Home for the Holidays (13 page)

V
INCENT RETURNED TO HIS HOUSE IN A MUCH BETTER MOOD
than he’d been in upon leaving it. The trip to the warehouse showed that the Ascots were in possession of seven old paintings, two by well-known artists, but none of them the notorious
La Nymph
that he was searching for. So he didn’t have to face the dilemma of making the Ascots very rich, something that just did
not
fit into his plans for their ruination.

And then he had his mood utterly ruined again by finding Jonathan Hale in his parlor with Larissa and her brother, Thomas, who’d been allowed out of the sickroom
for the express purpose of decorating the Christmas tree. Such a homey scene, and so foreign to him.

It was the laughter and smiles, the sheer enjoyment they were having, that hit Vincent the worst. He wasn’t part of it, nor ever would be. And it wasn’t even strictly related to Christmas, though that was the present reason for it. They simply knew how to have fun doing simple things, while the concept of fun had never been part of his own life, even as a child.

More than once his brother had tried to show him how to have fun, would drag him from his studies, explain some imaginary game, then be disappointed when Vincent couldn’t get the hang of it. There were simply too many real concerns always plaguing Vincent as a child for him to let go of them long enough to have fun. But that Albert had tried to include him in that aspect of life was one reason he had tolerated his brother’s many weaknesses throughout the years. Albert had tried to teach him. Vincent hadn’t really tried to learn.

Larissa noticed him standing there in the doorway and gave him a brilliant smile. She took his breath away, she was so incredibly beautiful. Jonathan saw it as well and stood there mesmerized. Thomas, noticing both men, rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. Obviously he was used to men behaving like idiots around his sister.

“I didn’t think you would return in time to help,” she told Vincent, motioning him forward.

He didn’t move. “Help?”

“It’s your tree, really. Our decorations are only being added to the contributions your servants have already made. Look at this one from your grouchy cook.” She pointed out a small shiny spoon that had a hole punched in the end of it so it could be tied to a branch with a bright ribbon. “He even blushed as he put it on.”

“I have no decorations to add.”

“There are plenty here to choose from. Come, put this angel on the top.”

There was a sturdy chair placed next to the tree, to use to reach the upper branches. Vincent simply couldn’t picture himself standing on it, yet he found himself walking forward.
She
was the draw, not the silly tree, which had no business being inside a house.

He took the ornament from her, glanced at the top of the tree, which was a good three feet above his head. He stood on the chair. She stood behind it, holding the back to keep it steady for him. He looked down at her, caught his breath yet again. She looked so delighted. It was too easy to make her happy. She took joy in such little things.

He placed the angel on the top of the tree. Not correctly, apparently, since she began to direct him to try again, and again. Hale started making jokes about angels becoming fallen in his hands, which fortunately, Larissa saw no double meaning in, but Vincent certainly did.

Finally she clapped and said, “Perfect!”

Thomas, standing across the room to view it from a different angle, said, “It’s crooked.”

“Bah, don’t listen to him, Vince, he’s being ornery.”

Hale chimed in, “Crooked.”

“See? Majority rules.” Thomas chuckled.

“You don’t have a majority yet without my vote,” Vincent heard himself saying.

“Well, then, what’s the verdict?”

Vincent stepped off the chair, moved about the room looking at the tree from different directions, keeping them waiting while he seemed to give it serious thought. Finally he stopped next to Thomas and said, “Crooked. You fix it. I obviously don’t have a knack for it,” and he lifted Thomas up to straighten the ornament, which he did.

Across the room, Larissa pealed with laughter. “Now it’s crooked.”

It was infectious this time, her laughter. Vincent heard himself joining in with the others and was amazed at how good it felt. He sat back after that and watched them finish, making a comment here or there, pointing out a few barren spots on the tree that could use some help.

He still couldn’t quite believe that he had joined their festive group and actually felt a part of it. But then that was Larissa’s doing. It wasn’t that she had a knack
for taking command, was more that people simply wanted to please her by doing whatever she requested of them.

Vincent couldn’t
not
invite Hale to dinner after all his help, much as he would have preferred it otherwise. While the child had been present in the parlor, Hale had been the perfect gentleman, merely part of the group. But now with the boy sent back to his bed, Hale turned every bit of charm he could muster in Larissa’s direction.

Vincent was disgusted. He would have said something to warn Jonathan to back off, but Larissa was doing too good a job of evading, and for the most part, ignoring or simply not understanding some of the more subtle overtures coming her way. And he realized, after a while, that he had nothing to worry about.

For the time being, and until she learned the truth, she considered herself soon to be married, which meant she would ignore any offerings from other men. Yet because Vincent hadn’t asked her to marry him yet, she couldn’t use that as an excuse to refuse invitations from others; she had to be creative in her turndowns instead.

She was doing an admirable job of that, much to Jonathan’s chagrin. Yet she did it in such a way that Hale didn’t lose hope, much to Vincent’s chagrin. He would have preferred the man go away and not come back. No such luck, he was sure. And he did notice, when she declined
going to the theater, that she seemed rather disappointed to have to refuse.

He wondered then if she had ever been to the theater before, and rather doubted it. Reclusive, she had been, from all accounts, and unknown to the
ton.
Her father could have taken her, but she had only just come of age, and taking her prior to that would have been inappropriate.

He decided to invite her himself, when he joined her later tonight. A small thing that might give her a lot of enjoyment. The least he could do, and besides, it might distract her from asking pertinent questions that he needed to continue to avoid himself.

A
S A DISTRACTION, INVITING
L
ARISSA TO THE THEATER
worked wonders. She had intended to address the issue of marriage that night when Vincent joined her in her room. That had been fairly obvious by her nervousness. And she even began the question he didn’t want to hear.

But having expected it—since he was quite aware that while they were alone was really the only chance she would have to bring up anything that personal—he was swift in cutting her off with the invitation. And before they were done discussing the particulars of him taking her on such an excursion, he was kissing her. And of course, once that began,
there were no further thoughts about anything other than the pleasure to come.

The guilt was still there and bothering him, but it didn’t stop Vincent from making love to Larissa again that night.
That
was a compulsion that far outweighed any remorse he might be feeling. And his conscience did seem to absent itself nicely once he gathered her in his arms. It was only later, when she wasn’t near him, that the guilt would set in to bedevil him again.

He avoided her the next day up until it was time to leave. She had claimed that she had appropriate clothes for such an outing, since her Season wardrobe had been made long before the new Season began. He had cautioned her against anything too fancy, and she had complied. The clothes did determine which theater they would go to, after all, and there were many to choose from, the more esteemed establishments frequented by the
ton
to the common variety that one might find a chimney sweep standing in line for.

She had done exactly as he’d asked. Her rose velvet gown could have been worn for day wear with the short, fur-trimmed cape covering the deep scoop of the neckline. But once the cape was removed, the gown was definitely evening wear, and definitely too elegant for a theater frequented by the lower masses.

One of her servants accompanied them. Chaperonage was good, in his opinion. It kept him from touching Larissa, kept him from seeming the least bit proprietary—kept him from ravaging her in the coach on the way to the theater district, which might have been a definite possibility, as lovely as she looked that night.

It turned out to be a complete blunder on his part, however, to take her anywhere where she would be
seen.
She enjoyed it immensely, yes, but he could have found some other way to amuse her.

The results began the next morning. No fewer than seven young dandies showed up at his door to call on the young beauty they had glimpsed with him last evening. And worse, he wasn’t there to fend them off, had gone on his morning ride in the park. By the time he returned home, Larissa was holding court in his parlor, next to her Christmas tree. And the parade of young bucks continued that afternoon with another five gentlemen calling.

The only thing that Vincent was able to console himself with was that Larissa was still declining all invitations. How much longer that would last, though, when she didn’t have an actual verbal commitment from him yet, was the burning question he had to deal with.

She was his on borrowed time. When her father showed up, she wouldn’t be his any longer. And unlike her,
he
didn’t expect that time to continue more than a
few more days. Which was the only reason his current evasive tactics were going to work. Her question couldn’t be put off indefinitely, when it was too important to her to get an answer. And he was sure she would like to be able to say officially, “I’m engaged, leave me alone,” to all her new admirers.

When Lord Hale showed up that evening, he had already heard about the excursion. Not surprisingly, he was quite put out with Vincent for introducing Larissa to the
ton.

Jonathan even went so far as to accuse him, “You’ve already asked her to marry you and been accepted, haven’t you? You’re just waiting for her father to return to England to make it official. ‘Fess up, Vincent. I’m wasting my bloody time here, aren’t I?”

“What, pray tell, does the one have to do with the other?” Vincent asked him.

“You wouldn’t feel confident in showing her off unless you already had her committed to you. Or are you going to try to tell me that you didn’t know you’d have half the
ton
knocking at your door after they got a look at her? Now, I know you well enough to know that you don’t like to entertain here. So what does that leave in assumptions, eh? That you couldn’t resist showing her off, just as I’d planned to do
after
I got her committed to me. I’m not fool enough to do it beforehand, and neither are you.”

Vincent only just managed to resist laughing. Should he ‘fess up to being the fool Hale had just described? He really hadn’t thought of the repercussions that would result from taking Larissa out for an evening’s entertainment. He had wanted to distract her. He had wanted to offer her some amusement, nothing more.

And he
had
tried to avoid the
ton
by going to a less prestigious theater, but only so he wouldn’t have to fend off questions about her from acquaintances they might run into. That had backfired, of course, due to the play in question having received excellent reviews, which he hadn’t been aware of, which was a sure draw for the theater-frequenting crowd, including those from his social circle. But then, unlike Hale, he wasn’t hoping to marry Larissa, so wasn’t thinking about keeping other men from noticing her.

They had gathered in the parlor after dinner. Larissa had just excused herself to retire. It had been a strenuous day for her, apparently, being admired by so many.

Hale was obviously disappointed to see her go—he had arrived late himself and so hadn’t had a chance to spend much time with her today. That might account for half of his annoyance.

“I believe I’ve already mentioned to you that I have no plans to marry Larissa or anyone else for that matter,” Vincent said.

“You have eyes. The girl is nigh impossible to resist.”

“Nonsense,” Vincent maintained, and even managed to keep a straight face doing so. “She’s beautiful, yes, but I have no desire to complicate my life with a wife.”

“You’ll need to marry sometime.”

“Why? You hadn’t planned to, prior to meeting Larissa. Nor do I require an heir.”

“You’ve a title to bestow,” Jonathan pointed out.

“My title can rot. I have nothing I care to leave to anyone.”

“That ain’t normal, Vincent.”

Vincent shrugged to show how little he cared for normality, though he did add, “Besides, this is redundant. I have not asked the girl to marry me, nor will
I.
As to your concern over my taking her to the theater, did it not occur to you that I might have simply wanted to distract the girl from her worries? Or weren’t you aware that her father’s tardiness has her assuming the worst? And besides, I
thought
I was taking her to a play that wouldn’t be frequented by our crowd. Bloody ill luck that it was such a good performance that word of it has spread.”