His Mistletoe Wager. Virginia Heath
shoulders. He reached out and plucked the ribbon of her dance card from her wrist and scanned the names.
‘Good grief! What a shockingly dour bunch.’ To her consternation he then picked up her hand and gently threaded the ribbon back over it. His fingers were warm. Too warm. They were giving her skin ideas. ‘As I alluded cryptically to your charming butler yesterday, my offer still stands. I am prepared to lend myself to you as your decoy beau to ward off this sea of dullards if you agree to protect me from my ocean of eager hordes.’
This must have been what Adam felt like when Eve offered him a bite of her apple and, curse him, his proposition was attractive. ‘I suppose...for the sake of a month of peace, I could pretend to be a little interested in you.’ Good gracious. Lizzie could not quite believe those words had just come out of her mouth, but thanks to her father, what other choice did she have? Her stubborn papa was vehemently determined to get her wed with unacceptable over-zealousness. She was heartily ashamed at being so weak-willed in the face of such temptation. ‘But only on the strict understanding that it is all a sham and I would never really entertain you as a suitor.’ Of its own accord, one of her fingers was jabbing him pointedly in the chest. It was alarmingly solid. His reaction was to smile down at her, unoffended by her insult.
‘That’s the spirit. I hope you have a talent for acting because nobody will believe it if you continue to glare at me as if I am something offensive stuck to the bottom of your shoe.’
Now that he came to mention it, her facial muscles were beginning to ache from the exertion of her frown. As they always did at these unwelcome social functions. Lizzie scrunched up her face to loosen them and then stared back at him blandly. ‘I do not wish to give my father false hope. I should prefer it if you appear more keen than me in his presence. That way, once I terminate our acquaintance he won’t be too upset.’
‘Agreed. I shall be a simpering, fawning lapdog in front of your father and an amorous suitor in front of your dullards.’
She did not like the sound of that. ‘Not too amorous!’
‘My dear, you know nothing about the ways of men. When a young lady is being courted and appears uninterested, it means she is still fair game and only spurs the other fellows on. Men are a competitive bunch. It is in our nature. However, when the lady is obviously keen on another, they will retreat. As gentlemen, they are duty bound to do so. It’s in the gentleman’s code somewhere. Besides, nothing will cool their ardour quicker than the sight of you fawning over another man. We have our pride.’
‘My father has increased my dowry to make me more attractive.’ Pride and duty would hardly stop the greedy from coveting the money she came with.
‘Even more reason why you must encourage my amorous advances in front of them. I am disgustingly rich and, as I obviously do not need your money, they will assume we are in love.’ She stiffened then and her outraged reaction clearly amused him. ‘I understand your reluctance. Really, I do. You are frightened you might forget our arrangement is all a sham and genuinely fall in love with me. A perfectly understandable fear. I am irresistible, after all, and you are bound to develop romantic feelings.’
The snort of laughter escaped before she could stop it, because he was amusing if nothing else and that knowing, rakish grin he perpetually sported did suit him. ‘There is no danger of that, my lord!’
‘Then tonight we shall begin our ruse and by the end of the evening we will be the source of much-fevered speculation.’
Lizzie huffed as reality dawned. ‘Thanks to my over-zealous father, I am doomed to dance with a card full of dullards, unless I conveniently freeze to death first.’
‘Fear not, fair maiden, once we go back inside I will shamelessly monopolise you. You’ll be spared dancing with another dullard this evening and every evening henceforth. From this point on, the only man you will dance with is me.’
‘I thought I was to be spared another dullard.’ She frowned belligerently and he met it with another roguish smile. It tempted her to smile back. Almost.
‘Careful, Lizzie. If you are going to be mean to me I shall have my coat back.’
Automatically, her frozen fingers clutched at the garment possessively. Even for December, it was particularly cold. The statue next to them positively glittered with frost. ‘I did not give you leave to call me Lizzie.’
‘Yet I have called you it anyway. As a special treat, you can call me Hal. Henry is far too formal, especially when a couple is as besotted as us.’
‘We are not besotted.’ The set-down had less impact with her teeth chattering together. Both his hands came up and began to briskly rub the warmth back into her arms through the fabric of his coat. She wanted to chastise him for his impertinence, but it did feel marvellous. Escaping into the icy night air had been foolhardy in sleeveless silk.
‘Heaven forbid! However, we must give off enough of the appearance of it if we are to be left alone. The ton loves to watch a blossoming love affair from afar. It makes it easier for them to gossip about it. If we orchestrate this charade correctly, we are guaranteed at least three yards of space at every function from now until Twelfth Night.’
Something which sounded very tempting.
‘Where did you find roses in December.’
‘I know a fellow in Covent Garden who can get any bloom for a price. Roses, freesias, tulips, lilacs...’
‘I loathe lilacs. Be sure to never buy me those when you are pretending to court me.’
‘Understood. No lilacs. Not that I would have bought you lilacs, of course, they don’t suit you at all. The flowers in your bouquet were chosen specifically because they reminded me of you.’
Lizzie pulled a face. ‘Don’t tell me—the cream roses symbolise my alabaster skin?’
He grinned back, unoffended. ‘Indeed they did, while the tiny pink rosebuds echoed the beautiful sweetness of those luscious lips I ache to kiss.’
‘How clichéd. And the holly? Your joy at falling hopelessly in love with me at Christmas?’
‘Not at all. They are reminiscent of your charming personality. Sharp and prickly.’
She liked the fact he was not trying to flatter her. Since Rainham, she had greatly distrusted it and found herself grinning at his cheek. ‘Lady Elizabeth?’ A voice called from the French doors. Her persistent dance partner had clearly tracked her down. The unladylike groan she gave made Hal laugh. Lizzie felt the intimate timbre all the way to her frozen toes.
‘Dear me...if my ears do not deceive me, I do believe the Earl of Ockendon is ready for his dance. Tell me, is his breath still rancid? Last time I got too close to him, I swear it singed my eyebrows.’
‘My father believes I need a safe, sensible man. Upright and above reproach.’
‘And to be that he needs to be hurtling towards seventy?’
‘I believe the Earl is fifty-something.’
‘Good gracious! The man must have had a very hard life.’
‘Lady Elizabeth? Are you out here?’ The voice was getting closer and instinctively Lizzie went to dart behind her statue again, only to find herself rooted to the spot by her companion’s surprisingly strong arms.
‘Hiding is not the answer. He will merely bide his time and hunt you down later. Everyone knows Ockendon is desperate for an heir. Lucky you, by the way. To be favoured with his attentions must be the pinnacle of every young lady’s romantic ambitions. You need to brazen it out.’
‘Surely you are not suggesting I grin and bear it!’ The thought of a few minutes twirling in the pungent wake of the man’s breath was already turning her stomach.
‘Of course not. Remember what I told you. We need to let him see dancing with you is futile...seeing as your heart is already engaged elsewhere. I do believe this is one of those occasions which warrants my