The Mistletoe Wager. Christine Merrill
The mention of finances brought Tremaine to speech—just as Harry had known it would. ‘I no longer need to make a quick twenty pounds by entering into foolish wagers. Especially not with you, Anneslea. A visit to your house at Christmas would be two weeks of tedious company to prove something I already know. It would be an attempt to change my character in a way I do not wish. It is utter nonsense.’
Harry grinned. ‘You would not find it so if the wager were over something you truly desired. Now that you have received your full inheritance, I suppose twenty quid is nothing to you. I have no real desire to spend a fortnight in your company either, Tremaine. For I swear you are one of the most disagreeable fops in Christendom. But I do care for Elise’s happiness. And if she means to have you, then you must become a better man than you are.’ He touched a finger to his chin, pretending to think. ‘I have but to find the thing you want, and you will take the wager, right enough.’ Then he reached into his pocket and pulled the carefully worded letter from his breast pocket. ‘Perhaps this will change your mind.’
He offered it to Tremaine and watched the colour drain from the man’s face as he read the words. Others in the room leaned forward to catch a glimpse of the paper, but Harry stepped in to block their view.
‘For Tremaine’s eyes only, please. This is a matter between gentlemen.’ For a moment he gave vent to his true feelings and let the words drip with the irony he felt at having to pretend good fellowship for the bastard in the seat in front of him. Then he turned back to the crowd. ‘The side bet will in no way affect our fun. And it will be just the thing to convince our victim of the need to take a holiday trip to Anneslea.’
Or so he hoped. Tremaine was still staring at his offer, face frozen in surprise. When he looked up at Harry their eyes locked in challenge. And it was Tremaine who looked away first. But he said nothing, merely folded the paper and tucked it into his own pocket before exiting the room.
Harry smiled to himself, oblivious of the chaos around him.
And now he had but to wait.
Chapter Two
Elise PennyngtoN straightened her skirt, smoothed her hair, and arranged herself on the divan in her London sitting room so that she could appear startled when the door to the room opened. Her guest was in the hall, just outside, and it would be careless of her to let him find her in true disarray. With a little effort she could give the impression that she awaited him eagerly, without appearing to be desperate for his company.
As he paused in the open doorway, awaiting her permission to enter, she looked at Nicholas Tremaine and steeled her nerves. Taking a lover was the first item on her list, if she truly wished to be emancipated from her husband. And if she must have male companionship, Nick was the logical choice. In her mind, he had been filed under ‘unfinished business’ for far too long. He was as elegantly handsome as he had been when he’d first proposed to her.
And she’d turned him away and chosen Harry.
But, since Harry did not want her any more, she was right back to where she had started.
‘Nicholas.’ She pushed the annoying thoughts of Harry from her mind, and held out her hands to the dashing gentleman before her.
He stepped forward and took them, raising her fingers to his mouth and giving them a brief touch of his lips. ‘Elise.’ His eyes were still the same soul-searching blue, and his hair just as dark as the day they’d met, although it had been more than five years.
There was no grey in her hair, either. And she took special care that when they met she looked as fresh and willing as she had at eighteen. Her coiffure was impeccable and her manner welcoming. And her dress was dotted with sprigs of flowers that perfectly matched the blue of her eyes.
Or so Harry had always claimed.
She gave a little shake of her head to clear away that troublesome memory, and gazed soulfully at the man still holding her hands. She was not the naïve young girl he had courted. But surely the passage of time on her face had not been harsh?
If he noticed the change the years had made in her, he gave no reason to think it bothered him. He returned her gaze in the same absently devoted way he always had, and she could see by his smile of approval that he found her attractive.
‘Come, sit with me.’ In turn, she took his hands in hers, and pulled him down to sit on the divan beside her. He took a place exactly the right distance away from her body—close enough to feel intimate, but far enough away not to incite comment should someone walk in on them together.
She hoped that she had not misunderstood his interest. For it would be very embarrassing if he were resistant to the idea, when she had raised sufficient courage to suggest that they take their relationship to a deeper level. But she had begun to suspect that the event would not happen until she had announced herself ready. It would be so much easier if he were to make the first move. But he had made it clear that he would not rush her into intimacy until she was sure, in her heart, that she would not regret her actions.
For a well-known rake, he was annoyingly protective of her honour.
‘Are you not glad to see me?’ She gave a hopeful pout.
‘Of course, darling.’ And after a moment he leaned forward to kiss her on the lips.
There was nothing wrong with the few kisses they had exchanged thus far. Nicholas clearly knew how to give a kiss. There was no awkwardness when their mouths met, no bumping of noses or shuffling of feet. His hands held her body with just the right level of strength, hinting at the ability to command passion without taking unwelcome liberties. His lips were firm on hers, neither too wet nor too dry, his breath was fresh, his cheek was smooth.
When he held her she was soft in his arms, languid but not overly forward, giving no sign that he need proceed faster, but neither did she signal him to desist immediately.
The whole presentation smacked of a game of chess. Each move was well planned. They could both see the action several turns ahead. Checkmate was inevitable.
Of course if it all seemed to lack a certain passion, and felt ever so slightly calculated, who was she to complain of it? She had thought about Nicholas in the darkest hours of her unhappy marriage and wondered how different it might be had she chosen otherwise. Soon she would know.
And if it would ever be possible to gain a true divorce from Harry she must accept the fact that at some point she would need to take a lover, whether she wanted one or not. Her confirmed infidelity was the only thing she was sure the courts might recognise as grounds. But even then, whether she could persuade her husband to make the effort to cast her off was quite another matter.
The matter was simple enough, after all. Harry must have an heir. Since she had been unable to provide one for him, he would be better off free of her while he was still young enough to try with another. But she had grown to see a possible divorce as one more thing in her marriage for which she would need to do the lion’s share of the work, if she wished the task accomplished. The last five years had proved that Harry Pennyngton could not be bothered with serious matters, no matter how she might try to gain his attention.
And now Nicholas had pulled away from her, as though he could not manage to continue the charade.
She frowned, and he shook his head in embarrassment. ‘I’m sorry if I seem distracted. But the most extraordinary thing happened at White’s just now, and we must speak of it. I received an invitation to Christmas.’
She stared at him with a barely raised eyebrow. ‘Hardly extraordinary, darling. Christmas is less than two weeks away. It is a bit late, I suppose. You should have made plans by now.’
‘Certainly not.’ Nicholas, had he had feathers, would have ruffled them. ‘I do not make it a habit of celebrating the holiday. It is much better to use the time productively, in reading or some other quiet pursuit, and to avoid gatherings all together. With so many others running about country drawing rooms like idiots, hiding slippers and bluffing blind men, it makes for an excellent time of peaceful