His Mistress By Christmas (8 page)

“I have the resources to do precisely as I please, and for the most part, I do. While I am not overly concerned with propriety, I do not go out of my way to flout it, either.”

“Very clever.”

“Yes, it is. I am clever, and I see no need to hide my intelligence.”

“Nor should you.”

“I enjoy nothing so much as a good argument.”

He grinned. “That I have noticed.”

“Unless, of course, it’s a grand hat.”

“I have noticed that as well.”

“I expect my opinions to be respected.” Her eyes narrowed. “Even when they disagree with yours.”

“I see.”

She pinned him with a firm look. “I do not believe in regrets.”

“Nor do I.”

“I cherish my independence and my freedom.”

“Understandable.”

“At the end of my life, I want my epitaph to be ‘She was never dull. ‘ ”

He chuckled. “I shall remember that.” He glanced at the note. “Is that all?”

“For now.” She refolded the paper. “Unless there is something else you wish to know.”

“There is a great deal I wish to know. But none of it is written there.” He plucked the note from her hand, crumpled it, then tossed it aside. “Indeed, I have a list of my own.”

She laughed. “Oh, then please, do tell me.”

“I know how your eyes flash when you are amused.” He leaned closer. “I want to see them glaze in the heat of desire.”

“Do you?” Her lovely brown eyes widened, but she did not lean back.
How interesting.

“I want to know how your lips feel pressed against my lips.” He lowered his voice. “How it feels to have your breath mingled with mine.”

“Really?” Amusement sparked in her dark eyes.

“Really.” He leaned closer. “I want to know if your skin is as silken as it looks when your naked leg is wrapped around mine.”

“My . . .” The word was little more than a sigh curving her lips in a slight smile.

“I want to know how the beat of your heart feels pressed against my chest.”

“Goodness . . .” A breathless note sounded in her voice.

“I want to know the fullness of your breast under my hand, the curve of your hip beneath my fingers.”

She leaned toward him. “Sebastian . . .”

“I want to know if your hair spread across my pillow glows like red gold in the morning light.”

“The morning?” She stared into his eyes. “I have always loved mornings.”

His gaze locked with hers, his lips scarcely a breath away from hers. “I want to know how it sounds when you scream out my name. How it feels when you cling to me in the throes of passion.”

“Oh . . . my . . .”

“I want to know,”—his lips whispered against hers—”how you look when—”

The door to the corridor swung open, and Sebastian jumped to his feet.
Bloody hell
. Veronica drew a deep breath.

“Here you are.” Miss Bramhall swept into the box. “I feared I would miss the beginning. One should never miss the opening lines, you know, even if one has seen the play before. The opening lines set the premise for the entire production.”

“Miss Bramhall.” Sebastian stepped to the older woman and took her hand. “How delightful to see you again.”

“I must say I was surprised by your invitation, Sir Sebastian.” Miss Bramhall cast a speculative look at her niece. “Although I was pleased.”

“I am delighted you could join me,” he said in his most gallant manner.

“I thought you intended to stay with your friends, Aunt Lotte.” Veronica cast the older woman a serene smile. Admiration swept through him. He knew full well she had been as affected as he by his list, yet now she didn’t appear the least bit flustered. It had taken all he had just to keep his hands from shaking.

Miss Bramhall took the chair he had vacated. “Now then, Sir Sebastian, tell me about this banquet at the Explorers Club. It’s not just for their male members?”

“As I understand it, many of the gentlemen will be attending with their wives.” The moment the words were out of his mouth, he realized his mistake.

“Humph,” Miss Bramhall huffed. “The only way women get into that sanctuary is to attend public lectures or to marry one of those old fools who run the place.”

“You really shouldn’t refer to Sir Hugo as an old fool,” Veronica said firmly.

“Why not?” Miss Bramhall’s brows pulled together. “He is.”

“Nonetheless, it does your cause no good whatsoever to antagonize him.” Veronica looked up at Sebastian. “Don’t you agree?”

“Yes and no.” He chose his words with care. Veronica’s aunt could well be an ally if he needed one at some point. “On one hand, I agree with Lady Smithson that never-ending provocation of Sir Hugo does not endear your case to him.”

Miss Bramhall’s eyes narrowed.

“However, there is also the question of whether or not Sir Hugo is indeed an old fool.” He chuckled. “I admit I have heard him called far worse.”

Miss Bramhall’s expression eased.

“Furthermore, as he is not present to hear himself being called an old fool, I see no reason why Miss Bramhall should keep her opinions to herself.” He smiled at the older lady. “And you have my word, he will not hear of your comments from my lips.”

“It scarcely matters.” Miss Bramhall shrugged but was clearly placated by Sebastian’s words. “He knows exactly what I think of him.”

“Well played, Sir Sebastian,” Veronica said with a smile. “Well played indeed.”

Miss Bramhall glanced at her niece. “It was at that.” She turned her attention back to Sebastian. “You do realize that inviting us, specifically me, might not be especially wise.”

“He needn’t have invited you at all. I have no need of a chaperone.”

“I was told I could invite whomever I wished as I am among those being recognized at the event,” he said staunchly.

“It may be somewhat awkward,” Miss Bramhall warned.

“On the contrary.” Sebastian grinned. “I anticipate a most stimulating evening.”

Veronica choked back a laugh.

“Yes, well, we shall see.” Miss Bramhall chuckled. “Thank you, Sir Sebastian. I am quite looking forward to it.”

“As are we all,” Veronica said.

The lights in the theater dimmed.

“This chair is entirely too far back.” The older lady stood. “Sir Sebastian, if you would be so good.” He obediently moved it closer to the railing. She looked at Veronica. “Aren’t you going to move forward? You can barely see the stage from there.”

“I am quite comfortable here,” Veronica said smoothly. “My view is more than adequate.”

“As you wish.” Miss Bramhall took her seat, then gestured at Sebastian to join her. This was not what he’d had in mind. He glanced from one woman to the other, then surrendered and moved a chair into place beside Veronica’s aunt. “But don’t expect Sir Sebastian or me to explain anything you might miss.”

“Of course not.” Veronica covered her mouth to hide what was obviously a grin.

Sebastian cast her a pleading look. Her gaze met his and laughter danced in her eyes.

“Perhaps you’re right.” Veronica stood and, before he could assist her, moved her chair into place on the other side of her aunt and then sat. “Oh my, yes, this is much better. Don’t you agree, Sir Sebastian?”

He smiled weakly. “Yes, it’s an excellent view.”

“Hush, both of you,” Miss Bramhall said. “The play is about to begin. Oh, I do so love farce.”

“Don’t we all, Aunt Lotte?” Veronica grinned. “Don’t we all?”

It was perhaps the longest play Sebastian had ever had the misfortune of sitting through. Not that it wasn’t amusing, even if its humor was lost on him. He was in the midst of a farce of his own.

He had known privacy with Veronica would be next to impossible with her aunt present. But the occasional stolen glance shared with her when Miss Bramhall leaned forward to get a closer view was not what he’d hoped for when he’d reserved this private box. He had planned to sit beside her and much farther back than Miss Bramhall preferred. But then Veronica’s aunt was interested in the play.

He had hoped for the occasional accidental brush of her hand with his. The intermittent mutual observance whispered in her ear, commentary on the play or the crowd in display of his cleverness. Even, with luck, a kiss shared in the dark recesses of the box when her aunt’s attention was elsewhere.

It was both annoying and frustrating. It was all he could do to keep from drumming his fingers impatiently on the arm of his chair. Or leaping from his seat and sweeping her into his arms in front of her aunt and the entire theater and God himself. As a grand romantic gesture, it had definite appeal. It would certainly be more dramatic than anything happening onstage and would have been worth considering if he wasn’t trying to behave in a proper manner.

One did not embroil the lady one intended to marry in undue scandal. But, damnation, it was proving more difficult than he had imagined.

Still, it could have been worse. Miss Bramhall could have been with them right from the beginning. At least he’d had the opportunity to discuss his
list
with Veronica. And that had gone well. He smiled to himself. Very, very well. There was little doubt the woman was as taken with him as he was with her.

At last the houselights came on for intermission. Hopefully, Miss Bramhall could be encouraged to rejoin her friends. Or, at the very least, the chairs could be rearranged.

“Sir Sebastian,” Miss Bramhall said in a cordial manner. Perhaps her obvious enjoyment of the play had eased her earlier pique. “I find I am exceptionally parched. Would you fetch us some refreshment?”

“It would be my pleasure.” He groaned to himself and stood. Apparently, she planned to remain with them.

Veronica smiled wryly, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking.

“On second thought, I shall accompany you.” Miss Bramhall rose to her feet. “I saw Lady Lovett earlier, and I should like to have a word with her before the play resumes.”

“Do take as long as you wish,” Veronica said. “I daresay we shall bravely carry on without you.”

“I’ve no doubt of that, my dear.” Miss Bramhall nodded to Sebastian to open the door and then passed in front of him.

“Sebastian,” Veronica said in a low voice. He turned back to her. “That last bit of utter nonsense about your list.”

“Yes?”

“It didn’t seem the least bit practiced.” She cast him a provocative smile, and his heart caught. Odd that a mere smile could do that. “And it was most effective.”

He grinned. “Was it?”

“Oh, it was indeed.” She rose, stepped to him and, before he could say a word, framed his face with her hands, then pressed her lips to his.

Her lips were warm and full against his. And intoxicating, like a fine wine that had gone directly to his head. A faint ache squeezed his heart.

“Most effective.”

He slid his hands around her waist, but she stepped back. “Aunt Lotte is waiting.”

“Yes, right, of course.” He drew a deep breath. “And this is not the place. . . .”

“But do hurry back.”

He nodded and followed her aunt, his step lighter than it would have been a moment ago.

The corridor was crowded with theater patrons, and he had to dodge one person after another to keep up with her. They reached the vestibule, and she stepped to one side, then turned to him.

“I would like a word with you, Sir Sebastian,” Miss Bramhall said in a no-nonsense manner.

At once he felt as if he were ten years old again and had been caught doing something he shouldn’t. How absurd. He was an adult, a man of accomplishment. He had faced far greater dangers than this short, determined termagant.

He adopted his most charming manner. “Anything for you, Miss Bramhall.”

“First of all, I was quite impressed that you included me in your invitations for tonight and the banquet.”

“It seemed the proper thing to do.” He had nothing to fear at all.

She studied him for a moment, then laughed. “Goodness, young man, the last thing Veronica is concerned with is propriety.”

“Then one of us should be,” he said and winced to himself. Good Lord, he sounded like one of his older brothers. “What I mean is that I would not wish to subject Lady Smithson to undue gossip.”

“Excellent answer.” She nodded thoughtfully. “Veronica’s mother died when she was very young. My mother and I helped her father, my brother, raise her. My brother is often something of an idiot, but a good man nonetheless. My mother and I are both . . . Oh, what is the word?”

Any number of words sprang to Sebastian’s mind. He ignored them.

“Independent, I would say, is most appropriate. Veronica has been strongly influenced by our opinions.” She pinned him with a firm look. “You should keep that in mind.”

“I will. Thank you.”

“You’re not at all as I expected, you know.”

He raised a brow. “Is that good?”

“I haven’t decided. You are a man, and generally I have found men not to be trusted.” She paused for a moment. “I should ask you if your intentions are honorable.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but she held up her hand to stop him. “No, I don’t wish to know. It’s none of my concern. We value privacy in my family as much as we do independence. Veronica is not a child and is intelligent enough to make her own decisions about such things.”

“I really do think—”

“No, no.” She thrust her hand out in front of her. “My opinion of you at the moment is most favorable. If you tell me your intentions are honorable, I shall feel compelled to intercede on your behalf, and that wouldn’t do at all. Or I won’t believe you, which is worse. If you say they are not honorable, I shall think you quite stupid to admit such a thing, even if I will give you credit for honesty. I shall also feel it necessary to convey your intentions to Veronica, and I don’t know what her response might be.”

“Wouldn’t most women be pleased if a man’s intentions were honorable?” he said slowly.

“Veronica is not
most women
.” She sniffed. “Nor are any of the women in her family. You would be wise to remember that as well.”

“I will.”

“Now”—she scanned the crowd—”there is still time for a quick chat with Lady Lovett before the play resumes.” A wicked light shone in her eye. “I suspect if you hurry, you might be able to return to the box before I do.”