A Yuletide Invitation: The Mistletoe Wager / The Harlot's Daughter. Christine Merrill
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time to pass and nature to take its course …’
‘Spoken as a true city-dweller, Tremaine. If you had ever taken the time to observe nature, you would have found that it moves with incredible slowness. The majestic glaciers are called to mind. So deliberate as to show no movement at all. And as cold as that idea.’
He shook his head. ‘Spoken by someone who has never seen the ruins of Pompeii. They are a far better example of what happens when natural passions are allowed their sway. Death and destruction for all who stand in the way. Which is why I prefer to keep my distance.’
‘You have seen them?’ she asked eagerly.
‘Harry and Elise? Of course. And I suspect that, although they do not show it outright—’
‘No. The ruins of Pompeii.’
He stopped, confused by the sudden turn in the conversation. ‘Of course. I took the Grand Tour. It is not so unusual.’
She leaned forward on the couch. ‘Were they as amazing as some have said?’
‘Well, yes. I suppose. I did not give it much thought at the time.’
She groaned in frustration. ‘I have spent my whole life sequestered in the country, drawing the same watercolours of the same spring flowers, year after year. And you have seen the world. But you did not think on it.’
‘You are sequestered in the country because you cannot be trusted out of sight of home,’ he snapped.
‘Because of one mistake. With you.’ She pointed a finger. ‘But I notice you are to be trusted to go wherever you like.’
‘That is because I am a man. You are a girl. It is an entirely different thing.’
‘Please cease referring to me as a girl. I am fully grown, and have been for some time.’ She glared up at him. ‘My diminutive stature has nothing to do with youth, and should not render me less than worthy—despite what Elise might have to say on the subject of what constitutes a good match.’
He was staring at her with a dazed expression. ‘Indeed. You are quite tall enough, I am sure. And what does Elise have to do with it?’
‘She was speaking on the subject of her marriage to Harry,’ Rosalind admitted. ‘I still find it very hard to understand, but she seemed to think it important that Harry was tall.’
Tremaine furrowed his brow, and took another sip from his cup. ‘That makes no sense. He is no taller than I, certainly. Perhaps even a little shorter.’
‘But just right in the eyes of Elise, I assure you. She made a point of assuring me that physically he is a magnificent specimen, and that they are very well suited.’
Tremaine choked on his tea.
‘Is something the matter?’
‘Not at all. It is just I think you have misunderstood her.’
‘Whatever else could she mean?’
He was looking at her in a most unusual way. ‘Perhaps at another time we can discuss that matter in more detail. But for now, do not concern yourself with it. I suspect it means that there are parts of married life that she is eager to resume. And that I have brought her home not a moment too soon. We need not concern ourselves with Harry’s good qualities. If we wish success, we would be better served to improve on his deficiencies. And, much as I dislike the risks involved, we must do what is necessary to make him reclaim his wife’s affection.’
Rosalind smiled at his use of the word ‘we’. Perhaps they were working towards the same end, after all. ‘My thoughts exactly.’
He returned her smile. ‘Well, then. What does she want from him that we can help her achieve?’
‘I know from experience that Harry can be the most frustrating of men.’ She frowned. ‘If he does not wish you to know, it is very hard to divine what it is that he is thinking. Hence our current predicament. I have no doubt that he adores Elise. But she cannot see it, even after all these years.’
Tremaine frowned in return. ‘Can she not see what is obvious to the rest of us?’
‘I think she wishes him to be more demonstrative.’
‘Which will be damned difficult, you will pardon the expression, with her hanging upon my arm. If he has never made any attempt to dislodge her from it, I fail to see what I could do to change things.’
She patted him on the arm in question. ‘You have hit on the problem exactly. She wishes him to do something about you.’
Tremaine ran a hand over his brow. ‘And I would rather he did not. Is there anything else?’
‘She wishes he would talk to her so that she could better understand him.’
He furrowed his brow. ‘They have passed the last five years in silence? That cannot be. I would swear that I have heard him utter words in her presence. Is it a difficulty of language? For I have found Elise’s comprehension of English to be almost flawless.’
Rosalind closed her eyes for a moment, attempting to gather strength. ‘She wishes him to speak about important matters.’
‘Matters of state, perhaps? How odd. She has shown no interest in them when speaking to me.’
Rosalind burst forth in impatience. ‘This has nothing to do with English lessons or a sudden interest in politics, Tremaine. Elise wishes Harry to speak openly about matters that are important to her.’
‘Oh.’ He slumped in defeat. ‘Then it is quite hopeless. For he would have no idea what that would be. The minds of women are a depth that we gentlemen have not been able to plumb, I’m afraid.’
‘Don’t be an idiot,’ she snapped. ‘There is nothing so terribly difficult to understand about women, if you make an effort. We two are conversing well enough, aren’t we? You do not require the assistance of a guide to understand me?’
He paused for a moment and answered politely, ‘Of course not. But you are more direct in your communication than Elise.’
She smiled graciously, preparing to blush and accept the compliment.
Then he said, ‘Almost masculine.’ He paused again. ‘And why do you persist in calling me just Tremaine, and not Mister? If you prefer, you may call me Nicholas.’
‘I do not.’ She stood up and moved away from him. ‘Nor do I think your behaviour proves you worthy of an honorific. Tremaine will do. And you may continue to call me Miss Morley. And now that we have got that out of the way, are we in agreement about the matter of Elise and Harry? Will you help me?’
‘Since it is likely to be the only way you will allow me any peace? Yes, I will help you, Miss Morley. Now, go about your business and let me return to my nap.’
CHAPTER NINE
HARRY sighed in satisfaction as he climbed the stairs towards his bed. The day had gone well enough, he supposed. The house had buzzed with activity. Wherever he went he had found people playing at cards or games, eating, drinking and merrymaking, with Rosalind presiding over all with an air of hospitable exasperation. The only faces that had seemed to be absent from the mix were those of Tremaine and his wife.
The thought troubled him, for he suspected that they might be together, wherever they were, enjoying each other’s company. And it would be too obvious of him to pound upon his wife’s door and admit that he wished to know if she was alone.
He almost sighed in relief as he saw her in the window seat at the top of the stairs. She was just where she might have been if there had been no trouble between them, sitting in her favourite place and looking out onto the snow falling into the moonlit park below.
He stepped up beside her, speaking quietly so as not to disturb her mood. ‘Beautiful, is it not?’
‘Yes.’