Have Yourself a Merry Little Secret : a Christmas collection of historical romance (Have Yourself a Merry Little... Book 2)

by Collette Cameron

Thornton continued to stare thoughtfully at him until he changed the subject.

  Chapter 3

  Mary hated Westerham. She hated his smarmy smile, his perfect face, and his deceivingly polite voice. She hated the way his mind worked, and she hated being teased, especially by a man who had every single advantage in life. She knew full well that everything he’d done to annoy her had been deliberate.

  The worst day in her life hadn’t been completed until before dinner tonight. The first episode this morning had lowered her into the depths of despair, the second almost buried her in mud, but the third, having her shawl ruined, had sent her into such a fury that her mind began to plot how to get her revenge on Westerham. Killing him would only be a mercy compared to what she planned for him.

  The shawl that had cost her mother at least a pound, now sat in two folded pieces. Mary couldn’t resurrect the fabric, which now had no use except possibly to make a new bodice. She pulled her brush roughly through her hair until her scalp tingled and her arms ached, while angry tears streamed continuously down her face.

  When she finally slipped into bed, her nose was so swollen that she had to breathe through her mouth. Her mind repeated ‘I hate him, I hate him, I hate him,’ all night, without being clear about what she hated the most about him, the words, the deeds, or the handsome face.

  In the morning, she awoke with a splitting headache, a puffy face and swollen eyes. Looking like a goblin who’d spent the night changing fairies into demons, she went down to breakfast. Fortunately, no one remarked that her eyes looked red. She had behaved badly last night, and she knew she had. Nevertheless, she had no intention of apologizing. Normally, she would but the worm had finally turned.

  As soon as she had finished eating, she gritted her teeth, grabbed a basket from the back lobby, and strode out to the herb garden where no one would confront her about her behavior. With the basket at her feet, she sat on the cold and wet rock wall for possibly an hour, gazing at her shoes, the dewy grass, and a nervous worm that couldn’t decide where to hide next, reminding her of herself, the worm that couldn’t quite turn yet.

  After a while, a pair of polished boots stepped in front of her, attached to a pair of legs covered by beautifully cut tan trousers. Her gaze sped from there to the face of Lord Westerham.

  “Are you here to gather herbs?” she said in what she hoped was a disinterested tone.

  He shrugged casually. “Do I appear suitably dressed?”

  She ran her eyes from his feet to his sensual mouth. Unfortunately, her eyes had lingered too long on his perfect form and she realized he would think she was admiring him. Red-hot embarrassment flooded her entire body. “Since you are not, you may leave, sir,” she said in an adamant voice, turning away from his interested gaze.

  He inclined his head to the side, his expression bland. “I came out here to speak to you.”

  “I’m not in the mood for conversation.” Her voice hardened.

  Shrugging with disinterest, he said, “I would like to make you a proposition.”

  “Please go away.”

  He sat beside her on the wall. “I’m beginning to think that you are trying to annoy me.”

  “Good,” she said through her clenched teeth. Her neck stiffened into an ache.

  He stared into her eyes. “And yet, I still have the strange urge to help you.”

  “You can, by leaving me alone.” She narrowed her gaze at him.

  He remained silent while he gazed at the grey sky. In profile, he looked magnificent with his clear-cut brow, his aristocratic nose, and his perfectly shaped lips and chin. Finally, he turned to her. “I think I owe you an apology. You won’t believe me after my behavior yesterday, but I am truly sorry I didn’t notice you on the road.”

  She slumped, defeated once again by his polish. “You can’t be blamed. No one else in the world notices me, either.”

  “And that sort of pessimistic thinking is exactly why no one notices you. The best way to make someone else care for you is to care for yourself, and stop being a negative Nellie.”

  “I don’t need your advice about how to live my life.” She lifted her head, annoyed about hearing his assessment of her.

  He shrugged. “Perhaps not, but I could atone for my carelessness yesterday by helping you.”

  “The way you helped with my best shawl? Don’t you realize that I can’t bear you? I don’t want to look at you or talk to you.”

  “I did you a favor by ruining your shawl. You can’t wear that color and even a woman with poor eyesight would know that.”

  She raised her voice and stared right at him. “I can wear any color I want.”

  “But why?”

  She slowly averted her gaze, trying to think. Somehow, he had turned her words against her. “Why can’t I like the colors that I like?”

  “You can, but you don’t have to wear them. I don’t like rotting seaweed as much as you clearly do, judging by the color of your gown and shawl last night, but my coloring would allow me to wear that green you wore. I like carrots but if I wanted to wear a carrot-colored jacket, my valet would likely strangle me with one of my cravats. Can you imagine me in a carrot-colored jacket?”

  She concentrated, trying for a visual concept of a color on a person, and came up with nothing. “Carrot-colored jackets haven’t been in style since last century.”

  “That’s beside the point.” He frowned and scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t know why I am wasting my time with you.”

  “Nor do I. I told you to go away. Please accept my invitation.”

  His shoulders lifted. “Today is one of those rare days that I want to be of use. Tell me what is upsetting you. The real reason. Not the one you had for wearing that ghastly shawl last night.”

  “What was my reason for wearing my nicest shawl last night?” She narrowed her gaze.

  “You wanted to be invisible.”

  Since he read her thoughts so clearly, she couldn’t keep arguing. She quickly filled her lungs with air. “I still don’t like you.”

  “And you still want me to go away.”

  She nodded.

  “I’m considered to be a good catch. Most young ladies your age would try to keep me in conversation.”

  “That doesn’t seem too hard. You never stop talking.” She caught herself before she allowed a reluctant smile to cross her lips.

  “You’ve been privileged today. I usually don’t spare more than three words to debutantes.” His eyebrows lifted as though he had surprised himself.

  “You haven’t broken your record. I’m not a debutante and I don’t normally speak to arrogant rakes.”

  “Do you usually have the last word?” He almost sounded interested.

  “I usually don’t have any words. I’ve learnt not to talk too much so that I don’t bore people.”

  “Self-pity is self-defeating.”

  Her breath hot in her chest, she rose to her feet. “Who are you to judge me?”

  He stared up at her, his expression one of simple query. “Would you accept my hand in marriage?”

  She leaned over and tried to shove him off the wall with her palms on his shoulders. “I’ve had enough of being ridiculed by you.”

  He grabbed her wrist. “That hurt,” he said with a pained look on his face.

  “Don’t be so pathetic. I hardly moved you.”

  He slowly stood to face her. “That’s the first proposal I have made in my life,” he said in a mock-offended voice. “A man would prefer to be politely rejected.”

  “Oh, my heavenly father,” she said in two tones below a scream. “If you think you are convincing actor, you have another think coming. No one would believe a man as polished as you could manage a sincere proposal as badly as that. You clearly think I am a fool.”

  “Hush. You will hurt my feelings.”

  “If you have finished annoying me, I would prefer to get back to scrubbing the dishes in the scullery.”

  “Think about it, Cinderella.�
�� His eyes narrowed with calculation. “Even if I could have a fake betrothal for a few months, you could be of use to me. I could hide from all the matchmaking mothers for the first time since I inherited my title.”

  “And I could be made to look like a fool when you cry off. Why would I be so stupid?” She managed to keep her tone superior while her thoughts raced from ‘what if?’ to ‘what rubbish!’

  He kept his gaze on hers. She tried to read his expression but his facial features got in the way. All she could see was a pair of eyes shaded with mystery, a soft straight mouth, and an evil dimple that flickered in and out. His deliberate charm annoyed her, but his attractiveness waylaid her thought processes.

  “I won’t call off the engagement. You may, if you give me two months of your time first.” The dimple disappeared.

  She finally realized that he was serious. “Two months?” Time stopped while she considered his proposal. On the one hand, she would have a season in London. On the other, she would look foolish if she agreed and he laughed at her. Gambling on the first, she stared deeply into his wary eyes and nodded.

  Chapter 4

  Westerham sat in Thornton’s drawing room, gazing at the miserable weather outside, wishing he had explored his sanity before, roughly twelve hours ago, he sprung the idea on himself of marrying Lady Mary. He whacked his palm against his forehead, and then sat with his elbows on his knees, and his chin supported by his hands. Now, he would have to ask for Thornton’s permission to address his younger sister. He would also have to think of reason why he had decided on her when he had arrived with the clear intention of offering for her prettier, older sister.

  Thornton had proposed a match with Lady Lucy a month ago. Society knew that she was destined for a titled and wealthy husband. Society knew that she had rejected at least two suitors, both wealthy and titled. She dressed with style and she had ‘connections.’ As a wife, she would abide by the rules, produce a family, and support her husband when needed. Her conversation wouldn’t swerve from the politic—unlike her younger sister’s, which was downright challenging.

  Westerham put his head in his hands, and sighed. The younger sister interested him. Lady Lucy would look aghast if he spoke to her the way he easily spoke to her sister, who had no trouble understanding his cynical comments. Her strong will meant that she would let him go his own way without weeping or wailing or causing his household to be disrupted. She could find her own amusements, whereas Lady Lucy would be one of those women who would have ‘ailments’ to keep company when her husband started to wander.

  However, despite Lady Mary being more suited to him, marrying a young lady who hadn’t yet been presented would cause a wave of gossip in the highest circles of society. Since he wouldn’t be marrying her for her money or her looks, people would gossip about her for months, speculating about the reason why he wanted a brat who would rather push him off a wall than put up with his questioning.

  His long scrutiny of her had shown him what he already knew, that she wasn’t as plain at all. She had clear skin, light intelligent eyes, and a slim build. Her shoulders were straight, her posture perfect, and she still hid her intelligence behind a veil of reticence. Her attempt to punish him for not noticing her on the road had been brave but, if she remembered him, foolhardy. He preferred people to speak their minds and not keep up a pretence of being meek, and then explode with impatience later.

  Although he hadn’t noticed her on the road, he was more interested in the fact that not noticing her had offended her more than muddying her gown. Therefore, he had metaphorically sat back and watched her trying to take her revenge on a man who had been careless, but little more. Trying to put his thoughts in order to sound sane to Thornton, he meshed his fingers together.

  He could say he was instantly attracted to Lady Mary, though Thornton likely wouldn’t believe him. The story was almost true. One summer ten years before, he had listened to an earnest child who had been lost and confused after the death of her father. Having younger brothers of his own had taught him the value of confidences. When he had heard, and not attempted to downplay her fears, she had begun to express her opinions freely. Without sisters of his own, he found her views on life fascinating.

  After a few days, she had followed him like a baby duckling, leading her into overhearing conversations that she demanded to have explained. Since most concerned opera dancers, he refused, leading her to keep nagging until he explained in a discreet way that chaps liked the company of pretty ladies. This had amused him, until he had lost his sense of the ridiculous four years ago after hearing of his younger brother’s slow and painful death.

  He leaned back and stared at the ceiling. Seeing her again reminded him of his middle brother, who stoically bore the wounds he received in the war. She shared his stoicism. Even the mud-splashing episode had shown that she would bear whatever life threw at her without a blink. As well, she looked lost and lonely. He couldn’t have fallen in love during one interaction. He merely had a normal manly urge to protect the weak, which Thornton wouldn’t want to hear from a man offering for his sister.

  Thornton knew Westerham had spurned well-born beauties for year after year, which let Lady Lucy off the hook without being insulting. If Westerham didn’t require a beauty, he would surely be more attracted to a lady’s mind, rather than her style. His mouth curved cynically as his fingers tapped on the armrest of his chair. Lady Mary had a habit of choosing her clothes from the ragbag. The thought made him blow out an impatient breath. Even now, he didn’t understand what her attraction was. He hadn’t been able to stop himself proposing marriage to her, and not because he wanted to be married, but because he wanted to be near her. He hadn’t craved the presence of a woman, let alone a resentful, argumentative scrap of a female in his whole life.

  Not once.

  Never.

  He’d never had his heart broken, and no mistress had ever had him at her beck and call. He knew he couldn’t be in love. More than likely, Lady Mary gave him the reason to think about the responsibilities to the position he had disregarded four years ago. He nodded to himself. Thornton would surely believe that without wondering how she had given him the reason, but Westerham could find an answer on the spot, if need be, but need probably wouldn’t be. Thornton would find something else to distract his agile mind.

  The door cracked open. Thornton stood resting his hand on the doorknob. His bright gaze settled on Westerham speculatively. “Are you waiting for me to show you around the property?” His tone said ‘let’s go.’

  Westerham nodded, and rose to his feet.

  “I saw you talking to Mary in the garden. I must apologize for her. She’s been difficult lately. She is usually sweet and quiet.”

  “I’m sure she is, but I think she won’t forgive me for splashing her with mud on the road.” Westerham checked his cuff links, knowing that he lied. She wouldn’t forgive him for ignoring and then insulting her, when they’d once been comradely. He had hoped for her cooperation initially, but not now that he had been revived by his conversation with her in the garden. Now he had other thoughts in his mind, the main one being interest. A young, single woman who didn’t try to flirt with him was a rarity. His secondary thought involved a connection between her naked body and his bed, for reasons unknown to him. Possibly he yearned to earn a woman rather than buy one. He blinked himself back into sanity.

  Thornton held the door while he waited for Westerham to follow him outside. The tour of the hilly fields enlightened him as to Thornton’s new ideas. Most could work on Westerham’s property too. He decided to send his land manager here to see for himself the ideas that he ought to follow.

  Eventually, after a long tramp and many more discussions about new ideas, Thornton stopped and turned to him. “Shall we end this tour now, and grab a meal at the local tavern?”

  Westerham nodded. Mounting his horse, he followed his host across the pastures, noting the transparency of the sun in the wintry sky. Gleaming through a haze of clo
uds, pale rays cast lengthening shadows in the late afternoon chill. Arriving in the cozy taproom, after being bowed into a booth by the host, he seated himself with Thornton in the vicinity of a warming fire. A heartening meal arrived during discussions about new ways of planting and nurturing crops. Talking with Thornton energized and wearied Westerham in equal portions.

  “I think I must marry your sister to pay you back for today.” Satisfied with the events of the day, Westerham leaned back against the slats behind him.

  Thornton laughed. “My ideas are free and I don’t doubt that Lucy will agree to your offer.”

  Westerham dropped his gaze. “I find that I prefer disagreeable women.”

  “That’s perfectly understandable, old chap. If you want her to argue with you, I’m sure you will think of a way to encourage her.”

  “I can argue with your sister, Lady Mary, without even trying.”

  Thornton dropped his gaze. “I think her affections are already engaged. But, you are right. She is fun to argue with. She’s bright, you know. I don’t think she will suit your purpose, though.”

  “Do I have purpose?”

  “I’m guessing you want a marriage of convenience. Well, I know you do. You can’t possibly fall in love in one day.”

  “How long did you take to fall in love with Della?”

  “One day. But it took me six years to convince her to marry me.”

  “I’m too old to wait for six years. May I speak to Lady Mary about my intentions?”

  “Even if she didn’t have another in mind, I doubt she would want a husband who would be content to leave her to her own devices while he continued to pursue his own pleasures elsewhere.”

  Westerham diverted his gaze. “But Lady Lucy would?”

  “I would expect her to decide for herself.”

  “Surely you would consider the same choice for Lady Mary?”

  Thornton heaved a breath. “Lucy longs for riches and a position in society. She’s had her chances, but she has refused them all, because she is willing to wait until she finds the right man. I don’t know her criteria, but I suspect she will base her decision on logic. Mary lives on her emotions. The two are opposite in every way.”