His Mistress By Christmas (27 page)

“This is a most impressive collection.” Father stood near the shelves behind the desk, paging through a book. “I understand it came along with the house.”

Veronica nodded. “Sebastian hasn’t yet had the chance to thoroughly assess exactly what’s here.”

“From what I’ve seen thus far, he’s in for quite a treat. Your husband is a lucky man.”

Veronica winced.

She’d never imagined that deception would settle like a heavy weight around her heart. But settle it had.

Dinner, however, would have made any hostess proud. The company was congenial; the conversation spirited. Much of it centered around Christmas and decorating the house and the tree tomorrow. Even her family joined in and had a pleasant time. She wasn’t certain if it was due to the festive nature of the season or if Sebastian’s family always enjoyed one another’s company or a combination of both, but there was an easiness about the gathering and a warmth that included her relations that she had not anticipated. She and Sebastian were the only ones not completely enjoying themselves, although he did make a good show of it. And why not? He had become all that was expected of him, at least for the moment.

But every time her marriage was mentioned, her stomach clenched. She hadn’t had a chance to speak to anyone in her family, and she still wasn’t sure if confession was wise. But wise or not, she had decided she couldn’t get through Christmas with unease and guilt threatening to consume her.

In addition, she’d never imagined she’d be at all bothered by the specter of scandal, but there it was, hovering over her like Marley’s ghost. That, too, made her stomach twist.

She drew a deep breath. “There is something I wish to discuss with you.”

“First.” He snapped the book closed. “I owe you an apology, Veronica.”

“You do?” She drew her brows together. “Whatever for?”

“Being here, in this house, with this family . . .” He shook his head. “It made me realize how I failed you.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“No, I suppose not.” He replaced the book on the shelf. “It struck me tonight at dinner with Sir Sebastian’s family, now your family, of course—”

“About that—”

“Allow me to finish.” He met her gaze directly. “This is not an easy thing to confess.”

“Confession is often awkward,” she said under her breath. “But I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“It’s not something I did but rather something I never did.” He nodded at the brandy. “May I?”

“Yes, of course.”

He moved to the decanter and filled a glass. She’d never noticed before, but he was a handsome man, or perhaps distinguished was a better term. Taller than she, graying around the temples, kind eyes. Sad eyes. She’d never noticed that, either. But then he was her father; he was simply there.

“Would you care for some?”

“No, thank you.” She’d had enough brandy for one day.

He swirled the brandy in his glass. “When your mother died, I felt as though I had died as well.”

“Father, you don’t have to—”

“No, I do.” He blew a long breath. “I turned your upbringing over to Lotte and my mother. It wasn’t a deliberate thing. They were competent and I was not. You were only five. I simply had no interest in anything.”

Her heart twisted. “Father.”

“When you married Charles, I thought it was a mistake. He was so much older than you, nearly my age. But I had never advised you before. I felt I had no right to do so then. And you did seem happy.”

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I was.” “Tonight I realized how much of a failure I had been as a father. All that talk of Christmas.” He paused. “Did you know your mother and I met at a Christmas ball?”

She shook her head.

“That first Christmas after she died, I couldn’t bear it. She loved Christmas.” He smiled a sad sort of smile. “I could never bring myself to celebrate Christmas the way she did. The way she would have wanted us to. In that, I failed her as well.”

“Father—”

“So, whenever possible, I preferred to be out of the country for Christmas. Those years that we remained in England, well, my mother and sister understood and made little fuss about the day. Now I see how wrong I was.”

“I don’t think—”

“Christmas is a time to celebrate family, those we love. To give thanks and to share and be with one another.” He shook his head. “I denied you that. I only thought of myself, and what I had lost at Christmas. I should have remarried, given you brothers and sisters—”

“Father, you needn’t—”

“At the very least I should have cherished what I had.” He met her gaze. “I should have cherished you.”

Her throat tightened. “I’ve always known you loved me.” “Oh, I was never unkind.” A wry smile curved his lips. “I will say that for my behavior.”

She chose her words with care. “I have always wondered if you would have preferred a son.”

“I suppose I would have liked a son. But in addition to, not in place of.” He shook his head. “But I did you a grave disservice, my dear girl. I don’t know if I can forgive myself. I didn’t realize there was anything to forgive until tonight, but I hope that you might see your way clear . . .”

“As I didn’t know you were doing me a disservice, there’s nothing really to forgive.” She smiled. “You never said the words, but I have always felt that you would be there if I needed you. You are my father, and I shall always love you.”

He winced. “Obligatory love.”

“Not at all,” she said staunchly.

“Perhaps you will allow me to . . .” He paused. “I shall try to be a better father, not that a grown woman needs a father, I suppose.”

“I shall always need my father.”

“And perhaps we could become friends as well.” He smiled. “You’ve turned out quite nicely, you know. The credit for that goes to my sister and mother. I have no right to be, but I am proud of you.”

She studied him for a moment. “Why did you tell me this?”

“As I said, it struck me tonight, seeing you with your new family.” He shrugged. “Christmas is a time of beginnings. I should like to begin anew with you. I should like to be a . . . a better part of your life than I have been up to now. If you will allow me that privilege.”

“I would like that.”

“You fit in with them. I saw that tonight. I saw all that you had missed. They’re exceptional people, I think, your new family and your husband.”

“He’s not my husband,” she blurted.

He narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“It’s a misunderstanding, if you will. One that has gotten completely out of hand.”

“Then perhaps you should explain it to me.”

“Well . . .” She thought for a moment. “It’s quite simple, really. Sebastian wishes to marry me, but I would rather be his mistress than his wife—”

“You what?”

“I wish to make my own decisions, keep my independence—”

“Good Lord.” Father groaned. “This is my fault. I should have anticipated this. It’s the inevitable result of your grandmother and aunt’s influence.”

“A moment ago you were giving them credit.”

“And now I am blaming them!”

“It scarcely matters, Father. Not really. I am who I am.”

“Strong and independent?”

“I hope so.” She sighed. “There is nothing wrong with being strong and independent. Even for a woman.”

“No, there isn’t. If I had been stronger . . .” He shook his head. “As you said, it scarcely matters. What’s done is done. Now, about this misunderstanding.”

“Sebastian’s family arrived, unexpectedly, I might add—”

“As did we.”

“Yes, and they thought we were wed. So we have pretended to be married.” She sighed again. “Sebastian has always felt like something of a disappointment to his family. He sees himself as the black sheep. It seemed to me that it really wouldn’t hurt anyone to allow them all to have a pleasant Christmas. Not to ruin it for everyone with an insignificant thing like the truth.”

“I see.” He studied her. “So you aren’t his wife?”

“No.”

“But you are his mistress?”

“That’s not entirely accurate, either.” She grimaced. “And that part is rather complicated.”

“Apparently.” He took a long drink. “As your father, I should probably thrash him thoroughly for besmirching your honor.”

“Nonsense. He hasn’t besmirched anything yet.”

“Now I am completely confused.” He raised a brow. “You are not sharing this man’s bed?”

“Father!” She gasped.

“Not the sort of thing a father asks a daughter?”

“I wouldn’t think so. I am a grown woman, after all, a widow.”

“Yes, well, when one’s daughter says she wishes to be a mistress but is not exactly a mistress, these are the questions that come to mind.” He studied her. “Why did you tell me this?”

She met his gaze directly. “I didn’t want to lie to you. I never have before.”

“Will you be telling Lotte and my mother as well?”

She nodded. “Aunt Lotte at least. I’m not sure if telling Grandmother is wise.”

“Perhaps not. One never knows what she might say at any given time. She blames it on age, but she’s always been that way. Well, then, if you don’t want me to thrash him, what do you want me to do?”

She stared at him. “I don’t know. I hadn’t thought that far. Indeed, I seem to be plagued of late with not thinking things through.”

He thought for a moment. “It seems to me, your initial agreement to carry on with this charade, while ill advised, was well intended. You’re doing this for him.”

She nodded.

“How very interesting,” he murmured. “Why?”

“Because his family’s opinion is important to him.”

“And therefore you are willing to help him.”

“Of course.”

“You love him, then?”

“Well . . .” She raised her chin. “Yes, I believe I do.”

“I see.”

She sighed. “Then perhaps you could explain it to me. I have been nothing but confused since the moment I met him.”

He chuckled. “I know I have no right to do so, and I have never done so before, but might I offer you a piece of advice?”

“Please do.”

“Love, my dear girl, is rare and fragile and not to be treated lightly. One must weigh the sacrifice against the gain. Let me ask you this. Do you wish to spend the rest of your life with him?”

She blew a long breath. “Yes.”

“Then any sacrifice is worth it, isn’t it?” His eyes softened. “Do you really think a man worthy of your love would wish you to be anything you aren’t? If Sir Sebastian returns your love, and given the way he looked at you tonight, I suspect he does, he loves you for your strength and independence and all those other sterling and not so sterling qualities of yours that make you uniquely you. Although . . .” He smiled. “You do look very much like your mother.”

“That’s the loveliest thing you have ever said to me.” She sniffed back an unexpected tear.

“I should have said it years ago. It was entirely too long in coming.” He sipped his brandy. “I shall keep your secret as long as you wish. I won’t say anything to Sir Sebastian’s family. I don’t especially approve, but I do understand. One does what one must for those we love.”

“Even if one would prefer not to?”

“Especially if one would prefer not to.”

“Even so . . .” She shook her head. “I . . .” She met his gaze. “I’m, well . . . I don’t know—”

“Afraid?”

She nodded. “Somewhat.”

“As well you should be, dear girl. Love is the most terrifying thing in the world. Second only to losing it.”

“I don’t want to lose him.” She drew her brows together. “What shall I do?”

“I can’t tell you that. However, as I am giving you the benefit of my years of wisdom in one dose, as it were, allow me to give you one more piece of advice.” He paused for a long moment. “One can’t count on anything in this world except love. Life hands us all sorts of surprises, good and bad. And life can be entirely too short. Now then.” A brisk note sounded in his voice. “Shall we call for your aunt, or would you prefer to speak to her alone?”

“Would you stay?”

“If you wish.”

“I would like nothing better. Although . . .” She cast him a wry smile. “I think I would like that brandy now.”

“And?”

“They are still in there, sir,” Stokes said. “And they have just sent for Lady Hadley-Attwater’s aunt.”

“Very well.” Sebastian nodded. “Let me know when they’ve concluded their talk.”

“If you have need of me, sir—”

“I will call for you. Thank you, Stokes.” Sebastian resumed pacing the width of the drawing room.

He shouldn’t be at all nervous. He had meant it when he had told Veronica he trusted her to do what she thought was best. While he was indeed ready to deal with the repercussions of the truth, he much preferred to avoid it as long as possible. Regardless of what his family’s response was, whether or not it impacted his inheritance or their opinion of him, despite her family’s reaction, she was the only thing that mattered.

Still, he did hate feeling helpless.

“Your butler said you were in here pacing.” Sinclair strode into the room.

“I seem to be doing a lot of that of late.”

Sinclair shook his head in a mournful manner. “This is what comes of not having a well-thought-out plan.”

“I had a plan,” he snapped. “Let her think she had won. Agree to have her as my mistress, at least through Christmas. Bring her to the country and convince her, seduce her, if you will, into marriage.”

“And that has worked out how?”

“Not bloody well. We were invaded by my family and then her family, as you might have noticed.” He shook his head. “I am now trapped in a farce of my own making.”

“Well, it is entirely your fault.”

“For more reasons than I can list.” He narrowed his eyes. “But what precisely do you mean?”

“This whole nonsense about not seducing the woman you intend to marry.” Sinclair snorted. “It’s absurd.”

“It seemed the proper way to go about this,” Sebastian said in a lofty manner.

“But it’s not your nature. You have been with how many women?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “A few.”

“Quite a few that I know of,” Sinclair said. “I say forget about that nonsense and seduce her. Seduce her now. Then convince her to marry you, if marriage is what you still want.”