His Mistress By Christmas (15 page)

“Good day, Harrison.” Veronica smiled weakly. She and Harrison had forged a new relationship in recent months, thanks, in part, to his turning to Veronica for help in his pursuit of Julia. Whereas once he was merely Charles’s overly proper and stuffy half brother and she was his dead brother’s annoying widow, now they thought of one another as the sister and brother neither of them had ever had. But as much as Harrison’s attitude about propriety had eased, Veronica had no desire to put him to the test by involving him in this particular discussion.

His gaze slid from Veronica to his wife. His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What is going on here?”

“A simple difference of opinion,” Veronica said in an offhand manner.

“We were discussing fruit, darling.” Julia smiled at her husband, and the oddest sense of envy twisted inside Veronica.

“Fruit?” He raised a brow.

“Oranges mostly.” Julia bit back a grin. “Your sister simply adores a good orange.”

“I do not,” Veronica snapped. “I much prefer apples. I have always preferred apples. And apples are what I want.”

“Unless, of course, the orange is extremely juicy and quite sweet.” Julia glanced at Veronica. “And easy to peel.”

Veronica narrowed her gaze. “Apples.”

“I’ve always been fond of pears myself, but I suspect I do not wish to know what you are really discussing.” He met his wife’s gaze. “Do I?”

Julia shook her head. “No, dear. It would only annoy you.” “I thought as much.” He stepped to his wife’s side, bent low, and whispered something in her ear. A charming blush washed up Julia’s face. Again, a twinge of envy stabbed Veronica. Harrison straightened, cast a look at his wife that could only be described as hungry, and turned to his sister. “I shall take my leave, then, and allow the two of you to sort out whatever it is you are sorting out.”

“I think it’s best.” Julia’s gaze followed her husband out of the room. A secret sort of smile curved her lips.

“My God, Julia.” Veronica rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “You and Harrison are not easy to be around these days.”

“Really?” Julia grinned wickedly. “How delightful.”

“
Delightful
is not the word I would use,” Veronica said sharply, then sighed. “My apologies. I am very glad to see the two of you so happy.”

“I never thought I’d be this happy,” Julia said in a matter-of-fact manner. “I didn’t know it was possible.” She met her friend’s gaze firmly. “You could be this happy.”

“I would like to be. Indeed, I had thought I would.” Veronica narrowed her gaze. “But he is not being cooperative, the blasted creature.”

“Yes, indeed.” Julia nodded. “What a vile man. He wants to make an honest woman of you. The beast.”

“There is no need for sarcasm.”

“No, sarcasm is your weapon.”

“And I use it well. But it won’t help me now.” Veronica sighed.

“I don’t know what to do.”

“You could always marry him.”

Veronica cast her a withering glance.

“I think it’s absurd that you won’t.” Julia heaved a long-suffering sigh. “I know any number of women, as do you, who continue to do precisely as they please in spite of their marital state.”

“Ah, but are they happy? Or are they merely content?”

“One never knows what occurs within a marriage, but those of my acquaintance seem to be happy.”

“Still . . .”

“Good Lord, Veronica Smithson.” Julia stared. “I never thought I would see such a thing, but you are scared.”

“That’s absurd.” Veronica scoffed. “I’m not the least bit afraid.”

Julia raised a brow. “Aren’t you?”

“No, I most certainly am not.” She thought for a moment. “I could be somewhat apprehensive, I suppose.”

Julia studied her.

“Very well, then. I admit it. I might be a bit fearful.” Veronica huffed. “As much as Sebastian says he likes me exactly as I am, what if a year from now, five years from now, or ten years, he no longer finds it acceptable that I am independent and freethinking and outspoken? What if he discovers the woman he likes today is not the woman he can spend a lifetime with?” She turned and paced. “What if our life together becomes one argument after another, with neither of us giving an inch? What if he grows to hate me? Or I grow to resent him?”

She twisted her hands together. “It’s not that I won’t change, Julia. I can’t. With Charles, it was different.” She glanced at her friend. “I was not quite as independent then as I am now.”

“Imagine that,” Julia said under her breath.

“I know it’s difficult to believe, but it’s true. Keep in mind, I went straight from my father’s house to my husband’s. Until Charles died, I had never managed my own affairs or made a serious decision for myself.” She shook her head. “I don’t think I can go back.”

“There is such a thing as compromise.”

Veronica snorted. “I have never been good at compromise.” “I suspect it would take some effort.” Julia paused, then drew a deep breath. “Do you love him?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know. Perhaps.” Was this love? It wasn’t what she had felt for Charles. That had been rather definite and without question. Whatever it was she felt for Sebastian was vague and elusive, as if something lingered just out of reach. Something quite remarkable. “Possibly.”

“Yet another thing I never thought I’d see.” Julia chuckled.

“You uncertain about anything.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying this.”

“Oh, dear friend, but I’m not. Not really. Seeing you afraid and uncertain is most distressing.” Julia’s eyes twinkled. “It’s as if a hero has fallen.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Veronica smiled reluctantly.

“And I am most concerned about you.”

“Thank you,” she said, somewhat mollified.

“Now then.” Julia patted the spot beside her on the sofa. “Let’s play one of your little games, shall we?”

“I don’t want to play a game.” Veronica sighed but sat down nonetheless. “Let alone one of mine.”

“You made me play when I was trying to decide what to do about Harrison. It’s your turn now. It’s only fair.”

“I’ve never been enamored with fair.”

“Yes, I know. We all know.” Julia narrowed her eyes. “As for the game.” She paused. “Answer me this. If Sebastian took you at your word last night and did not bother coming back, how would you feel?”

“That’s a silly thing to ask.” Veronica waved away the surprisingly disconcerting question. “I’d have to think about—”

“Oh no,” Julia said firmly. “There’s no rational thought permitted in this game. You’re to give me the first answer that pops into your head.”

Veronica drew her brows together. “Those aren’t the rules.” “They are now,” Julia said firmly. “Besides, it’s my house, and since it’s now my game, you must play by my rules. And as you dismissed the last question, answer this one.”

“Very well. Go on.”

“How would you feel if, again, he took you at your word?” Julia leaned forward. “And he found someone else to marry?”

“Well, I’d . . .” An awful weight settled in Veronica’s stomach. “I . . .”

“Yes?”

“I’d hate it. And I’d hate him. No, I’d hate myself.” She shook her head. “I’d be devastated. And it would be entirely my own fault.” She met her friend’s gaze. “I can’t allow that.”

“No, you can’t.”

“I have to do something!”

“Indeed you do.”

Veronica jumped to her feet and paced, her feet barely keeping up with her racing thoughts. “Something . . . something . . . definitive.”

“Yes, yes!”

“I can’t lose him!” But how did one keep a man who wanted to marry when one didn’t wish to wed?

“No, no, you can’t! Don’t let him get away!” Excitement rang in Julia’s voice and brought her to her feet. “Marry him, Veronica !”

“Don’t be absurd.” Veronica waved in a dismissive gesture.

“I’m not going to marry him.”

“Oh.” Julia sank back down on the sofa like a deflated balloon.

“But you said it yourself, just a few minutes ago.” The idea sprang into her mind fully formed and utterly perfect. “You’re brilliant, Julia! Just brilliant.”

“I said to marry him,” Julia said cautiously.

“Julia, darling, you are a dear, sweet, wonderful woman. I am lucky to have you as my friend and eternally grateful that you married my brother.” Veronica dropped down on the sofa, took her friend’s hands, and stared into her eyes. “You also said compromise.”

Julia nodded. “I did.”

“So that’s what I shall do!”

Julia’s brow furrowed. “Compromise?”

“Exactly.” Veronica nodded. “Sebastian wants a wife, not a mistress. I have no desire to be his wife but wish to become his mistress. What is somewhere between a wife and a mistress?”

“Disaster?”

“Not at all.” Veronica laughed. “Oh, it’s splendid. Perhaps my most splendid idea ever. I shall become . . .” She paused in the dramatic manner befitting of such a splendid idea. “Sebastian’s fiancee.”

Julia stared. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but doesn’t betrothal imply marriage at some point?”

“At some point perhaps in the far, far distant future.” Veronica shrugged off the question. “I can name, without any effort at all, at least three couples who have been engaged for years.”

“Don’t you think Sebastian will insist on marriage eventually?”

“I have no doubt I can distract him,” Veronica said with a wicked grin. “I can be very distracting. Once Sebastian thinks I have acquiesced to his wishes, seduction will be much easier. He shall have a fiancee in public and a mistress in private. Certainly I would rather do things my way, but this is the perfect solution and compromise at its very best.”

“Veronica.” Julia shook her head. “You can’t have your cake and eat it, too.”

“Oh, but I can, darling, and I shall.” Veronica grinned. “And I very much suspect that cake is apple flavored with an irresistible orange icing.”

Veronica paused at the door to her parlor and drew a deep breath. It had been five days since Sebastian had stormed out of her house.
Five!
What was wrong with the man? After all, wasn’t she the woman he wanted to marry?

Admittedly, she had planned to give him a full week before taking matters into her own hands and seeking him out. Discreetly, of course. There was no need for him to know how eager she was to see him. How she had missed him. How she’d scarcely slept as she couldn’t get him out of her thoughts. She’d refused to consider that he might not come back at all, yet the idea did insist on creeping into her head. An accidental meeting that had been precisely planned seemed best. On the other hand, just arriving on his doorstep and demanding entry had a certain amount of appeal as well.

She had been determined to wait the entire week, even though each day proved more difficult than the last. Veronica freely admitted a lack of patience was one of her greatest flaws. She’d spent her time reading and rereading all three of Sebastian’s books. They were even better now that she knew the author personally. She could hear his voice in his words. It was as if Sebastian was in the room with her, telling her his stories of travel and adventure. One would think she would then dream of his adventures. Instead, in those brief moments when she had slept, she dreamt of what hadn’t happened between them. Of his lips on her throat, of his hands skimming over her body, the heat of his skin next to hers, her legs entwined with his. She shivered and pushed the persistent images aside.

She’d rehearsed what she would say to him as well, although nothing seemed right. Should she be pleased to see him or merely polite? Should she pretend nothing had happened between them at all, or should she continue the discussion they’d started? Should she wait for him to bring up the topic of marriage, or should she? His accusation about her having had lovers still rankled, although, given her proposal, she really couldn’t blame the man. An apology was definitely in order. And once he apologized, she would do the same, even if she had nothing to apologize for save losing her temper.

In spite of hours spent debating what to say and what not to say, now that he was in the parlor, waiting for her, she had absolutely no idea how to begin. And no idea what to expect. How did one propose an engagement without agreeing to marry? She did so hate to lie unnecessarily. Still, nothing would be accomplished at all with her on one side of the door and him on the other. Something would come to her. She squared her shoulders. Uncertain and afraid, indeed.

Veronica pulled open the door, adopted a pleasant yet noncommittal smile, and moved into the parlor. Sebastian paced the room, his back momentarily to her. Her spirits lifted. This was not the attitude of a man completely confident in his position. She had the nearly irresistible desire to step close to him, run her hands over his broad shoulders, and kiss the back of his neck.

Instead she adopted her cheeriest voice. “Good day, Sebastian.”

He turned toward her and nodded, a smile just as pleasant as hers on his face. “Good day, Veronica.”

“Good Lord.” Her gaze skimmed over him. “You look dreadful.”

He winced. “As bad as that?”

“Well . . .” He looked tired, weary, and slightly rumpled around his blue eyes. “Yes. As bad as that.” Her heart caught. “Dear God, don’t tell me you’re ill! It’s not malaria, is it? Or some other horrible tropical disease? One of those parasitic illnesses where worms burrow out through your skin?”

His brow furrowed. “Worms?”

“Yes, you know. In the Amazon there are those insects that lay eggs that get under your skin and then . . .” She shuddered and waved away the disgusting image. “Worms.”

“Oh, those worms.” He chuckled. “You’ve been reading my books.”

“Just something to pass the time. They happened to be handy, that’s all.” She studied him. “Then you’re not fatally ill?”

“If I told you I was, would you throw yourself into my arms and declare your undying love?” His eyes twinkled with laughter.

Yes!
“No.” Relief washed through her. “But I would send you a polite note wishing a speedy recovery or, should you take a turn for the worse, a well-attended funeral.”

“One always hopes for a well-attended funeral if a funeral is unavoidable.”

“You may certainly count on my attending.”