The Christmas Wager (12 page)

if it might give up beating simply because it no longer cared to

continue. He felt conspicuous standing by himself, so he

reluctantly approached a young woman who appeared to be

without a dancing partner. Her enthusiastic acceptance made

him wish he hadn‘t—the last thing he needed tonight was a

doe-eyed young thing sighing at him all evening. But she

proved a competent dancer, at least.

As they joined one of the reels, he discovered that Thomas

and Rebecca were part of the same dance, and this was one

where the men joined hands as often as the men and women

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did. There were four couples in the dance, but Andrew was only

vaguely aware of the others. Every time Thomas gripped his

forearm, the bastard looked him directly in the eye, smiling in a

way that reminded Andrew of the easy affection the man had

once shown for him. But Andrew was no longer able to believe

in that smile.

After two dances, he‘d had enough. He excused himself—

much to his young woman‘s too obvious dismay—and stepped

out through the French doors that opened off the ballroom onto

one of the many snow-covered patios. He needed some fresh air,

even if it meant getting a little snow on his dress clothes.

But he soon discovered that he wasn‘t alone. The Earl of

Barrington was standing near the low railing at the edge of the

patio, staring out at the falling snow blanketing the garden. He

turned, startled, as he heard Andrew approach.

―Ah, Mr. Nash,‖ Edward said distantly, ―I hope you‘re

enjoying the party.‖

―Tremendously,‖ Andrew lied.

Edward nodded, then turned back to look at the peaceful

landscape. Andrew thought that was the end of the

conversation, but the earl continued, ―Is Thomas enjoying

himself?‖

It seemed an odd thing to ask. ―I presume so. I haven‘t

spoken to him since the dancing began. Lady Hudson has been

quite monopolizing his time.‖

Edward‘s sigh was barely perceptible, but Andrew caught

it.

There was a long silence, then Andrew said—though what

perverse impulse compelled him to say it, he did not know—―I

think she will make a good wife for your brother.‖

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Edward whirled to face him, and for a moment his face

seemed angry. Had he been standing closer, Andrew wondered

if the earl might have struck him.

―No doubt she would make a good wife for any man,‖

Edward said, attempting to regain his composure. ―But Thomas

doesn‘t deserve her.‖

Andrew could think of no response. The earl closed his

eyes for a moment and took a deep breath as he straightened

his jacket. Calmer now, he said, ―If you‘ll excuse me….‖

He walked past Andrew without waiting for an answer. The

blond watched him enter the house, as a number of puzzling

observations about Edward that he‘d made since they met

began to coalesce in his mind—Edward‘s reluctance to stay at

home; the way he locked himself away when he
was
at home;

his lack of affection for a daughter who looked far too much

like her mother; his reluctance to come out of mourning for

Anne.

These could be the behaviors of a man deeply in love with

a young wife, cruelly torn from him after such a short time,

and now unable to face any reminder of her. But it could also

be the behavior of a man wracked with guilt—guilt over the fact

that he‘d never truly loved his wife.

One thing seemed clear: Edward was in love with Rebecca.

AS THEY danced, Rebecca laughed with joy and smiled sweetly.

But Thomas began to notice something. Every so often, the

young woman appeared to be glancing around, looking for

something.

The musicians took a break after the fifth dance, and

Thomas escorted Lady Hudson to the punch bowl. She smiled

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warmly at him as he handed her a glass of the spicy cider, but

again he had the distinct impression that she was only giving

him half her attention. She seemed to be waiting for something,

and glanced fleetingly around her every now and then. Not

blatantly, but often enough for him to notice.

She was being attentive, and he had no reason to complain,

as he had no real desire to be tied to her for the rest of the

evening, anyway. But it annoyed him, nonetheless. If she would

rather be elsewhere, then far be it for him to detain her.

He noticed that some of the dancers had gone out on the

patios to cool off, so he suggested, ―Shall we step out into the

cool air for a moment?‖

―Yes, by all means,‖ Rebecca said, laughing.

―I shall fetch your shawl.‖

―Oh, no. Please. I will be fine without it for a few moments,

and it‘s all the way upstairs.‖

―Very well.‖

He extended his arm then led her outside.

There were a few others on the patio, cooling off while

enjoying the beauty of the snow falling on silent fields and

forests beyond, but they were able to find a spot where they

could talk in relative privacy.

―Am I to understand, Miss Hudson,‖ Thomas began,

feeling a bit awkward, ―That you have never married?‖

If Rebecca was embarrassed by the question, she showed

no sign. ―You‘re so formal, Thomas,‖ she replied, smiling. ―I

believe we‘ve known each other long enough for you to call me

Rebecca. We were once betrothed, after all.‖

―I remember.‖

―But no, I‘ve never married. Though Father has pushed

more suitors at me than you can imagine.‖

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―Please do not tell me you‘ve been waiting for me to return,

after all these years.‖

Rebecca laughed lightly, and regarded him with clear

affection. ―Oh, Thomas. You are very handsome, and you can

be quite charming. But no, I have not been pining for you. If

the truth be told, I was relieved when you broke off the

engagement.‖

Some perverse part of him felt insulted, even though this

was, in fact, what he had hoped for. Rebecca seemed to sense

this and added, ―I‘m certain you‘ll make someone a fine

husband one day. But let‘s be honest. Neither of us really

wanted to marry, now did we?‖

―No,‖ Thomas replied, returning her smile. ―But I fear our

father‘s may have different ideas on the subject.‖

―Yes,‖ she responded. Her smile faded. ―Oh, Thomas. You

should not have come back. My parents have been fretting

about me becoming a spinster‖—Thomas could hardly imagine

a young woman who looked any less as though she were in

danger of running out of options—―and with your father

bringing pressure to bear, I fear we can expect them to arrange

another marriage for us.‖

Thomas nodded. ―Yes, I agree. I‘m glad to learn, at least,

that you and I are of one accord on the subject.‖

―You are aware, are you not, that your father vowed to cut

you off without a penny should you refuse to wed me?‖

No, Thomas hadn‘t been aware of that. But he was hardly

surprised.

The old conniving serpent.

He noticed that Rebecca had begun to shiver, so he put his

arm around her shoulders and said, ―I believe we should go

inside, before you catch a chill.‖

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Chapter 15

THE party was a rousing success, and by the time the

musicians left, well past midnight, Duchess Barrington was

already effusing about it to the duke and making plans for

another one next year. This was met with unenthusiastic

grunts, which she appeared not to notice.

Susan had long ago been taken up to the nursery by her

nanny, and most people with young children had departed

hours ago as well. Thomas had seen to it that those who hadn‘t

arrived in their own carriages were taken home by the hall‘s

carriages, as it was a fair walk through the snow.

Lady Hudson had retired at a respectable hour, leaving a

few stragglers—die-hards from the local pubs—drinking in

Christmas until Simcox felt it necessary to politely ask them to

leave.

Andrew had managed to avoid dancing for the rest of the

evening by flitting from table to table and chatting with the

guests. He‘d even joined in a game of cards at one table, which

no doubt would have had Duchess Barrington in a flutter, had

she known of it. Still, he could not claim to have enjoyed

himself. His eyes kept straying, almost unbidden, searching

out Thomas in the crowd. And every time he found his friend,

with Lady Hudson hanging off his arm, it felt as if his heart had

been pierced anew by a dagger.

He had wished to retire to his bedroom since the beginning

of the dance, but had endured it for Thomas‘s sake. Even now,

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after all of the guests had finally left, he found himself unable

to break away, lingering by Thomas‘s side as the lord gave the

musicians a crown each and sent them on their way.

What forced him to wait, even though he felt weary to his

bones?

Perhaps he was hoping for the camaraderie he and

Thomas once shared at the club, sitting in one or the other of

their rooms in their nightshirts, talking about philosophy and

politics into the wee hours of the morning. If so, he was being

foolish. That easy companionship had disintegrated, and would

never return.

Yet when he and Thomas returned to their rooms at last,

he found he could not say ―no‖ when his friend asked, ―May I

come in and talk for a while?‖

―It‘s very late, Thomas.‖

―So?‖

―All right.‖

Thomas smiled, looking deliciously sweet and inordinately

delighted. ―I shall return in a moment.‖

Andrew let himself into his room and debated whether he

should undress for bed. Finally, he decided it was ridiculous to

be bound up in his best clothes at this hour, and Thomas

could damned well cope with him in his undershirt. He

stripped down to nothing but the knee-length linen shirt and

seated himself by the fire. One of the staff had built up a warm

blaze, and thankfully there was a full decanter of sherry on the

table.

Thomas entered without knocking, just as the blond was

pouring himself a glass. He was padding about in his

undershirt, as well, his feet bare.

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―Pour me a glass too, please,‖ he said, as he flopped down

in the opposite chair. ―Though I‘d rather you had brandy than

that syrupy stuff.‖

―You seem to have had quite a bit to drink tonight,‖

Andrew observed, though he poured the sherry just the same.

―I‘m not drunk. Were you watching me?‖

It was a loaded question, fraught with peril, but Andrew

was too tired to deny it. ―If you must know, I always watch you

at parties.‖

―Because I‘m devilishly handsome?‖ Thomas quirked an

eyebrow at him playfully.

―Because you drink too much.‖

―Oh, Andrew. How tedious. Am I about to receive a

lecture?‖

Andrew sighed. ―No. I merely endeavor to prevent you from

making a fool of yourself.‖

―Except when you want something,‖ Thomas retorted.

―Such as a holiday in the country.‖

Andrew held his glass up and gazed thoughtfully at the

sweet amber liquid. ―I shall regret that for the rest of my days.‖

Thomas appeared to be about to say something, but he

thought better of it, taking a sip of the sherry instead. There

was a very long silence, while Andrew listened to the crackling

of the fire and wondered just how long they would be able to

endure each other‘s company.

―May I ask you some questions?‖ Thomas asked at last.

Andrew had a feeling that the questions would be

unpleasant. But he was just enough in his cups to answer

them. ―Very well.‖

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Thomas glanced at the fireplace, unable to look his friend

in the eye. After a long pause, he cleared his throat and

downed his sherry. ―How long have you known?‖

―Known what?‖ Andrew asked sharply. ―That I was a

pervert? Or that I was in love with you?‖

Thomas was clearly trying not to look shocked, but he

failed. ―Really, Andrew! Must you say it like that?‖