His Mistress By Christmas (30 page)

“I’m glad you’re finding this all so amusing.”

“It’s even more amusing this morning than it was last night. And you were most amusing last night.”

“That’s something, I suppose. Still, it’s not at all nice of you to make me think I made promises. . . .” He stared with abrupt realization. “You said you’d marry me.”

“Did I?”

“You did.” He stared at her. “Did you mean it?”

She drew her brows together and considered the question.

“Veronica?”

“Why, yes, I believe I did.”

At once he felt much, much better. Regardless, every single time he’d thought everything was going well, something had happened to shatter that particular illusion. But try as he might, he couldn’t think of anything that would muck this up now.

“When?”

“If I recall correctly, there was no discussion of when. It didn’t seem the right time. You were really in no condition to . . . Oh, what is the right word? Ah yes,
stand,
let alone decide when to wed.”

“Nonetheless, now that you have agreed, I see no need to wait.”

Of course, it had nearly slipped his mind. He’d never told her about his birthday and his inheritance. Odd how something that had once been so important to him now paled in comparison. She was the only thing he wanted. They would have the rest of their lives together. Still, he should mention his birthday to her. But not now. After all, there was plenty of time. “Unless you have changed your mind.”

“Now that I have seen you at your very best, you mean?”

“I suppose.”

“No, I have not changed my mind. I want to marry you, Sebastian. I shall love you more tomorrow than today, you know.”

He stared at her for a moment, then grinned. “It’s an excellent line.”

“It is if you mean it.”

He met her gaze firmly. “I’ve never meant anything more.”

She smiled slowly. “Then, there is one more thing about last night that you should remember.”

“Oh?”

She leaned closer and whispered into his ear. “My door was not locked.”

Veronica had no idea preparing for Christmas could be so exhausting. And so much fun. Bianca had taken her aside to explain that, while servants could manage all this on their own and were certainly expected to do so in other households, it was something of a family tradition to help in the decoration.

Early in the afternoon the men had recovered enough to assist the ladies and the staff. Evelyn was right: everyone in this family was behaving no better than the children among them and having at least as much fun. And Sebastian was wrong. Regardless of their hyphen, they weren’t the least bit imposing. At least not today. Laughter rang through the halls of the house. Children’s voices clashed and blended with those of the adults. There was more than a little use of the mistletoe. Her father and the rest of her family had joined in with surprising enthusiasm.

By midday, the house had been swathed in swags and garlands. Doors had been decked with wreaths of holly and boughs of evergreens. Banisters had been festooned with ribbons and ivy and pinecones. Every nook, every niche, very nearly every piece of furniture that did not move hosted a crown of greenery or a wreath of berries. It was nothing short of magic. In spite of her age and general rundown state, Lady Greyville looked every inch the grand dame she once was and was always meant to be. And would be again.

At one end of the grand hall, the tree that had been cut and brought to the house earlier in the day was being set up with the help of Sebastian and the other gentlemen. Said help consisting more of unneeded advice than anything else. The groundskeeper and his men were more than able to erect the tree on their own. Most of the ladies were unpacking the boxes of ornaments that very nearly everyone had brought along. At the other end of the hall, a table had been set up for Diana’s children and their nannies. They now strung berries and crafted small dolls and animals out of twigs and bits of fabric for the tree, their faces intense with concentration. Having observed the endlessly energetic children today, Veronica doubted that distraction would last long.

She surveyed the scene with satisfaction. It was well worth the tiny little cuts on her hands from handling the greenery. Next year she would wear some kind of gloves. Next year? She smiled to herself at the thought. She still had no idea how they were going to explain this year, but at the moment it scarcely mattered. At some point today it had dawned on her that once she and Sebastian were truly married, they would have two houses in the country and a house in town between them. It might be best to sell her country house to Harrison. It had been Charles’s, after all, and Harrison had expressed an interest in acquiring it. She would put the money to good use. This house of Sebastian’s needed a great deal of refurbishing. It would be great fun to bring it back to its former glory and fill it with parties and friends, children and family.

“It’s coming along quite nicely,” Helena said beside her.

Veronica glanced at Sebastian’s mother and smiled. “It is, isn’t it?”

“This has always been my favorite time of year.” Helena looked around, satisfaction on her face. “There is nothing better than having one’s family together at Christmas.” She sighed. “I do wish Portia was here, but I suppose that can’t be helped.” She paused. “Letting one’s children go is as important as keeping them near, although substantially more difficult.”

“Even Portia?”

“Because she’s my niece and not my daughter?”

Veronica nodded.

“One would think it would make a difference, but it never has. Portia has been with us since she was a baby. She was my sister’s child and is all that I have left of her. Portia is as dear to me as if I had given birth to her myself.” She thought for a moment. “Perhaps even more so, although I would never tell the others. One doesn’t play favorites with one’s children.” She nodded. “You’ll learn that, my dear, with your own children.”

“I look forward to it.”

“There is nothing that can compare to having children in the house, especially at Christmas. And nothing that makes adults forget their age quite like Christmas. Even me.”

Veronica laughed. “You’re right. It is lovely to have the house filled with children. Of all ages. I’m afraid, though, you have caught us unprepared.”

“Nonsense. Everything is going splendidly.”

“I do hope so. But as I didn’t expect you, any of you, I have no gifts for anyone.” It wasn’t until Mrs. Bigelow’s sister had delivered the pennant for Sebastian a few hours ago that Veronica had realized she didn’t have gifts for anyone else. “I brought ornaments for Sebastian for Christmas and I have another gift for him, but I didn’t know everyone else would be here.”

“Oh dear, that is awkward.” Helena frowned.

“I was thinking, perhaps, after Christmas—”

Helena laughed. “My apologies, but I couldn’t resist. The children will be showered with so many presents, they won’t notice. As for the rest of us . . .” Her gaze strayed to Sebastian. He and his brothers were directing the men attempting to put up the tree as to the proper angle, amid much debate and discussion. It didn’t look particularly complicated to Veronica, but apparently it was a matter of some concern. “You have already given us the greatest gift we could have asked for.”

“I have?”

Helena nodded. “Even though my youngest son bought this house and said he intended to stay in England, I had my doubts. But now . . .”

“Now?”

“But now he is here for Christmas and, of course, his birthday. . . .”

“His birthday?”

Helena nodded. “Two days after Christmas. You didn’t know?”

“He hasn’t said a word.”

“It is a significant birthday, but I suspect, in the midst of everything, it has probably slipped his mind. It scarcely matters.” Helena met her gaze. “Now he has you. You’ve made him want to stay. We can have no greater gift than that. Together, you will fill this house with love and laughter and children.” Helena’s gaze wandered back toward her own children. “Indeed, my dear, you already have filled this house, however unexpectedly, and I shall be forever grateful.”

Veronica ignored a twinge of guilt. After all, they fully intended to marry as soon as possible. She chose her words with care. “I don’t imagine he will give up his travels altogether.”

“Of course not.” Helena shook her head. “Only a fool would think otherwise, and only a mother would hope. Regardless, he now has you to come back to.”

“I would rather go with him.”

Helena laughed. “Why am I not surprised?” She sobered. “But that, too, is a gift. Do you know about my list?”

Veronica shook her head.

“It’s silly, really, at least my children think it is. I have a list of who in my family should be the next to be married. And that is who I focus my efforts on.”

“I see.” Veronica grinned. “I gather, from what Portia has said, she heads your list?”

“Currently.” Helena nodded. “Although Sebastian has been at the top for years. However, it’s decidedly difficult to find the right match for a man who is never around.”

“I had the distinct impression from Portia that you are not alone in your matchmaking efforts.”

“My daughters do what they can to assist me.” Helena chuckled. “As they have all been the beneficiaries of my efforts at some point, they think it’s wise to help.” She cast the younger woman a wicked smile. “It keeps me from active interference in their lives. My children fear that the moment they are all settled and married, I shall turn my attention to correcting whatever problems I might see in their households.”

Veronica grinned.

“And I will, you know.” Again Helena’s gaze turned toward her children. “I only want them to be happy. I do know that one doesn’t need to be married to be happy, but I know, as well, that being alone is a dreadful thing. I would not wish that on my greatest enemy.”

“Are you lonely?” Veronica said without thinking.

“My, you are direct.” Helena smiled. “On occasion, I suppose I am. I do have plans, though, once I have them all seen to.”

Veronica’s brow rose. “Do you?”

“I do indeed.” Helena grinned. “They involve being independent and doing precisely as I please. I never have, you know.”

“I see.”

“It sounds rather selfish, I suppose, but when much of your life is behind you rather than ahead, I think you have earned the right to be a bit selfish.” She studied Veronica for a moment. “I’m not sure what I envy more. The fact that you have known such independence or the fact that you are no longer alone.”

“It’s a trade, isn’t it?” Veronica said thoughtfully. “One simply has to decide what one wants more. What is more important.” She shook her head. “Independence has a very high price.”

“As does love.” Helena smiled. “But well worth it, don’t you think?”

Veronica nodded. “Yes, I do.”

“As for my plans, they are quite specific. No doubt you would think them silly. Perhaps one day, when the spirit moves me, I shall confide them to you, but not yet. Have you ever had a secret, Veronica?”

“A secret?” Veronica stared at the older woman. “I suppose, probably, at one time or another. I daresay we all have secrets on occasion. Why do you ask?”

Helena’s gaze turned back toward her children. “They all have secrets of some sort or another. Some I suspect. Others I shall probably never know. My plans are my secret. Perhaps not my greatest or my most important, but the only thing I’ve never shared with anyone. Precisely why no one should go through life alone. One needs someone one can trust implicitly with that which is most important to them.” She smiled. “And that, Veronica dear, is one of the greatest gifts of all.”

A knock sounded at the door between her room and Sebastian’s. At last. Veronica had wondered if Sebastian and the other male members of the family would talk well into Christmas morning.

The entire family had joined in putting decorations on the tree. The children hung their garlands and toys on the lower branches. Candies and gingerbread men Cook had fashioned for them were also hung, although it did seem there were far fewer on the tree than had been provided. Veronica noted not all the telltale gingerbread crumbs were on the youngest members of the family. The ornaments she and Sebastian’s sisters had provided were hung and candles carefully placed among the branches, accompanied by wry joking about a past Christmas fire.

The Yule log, which had caused nearly as much discussion between Sebastian and his brothers as the tree, had been lit in the massive great hall fireplace and would stay burning through Twelfth Night. The Hadley-Attwaters were full of traditions to which Veronica’s own family had never paid any mind, yet her father, aunt, and grandmother had refused to be left out. The proceedings were accompanied by the singing of Christmas songs, those silly or sentimental or sweet. Diana’s children had insisted on leaving mincemeat and brandy for Father Christmas and a carrot for his reindeer before they were put to bed.

All in all, the day had been quite wonderful. Veronica smiled, kept her gaze on the book in her hands, and adopted a noncommittal tone. “Come in.”

She heard him come through the door and pause. “Is that one of my books?”

“The second, I think.”

“I thought you had read them all.”

“I have.” She turned a page. “They are worth reading again. And, as you were not here . . .”

“Oh.” He drew a deep breath. “Veronica, there is something we need to discuss. Something I should tell you.”

“Secrets?” She glanced up at him.

“No, not at all.”

“Pity. I do love secrets.” Her gaze returned to her book, and she tried not to grin.

“This is not a secret.”

“Is it important?”

He thought for a moment. “Not really. Of some interest, I would think, but not especially important.”

“I suspect there are all sorts of things you should tell me and quite a few I should tell you as well. Although I imagine mine are much more interesting and far more important.”

“I see.” He paused. “For example?”

“It wouldn’t be at all fun for me to tell you. I’d rather you find out as we go along. Think of it as an endless adventure.” She turned another page. “It should take, oh, twenty or thirty years, I should think.”