His Mistress By Christmas (4 page)

“Well, yes, I was aware—”

“You know whenever I am in the city, I stay at Mr. Sinclair’s residence.”

“He is no better than you,” Portia said. “I suspect he has not called on his relations, either.”

“As most of them are in America, I daresay that is the case. I admit I have been remiss by not calling on you, but that’s to be expected of me.” He glanced at Lady Smithson. “I am well known for shirking my familial responsibilities in favor of fun and frolic. Portia can confirm that.”

Portia’s jaw clenched.

Lady Smithson looked like it was all she could do to keep from laughing.

“But we do expect better from Portia.” He heaved a dramatic sigh. “I never imagined such treatment at her hands. I am her favorite cousin.”

“You most certainly are no—” Portia rolled her gaze at the ceiling and sighed in surrender. “You always have been, although I have no idea why.”

“We balance each other.” He turned his attention to Lady Smithson. “Portia always keeps propriety in mind, whereas I do not.”

“You two have a great deal in common,” Portia said under her breath.

“Do we, Lady Smithson?” He met her gaze and grinned wickedly. “How delightful.”

“The delight of it remains to be seen, Sir Sebastian.” Lady Smithson’s voice was cool, but her eyes twinkled.

“Perhaps we could further discuss our mutual lack of concern for propriety.” He glanced at Miss Bramhall and Sir Hugo, who showed no signs of coming to agreement. If anything, their discussion appeared even more heated than before. “Now that I have made my escape.”

Lady Smithson glanced at Miss Bramhall and Sir Hugo, then studied Sebastian thoughtfully. “Tell me, Sir Sebastian, do you really think she has an excellent point?”

“I do,” he said firmly. “The value of any organization that prides itself on being at the forefront of progress is being able to debate and discuss new ideas, no matter how outrageous they would seem.”

“And you think full membership for women is an outrageous idea?”

Portia groaned softly.

“One must consider all aspects of the proposal.” He chose his words with care. “The Explorers Club is locked in an eternal struggle with the Royal Geographic Society for recognition and prestige. Regardless of the merits of the argument, until the society accepts female members, we would be at a disadvantage to open our own membership.”

“So until one monkey jumps off a cliff, none of the others will do so?”

He frowned. “It’s a very steep cliff and a long way to the bottom. One hates to jump alone.”

Portia’s gaze slid from Sebastian to Lady Smithson. “Perhaps this is not something—”

“Then all that about being at the forefront of progress”—Lady Smithson waved in a blithe gesture—”is nothing more than an idle claim? Simply a slogan that looks nice at the top of the club stationery?”

“Not at all.” He bristled. “We have always taken a leadership position.”

“But you’d rather be the monkey that follows than the monkey that leads?”

“At least that monkey has something to cushion the fall,” he said sharply. Good Lord, he was right. She was annoying. He drew a deep breath. “We have made great strides forward in any number of areas.”

“But not in this particular area.”

“The weather is exceptionally cool for this time of year, don’t you agree?” Portia said, a note of panic in her voice. They ignored her.

“This particular area,” he said firmly, “is somewhat contentious.”

Lady Smithson shrugged in an offhand manner. “No doubt because most of the members of the Explorers Club also have membership in the Geographic Society. Therefore it is not surprising both organizations would see this issue in precisely the same way.”

“Then we agree on that?”

“We do.” She nodded. “But you have not answered my question.”

Portia scoffed. “Nonsense. Of course he—”

“And which question was that, Lady Smithson?”

“I asked you if you thought membership for women was an outrageous idea. Well?” Her voice was cool. “Do you?”

“Lady Smithson.” He paused. As much as he wanted to know this woman, he had no intention of deceiving her. Still, there was no need to be completely candid. “I walk a narrow path between these two organizations. They have both sponsored and provided support for my expeditions and travels and other endeavors.”

“And you don’t want to alienate either of them.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Absolutely not.”

“Speaking out in favor of female membership would not endear you to either group.”

“Then you understand.”

“Completely.” She smiled slowly. “But as I am obviously a member of neither organization, your answer—your secret—would be safe with me.” She leaned closer and stared into his eyes. “Tell me, Sir Sebastian, do you think women should be members of this club or, for that matter, the Geographic Society ?”

He stared into her eyes, deep and endless and altogether mesmerizing. Damnation. He blew a long breath. “No, I do not.”

She straightened. “I see.”

“Do you?” he said.

“Unusual weather, really,” Portia said quickly. “It’s surprisingly cold and rather—”

“It comes as no surprise. Your opinion is very much the same as most men and, I would think, most members of the Explorers Club. You think women have their place. I think women should do whatever they wish if they have the ability to do so,” Lady Smithson said smoothly. “Be that belong to an organization or explore undiscovered lands or manage their own finances.”

He drew his brows together. “Then I fear we shall have to agree to disagree.”

She cast him a brilliant smile. “I don’t find that a particular problem.”

He stared at her for a moment. “You are the type of woman who enjoys a rousing debate, aren’t you?”

“Good Lord,” Portia muttered.

Lady Smithson laughed. “It was great fun, wasn’t it? There is nothing like a good debate to make the blood race.”

“Then you don’t think women should be members,” he said slowly.

“Nonsense. Of course I do.” She shrugged. “This particular cause simply isn’t one of my passions.”

“What are your passions, Lady Smithson?”

“Hats,” Portia said a bit more vehemently than was necessary. “She likes hats. Hats are her passion. A grand passion.”

“Indeed. Hats are certainly among my many . . .” She met his gaze directly, and his breath caught. “Passions. As is debate.”

“Then will you try to change my mind on this subject?” He smiled slowly. “Bend my way of thinking to yours?”

“Absolutely, as I am right and you are wrong. However.” She smiled pleasantly. “I do not expect you to change simply because I wish it. You are who you are and should be accepted for who you are. As should I.”

He chuckled. “Perhaps if you were leading this charge, rather than a shrew like Miss Bramhall, this cause would have a modicum of success.”

Portia winced.

Lady Smithson raised a brow. “Do you think so?”

“I do.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t imagine any man resisting you, or rather your argument, for long.” Again, his gaze met hers.

“Even you?”

“Especially me.”

“Because it’s an excellent argument?”

“Because you make it so beautifully.”

“I beg your pardon,” Portia said indignantly. “I am still here, you know. Not that either of you has noticed.”

“My apologies, dear. We are well aware of your presence.” Lady Smithson cast Portia an affectionate smile. “No one would ever forget you.”

“Forgive me as well, Portia.” Sebastian smiled at his cousin. “We were carried away by the”—he cleared his throat—”passions of our convictions.”

“And it’s past time I rescued Sir Hugo from the passionate convictions of the
shrew.
” Lady Smithson glanced at the couple who were still arguing, and chuckled. “Sir Hugo’s face is a rather distressing shade of red, but it does look like she is having a grand time. To be expected, I suppose.” She glanced at Sir Sebastian and smiled. “She is my aunt, after all.”

“Of course, she would be,” he said weakly.

“All becomes clear now, doesn’t it?” Portia said under her breath.

“I must say I enjoyed our encounter, Sir Sebastian. And your lecture was fascinating.” Lady Smithson nodded. “Portia. Good evening.” She started toward her aunt.

“Lady Smithson.” He stepped toward her.

She stopped and looked back. “Yes?”

“Should you ever wish to debate just for the sheer pleasure of it . . .” He smiled. “I suspect there are any number of topics on which we most heartily disagree.”

“Indeed, the list could well be endless.” She considered him for a moment. “I intend to drive in the park the day after tomorrow. In the afternoon.”

He gasped. “I intended to drive in the park the day after tomorrow, in the afternoon.”

“What a coincidence,” Portia muttered.

“Then perhaps our paths will cross?”

“I shall be devastated if they don’t.” He chuckled. “And amazed.”

“As will I.” Lady Smithson nodded, turned, and headed to rescue Sir Hugo.

Sir Sebastian’s gaze lingered as she crossed to the dueling couple. Her hips swayed enticingly, emphasized by her bustle. High above her head, that feather continued to quiver, matching a tremulous feeling somewhere deep inside him. Odd and decidedly familiar. Not unlike the feeling he always had whenever he began a new adventure.

“Well,” Portia began. “That was certainly—”

“Tell me about her,” he said abruptly. “I want to know everything about her.”

“That does seem to be my lot tonight.” Portia huffed. “You inquiring about her. Veronica asking . . .”

“Oh?” He shifted his gaze to his cousin. “Was she asking about me?”

“You are a public figure, Sebastian. Everyone knows everything about you.”

“Not everything.” He couldn’t resist a smug smile. “So she was curious?”

“If I tell you, it will simply go to your head.” She heaved a long-suffering sigh. “What do you want to know about her?”

“Is she married?”

“Her husband died some three years ago, around the same time I lost David. We met that next year.”

“I see.” His gaze strayed back to Lady Smithson, who was now trying to separate the combatants. “Is she still mourning him?”

“One never stops mourning in some manner,” Portia said sharply. “However . . .” She sighed. “If you are asking if she has left the past behind, I suppose in most ways she has.”

“In most ways?”

“Veronica has her own way of looking at the world. While she has become a very close friend, in that respect we couldn’t be more different.”

He turned his attention back to Portia and frowned. “I have no idea what you are trying to say.”

Portia thought for a moment. “Veronica has never hesitated to do or say exactly as she pleases. I suspect that was her nature before her marriage, and it certainly hasn’t changed.” She paused. “Her husband was considerably older than she and had never been married before. I have always wondered if it wasn’t her unique spirit—for lack of a better word—that attracted him in the first place. She is very strong-willed and has no sense of tradition.”

He nodded. “You mean about a woman’s place.”

“About everything. It’s most annoying, and there have been any number of times that I would like nothing better than to box her ears. Regardless”—she shrugged—”she is one of my dearest friends.”

“Why, Portia.” He stared in surprise. “I never would have imagined you to have a friend that was the least bit unconventional.”

“She’s not the least bit unconventional.” Portia shook her head. “She’s
extremely
unconventional and far more progressive in her thinking than any decent woman should be.” She leaned close and lowered her voice in a confidential manner. “Why, she thinks women should vote.”

He gasped in mock horror. “Not that.”

She ignored his sarcasm. “I find some of her ideas most shocking and others truly scandalous. And yet, I wouldn’t change her for the world.” She pinned him with a firm gaze. “Nor would I permit anyone else to change her.”

Sebastian raised a brow. “It seems you have changed, little cousin.”

“Not in the least. I,” she added firmly, “never change. Nor do I ever intend to. Now, about Veronica. You should know she’s very clever. Quite the most intelligent woman I have ever met.”

“Good.” He grinned. “I like intelligent women.”

“Probably more intelligent than even you.”

“Not likely.” He scoffed. “What else?”

“She is always right and rarely admits when she is wrong.”

“Interesting, as I am always right.”

“She is entirely too independent.”

He nodded. “As am I.”

“Yes, but she is a woman. It’s unseemly.”

He bit back a smile. “Go on.”

She hesitated. “While she is the strongest woman I know, I think she is more vulnerable than she appears.”

“A brave face on it, then?”

“Don’t mistake my words. I simply think there is much she doesn’t reveal.” She narrowed her eyes. “I would hate to see anyone toy with her affections.”

“I have no intention of toying with her affections.”

She snorted. “Then you, too, have changed, Sebastian Hadley-Attwater.” A warning sounded in her voice. “Veronica is not the sort of woman one toys with.”

“I think you’re absolutely right.” His gaze returned to Lady Smithson. “She’s not the sort one toys with.” Lady Smithson had taken her aunt’s arm and was firmly steering her toward the door. He smiled slowly. “She’s the sort one marries.”

Good Lord, she was an idiot. Veronica settled deeper into the well-padded back of her open landau and pulled her cloak tighter around herself. Whatever had possessed her to tell Sir Sebastian she would be driving in the park today? Certainly she’d been distracted by the need to separate her aunt from Sir Hugo before one of them did the other bodily harm. She had realized as well that, given the time of year, there would be very few people in the park, which suited her purposes. As much as Veronica did enjoy flouting convention, she preferred not to be stupid about it. One was completely public here, no one could be accused of anything untoward, yet without people about there was a certain privacy. During the season one could scarcely move at anything other than a snail’s pace, but then, during the season, a drive through the park was for no other reason than to see and be seen. And while she did like driving in crisp weather, this year crisp had quickly turned to cold. Why, it had already snowed in October and again in November. Who knew what December would hold?