His Mistress By Christmas (32 page)

“Absolutely not.” He plucked it from her hand and put it on the stand.

She sighed. “You’re just teasing, then?”

“I am.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “It’s great fun.”

“Is this another of your family traditions?”

He nodded. “Father Christmas fills the stockings of the children overnight. In the morning we shall all attend church in the village.” He met her gaze. “I am not particularly a churchgoing sort, but it is Christmas.”

“And allowances should be made for Christmas.”

He nodded. “Dinner will be early afternoon.”

She bit back a grin. “I have still heard no mention of presents. When do we open our gifts?”

“After dinner,” he said firmly.

She sighed. “Your family has a great number of traditions.”

“Indeed we do, and we shall abide by them all.”

“You’ve never seemed the type of man to follow traditions.”

“It’s Christmas,” he said firmly.

She laughed. “And I don’t get my present until after dinner?”

He shook his head. “It would be wrong.”

She hooked her leg over his and nuzzled the side of his neck. “We would hate to do anything wrong.”

“I would say we do a great deal right.” He shifted and pulled her to lay on top of him. “I should tell you one more thing.”

She sat upright, her legs straddling him. Already she could feel his arousal growing once again behind her. The man was apparently insatiable. Good. “Yes?”

He grinned. “I had no intention of spending Christmas Eve alone.”

“What a surprise.” She gazed into his eyes and smiled in a slow and wicked manner. “Neither did I.”

Sebastian was right. He gazed around the table with the sort of satisfaction only a man who knew he was right could feel. It was indeed a splendid Christmas.

His family was gathered under his roof. The woman he loved was by his side. Even her family was here, as well as his closest friend. Spirits were high; there was much laughter and joking and reminiscences about Christmases past. The meal itself was excellent, although the plum pudding had yet to be served. That was yet another source of his satisfaction. He had done a damn fine job of hiring servants. He ignored the fact that they had all been highly recommended by Stokes and Mrs. Bigelow. And every time his gaze met Veronica’s, she smiled a secret sort of smile and his heart beat faster.

It was Christmas, and at this table were nearly all the people he held dear in the world. Life had never been as good as it was at this moment, and he knew, with the sort of certainty one could only feel when all was right, that this was just the beginning.

“The children are planning a play,” Bianca announced. His niece and nephews were dining in the kitchen under the watchful eye of their nannies and, no doubt, being fed all sorts of things by Cook and Mrs. Bigelow they shouldn’t be fed but were permissible on Christmas nonetheless.

“How lovely.” His mother beamed. All was right with her world today, too.

“And what a surprise,” Evelyn said with a smile.

Veronica glanced at her. “Another tradition?”

Evelyn chuckled. “One of many.”

Sebastian leaned toward Veronica. “We always have a play put on for Christmas.”

“You don’t know what you have missed, Sebastian.” A chastising note sounded in Miranda’s voice. “Diana’s children do almost as good a job as we did.”

“Runs in the blood, no doubt.” Miss Bramhall nodded.

“Usually it’s just the children,” Miranda continued. “Although several of us have been pressed into service through the years. It depends on what play is being presented.”

“Do you remember the year Portia and Bianca and Miranda dressed as the three wise men for the play?” Adrian grinned. “And offered their own versions of what their gifts should be?”

His mother sniffed. “My favorite pearls, my good French perfume—”

“And Father’s best brandy.” Hugh laughed.

“It would have been brilliant if Miranda hadn’t spilled the brandy.” Diana frowned. “Or was it the perfume?”

Miranda winced. “Both.”

Laughter washed around the table.

Diana aimed a pointed look at Bianca. “How is it you know about the play and I do not?”

“They want to surprise you.” Bianca smirked.

“Wonderful,” James murmured.

“Besides,” Bianca said in a lofty manner, “I am the favorite aunt—”

“Today,” Evelyn said under her breath, and Veronica choked back a laugh.

“—and I have a starring role. Miranda is also in it, and Mr. Sinclair has been pressed into service as well. The children are quite taken with his manner of speech.” She rolled her gaze toward the ceiling.

Sebastian met his friend’s gaze. The American shrugged helplessly.

“So good of you to help, Mr. Sinclair.” Mother favored Sinclair with an affectionate smile. “You have my thanks.”

“It is I who should thank you, all of you,” Sinclair said in a gracious manner. “I am not a sentimental sort about Christmas, but being here, well, it reminds me of what I am missing with my own family in America. And how neglectful I have been with my mother’s relations in England.”

“Do think of us as your family this year.” Mother patted his hand. “And perhaps you can travel to your mother’s family tomorrow.”

“Excellent idea, Lady Waterston.” He nodded. “I will indeed, after I fulfill my theatrical obligations.” He glanced around the table. “The play?”

“Well, I, for one, can’t wait for the play.” Sebastian chuckled, then paused. “I know I have missed a great deal—”

“Twelve Christmases.” His mother nodded.

“Four births,” Diana said with a sigh.

“Six weddings,” Miranda added.

“Five deaths,” Hugh murmured.

“And a partridge in a pear tree.” Bianca huffed. “Now is not the time—”

“My apologies, but I must disagree, my dear,” Lord Bramhall said. “It is a lesson I have only recently learned, but it is not necessary to abandon the delight of Christmas in the recognition of those we have lost. Indeed, there may well be no better time of year than this to acknowledge those who touched our lives and left us the better for it. Who would want us to remember them not with the sorrow of death but the joy of life. And who would want us to live our lives to the fullest.

“Therefore, in this family of numerous traditions, let me offer one more that I would hope would become a new tradition as we gather for this Christmas and those yet to come.” He rose to his feet, and the other men joined him. “Allow me to propose a toast with affection and gratitude and love. To those who live in our hearts all year through but especially at Christmas.” He raised his glass. “To my dear wife, who gave me the greatest gift of all”—he cast a fond smile at his daughter, whose eyes looked suspiciously bright—”and who loved every moment of Christmas.”

“To my beloved husband.” His mother raised her glass. “Whose stubbornness I see in every one of my children. He would have been proud to have sat at this table.”

“To Richard,” Adrian said. “Who never sang a Christmas carol in the correct tune.”

“He was dreadful,” Diana said with a smile.

Veronica lifted her glass. “To Charles, a very good man.”

“To my late husband, John,” Miranda said softly.

“To Jane, my wife.” Hugh smiled.

“And to my dear, departed husband, wherever he may be,” Lady Bramhall said firmly. “A man who never admitted when he was wrong, always insisted on the last word, and who loved a good plum pudding.” She aimed a pointed look at Veronica. “Need I say more?”

The men retook their seats among smiles and chuckles and renewed comments of “I remember when . . .” and “Do you recall the Christmas . . .” Sebastian met Lord Bramhall’s gaze and raised his glass slightly toward the older man. Veronica’s father smiled and nodded. Sebastian breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t been sure what Veronica’s father’s reaction would be to the revelation of their marital state. He vaguely remembered Veronica saying that her father didn’t intend to shoot him. And the older man had been quite cordial and friendly yesterday and today. Obviously, Veronica had told him they did intend to marry. Still, one never knew with a woman’s father.

“So is the play after dinner?” Sebastian asked.

“It was a matter of some debate,” Bianca said. “The children thought tomorrow would be a better day as it is Boxing Day, and they agreed it would be best not to distract from Christmas.”

“They mean presents,” James said in an aside to Hugh, who was seated beside him.

“I’m rather fond of presents myself,” Hugh murmured.

“Then it was suggested they perform the play in honor of their uncle Sebastian’s birthday, and they thought it was a smashing idea.” Bianca shrugged. “So you may all look forward to Sebastian’s birthday celebration including the annual Christmas performance of the Hadley-Attwater Players.”

“It will certainly add to the festivities,” Miranda said.

“Appropriate enough as it is a most momentous birthday,” Adrian added.

“My youngest son will be thirty-three.” Mother grimaced and turned toward Miss Bramhall. “Do you realize how old that makes us?”

Miss Bramhall winced. “I would prefer to avoid such realizations, thank you.”

“And do you have family traditions about birthdays as well as Christmas?” Veronica glanced around the table.

“Well.” Miranda’s brow furrowed. “When we were children, whosever birthday it was, was given a crown to wear all day. They were allowed to select their favorite foods for meals, and the rest of us were all supposed to be very nice to him or her.”

“Which lasted until one of Bianca’s birthdays in which she declared herself queen and did not rule wisely.” Hugh shook his head. “Power went to her head.”

“And I was overthrown rather rudely. Someone pushed me in the pond.” Bianca’s eyes narrowed. Her gaze slid from one sibling to the next. “I still have my suspicions about that.”

“You needn’t,” Diana said blithely. “It was one of our rare cooperative efforts.”

“Nonetheless, I am expecting a crown.” Sebastian grinned.

“And while I intend to rule firmly, it will be with great wisdom and kindness.”

“You should be kind.” Diana sniffed. “You finally get your inheritance, after all.”

“Inheritance?” Veronica said.

“It’s one of those foolish family things.” Bianca shrugged. “Scarcely worth mentioning.”

“It’s annoying is what it is.” Diana sniffed. “Father, in his infinite wisdom, decreed each of his younger sons—not the oldest, as he was the heir to the title—would come into his inheritance on his thirty-third birthday, but only if his older brothers approved. Deemed them worthy or some such nonsense.”

“Worthy?” Veronica said. “What do you mean?”

“Diana, I think that’s enough,” Sebastian said quickly. “Veronica doesn’t want to hear about—”

“Nonsense. This is about you as you are the last brother to reach this particular milestone, and I’m sure Veronica wants to know all about the man she married.” Diana smiled at Veronica.

“Of course I do.” Veronica’s gaze slid to his. “I want to know everything.”

“It’s archaic, but apparently it goes back generations.” Diana continued. “Richard had to approve Adrian’s receiving of his inheritance. Richard and Adrian had to approve Hugh, and now it’s Adrian and Hugh’s turn to approve Sebastian.”

“Forgive me, I’m not sure I understand.” Veronica shook her head. “What do you mean by ‘approve’?”

“Oh, you know.” Diana shrugged. “The usual kinds of things. Is he a responsible sort? Has he truly grown up? I don’t believe there’s a specific list of requirements—”

Adrian scoffed. “Of course not.”

“And I would think,” Diana continued, “as Sebastian seems to have changed so very much this year, what with his settling down with a house and a wife, there would be no question as to his worthiness.”

“Is a wife, then, a requirement?” Veronica said slowly.

“No.” Sebastian shook his head. “Not at all.”

“I was not married when I received my inheritance,” Hugh said. “But then again I never traveled the world in search of adventure.”

Adrian chuckled. “No one has ever thought you were anything less than proper.”

“Dull, you mean.” Hugh sighed. “It’s my lot to bear.” There was the oddest look in Veronica’s eyes. Sebastian’s stomach clenched. “But if Sebastian was not married . . .”

“It scarcely matters, as he is.” Diana shrugged.

Veronica’s gaze met his. “I see.”

“No,” he said quickly. “You don’t.”

“It certainly explains a great deal.” Veronica rose to her feet.

“If you will excuse me for a moment, I believe I need a breath of fresh air.” She pushed back her chair and left the room.

“Sebastian.” Bianca’s eyes were wide with realization. “She didn’t know about the inheritance?”

“Apparently not.” He got to his feet and followed Veronica. She knew about his birthday, and he had assumed she knew as well about the significance of it.

She’d barely gone a few feet past the door when he caught up to her. “Veronica, let me explain.”

“No explanation is necessary.” She stared at him, hurt and anger in her eyes. “It’s all perfectly clear.”

He shook his head. “It’s not what you think.”

“Isn’t it?” Her hands clenched by her sides, but her tone was cool, calm, lethal. “I had thought it was odd that a man of your reputation would be so eager for marriage. Indeed, your reputation was one of the reasons I chose you.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean, you chose me?”

“I mean, I selected you.” She shrugged. “You were well suited, if one wished to be a mistress.”

He chose his words with care. “You said you hadn’t decided to be a mistress until you met me.”

“As you were the perfect choice. A man of adventure, uninterested in permanence of any sort.” She snorted. “Yet another flaw in my plan.”

“So any man would have suited you? What about Sinclair? Would he have done as well?”

“If I had met him first, perhaps,” she snapped. “Does he wish to be married?”

“No!”

“Does he stand to gain an inheritance if he is married?”

“No,” he said sharply. “And neither do I.”

“Ha! First you bought this house. Then all you needed was a wife to occupy it.”