His Mistress By Christmas (26 page)

“You should have told us.” Aunt Lotte hurried forward and kissed her cheek. “I had no idea you were so much as considering marriage.”

“It came as quite a surprise.” Her father cast her a wry glance. “But then you have never done the expected.”

She managed a weak smile, wondering if she looked as shocked as her
husband.
She tried to wrest a measure of composure, then crossed the room to her father and kissed his cheek. “Good day, Father.”

“Is it?” Amusement shone in his eyes. He lowered his voice. “I had my doubts.”

“As do I,” she said under her breath, then turned to the others. She forced a pleasant note to her voice. “What are you doing here?”

“Plum pudding,” her grandmother announced, as if it was obvious. “That’s why we are here. Plum pudding.”

Apparently, Grandmother was having one of her
special
moments.

“Plum pudding?” Veronica said cautiously.

“Plum pudding.” Grandmother nodded. “You will be having plum pudding, won’t you? I do so love plum pudding.” She turned an annoyed eye on the lady sitting in the other chair. “You said there would be plum pudding.”

“And I’m sure there will be, Lady Bramhall.” The lady smiled and patted Veronica’s grandmother’s arm.

“Goodness, Mother.” Lotte huffed. “We have not come for plum pudding.” She turned a firm eye on her niece. “Although it is expected.”

Veronica stared.

“For Christmas dinner?” Lotte said.

“Plum pudding,” Veronica repeated. “For Christmas dinner.” Lotte frowned. “Have you taken leave of your senses?”

“If I am lucky,” Veronica murmured.

Lotte studied her. “We have come for Christmas, of course.”

“They’ve come for Christmas, Veronica,” Sebastian said with a forced smile and an edge of panic in his voice. “Christmas.”

“Why?” she said without thinking.

“When Lady Waterston told us that you had married her son and that her entire family was joining you at your new home in the country, we decided your family should be here as well.” A chastising note sounded in her aunt’s voice. “You should have invited us.”

“We didn’t invite anyone,” Sebastian said quickly, as if that was an important point. “Everyone just . . . appeared.”

“For the plum pudding.” Grandmother nodded.

“For you.” Her father’s gaze met hers. “It seemed to us if you were going to be surrounded by your new family, it might be nice to have your old family around you as well.”

Her heart caught. “Thank you, Father.”

Her father cast her an affectionate smile, and at once she was a little girl again. Her father, grandmother, and aunt were indeed an odd lot, but they were hers. And even if she didn’t realize she might have need of them, they realized it in their own unique way.

Sebastian cleared his throat. “Veronica, I should like to introduce you to my mother. Helena, Lady Waterston.”

“Your mother?” The same edge of panic she had heard in Sebastian’s voice now shaded hers. “How delightful.”

“The delight, my dear girl, is mine.” Lady Waterston rose from her chair and moved to Veronica. She took her hands and kissed her on both cheeks. “Evelyn calls me Helena, and I would be pleased if you would do the same. I had very nearly given up on Sebastian staying in one place, let alone finding the right woman.” She smiled and squeezed Veronica’s hands. “I cannot tell you how happy this has made me.”

Guilt surged through Veronica, and it was all she could do not to confess everything.

“Mother decided not to go to Italy, after all,” Sebastian said. “So she could join us for Christmas. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“Wonderful.” If Sebastian’s mother hadn’t gone to Italy . . .

“Then Portia is with you?”

“I’m afraid not.” Helena sighed. “When we heard that you and Sebastian had wed, well, I am afraid Portia simply didn’t believe it.”

Veronica’s stomach twisted. “How very odd. Did she say why?”

“Oh, she spouted some nonsense about how neither you nor Sebastian wished to marry.” Helena rolled her gaze toward the ceiling. “Utterly absurd, of course, as you obviously are married.”

“Obviously.” Veronica paused. “Then you went to my family—”

“Helena and I used to be friends,” Aunt Lotte said.

“Goodness, Lotte, I would hope we still are.” Helena smiled at the other woman. “Admittedly, we have taken different paths through the years.” She turned to the others. “Lotte champions causes. I have championed my children. Although they scarcely need me these days.”

“Nonsense, Mother,” Sebastian said without the least bit of conviction.

“Regardless, I, for one, am looking forward to spending Christmas with old friends and new additions and a family who, at the very least, will pretend to need me.” Helena smiled at Veronica. “Now, if you don’t mind, I should like to be shown to my room. It’s been a very long day thus far.”

Lotte nodded. “For all of us.”

Veronica started for the door. “I should speak to Mrs. Bigelow about your accommodations.”

“No need.” Her grandmother rose to her feet. “We informed your staff upon our arrival that we would be staying for the plum pudding.”

“They seem very efficient.” Lotte nodded approvingly.

“One does hope so,” Veronica murmured. It would be one less thing for her to worry about.

“And I suspect you would like to have a word with your husband,” Helena said.

“Oh, more than one.” Veronica laughed an odd sort of strangled laugh.

“Well done, Sebastian,” Helena said to her son, then hooked her arm through Lotte’s. “You and I have a great deal of catching up to do.”

“It has been a long time. Why, I remember . . .”

The ladies filed out, Grandmother pausing to speak to Veronica in a low voice. “Do make sure your cook understands the importance of brandy in a plum pudding. There can never be too much, but if there’s not enough . . .” She shook her head. “It’s scarcely festive if there is not enough brandy, and it is Christmas, after all.”

“It is indeed.” Veronica managed a weak smile.

“I should like to have a closer look at your library later, if you don’t mind,” her father said to Sebastian. “You have quite an extensive collection here.”

“Please do, sir. Consider it as you would your own.”

“Excellent.” Father cast her an encouraging smile and followed the ladies out of the room. Stokes closed the door behind him.

She stared at her
husband.
“What are we going to do?”

“Right now I am going to follow your grandmother’s advice.” He strode across the room to where a decanter of brandy sat on a side table, poured a glass, and downed nearly half of it in one swallow.

“That is not going to help,” she snapped, crossed the room, took his glass and finished the brandy, then returned the glass. The potent liquor burned her throat, but it was well worth it.

“It’s not going to hurt,” he muttered and refilled his glass.

“Now, tell me.” She drew a deep breath. “How did your mother get the happy news? I thought she was safely out of the country.”

“She was.” He took a sip. “She met someone who knows Diana’s mother-in-law in Paris—”

“In Paris?” Her voice rose. “Paris?”

“Yes, Paris,” he said sharply.

She stared at him with growing horror. “Do you realize what this means?”

“Any number of things occur to me, but what are you thinking?”

“If your mother heard about this in Paris, can you imagine what is being said in London?”

He stared at her for a moment, then poured her a glass of brandy and handed it to her.

She took a long swallow. It didn’t help. “Everyone we know, everyone who admires the well-known Sir Sebastian Hadley-Attwater will think we’re married. Married!”

“Well, yes, but—”

“But we’re not!” She shook her head. “Good Lord, Sebastian, when people discover we’re not married . . . Can you imagine the scandal?”

“I thought you weren’t concerned with scandal?”

“I wasn’t when it was someone else’s scandal! When it was”—she searched for the right word—”
theoretical
scandal! I have no problem with scandal when it is an amusing topic of conversation. But this is different.” She drained her glass and set it down. Inebriation had a huge amount of appeal at the moment. “This is our scandal, and we are up to our noses in it!”

“You should have thought of that before you decided to become a mistress instead of a wife.”

“Admittedly, it was a flaw in my plan!” She glared. “Not that I have truly become a mistress yet, have I?”

“You locked your door!” Indignation rang in his words.

“And one doesn’t seduce the woman one intends to marry!” she mimicked.

“Admittedly, that might have been a flaw in
my
plan!”

She stared. “This is the most absurd argument I have ever had!”

“Appropriate, then, as this is the most absurd situation I have ever found myself in!”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Mine!” He ran his hand through his hair. “I should never have assumed you would marry me simply because I asked.”

She huffed. “I would never marry you simply because you asked.”

“Then why would you marry me?”

“Because I can no longer imagine my life without you!”

“You can’t?” He stared.

“Apparently not.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “But it doesn’t change anything.”

He grinned. “It changes everything.”

“It simply . . .” She thought for a moment. “It changes the discussion, that’s all. Broadens it, if you will. And it’s not a discussion we should be having now.” She turned on her heel and paced. “Now, we need to think of a way out of this mess.”

“We could marry.”

“Unless we are going to wed secretly and in the next hour or so, that is not a solution.” She paced. “We should be able to think of something. We are both intelligent people, although I am starting to question your intelligence somewhat.”

He laughed.

She stopped in midstep and stared at him. “This is not funny.”

“No, of course not.” He struggled to suppress a grin.

“What do you find so amusing?”

“Nothing, absolutely nothing.” He set his glass down, stepped close, and swept her into his arms.

“What are you doing?” She glared at him.

He grinned. “You’re smitten with me.”

“Nonsense.” She sniffed. “You are the most annoying man I have ever met.”

“Nonetheless, you are head over heels.” He kissed the curve of her neck.

She shivered and tried to push out of his arms. “Stop that at once. This is not the time.”

“It’s always the time,” his lips murmured against her neck.

“You are as arrogant as you are annoying.”

“You’re mad for me.”

“I am furious with you.” Good Lord, what was he doing? “It’s your arrogance that got us into this.”

“I know and I feel a great deal of remorse.”

“I’m not sensing your remorse at the moment.”

“Then you’re not paying attention.” His lips trailed along the line of her jaw. “I am deeply, deeply sorry.”

“Oh . . .” She moaned in spite of her best intentions. “I didn’t like lying to your mother.”

He raised his head and frowned. “You do realize bringing up a man’s mother at a time like this is not conducive to . . .”

She raised a brow. “To what?”

“To everything.” He blew a disgruntled breath and released her. “And you didn’t lie to her.”

“She thinks we’re married.”

“Yes, but you never said we were married. Therefore you didn’t lie.”

“I didn’t say we weren’t.”

“Which still isn’t a lie.”

She shook her head. “I have been known to tell an occasional mistruth when necessary. Indeed, I have been rather creative on occasion, but I’ve never lied to a mother. I don’t have a mother, but it seems to me one doesn’t lie to one’s mother. Or, in this case, one’s fraudulent husband’s mother.”

“Ha.” He shrugged. “One lies to one’s mother all the time. There are some things it’s better if mothers don’t know. Do you think my mother would rest easier if she’d known exactly what my plans were before I undertook any particular expedition?”

“Probably not.”

“Definitely not.” He nodded. “Why, lying to one’s mother could be considered doing one’s best to protect her.”

She stared. “You have a clever way of twisting the world to your own advantage, Sebastian.”

“It’s a gift.” He flashed her a wicked grin, then sobered. “As I see it, we have two options. We can confess all, but as you pointed out, that would ruin Christmas for everyone.”

“Or?”

“We can bravely carry on.”

She widened her eyes. “I can’t lie to my family.”

“You lied to my family. And”—he paused to emphasize his words—”to my mother.”

“For her own good, according to you. Nonetheless . . .” She shook her head. “I cannot lie to my family.”

He studied her for a long moment. “Do what you think is best.”

She stared. “Aren’t you going to try to dissuade me?”

“No.” He chose his words with care. “I would never ask you to do anything that makes you uneasy. Although, as I recall, it was your idea to go along with this deception.”

“Yes, I suppose but—”

He held up his hand to quiet her. “That is neither here nor there at the moment. I trust you, Veronica. I trust your intelligence and your judgment. Whether or not you tell your family the truth is your decision. I shall deal with the repercussions, whatever they may be. But know this.” He reached for her again, and she let him pull her close. He gazed into her eyes. “No matter what happens next, it makes no difference to me.”

She stared up at him. “It doesn’t?”

“No. You are the only thing that matters.”

“And you trust me?”

“With my future.” He nodded. “With my life.”

“Oh.” For the second time today she had no idea what to say. “Oh.”

He grinned. “Have I rendered you speechless?”

“No.” She sighed. “Perhaps.”

“Do you know why?”

“I have no idea.”

“Because . . .” He kissed the tip of her nose. “You are mad for me.”

She gazed up at him and sighed. “Or just mad.”

“I thought I’d find you here.” Veronica closed the door of the library behind her and smiled at her father.