Encircling her in his embrace, he seized her mouth passionately. She responded eagerly, shivering in his arms as he once again took possession of her.

  Good Lord, was there anything more intoxicating than kissing the woman you loved? Reveling in the thrill of it all, George deepened the kiss, allowing it to melt away all the tension and doubt, amazed at how perfect it all felt.

  “I told you they were kissing,” came a childish voice. “And there isn’t even a kissing ball or mistletoe! I looked everywhere.”

  Olivia gave a cry of distress and took a stumbling step away from him. George tried to take her hand, but she snatched it away. Looking past her, he saw why. Standing only a few feet away were Lizzy, Richard, and Juliet.

  Bloody hell!

  “Have you eaten too much dessert, Miss Hardie?” Lizzy inquired.

  Olivia twisted around and looked down at the little girl. “At this hour of the morning? Of course not, Lizzy.”

  “But you were moaning,” the child replied. “The same way that I do when my belly hurts from too much dessert.”

  George smiled. “Miss Hardie’s moans were from a different type of treat entirely, Lizzy.”

  “What kind of treat?”

  “A grown-up treat,” George answered promptly. “I know it’s confusing, but you’ll understand when you are older.”

  “And married,” Richard added gruffly, not liking the mischievous smile playing at the corner of George’s mouth.

  A long, awkward pause ensued. Richard did not have to look at his wife to feel Juliet’s disapproval. Though she liked George, it was clear her protective instincts were roused by what they had just witnessed. Especially since George had promised them both he would leave Miss Hardie alone.

  Oh, hell, another mess to try and sort out. Richard turned to his friend, giving him a damning glance, but George smiled serenely back.

  “Richard,” Juliet whispered discreetly, tugging on his sleeve.

  “Yes, I know.” Talking with George was a waste of breath, but he would do it because it was what Juliet wanted. And in Richard’s mind, there wasn’t anything more important on earth than making Juliet happy. “Take Lizzy into the drawing room. I’ll be along shortly.”

  Once Juliet and Lizzy were gone, Richard looked from George to Miss Hardie, trying to decide whom to approach and what to say. Since his previous discussions with George had not proved a deterrent, perhaps it would be better to speak with Miss Hardie.

  He glanced again at his secretary. She was smiling up at George, looking shy, yet eager, and more than a little pleased with herself.

  “You are both adults and therefore free to do whatever you wish, but when your actions distress my wife, then I am honor bound to get involved.” Richard fought to suppress a glower. “You made a promise to keep your amorous feelings toward Miss Hardie in check, George. I must insist that you adhere to tha
t promise for the remainder of your visit.”

  “I most certainly will not,” George shot back.

  “The circumstances have changed dramatically,” Miss Hardie interceded calmly. “Lord George has asked for permission to court me properly. And after careful consideration, I have given my consent.”

  If he hadn’t been standing so near, Richard would have sworn he misheard. George was going to court Miss Hardie?

  “He is hardly the type of man I would expect you to be interested in romantically,” Richard remarked bluntly.

  Now it was George’s turn to glower. “Insults aside, I, too, agree that Olivia—Miss Hardie—deserves a better man,” he said. “And I fully intend to become one.”

  “Really? Oh, goodness.” Miss Hardie sighed and swayed toward George. He caught her around the waist and nuzzled the top of her head.

  Richard blinked in astonishment. His levelheaded, no-nonsense secretary was practically swooning. What had George done to the poor woman?

  “Miss Hardie, would you excuse us, please?” Richard asked. “I need a private word with George.”

  Each man held his tongue until the secretary had departed. “Damn it, George, this time you’ve gone too far,” Richard snapped. “How can you act so callously toward that woman?”

  “I suppose I should feel insulted that everyone has such a low opinion of my character, but frankly, Richard, I’m too bloody happy to fret over it.”

  “Courting leads to marriage, George, and Miss Hardie is most definitely the kind of female who believes very firmly in monogamous relationships.”

  “I would expect nothing less from her.”

  “And?”

  George shrugged. “And I will respect her wishes. I, too, believe in fidelity in marriage, which is probably another reason why it never interested me before.”

  “Since when do you endorse marriage for yourself ?” Richard asked.

  “It’s the price I must pay to have Olivia in my life. Considering it from that perspective makes it quite palatable.”

  For a long moment Richard stared at his friend in perplexed irritation. “People don’t change so drastically overnight, George.”

  “Oh, really?” George lifted a brow.

  “Yes,” Richard replied adamantly.

  “You did.”

  Richard gave a terse nod, feeling vaguely annoyed at being so handily proved wrong. George was right. Richard had changed his mind and attitude about marriage and love most abruptly. With a very happy result.

  A moment passed in quiet calmness.

  “Why are you trying so hard to discourage me from embarking on this courtship?” George inquired.

  “I’m worried that you haven’t fully thought this through, that you don’t know what you are doing. To yourself and her.”

  George gave an almost imperceptible flinch, then stood straight and tall. “Given my past, I can understand your doubt, but I can state emphatically that if I’m lucky enough to win Olivia’s heart, I will devote myself fully to her for the rest of my life. Does that satisfy you?”

  “I suppose.” Richard took a deep breath, admitting that he could make no clear sense of it. Yet was that not the very essence of love? It followed no logic or order. It just happened. “I guess I’m too rattled by this shocking turn of events to think clearly. You and Miss Hardie. Impossible!”

  George’s face took on a broad grin, amusement flickering in his eyes. “The house party afforded me the chance to see the real Olivia, but you are just going to have to accept the truth, Richard. Christmas is a time of wonder and miracles.”

  “It must be.” Richard’s burgeoning smile blossomed into a hearty laugh. “For I swear there could be no greater Christmas miracle in all of England than seeing you willingly married, George.”

  Chapter 19

  It was chaos when Richard and George entered the drawing room. There were children and adults scurrying in all directions around the large tree that had been erected in the center of the room. Baskets, overflowing with various decorations, were strewn at various spots around the base.

  The anticipation of Christmas was evident everywhere. There were noisy exchanges of instructions among the adults and good-natured debates about the best way to adorn the tree. The children were not shy about offering their opinions as well, though it seemed that their biggest contribution was getting under everyone’s feet.

  Despite all the hustle and bustle, it took no time at all for George to find Miss Hardie. After a hasty nod in Richard’s direction, George hurried away. Richard caught a glimpse of his secretary’s expression, the smile transforming her entire face when George took the seat beside her, draping his arm casually along the back of the settee.

  Cries of delight were heard from several of the younger children when a footman entered with a tea tray, the tantalizing smells of cakes and pastries and fresh-made scones wafting around him. The youngsters quickly fell in line behind the servant, following closely on his heels.

  On a table near the enormous tree, Uncle Horace and Aunt Mildred were arranging a carved wooden nativity scene, laughing and bickering over the placement of each piece. James was there, too, playing some sort of game with the animal and shepherd figures, trying to bury them beneath the manger straw.

  Such a homey, holiday scene was so foreign to Richard and yet somehow he felt a part of it all. That emotion intensified when Juliet noticed him standing in the doorway. Giving him a brilliant smile, she spoke a few words to George, then made her way through the crowd to his side, stopping every few moments to answer a question poised to her by the guests.

  Richard watched her progress with a growing sense of pride and wonder. She was clearly in her element, smiling and laughing, encouraging one and all to have fun and enjoy themselves.

  Exquisite in a scarlet-trimmed gown, she nearly took his breath away she was so lovely.

  “Ah, you are here at last, Richard.” She placed her fingers on his arm. “We need help wiring the candles so we can affix them to the tree branches. Naturally the children are all clamoring to do it, but I fear they will cut themselves on the sharp wire. I’ve set Lord George to the task, but he hasn’t done a single one, instead preferring to spend his time making moon eyes at Miss Hardie.” Juliet leaned close and whispered, “I thought you were going to speak with him about her.”

  “I have,” Richard said, smiling as he plucked several pine needles from the top of his wife’s hair. “George assures me his intentions are completely honorable.”

  Juliet paused, subtle speculation in her eyes. “Truly?”

  Richard shrugged. “Apparently.”

  Her lips pursed in such an adorable way that Richard had to fight the urge to take her by the hand and lead her away from all this commotion into the privacy of their bedchamber. For an hour. Or two.

  But instead of disappearing with his wife, as he really wanted, Richard allowed himself to be dragged to the Christmas tree.

  “Look, Richard, we’ve followed your suggestion and invited each of the servants to hang an ornament.” Juliet pulled him closer to the large tree. “Cook’s hung a small silver spoon, Mrs. Perkins chose a silver fork, and the upstairs maids have tied red satin ribbons around clusters of white feathers. They look like snowflakes.”

  Richard laughed softly, amazed these humble efforts did not look out of place among the expensive hand-blown glass ornaments, delicate lace sachets, and dried flower bouquets. He had been half joking when he suggested that since he was an American they must have a democratic tree, with the entire household, servants and all, included in the decorating, but he was glad Juliet had listened.

  “I appreciate your conceding to my Colonist thinking,” Richard said.

  “I think it’s a lovely gesture and very much in keeping with the holiday spirit.”

  “Makes for less work for the rest of us, too,” Uncle Horace said with a wink. Smiling, he pulled a nut and a few pieces of dried fruit from the paper cone ornament he held and popped the treat
s in his mouth. When he’d finished eating them, he tried unsuccessfully to retie the cone closed with a green ribbon.

  “We will never get the tree arranged if you keep eating the decorations,” Aunt Mildred commented ruefully, snatching the cone away from him.

  “No need to get huffy,” Uncle Horace replied, grinning mischievously. “That cone wasn’t made properly. It was filled with too many treats. I only removed a few so it could be fixed before being placed on the tree.”

  “That is the most pitiful excuse I’ve heard this morning,” Aunt Mildred responded.

  “I noticed the tea tray arriving a few minutes ago,” Richard interrupted. “There were numerous platters of sweets and various cookies.”

  “Any gingerbread?” Uncle Horace asked.

  “I believe so,” Richard answered. “And there was hot mulled wine and wassail as well.”

  Uncle Horace’s eyes brightened. “Time for refreshments,” he said. “I know I’ll need some fortification if I’m going to win my point about putting cotton batting around the nativity scene.”

  “Why do you need batting?” Aunt Mildred wanted to know.

  “To represent the snow,” Uncle Horace responded patiently, his expression suggesting the answer was obvious.

  “It will make the scene too crowded and messy,” Aunt Mildred countered.

  Uncle Horace heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Mildred, we all know that snow at Christmas makes everything merrier. Therefore we should have snow in our nativity scene.”

  “Hogwash.”

  “Juliet?” Uncle Horace turned an appealing eye toward his niece.

  Richard sympathized with the flash of mild panic appearing in Juliet’s eyes. “I’ll go along with whatever you two think is best,” she replied, clutching his arm tightly.

  Breaking into an amused grin, Richard silently rescued his wife, steering her around the tree, away from her relatives.

  As they moved, they nearly collided with Lizzy. The child was almost quivering with excitement, hopping from one foot to the other, a small doll dressed in white lace clutched in one hand.

  “I finally found my angel, Mama. It must go on the very top of the tree, where everyone can see it best.”