fun, as you call it, has barely begun. Do you know what your brother attempted this morning?’
‘Whatever it was, he has managed to annoy Elise no end.’
‘Annoy her?’ Tremaine’s angry face peered from behind the couch. ‘When I left them they were as happy as lovebirds. It seems she was not bothered by the sight of her husband threatening me with an axe, or attempting to freeze me to death. And I have ruined my best pair of shoes by walking through the snow. My valet is beyond consolation.’
‘As I have told you before, Tremaine, Harry means you no real harm. He is only teasing you because seeing you in a foul temper amuses him. My brother thinks that you have a lack of Christmas spirit, and I’m afraid I must agree with him.’
Nicholas punched the couch cushions in disgust. ‘I do not deny the fact. And, since Harry has sufficient spirit for two men, he pretends that he wishes to share it with me.’
She looked down at the dripping mistletoe in her hand, gave it another shake to remove the tea, and reached for the doorframe again. ‘If you would be so kind as to take it, then you could save some of us a world of effort. I can be every bit as persistent as my brother, if you give me reason. And if you try to avoid my scheduled activities, I will find a way to force your participation in them. It would be easier for both of us if you could at least pretend to enjoy them.’
He stood and walked slowly towards her. ‘I will participate, Miss Morley. But you far overstep the bounds of our limited acquaintance if you think you can make me enjoy the fact. I am a proper gentleman of the ton. And as such I live by certain rules. Conversation should flow freely, but truth should be kept to an absolute minimum. In the Christmas season truth runs as freely as wine.’ He made a sour face. ‘But the wine is endlessly seasoned with cloves. And therefore undrinkable.’
‘So you have an aversion to truth? And cloves? I can do little about the cloves, for they are all-pervasive, but I suppose spontaneous honesty is reason enough to avoid the holiday. Harry and Elise are proving that even if the truth is spoken it is oft misinterpreted. And then there is the very devil to pay. He has finally admitted that he is angry with her.’ Rosalind looked heavenward for understanding. ‘And yet, she is surprised.’
Tremaine shook his head in pity. ‘He’d have been better to hold his tongue. When it comes to women, if you admit to nothing you will have less to apologise for later.’
‘I find the fault is with her. One should never ask a man to reveal the contents of his mind if one does not already know what they are.’ Rosalind smiled. ‘But until they have fought they cannot make up. Some progress has been made. And the game I have chosen for tonight will be perfect to rejoin the two of them. They will be back in each other’s arms and laughing together in a matter of minutes. I suspect, once that has happened, the temptation will be great to stay where they are. But you must help fill out the room so that it doesn’t look too suspicious.’ She looked him up and down. ‘You need do nothing more strenuous than take up space. In less than an hour you will be back on that couch, and none the worse for it.’ She tapped the mistletoe against her teacup, awaiting his response.
He yawned, as though to prove that taking up space was near the limit of his endurance. And then he said, ‘How can I resist you when you put it so appealingly? Here, now. Will you stop fooling with that accursed thing.’ Her tapping had turned into a nervous rattling of china, and with surprising alacrity he snatched the kissing ball out of her hand and put it in place on the hook, above her head. And then he stood perfectly still, totally alert, looking down at her. His mouth turned into a curious smile.
She felt the bump as her back met the doorframe, for she’d scrambled out of reach of his arm without even realising it.
And then he laughed. ‘You are much more cautious than you once were.’
‘And you are no less prone to flirt. But, since I know you wish to return to London alone, I see no point in indulging you.’ She took another step, which brought her back into the hall and well out of harm’s way. ‘I will expect to see you in the drawing room this evening, Tremaine. And we will see if you are still so interested in fun and games when my brother is present to chaperone me.’
After a hearty Christmas Eve dinner, Harry gathered the guests in the drawing room for the lighting of the Yule Log. Elise was pleased to see that the trunk of the ash they had chosen the previous year was large enough to fill the fireplace from end to end.
Rosalind had spent a good portion of the afternoon draping it with garlands of holly and ivy, tied on with red bows, until it was almost too pretty to burn. And she had sighed dramatically as she directed the servants to put it on the grate.
Harry produced a charred piece of last year’s log and doused it liberally with brandy before thrusting it into the embers and watching it flare to life.
The crowd gave an appreciative ‘Ahh’ and several people stepped closer to offer toasts.
When Harry felt ceremony had been properly served, he touched the old log to the new and held it until the decorations upon the new log caught. Then he threw his torch into the fireplace.
‘There you are, my friends. The Yule Log. May it burn long and joyfully. If you have any regrets of the previous year, now is your chance to throw them upon the fire and start anew.’ He looked significantly at Elise as he reached into a basket of kindling and tossed a handful of pine needles upon the fire, watching them flare.
Elise stared at the basket of needles, and at the crowd around them. Did he mean her to do penance, in front of all these people? But what good would it do to stand in front of the guests and wordlessly declare herself a failure as a wife? Even if she could prove herself sorry for her indiscretion with Nicholas, there was so much she could not change. Without a miracle, next year was likely to be as barren as this had been.
When she did nothing, he gave a moment’s thought and added a second handful of needles to the fire. Then he smiled, changing easily back into the jovial host. ‘Come, everybody-wassail and mince pies.’ He made a few steps in the direction of the refreshment table, until he was sure that the guests were well on their way, then turned back to face Elise on the opposite side of the fire.
‘Elise. A word, please, in the study.’ Harry beckoned to her to follow him and left the drawing room, walking down the corridor and away from the crowd. His smile was as pleasant as it had always been, with none of the rancour it had held that morning. But his tone was that of a husband who took it for granted that a command would be obeyed.
It rankled her to see him falling right back into the pattern of the last five years. Even though she no longer lived with him, he was acting as though there was nothing strange between them, and ordering her from room to room while pretending that she was free as a bird and could do as she liked.
She hesitated. If she wished to come home, then she must learn not to fight him over little things. But if he did not want her back, then what was the point of obeying? At last she sighed, and nodded, and followed him to the study, letting him shut the door behind her.
He turned and faced her, and he must have seen the anger growing in her-and the shame. For a moment he seemed at a loss for words. He held his hands out in front of him and opened his mouth. Then closed it again, and put his hands behind his back, pensive. At last he said, ‘I notice that you did not throw anything onto the fire tonight. Am I to take it that you have no regrets?’
‘Of course I have regrets,’ she said. ‘But do you think a handful of burned pine needles and dead silence is a sufficient apology?’
He shrugged. ‘Sometimes, when one does not know what to say, it is better to keep silent.’
‘But not always.’ She looked earnestly at him. ‘It is possible, when one cares deeply about another person, to forgive harsh words said in the heat of the moment.’
He frowned and stared at the ground. ‘But not always.’ He dipped a hand in to his pocket, removing a jewellery box. ‘I have your Christmas gift.’ He offered it to her.
‘Harry…’ And now she was at a loss for words, but her mind was crying,
He gave her another empty smile. ‘Gifts rarely are. It defeats the point, when one has ample means but denies necessities to someone all year, to mete them out at Christmas, pretending that they are gifts. That is miserliness in the guise of generosity.’
She pushed the box back to him. ‘I mean that it was not necessary for you to buy me a present. I do not wish it.’
‘How do you know? You do not know what is inside.’ He held it out to her again.
