His Mistress By Christmas (28 page)

“Of course it’s what I still want.” He paused. “She’s locked the door between our rooms.”

“She’s what?”

“You heard me. She’s locked the door between our rooms.”

Sinclair stared for a moment, then laughed. “That’s the oldest female trick in the world. Deny a man what he wants and a woman can get exactly what she wants.”

“I no longer know what she wants.” He heaved a frustrated sigh. “But at this very moment she’s confessing all to her family.”

“Ouch.” Sinclair winced. “Do you think her father will shoot you?”

“More likely her aunt.”

“Then you have nothing to lose. I say seduce her, seduce her tonight. Break the door down if you have to. Tell her all those things you said to me about her. You will love her more tomorrow than today and how you want to die with her hand in yours—which is an excellent line, by the way, that I fully intend to borrow when the time comes.”

Sebastian stared. “Feel free.”

“And so on and so forth.” Sinclair leveled him a firm look.

“She loves you, old man. Why on earth would she continue this deception otherwise?”

“She hasn’t said it, but then neither have I.”

“That’s another problem. Tell her, for God’s sakes.” Sinclair heaved a resigned sigh. “And you used to be so accomplished with women.”

“My mind has been muddled since the moment I met her.” Resolve surged through Sebastian. “You’re right. I’ll declare myself, seduce her, and eventually, she will marry me.”

Sinclair grinned. “That’s the Sir Sebastian I know. Now, in the meantime, your brothers are in the billiards room, smoking your cigars and drinking all of your best liquor. I suggest we join them. A little male companionship is exactly what you need before doing battle with the female of the species.”

“Agreed.” Sebastian nodded, and the two men headed for the billiards room.

It wasn’t much of a plan, it probably wasn’t even a good plan, but nothing else had worked.

Sinclair was right. Sebastian had been trying to be a proper sort and follow silly rules when that wasn’t his nature at all. He wanted her in his bed for the rest of her life. And he wanted her there as his wife. And, damnation, he would have her.

“I never thought I would say such a thing.” Lotte stared at her niece. “But, Veronica Smithson, you are a fool.”

Veronica widened her eyes. “Why? Because I wish to keep control over my own life?”

“Because you don’t understand what you risk,” Lotte said firmly.

Her aunt as well as her grandmother had joined them in the library. Grandmother had promptly fallen asleep in a nearby chair.

“You and this man love each other. It was obvious to everyone at that table tonight, if not to you.” Lotte glanced at her brother. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

“I have already had my say.” He raised his glass. “And you are doing an admirable job.”

“I have always treasured my independence and my freedom,” Veronica said. “I didn’t see why I should have to give that up.”

“There is such a thing as compromise, my dear. Sir Sebastian does not strike me as the type of man who would demand complete acquiescence to his every whim.” Lotte shook her head. “Men like that are rare and should be snatched up at once.”

“Marriage has been known to change a man,” Veronica said staunchly.

Lotte snorted. “Not that much. This man has fallen in love with the woman you are now. That is the woman he wants, not some insipid, sniveling creature.”

“I can’t believe you, of all people, are encouraging marriage.” She drew her brows together. “You have always been completely independent and done exactly as you wished.”

“And I live in a house that is not my own with my brother and my mother,” Lotte snapped.

“You’ve always seemed quite content with your causes and your charitable work and your travel.”

“And I go to bed every night alone! And I shall be alone until I breathe my last.” Lotte paused for a long moment. “The worst things in the world, Veronica, are being alone and regret. And knowing you have no one to blame but yourself. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t regret my past decisions. That I don’t wonder what might have been if I had not been so afraid of breaking that I was unwilling to bend. Do not use me as an example. I let stubbornness and pride ruin my chances for happiness.”

Veronica stared. “I had no idea.”

“Of course you didn’t. My regret is private. I have never spoken of it to you or anyone.”

“I had my suspicions,” her father said under his breath.

“And you, dear brother, would indeed recognize regret, but at least yours is not of your own making.” She huffed. “You were unfortunate. I was a fool.” She turned to her niece. “Have you ever wondered why I am so adamant about getting women in the Explorers Club?”

“Because women shouldn’t be denied membership based simply on their gender,” Veronica said firmly.

“That’s the official reason, of course, but . . .” She drew a deep breath. “It gives me the opportunity to argue with Hugo. There is nothing in my life that is more fun than debating with that man. It fairly makes my blood rush through my veins.”

Veronica gasped. “Are you still in love with him?”

Lotte scoffed. “I detest the very ground beneath his feet.”

“My, we are a sorry lot,” Grandmother said with a wry chuckle.

Lotte raised a brow. “You haven’t been asleep at all, have you?”

“I have been asleep in much the same manner as I have my
special
moments. One hears so much of interest when one is thought to be daft or asleep.” She fixed Veronica with a firm eye. “Although I am quite serious about plum pudding. I shall be thoroughly disappointed if it is not as expected.” She sighed. “It’s the only thing about Christmas that I enjoy anymore. Which I blame on my children as well as on myself. You . . .” She turned toward her son. “You should have put your grief behind you a long time ago.”

“I thought I had,” Father said simply.

“Perhaps.” Grandmother nodded. “But by then you were trapped in a certain manner of living, and it was easier to continue on rather than change. Dear boy, I know how difficult it is. Your father has been gone for thirty years now, and I still expect to turn around and see him or hear his voice or feel the touch of his hand. But you had a daughter that you sadly neglected. As for you . . .” She addressed her daughter. “You lost the love of your life because you were too stubborn to accept that what he wanted was every bit as important as what you wanted.”

“I know that.” Lotte glared at her mother. “I’ve had a quarter of a century to realize that.”

“Perhaps . . . ,” Veronica said cautiously, “it’s not too late?”

“You are obviously more romantic than one would think. It is entirely too late, as I have spent a great deal of effort deliberately annoying him through the years. Besides . . .” Lotte shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “He despises me.”

“And yet, he has never married,” Grandmother said thoughtfully.

“Nor have I, which isn’t the least bit significant,” Lotte said sharply. “And this discussion is not about me, or at least it shouldn’t be.”

“Ah yes.” Grandmother turned a firm eye on Veronica. “A mistress ? For goodness sakes, Veronica, you are smarter than that. Whatever were you thinking?”

“I have already admitted that I did not think this through as thoroughly as one might have hoped.”

“It appears you didn’t think it through at all,” Grandmother said in a reproving manner. “We did not raise you to become a mistress. What on earth made you think of such a thing?”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Veronica said. “I would retain my independence, control of my finances, of my life and still have . . . well . . .” She squared her shoulders. “I was tired of not having a man in my life.”

“But you didn’t expect to fall in love with him, did you?” Grandmother studied her. “And you have.”

Veronica sighed. “So it would appear.”

“I never dreamed . . .” Grandmother shook her head. “It was to be expected, I suppose. Being raised by a bitter spinster—”

“I am not bitter.” Lotte glared.

“—and a domineering old woman.” Grandmother looked around the group. “What? No one is going to protest that?”

“You haven’t always been old,” Father said with a smile.

“Humph.” Grandmother huffed, then met Veronica’s gaze. “My apologies, my dear. Much of this is our fault.”

“No, Grandmother, it’s not,” Veronica said firmly. “It’s not your fault, nor Lotte’s nor Father’s. You taught me to be independent, which also means being responsible for my own decisions, right and wrong. And in this instance . . .” She shook her head. “You’re right. I didn’t expect to love him. And I know Sebastian well enough now to see that he would never want me to be anyone less than who I am.”

“Might I point out as well that you have an excellent solicitor who can make certain there are legal arrangements that allow you to maintain control of your fortune,” Father said. “If you decide to marry him.”

Veronica blew a long breath. “I believe I already have.”

“Excellent.” Grandmother nodded. “Now, what do you wish us to do?”

“To do?” Veronica drew her brows together. “What do you mean?”

“About the fact that his family thinks you are already married.” Lotte rolled her gaze toward the ceiling. “That’s even harder to believe than that nonsense about being a mistress.”

“It wasn’t planned,” Veronica said.

“One would hope not.” Grandmother nodded. “If it had been planned, one would think it would go better.”

“Although it does seem to be going rather well,” Father murmured. “I don’t believe anyone suspects you’re not married. And as you have not been with him in a carnal sense—”

“Father!” She groaned.

Lotte stared. “You haven’t?”

“Whatever is wrong with the man,” Grandmother said under her breath.

“Not being with him in a
carnal sense
was not part of the plan, either! Indeed, it’s always been part of my plan.” Veronica sighed. “He doesn’t think it’s”—she winced at the word—”
proper
to seduce the woman one intends to marry.”

“A man with his reputation?” Lotte stared. “Whoever would have imagined?”

“That’s the most . . . honorable thing I have ever heard. He is indeed a unique man.” Grandmother pinned her with a firm look. “Marry him, Veronica. Marry him at once.”

“Not that it’s necessary or that you need it,” Father began, “but you have my approval.”

“And mine as well,” Grandmother added.

“You’re right. I don’t need it.” Veronica’s gaze skimmed over the group. They were not the Hadley-Attwaters, who had an effortless ease with one another and marked Christmas with enthusiasm and joy and family. Indeed, this family of hers was eccentric and unusual, but she loved them dearly and she’d never doubted they loved her as well. “But I am most pleased to have it. As for this deception, I do apologize for making you conspirators. But, as the opinion of his family is important to Sebastian, I would prefer he be the one to tell them the truth.”

“So you want us to continue this farce?” Lotte asked.

Veronica nodded. “We don’t want to ruin Christmas, and this revelation might well do just that.”

She glanced at her father and he nodded.

“I see.” Grandmother thought for a moment, then grinned. “What fun this will be. It’s been years since I’ve been part of a secret of this magnitude. Very well, then, none of us will say a word. Unless of course . . .” Her brow furrowed, but there was a twinkle in her eye. “The plum pudding does not live up to expectations. Then his family will be the least of your problems.”

Pounding sounded at her door, jerking Veronica out of a fairly sound sleep. Indeed, this was the best she’d slept since her arrival. The pounding continued without pause. She flung off her covers, raced to the door, and yanked it open.

Sebastian stood there with his fist raised, about to pound again.

“What has gotten into you?” She glared. “Do you know what time it is? Do you want to wake the entire house?”

“It’s a very big house.” He grinned. “Did you know I have a house?”

She stared. “Yes, I did.”

“It’s very responsible of me,” he said in a confidential manner. “I have become very responsible. And respectable.”

“What do you want?” What on earth was the matter with him?

“I want you to unlock your door.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “A wife doesn’t lock her door.”

“I’m not your wife.”

“Oh.” He paused. “Well, then, a mistress doesn’t lock her door.”

“My door wasn’t locked.”

He stared for a moment, then grinned. “Excellent.”

“Good Lord, Sebastian.” She waved her hand in front of her face. “You smell like cigars and . . .” She leaned forward and sniffed. “Whisky?”

“Very good Scottish whisky.”

“And apparently quite a lot of it.” She studied him for a moment. “You’re inebriated, aren’t you?”

“Inebriated?” Indignation rang in his voice. “I most certainly am not.” He leaned close and lowered his voice. “I am drunk.”

“Yes, you are.” She stifled a smile. “What do you want?”

“You.” He pulled his shirt off over his head and tossed it aside. “I want you.”

“I’m flattered,” she said wryly.

“As well you should be.” He grabbed her hand and started toward his bed, fairly dragging her behind him. “I am quite a catch, you know.”

“Are you?”

“Yes, I am. Women fall all over themselves for me.” He reached the bed and stopped. He released her hand, turned toward her, and frowned. “You did not fall all over me.”

She laughed. “Nonsense, Sebastian. Of course I did. I attempted to seduce you, remember?”

“One does not seduce the woman one intends to marry,” he said in a lofty manner, then sighed and shook his head mournfully. “That was a mistake.”

“Was it?”

“A man should always seduce the woman he intends to marry.” He sank down on the bed and crooked his finger at her. “Come here and allow me to seduce you.”

She laughed. “I have no intention of being seduced by a drunken sot.”

“I am not a sot.” He frowned. “What is a sot?”

“I suspect it is someone who drinks entirely too much.”