His Mistress By Christmas (11 page)

Veronica glanced down the banquet table to where her aunt was seated, and his gaze followed hers. “She seems to be on her best behavior.”

“As are we all,” he said under his breath.

Miss Bramhall did appear less combative than she had been when last at the Explorers Club. Indeed, every time Sebastian had glanced at her thus far this evening, she had been engaged in lively, yet not confrontational, conversation with the gentlemen around her. When he’d invited Veronica and her aunt, he’d had to give the club the names of his guests. Whoever had arranged the seating had done a splendid job. The gentlemen on either side of Miss Bramhall looked like they were not merely enjoying themselves but were quite taken with the lady as well.

And why not? She was probably a year or two younger than Sir Hugo, who was in his midfifties. He hadn’t noticed before, but she was a handsome woman, when her determined expression eased, and must have been quite lovely in her youth.

“Did you threaten her?”

Veronica gasped in mock dismay. “Goodness, Sebastian, I would never have done such a thing. Besides”—she smiled—”it would have been pointless.”

Miss Bramhall laughed in response to something said by one of her companions.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but is she flirting?”

Veronica chuckled. “So it would appear.” She studied her aunt thoughtfully. “I’m rather surprised she remembers how.”

“She does look to be enjoying herself,” Sebastian said. Sir Hugo was seated farther down the table, not close enough to Miss Bramhall to engage in battle. Odd, though, whenever Sebastian glanced in the older man’s direction, his gaze was on Veronica’s aunt. “I believe Sir Hugo has noticed. He can’t keep his eyes off of her.”

Veronica chuckled. “He is probably being cautious.”

“When I informed the club of my guests for tonight, I rather expected him to object. To my surprise, and relief, I didn’t hear a word from him.”

“That is surprising.” Veronica’s gaze shifted from her aunt to Sir Hugo. “And most intriguing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen them in the same room together without doing battle. They’ve been adversaries for years. But, as I said, she is on her best behavior. To your credit, I think.”

He raised a brow. “Mine?”

“She was most impressed that you were willing to invite her. I don’t think she wants to embarrass you.”

“And for that she has my everlasting gratitude.” The gentleman beside Miss Bramhall leaned close and whispered something in her ear. She gasped, but her eyes lit with amusement. “Why has she never married?”

“She was engaged once.”

“And?”

“And the marriage did not occur. It was before I was born, but I understand it was an irreconcilable difference of opinion between my aunt and her fiance.”

“Pity.”

“Why? A woman doesn’t need to be married to be content,” Veronica said mildly.

He turned toward her. “But is content all one wishes out of life?”

“
Content
may well be the wrong word.” Veronica thought for a moment. “Perhaps
satisfied
is a better word.”

“Is it?”

“She seems happy enough with her lot, a life that was not thrust upon her, but one she chose. There is a great deal to be said for being able to decide the path of one’s life. She is independent and answers to no one but herself.”

“And yet . . .” His gaze turned back to Miss Bramhall. “I think it’s sad.”

Veronica studied him curiously. “Why on earth would you think it sad?”

“She has no one to share her life with. No children, no family to speak of—”

Veronica bristled. “She has me and her mother and brother.”

“It’s not the same. She has no one to grow old beside. No one to hold her hand as her days grow shorter. No one to look back on shared laughter and tragedy with.” He shook his head. “My apologies if my opinion dismays you, but, yes, I do think it’s a shame.”

She stared at him. “Good Lord, Sebastian.”

He chuckled. “Have I shocked you?”

“Yes. I had no idea.” She considered him with amusement. “You have the soul of a poet.”

He smiled. “Is that what I have?”

“So it appears.” She nodded. “I must say, I’m . . .”

He leaned toward her. “Yes?” Her gaze met his, and something undefined passed between them, a question perhaps. Asked and answered. Or never asked at all. His heart quickened. “You are?”

“Surprised, I suppose. I had rather thought from your writing that you were an extremely practical sort of man and not given to the sentimentality of those with a poetic nature.”

“Can’t I be both?”

“Apparently.”

“When all is said and done, we are the sum total of all we have experienced. All we have observed.” He thought for a moment. “I watched my parents grow old together, although my mother would protest my use of the word
old
.”

“Women are not at all fond of that word,” she said with a smile.

He returned her smile and continued. “My father was not given to overt displays of affection. Nonetheless, it was obvious how deeply they cared for each other. From the moment they first laid eyes upon one another until the day he died. They’d barely met when they decided to marry.” He met her gaze. “We are like that in my family.”

“Impulsive?”

“Not at all.” He grinned. “We simply know what we want when we see it.”

“What a remarkable coincidence,” she said lightly. “So do I.” Her tone sobered. “How long has your father been gone?”

“Nearly a dozen years now.” He paused to pull his thoughts together. “I think the strength of what they shared in their long years together is what gave my mother the courage to go on without him.” He chuckled. “That and still having three of eight children—including Portia—underfoot.

“My parents set an example of what life and love should be. It hasn’t always worked as well as their lives did.” He shrugged. “My brother Hugh was married only briefly when his wife died. My youngest sister, Miranda, also lost her husband, almost two years ago now. My other younger sister is estranged from her husband. But my brother, Adrian, is quite happily married and my older sister, Diana, is happy as well with, oh, I don’t know, thirty or forty children.”

She laughed. “Surely not.”

“It might only be four, but it feels like dozens when they are underfoot.”

“And are you a doting uncle?”

“Hugh is better at that sort of thing than I am. I am usually the absent uncle.” He smiled, then sobered. “I envy them, though. Adrian and Diana for what they have found and even Hugh and Miranda and Portia for what they once had, even if it is now lost.”

“Now you’ve done it.” She stared. “I’m not merely surprised but impressed.”

“Then my plan is working.” Again his gaze met hers.

“She has no regrets,” Veronica said abruptly, efficiently changing the subject. “My aunt, that is.”

“As far as you know.”

“She has said as much to me.”

“Ah, but what one says is not always what one feels.”

“She has had a most interesting life thus far.” A firm note sounded in Veronica’s voice. He wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince him or herself. “She has traveled, and she has any number of causes she believes in and works for.” Or was she looking into her own future? “She’s quite passionate about those, you know.”

“So I have seen.” He studied her closely.

“I know what you are thinking.”

“Do you?” She had no idea yet, but he would not let her aunt’s fate be her own.

“You’re thinking her passion has been wasted.”

“Not at all.” He shook his head. “I simply pity the poor fool who let her go.”

Her brow rose. “And a romantic poet at that.”

“Now you have ferreted out my secret.” He chuckled.

“Oh, I suspect you have any number of secrets.”

“I am a man of mystery.” He grinned.

“Do tell me one.”

“It seems to me I have already revealed very nearly all of my secrets to you.” He drew his brows together. “You already know of my poetic soul and my heretofore unknown gentlemanly nature. You know how my family views me and how I view them. And you know what my plans are for the immediate future.” He shook his head in a sorrowful manner. “Yet I know none of your secrets.”

She laughed. “I have very few secrets.”

“What are your secrets, Veronica?”

“Let me think.” She picked up her glass and sipped her wine.

“To be honest, I can’t think of one. I am very much an open book. Not nearly as adventurous as one of your books, however.”

“I doubt that. You may well be the greatest adventure of my life.”

Her eyes widened. “What an absurd and charming thing to say. Surely you aren’t serious.”

“Ah, if I tell you, it would spoil your fun. And mine.” He grinned.

“You’ve said that to me before. About your intentions, I believe.”

“And I was right, wasn’t I?” He resisted the urge to lean forward and kiss the tip of her charming nose. “Tell me, Veronica, what do you want for Christmas?”

She laughed. “My secret desire, as it were?”

“If you wish.”

“Very well, then.” She met his gaze firmly. “I wish for adventure.”

“There are many kinds of adventure.” He smiled. “One can find adventure in travel—”

“I have traveled a bit. Nothing like you, of course. I do wish to travel extensively someday. I would love to see the places you have seen.”

“One can find adventure without leaving home. In the pages of a fictitious tale, for example.”

She grinned. “For that I shall have to wait for your next book.”

He smiled. “And are you willing to wait?”

“I am most impatient.” She leaned closer. “You must promise to tell me your story of adventure as you write it.”

“I should like nothing better.” He considered her thoughtfully. “There is also the adventure to be found in unlocking secrets.”

Delight lit her eyes. “Are you speaking of my secrets?”

He nodded. “I am.”

“But I can’t think of even one.” She heaved an overly dramatic sigh.

“Which does not mean you don’t have them.” He stared into her seductive dark eyes. “Perhaps we shall have to discover them together.”

“Oh, I would like that.” She paused, then drew a deep breath. “I do have something I wish to ask you.”

“Anything.”

“Do you—”

“Sir Sebastian,” Lord Chutley, a portly older gentleman seated across from him, cut in. “I beg your pardon. I don’t mean to interrupt.” He directed Veronica an apologetic look. “But I was hoping you could settle an argument for us.”

Sebastian pushed aside his annoyance and adopted a gracious expression. “How may I help?”

“We seem to be at an impasse—”

“I beg your pardon, Lord Chutley,” Veronica said pleasantly, “but as you did indeed interrupt, I assume you will forgive me. Sir Sebastian and I were engaged in a discussion I should dearly like to finish. So if you would be so good as to allow one more moment . . .” Veronica cast him the kind of look that would make any man with breath left in his body acquiesce to anything she might ask.

“Most certainly.” The older man stared, a look that was part adoration, part animal lust in his eyes. “My apologies. Most inconsiderate of me. Please, take as long as you need.”

“I am most appreciative.” She favored him with a blinding smile, and at that moment, Sebastian would have wagered the man would walk through fire for her. And, in truth, who wouldn’t? The copper-colored gown she wore added flecks of flame to her eyes. The woman was a vision. And she was his.

He chuckled and turned to her. “Thank you.”

“I have only saved you for the moment.” Her brown eyes twinkled with amusement.

“You were about to ask me something.”

“Yes, I was.” She leaned closer in a confidential manner. “I was wondering if you planned to seduce me tonight.”

He choked.

Her eyes widened. “Are you all right?”

“Quite. Thank you.”

“Well?”

He chose his words with care. “I thought I would kiss you first.”

“But I kissed you.” She shrugged. “That should suffice.”

“And yet it doesn’t.” In spite of their hushed tones, indignation sounded in his voice. “
I
wish to kiss
you.
Quite thoroughly and for a very long time.”

“Excellent.” She beamed. “As kissing often goes hand in hand with seduction, might I suggest both?”

He stared.

“Well?”

He drew his brows together. “Have you taken leave of your senses?”

“Not at all.” Her gaze slipped to his lips, then back to his eyes.

“Tell me, Sebastian, do you intend to seduce me tonight or not?”

“Good Lord, Veronica, this is the Explorers Club!” The words came without thought, and he groaned to himself. He had become his older brother. Or his father.

“Do keep your voice down. My God, how stuffy you sound.” She grinned. “It’s most endearing. And oddly exciting. And I didn’t mean here. How absurd. Although”—a wicked light flashed in her eye—”that would be something of an adventure.”

“Veronica!”

“Do you want to know why I think it’s endearing?”

He had no idea how to respond. “Probably not but go on.”

“Because you’re trying so very hard.” What was surely at least affection shone in her eyes and curved the corners of her mouth. “Because you’ve been entirely too proper for a man of your reputation.”

Because one behaves properly with the woman one wishes to marry!
“I—”

“Therefore it is not far-fetched to consider, and Portia agrees, that you might well have some sort of plan.”

“Oh, well, if Portia agrees—”

“Although one does wonder to what end, but it scarcely matters.” Veronica raised a shoulder in a casual shrug. “As I have a plan of my own.”

He swallowed hard. “A plan?”

“Yes, a plan.” She nodded. “Do you wish to hear it?”

“I’m rather afraid to hear it.”

“Nonsense.” She laughed. “Most of the speeches before dinner attested to your courage.”

“I suspect I shall need it.” He narrowed his gaze. “Tell me of your plan.”

“It’s brilliant in its simplicity.” She grinned. “I imagine, when we are finished dinner, the men will retire into whatever gentlemen’s smoking lounge is provided here and the ladies will be banished to a poorly decorated ladies’ parlor. Aunt Lotte and I shall make our excuses. I believe I will plead an aching head. That usually works nicely. Gentlemen are sympathetic, and ladies wish they had thought of it first. We shall take our leave, and when you are done here, join me for brandy at my house.”