Christine Merrill - The Mistletoe Wager

To find it dark and empty. The candles had not been lit. The fire was banked low in the grate. And the bed was cold and still neatly made.

She hesitated again, and then went to it, climbing in and crawling beneath the covers to wait for Harry. The night wore on, and the linen was cold against her skin. So she pulled her wrapper tight around her, curled into a ball and slept, shivering through fitful dreams.

She awoke at dawn, still alone.

The next day, Rosalind felt even worse than she had after storming off to her room. She’d spent the night staring up at the ceiling, thinking of all the things that had gone wrong and all the ways the people in her life had failed her. And after a few fitful hours of sleep she had woken to find that her problems were not just a bad dream. The house was just as she’d remembered it: full of people she did not want to see ever again, and manned by servants who were just as slow and disobedient as ever. But, since it was Boxing Day, she was obliged to thank them for the fact, and respond to the lack of service with light duties and generosity.

After a cold breakfast she went down to the library, to take it all out on Tremaine. He was lounging in his usual place by the fire, eyes closed and feet up, as though the struggle of tying his own cravat had caused him to collapse in exhaustion.

She pushed his boots from their place of elevated comfort. When they hit the carpet she glared down and kicked them for good measure. ‘Get up this instant. You are required in the drawing room.’

He sighed. ‘For what possible reason could you need me? Are there not enough drunken fools available to bend to your will? I swear, I still have the blue devils from last night.’

So the tenderness while they had danced was to be explained by an excess of champagne? She said, in a voice that she hoped was painfully loud, ‘Then it is about time you learned moderation. A headache is no more than you deserve. Now, get up.’

He draped an elegant hand over his brow. ‘Do you show such cruelty to all your guests, Miss Morley? Or do you reserve it especially for me? If I were in my right mind I’d return to London immediately.’

‘Do not think you can fool me with idle threats. The roads have been clear for several days, but you are still lying about on this couch, insisting that you will leave at any moment. If you mean to go, then stand up and do it.’

‘Very well, then. I admit it. I intend to stay for the duration of this farce, until I can see Elise safely back into the arms of her loving husband.’

She glared down at him. ‘As always, I cannot fault you for your devotion to Elise. Let us hope, once she is settled and you are long gone from this place, that you can find some other woman who is worthy of such unwavering affection. But for now you will have to content yourself with my company, and I need your help.’

He gave an elaborate sigh, to prove that her words had little effect upon him. ‘Very well. I am your humble servant, Miss Morley. What do you require of me now?’

‘Elise is out of temper with Harry again. She looks as if she has not slept a wink. Harry is little better. He appeared at breakfast still in his evening clothes, smelling of brandy.’

‘And what am I to do with that? Make possets and sing lullabies?’

Rosalind smothered the desire to kick him again, and to keep kicking him until she had made her feelings known. She took a deep breath and said, ‘We are having charades. Elise adores the game, and I’m sure she will play to show the world that nothing is wrong. Harry means to remain in whatever room has the punch bowl, so he is easily controlled. I have prepared clues to remind them of the happiness that is married bliss. The game will either leave them in the mood for reconciliation or murder. At this point I do not really care which. Either would solve my problem.’

‘And what do I have to do with all of this?’

She narrowed her eyes. ‘You need merely be as you are-incorrigible, irritable and unbearable. Harry cannot help but shine by comparison.’

He sat up and glared back at her. ‘You have no idea what it means to know of your confidence in me. You have decided I’m unbearable, have you?’

She lifted her chin and said, with all honesty, ‘Yes. I have.’

‘I was dragged here against my better judgement. For reasons that have nothing to do with the sincere celebration of the holiday and everything to do with schemes concocted by you and your brother. I am forced to be the bad example so that everyone else may shine. And yet you find fault with my behaviour?’ He had gone white around the lips, and was looking at her with a curious, hard expression, almost as though she had hurt his non-existent feelings.

She shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, and for a moment she was tempted to retreat. But then her anger at him got the better of her, and she retorted, ‘You talk as though you are the injured party in all this. I am sorry, Nicholas, but you are not. In my experience, you are just as I have described you. You are wilful, self-serving, and have no thought to the comfort of anyone but yourself. Because of this, you are finally getting what you deserve.’

He stood up and came near to her. When he spoke, his voice was so soft that only she could hear it. ‘You have a very limited experience where it concerns me.’

She shook her head. ‘I have more than enough.’

He stared at her for a long moment, as though there was something he wished to say. Or perhaps he was awaiting a sign from her.

She glared all the harder, and deepened her frown.

At last, he said, ‘In your eyes I will always be a monster who ruined you and then abandoned you. Very well, then. Let us play-act. And I shall be the villain, since you have cast the parts.’

He stepped past her and stalked to the door. On his way he stopped, looked down at the floor, and scooped up the tattered ball of mistletoe, which was out of place again. Then he turned back, glared at her, and threw the thing into the library fire.

Nick preceded Rosalind into the drawing room and took a place at the back of the room, arms folded. The little chit had all but told him that he was repellent to her, and now expected him to do her bidding like a common lackey. Rosalind Morley had never been anything but trouble to him from the first moment he had laid eyes on her-cutting up his peace, altering his plans, and disappearing in body but remaining stuck in his mind like a burr, a constant irritant to his comfort. He had wondered on occasion what had become of her after they had first parted. In moments of weakness he had even thought about enquiring after her, before common sense had regained the upper hand. If a single dance with her had turned into his life’s most fateful kiss, there was no telling what a casual meeting or a friendly letter might become.

And his fears had proved true. For after only a few days in her company his life had been turned upside down. There she stood at the front of the room, with a false smile on her face, acting for all the world as if she did not even notice him. Which was a total falsehood. He could feel when they were together that she was attracted to him, and he had a good mind to go up there and drag her back to the library, to give her a demonstration of the flaws in his character. No matter what she might claim, once the door was closed it would take only a few moments to prove that her character was no better than his. And afterwards he would have her out of his system and could go back to London in peace.

At the front of the room, Rosalind continued to explain the rules in an excessively cheerful voice that gave the lie to everything he had just seen. ‘First we must choose who is to guess and who is to help with the clues.’ She scanned the crowd. ‘I must stay here, since I already know the answer, but I will need two helpers.’

Elise came to her side immediately, and looked hopefully across the room to Harry.

Harry began to rise unsteadily from his chair. Very well, the two would play nicely together, just as Rosalind wished. But that did not mean that Nick had to waste his time watching over them. He began a subtle retreat towards the door, hoping that Rosalind had forgotten her original plan after his outburst in the library.

But she was ignoring Harry, and had turned her attention to the doorway. ‘Mr Tremaine. You as well, I think.’

So she still meant to involve him in this? He turned back into the room and saw the dark look on Harry’s face before the man collapsed back into his seat with an easy and devious smile. Whatever Rosalind had planned, the results were not likely to be as she expected. Nick strode to the front of the room, conscious of all eyes upon him.

‘The rules are simple,’ Rosalind announced to the group gathered before her. ‘I have a riddle, and the answer is a three-syllable word. If you cannot guess the word from the riddle, we will act out the parts to help you. Here is the riddle:

Vows are spoken, True love’s token, Can’t be broken.’

She passed a folded piece of paper to Elise, and then to Tremaine.

Elise frowned.

Nick read it, then stared at Rosalind. ‘This is a four-syllable word. Not three.’

She gritted her teeth. ‘It does not matter.’

‘I think it does if you mean people to guess the answer.’

She glared at him. ‘And if I do not care for them to guess too quickly,’ she whispered, so that Elise could not hear, ‘it does not matter at all.’

She had that wild look in her eye again, that she normally used on mistletoe. And she was turning it on him. He glared back at her. ‘You are right, it does not matter.’

‘Here, Elise,’ Rosalind said, smiling too brightly. ‘You must take the first clue.’