His Mistress By Christmas (29 page)

“Oh. Well then . . .” He grinned. “I am a sot.”

“At the moment at least.”

“Did you know that my brothers thought they could drink more than me?” He scoffed. “They were wrong.”

“And are they in the same state you are?”

He furrowed his brow and thought for a moment, then nodded. “Worse.”

“I doubt that.”

“Better?”

She shook her head. “Tomorrow should be interesting if you’re all in this state.”

“Veronica.” He grabbed her hand and tried to pull her onto the bed. “I need you.”

“You need sleep.”

“Yes, I do.” He fell back on the bed. “But I need you. Have I told you that?”

“Not really.”

“Well, I do.” He struggled to sit back up. “Have I told you that I love you?”

“Now is not the best time.”

“More today than yesterday,” he announced with a grand gesture. “And I shall love you more tomorrow than today.”

“That’s very nice, darling, but when we look back at the first time you told me you loved me, I should like you to remember it.”

“Excellent idea.” He collapsed back on the bed and patted the spot beside him. “Let me seduce you.”

She laughed. “Not tonight.”

“I should have seduced you when I had the chance.”

“You will have the chance again, I assure you.” She studied him for a moment, then shook her head. “You can’t sleep with your boots on.”

He sat up. “I have slept with my boots on before.” He sighed and fell back. “It’s not very comfortable.”

“If you scoot back, I shall help you take them off.”

“Would you?” He propped himself up on his elbows. “That’s very wifely of you.”

“Don’t become accustomed to it. But now and again, when you need my assistance, I shall be there.”

“Marry me?”

“Very well.”

“Very well?” He narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean by ‘very well’?”

“I mean, very well, I shall marry you.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you, too.”

“More tomorrow than today?”

“Definitely more than tonight.”

He nodded at the bed beside him and grinned. “Let me seduce you.”

She laughed.

“You could seduce me,” he said hopefully.

“I suspect anyone could seduce you at the moment.”

He shook his head slowly. “I don’t wish to be seduced by anyone. Just you. I have given all that up.”

“That’s good to know.” She grabbed his foot, and he fell back.

“I shall hold you to that.”

“See that you do.” He heaved a heartfelt sigh. “They’re a very imposing lot.”

“Who is, darling?” She tugged off his boot.

“My family. Most imposing. It’s the hyphen, I think.”

“What?”

“If we were Hadleys or Attwaters, we wouldn’t be as imposing. But Hadley hyphen Attwater . . .” He gasped. “Is your father going to shoot me?”

She drew her brows together. “Why would my father want to shoot you?”

“For . . .” He paused, allegedly to think. “For ruining you.” She laughed. “I am nearly thirty years of age and a widow. You couldn’t ruin me. And even if you could, you have yet to come close to ruining me.”

“I know.” He heaved a mournful sigh, then brightened. “I could ruin you now.”

“I doubt that.” She smiled and grabbed his other foot. “While you are surprisingly amusing in this state, I would prefer that you not make inebriation a habit.”

“Never?”

“Preferably.”

“You have my word.” He lowered his voice confidentially. “May I tell you a secret?”

“Please do.”

“I do not drink to excess.” He nodded smugly. “I know how to hold my liquor.”

“Yes, I can see that.” She tried not to laugh. “And an excellent job you do, too.”

“Thank you.” His brow furrowed. “Do you think I’m worthy ?”

“Worthy of what?” She pulled off his remaining boot.

“You. My family. Everything.” He sighed. “I have tried to be. At least lately.”

She stared down at him. What was he talking about? “You,” she said firmly, “are Sir Sebastian Hadley-Attwater. Knighted by the queen, who obviously thought you most worthy, adored by your readers, as well as all those women who fall all over themselves for you.”

He grinned. “I’m quite a catch.”

“And I have caught you.” She dropped his foot and pushed his legs onto the bed.

“I am a lucky man.”

“Yes, you are.”

“And you are a lucky woman.”

Even in this state he was charming and irresistible. At least to her heart. “Yes, I am.”

“I have an estate manager, you know.”

“Yes, darling, I know.”

“And a groundskeeper.”

“Yes, dear.”

“And a house and a wife.”

Now was not the time to disagree with him. “You do have a house.”

“I have changed.”

“Have you?”

“I am responsible now. I am respectable. Almost boring.”

She laughed. “I doubt that you can ever be boring.”

“I would hate to be boring.” He frowned. “And proper. I would hate to be proper. Will you tell me if I ever become dull and staid and stuffy and boring?”

“You have my word.” She leaned over and kissed his forehead. At once, he wrapped his arms around her and tried to pull her down onto the bed. It was a measure of his intoxication that she easily pulled free. “Go to sleep and we shall discuss all of this in the morning.”

He studied her. “Do you love me because I’m a black sheep or in spite of it?”

“Both.”

“Oh, well then . . . that’s good. I am no longer a black sheep, you know.” He rolled over and muttered. “I am worthy.”

A moment later he was unconscious.

Charles had once told her that even the best of men, every now and then, needed to overindulge when life was awkward or difficult or uncertain. Or when one’s friends gathered. Or, in Sebastian’s case, in the company of his brothers. And as long as that overindulgence was in food or drink and not women, it could certainly be forgiven. And Charles had been speaking from experience.

She’d never imagined a drunken sot could be even the tiniest bit appealing, but this was different. This drunken sot was hers. And like it or not, she was his. He needed her, and while she’d never expected it, she needed him.

He looked like a small boy lying there, dreaming of sugar plums, no doubt. Peaceful and, if one didn’t know better, innocent. She wondered if their children would look like him and warmed at the thought of
their children.
Sebastian scratched himself, and the illusion was shattered.

Not that it mattered. Some illusions were meant to be shattered. The face he presented to the world—confident and somewhat arrogant—was not who he truly was. Her own ideas of independence were little more than illusion as well. Shattered by the reality of understanding that freedom meant living her life alone, living without him.

Lotte had mentioned sacrifice measured against gain. But perhaps there really was no sacrifice at all given all she had to gain. He’d said he trusted her, and she trusted him as well. Trusted that he loved her for who and what she was. Trusted that he would not try to make her into something she wasn’t. And trusted him with her heart.

Trust might well be the greatest gift they could give one another. At Christmas and forever.

Sebastian drew a deep breath, tried to ignore the pounding in his head, and slipped into the dining room as discreetly as possible. The last thing he wanted was to draw attention to himself and his less than stellar state this morning.

Adrian, James, and Hugh sat at one end of the long table, looking no better than he felt. Sinclair was nowhere to be seen, probably still in bed. He wasn’t sure exactly why, but somehow he was certain the American was to blame for last night. At least in part.

It was obviously not mere coincidence that the ladies were at the opposite end of the table, as far away from the gentlemen as possible. Sebastian would have wagered that was by unspoken mutual agreement, as the men could scarcely utter words of more than one syllable today while the ladies were discussing where to begin the decoration of the house, exactly which room the tree should be placed in, and any number of other details that needed attending to on this last day before Christmas. On any given morning, the volume of chatter and level of enthusiasm might be mildly annoying to gentlemen trying to enjoy their breakfast. Today they were painful.

He nodded a silent greeting to his family and caught Veronica’s gaze. She looked appropriately sympathetic, although there was a spark of amusement in her eyes. She met him at the sideboard, handed him a plate, and began to fill her own from the platters of hearty fare Cook had laid out.

“Cook has risen admirably to the occasion. Indeed, all the staff is managing quite well given they are all new and unused to guests.” She nodded approvingly. “Don’t you agree?”

He murmured his agreement.

She tilted her head closer and spoke in a soft voice, for his ears alone. “And how are we this morning, husband dear?”

He winced. “Fine, thank you. And do be so good as to lower your voice.”

“Darling, if I lowered my voice any more, I’d be writing.”

“Was I, well, um . . .” Sebastian searched for the right word. There wasn’t one.

“Intoxicated? Inebriated? Drunk?” she said pleasantly.

“No, I do know that much.” He shook his head and grimaced at the movement. “But much of last night is, well, cloudy.”

She gasped in mock surprise. “Imagine that.”

“Are you angry?” He held his breath.

“Because you and your brothers overindulged?” She raised a brow. “Do you make a habit of it?”

“No,” he said with as much indignation as he could manage.

“Well, then, I daresay you are suffering far more severe consequences than I could possibly inflict.” She glanced at the other men. “You and your cohorts are all quite pale and a bit green.” She shook her head. “It would be cruel of me to berate you. Rather like taking on an unarmed opponent. It wouldn’t be any fun at all.”

“Your restraint is appreciated.” He wasn’t at all used to having to explain his behavior to anyone. It was not easy, especially as he wasn’t entirely clear what exactly he needed to explain. Or what, perhaps, required apology on his part. “I was just wondering if I said or did . . .”

“Oh, you said a great deal.” She selected a slice of bacon. “Doesn’t this all look delicious? Have you tried the eggs?”

He shuddered.

She cast him a sympathetic smile. “Is it very bad?”

“No,” he muttered. “Not if one ignores the pounding in one’s head or the queasiness in one’s stomach.”

“I’m sure food will help.” Veronica scooped a heaping serving of deviled kidneys onto his plate.

On any other morning he quite liked kidneys. Today . . .

“You don’t remember what you said?”

“Bits and pieces.” He shook his head carefully and glanced at her. “Perhaps you could assist with those empty spaces.”

“I would be happy to help. Let me think.” Her brow furrowed. “You did wish to seduce me.”

He groaned. “And?”

“And you also offered to allow me to seduce you.”

“Good God.” He stared at her. “Did you? Did we?”

“Goodness, Sebastian.” She sniffed. “If you can’t remember something like that . . .” She stepped farther down the sideboard and considered the smoked haddock.

“Veronica.” He stepped closer. “Of course I would remember.” He scoffed. “And as I don’t, I would say there was no seduction,” he added with far more confidence than he felt.

She leaned closer. “If you don’t keep your voice down, darling, you’ll draw the attention of your family. Your brothers might not notice, but I would not try to slip anything past Bianca or your mother.” She looked at the ladies and chuckled. “Or my grandmother, for that matter.”

“Quite right.” His brow furrowed. “I remember . . .” He stared at her. “You took my boots off. Like . . . like a wife.”

“Indeed I did. I also told you not to expect such behavior in the future.” She nodded. “However, it was the highlight of the evening.”

“Not for me.” He took a piece of toast and glanced at her. “What, exactly, did I say?”

“You mentioned how women fell all over themselves for you.”

He winced. “I didn’t.”

“Oh, but you did. You also talked about how responsible and respectable and worthy you’d become.”

“Worthy?” he said uneasily.

“My, yes. You went on and on about it.” She nodded soberly. “And in an effort to continue your newfound worthiness, you promised to give up spirits in any form for the rest of your days.”

“I did what?”

“You gave your word not to let so much as a drop of liquor touch your lips. No whisky, no brandy, no port—”

He stared.

“—no wine, no champagne.”

“Not even with dinner?”

“No, you were quite adamant about that. ‘Veronica,’ you said, ‘I shall be a teetotaler from this point forward.’ ”

“I didn’t.”

“And then you demanded I abstain as well.” She shook her head. “I don’t mind saying I do like the occasional glass of brandy or wine with dinner, and champagne, well, I am quite fond of champagne.”

“I can’t believe—”

“However, you did agree that you could have an occasional glass of sherry when there were ladies present.”

“Sherry?” He stared in horror. “I certainly don’t remember. . . .”

He would be far more likely to give up spirits on a morning like this rather than an evening like last night. When one was imbibing more than was wise, one rarely considered the inevitable consequences. Indeed, he did recall having had a smashing good time. He and his brothers and his friend had played billiards and cards and told stories that couldn’t possibly have more than a grain of truth in them. And then he’d returned to his room, determined to entice Veronica into his bed. He’d pulled her into his room, collapsed on his bed, and she’d helped him with his boots…. “I never promised to give up spirits.”

She bit back a smile. “Perhaps
my
memory is faulty in that respect.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You said it wouldn’t be any fun to take on an unarmed opponent.”

“I was wrong.” She choked back a laugh.