A Yuletide Invitation: The Mistletoe Wager / The Harlot's Daughter. Christine Merrill

Her father swore it mattered not to him who she might choose, and that if she wouldn’t have me then he would drag her back home by her hair and give her to the first man willing to take her off his hands.

      ‘When I entered, and she introduced me, I assumed he would show some restraint in his words. But he announced to me that if the silly girl did not take her first offer she must take mine, whether she wanted it or no. He complained that they had spent a small fortune in launching her at what parties were available to them in the winter. They had no wish to do it again in spring, when she might be shown to her best advantage and have a variety of suitors. She stood mutely at his side, accepting the abuse as though it were a normal part of her life.’

      Harry clenched his fists at the memory, even after several years. ‘If I was not convinced beforehand that she needed me I knew it then. How did they expect her to find a husband with the season still months away? My offer was most fortuitous.’ He remembered the resignation with which she had accepted him, and the way she had struggled to look happy as he took her hand. ‘And she has been most grateful.’

      ‘Then why is she not living here with you, instead of at Tremaine’s side in London?’

      ‘While it was easy enough for her to break the engagement, it has been much harder to tell her heart that the decision was a wise one. And at such times as there is trouble between us, she cannot help but turn to him and wonder if she made a mistake.’ He sighed. But he made sure that when he spoke again it was with optimism. ‘But, since I can count on Tremaine to be Tremaine, if she thinks to stray, she always returns to me, sadder but wiser.’

      ‘Is he really so bad, then?’

      He made note of the curious look in Rosalind’s eyes as she asked the question, as though she was both longing for the answer and dreading it.

      ‘He is a man. No better or worse than any other. I imagine he is capable of love if the right woman demands it of him.’

      A trick of the morning light seemed to change his sister’s expression from despair to hope and back again. So he said, ‘But Elise is not that woman and never has been. He was unfaithful to her, you know.’

      ‘Perhaps the thing that parted them was an aberration. Things might be different should they try again.’ Rosalind’s voice was small, and the prospect seemed to give her no happiness.

      He gave her a stern look. ‘I’m sure they would be happy to know that their rekindled love has your support. But I find it less than encouraging.’

      ‘Oh.’ She seemed to remember that her behaviour was of no comfort to him, and said, ‘But I am sure she could be equally happy with you, Harry.’

      ‘Equally?’ That was the assessment he had been afraid of.

      Rosalind hurried to correct herself. ‘I meant to say much happier.’

      ‘I am sure you did. But I wonder what Elise would say, given the chance to compare? Until recently I could not enquire. For at the first sign of trouble, she rushed off to London to be with Nicholas Tremaine.’

      Rosalind eyed him critically. ‘And you sat at home, waiting for her to come to her senses?’

      For a moment he felt older than his years. Then he pulled himself together and said, ‘Yes. And it was foolish of me. For I knew how stubborn she could be. It is now far too late to say the things I should have said on that first day that might have brought her home. She has ceased arguing with me and begun to talk of a permanent legal parting. But despite what I should have done, or what she may think she wants, I cannot find it in my heart to let her go. There will be no offer of divorce from me, even if Tremaine can remain stalwart in his hatred of Christmas.’ He frowned. ‘Which he shows no sign of doing.’

      He cast her a sidelong glance. ‘This morning he seemed to think he could lose easily and escape back to London. But it does not suit my plans to let him go so soon. If there is any way that you can be of help in the matter …’

      Rosalind straightened her back and looked for all the word like a small bird ruffling its feathers in offended dignity. ‘Is that why you invited him here while I am hostess? Because if you are implying that I should romance the man in some way, flirt, preen …’

      He found it interesting that she should leap to that conclusion, and filed it away for further reference. ‘On the contrary. I mean to make Christmas as miserable an experience for him as possible, and keep him in poor humour until Elise is quite out of patience with him. I was thinking something much more along the lines of an extra measure of brandy slipped into his glass of mulled wine. Enough so that by the end of the evening his mind is clouded. While good humour may come easy at first, foul temper will follow close on its heels in the morning. But the thought of you forced into the man’s company as some sort of decoy?’ He shook his head and smiled. ‘No, that would never do. To see my only sister attached to such a wastrel would not do at all.’ He watched for her reaction.

      ‘Half-sister,’ she answered absently.

      He pretended to ignore her response. ‘No, I think he should have more brandy than the average. I doubt laudanum would achieve the desired effect.’

      ‘Laudanum?’ She stared at him in surprise. ‘Are you seriously suggesting that I drug one of your guests?’

      ‘Only Tremaine, dear. It hardly counts. And it needn’t be drugs. If you can think of a better way to keep him off balance …’

      ‘But, Harry, that is—’ she struggled for words ‘—surprisingly dishonourable of you.’

      ‘Then, little one, you are easily surprised. You did not think I had invited the man down here to help him in stealing my wife? I am afraid you will find that I have very little honour on that particular subject. So I did not follow Elise to town to compete for her affections? What point would there have been? Look at the man. More town bronze than the statues at Westminster. He has so much polish I swear I could shave in the reflection. I did not wish to go to London and challenge the man, for I doubt I could compare with him there.’

      Harry rubbed his hands together. ‘But now we are on my home turf. He knows nothing about country living, or the true likes and dislikes of my wife. And he has no taste at all for the sort of simple Christmas diversions that bring her the most joy. It will take no time at all for him to wrongfoot himself in her eyes, and his disgrace will require very little help from me. When that happens I will be here to pick up the pieces and offer myself as an alternative, just as I did before. If you wish to help me in the matter of persuading Elise to return home, then I wish to hear no more talk of bringing her to heel. Help me by helping Tremaine to make an ass of himself. I will see to Elise, and things will be quite back to normal by Twelfth Night.’

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      ROSALIND left her brother and his mad plans alone in the entry hall. If what he was saying was true, then their marriage must have been as frustrating as Elise had claimed. The man had no clue what was wrong or how to fix things. And, worse yet, he refused to stand up to his wife, no matter how much she might wish for it.

      This would be more difficult than she’d thought.

      As she walked past the door to the library she paused, noticing the mistletoe ball from the doorway had fallen to the floor. She stared down at it in dismay. That was the problem with bringing live things into the house in such cold weather. There was always something wilting, dying or shedding leaves. And even with the help of the servants, she was hard pressed to keep pace with the decay. She shook the tiny clump of leaves and berries, patting it back into shape and re-tying the ribbon that held it together. Then she looked up at the hook at the top of the doorframe. It was hardly worth calling a servant, for to fix the thing back in place would be the work of a moment.

      She reached up, her fingers just brushing the lintel, and glanced across the room at a chair. She considered dragging it into place as a step, and then rejected the idea as too much work. The hook was nearly in reach, and if she held the thing by its bottom leaves and stretched a bit she could manage to get it back into place, where it belonged.