His Mistletoe Wager. Virginia Heath
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An hour later he found himself striding jauntily up the front steps of the Earl of Upminster’s Grosvenor Square town house, a house which had always been but a stone’s throw from his own, but might have well been on the moon for all the dealings he had had with its occupants, an enormous bunch of flowers in his arms.
He rapped the brass knocker smartly and stood tall, his most charming smile firmly in place and his thick hair freshly combed. The large, imposing butler was a bit of a shock. The fellow looked more suited to prize fighting than domestic service. He positively filled the door frame. ‘Good morning. I have come to call on Lady Elizabeth. Please tell her I am here.’ Hal handed over his calling card, but kept the flowers. He wanted to see her face when she saw those as he had picked the blooms specifically.
‘Lady Elizabeth is not at home, my lord. I shall tell her that you called.’ The heavy front door began to close.
‘Now, now, my good man, we both know how this game is played. It is barely eleven o’clock so I am sure she is home. Nobody goes out this early. Not in Mayfair.’ Unless they were on the hunt for the perfect bunch of flowers to give to a guarded yet intriguing occupant of this very house. Hal had had to travel to Covent Garden directly after breakfast for the cream roses. ‘Inform Lady Elizabeth that I intend to remain rooted to this front step until she grants me an audience.’
The giant butler sighed. ‘Suit yourself, sir, although I must warn you, it will be a waste of your time. Lady Elizabeth is genuinely not at home this morning.’ The door went to close again and Hal began to suspect that the man might be telling the truth.
‘Can you tell me where she is then?’
‘I am afraid not, my lord.’
‘Will she be back this afternoon?’
‘Yes, my lord. However, she is never at home in the afternoons, if you get my meaning.’ The butler stared impassively. ‘Nor will she be at home tomorrow morning as she is never at home in the mornings either.’
‘Then you admit that she is, as I suspect, currently at home as we speak, yet resolutely not at home to all callers regardless as to who they might happen to be.’
‘Not at all, my lord. Lady Elizabeth is genuinely not at home on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, and not at home any other time.’
This clearly called for a different tactic. ‘Can I ask what your name is?’
‘You can, my lord. I am Stevens, his lordship’s butler.’
‘You are a vexing fellow, Stevens.’
‘I do try, my lord.’
Hal dipped his hand into his pocket and fished out the silver crown he always kept there for emergencies. Covertly, beneath the enormous bouquet he held, Hal flashed the coin at the butler. ‘Be a good chap and tell Lady Elizabeth I am here to see her.’
Stevens glanced down at the coin, scowled and promptly closed the door. Hal couldn’t help admiring him for it. He liked a man who could not be bribed, it said a great deal about his character. But not all men were as moral, so he wandered around to the mews instead.
However, it soon became apparent that the Earl of Upminster had possibly the most moral staff in Mayfair. With his bribes increasing from a crown to a guinea to a colossal five pounds, he was similarly turned down by the stable boys, a footman and scullery maid who had been sent out to buy beeswax. In fact, their lips were sealed tighter than Stevens’s, who had at least informed Hal she was genuinely out and would be back this afternoon—although not for him.
That left him with a bit of a quandary. He was too tenacious to give up, but too lazy to stand guard in the square until she came home. Living less than a sedate ten-minute walk away he did not have to. This afternoon suggested after midday and later this afternoon suggested after one. He would stand guard from one, bouquet in hand, and meet her when she arrived home. She could hardly tell him she was not at home when facing him, could she?
* * *
The Upminster carriage turned in to the square a little past two to Hal’s enormous relief. Over an hour of sentry duty in December had rendered his feet and fingers frozen solid, but the expensive flowers thankfully still looked impressive as he walked towards the holly-wreathed front door to greet her.
However, the carriage did not slow and sped past him, its elusive occupant hidden from his view by the tightly drawn curtains, and turned down towards the mews. Hal quickly followed, rounding the corner just in time to see the impressively tall, wooden rear gates slam shut. Frustrated, he dashed back to the front door and knocked again.
After an age, Stevens opened it.
‘I know she is at home Stevens, I just saw the carriage return. Kindly tell her I am here.’
‘Lady Elizabeth has been made aware of your presence, my lord, and of the fact you have been loitering outside for most of the day. She has asked me to convey a message and was most particular it was issued verbatim.’ For effect, he coughed gently, then scowled and bellowed, ‘Go away, Redbridge! You are as welcome as a dog with fleas.’
‘She said that?’
‘She did, my lord. And in that exact tone.’
‘Ah.’ Seeing as his only option was to try and overpower the butler, something which he was not entirely certain he could do and which would ruin the line of Hal’s coat significantly, he had no choice but to admit defeat. ‘Can you see that Lady Elizabeth gets these, Stevens.’ He thrust the flowers forward. ‘And as you are so good at delivering messages verbatim, would you kindly tell her exactly this. My tempting invitation still stands.’ He winked at the giant saucily and watched the big man’s eyes widen. ‘Please make sure you wink, Stevens, as that is part of the message, too. Good day to you. It has been a pleasure.’
The following evening, within half an hour of their arrival at the Benfleet soirée, Lizzie’s resolve not to argue with her father lifted surprisingly swiftly and was soon replaced with raging, clawing anger. Because this time, her dear, meddling papa had gone too far.
‘I have taken the liberty of filling your dance card for you.’
He had said this so blithely, in the midst of a crowd, which made calling him on it impossible. He had also made sure her partner for the next dance was stood right next to him as well, effectively trapping her because the calculated old politician knew full well she would rather not cause a scene. The ‘lucky’ gentleman, a slightly rotund fellow with no discernible chin, appeared terrified as he held out his hand, making it obvious to one and all he had been press-ganged into service and was there only on sufferance. She was tempted to feel sorry for him.
With gritted teeth, she allowed him to lead her to the dance floor, all the while shooting daggers at her father. Once this dance was done, they would be having words, and when those words were said she fully intended to go home.
* * *
However, being skilled in the art of diplomacy, her dear papa had already anticipated her intent and had successfully managed to render himself invisible. For over an hour she danced stiffly with man after man, trying to catch a glimpse of him, her mood deteriorating significantly every time he failed to materialise. To make matters worse, he had apparently found the dullest men in the whole of Christendom to saddle her with. All so crushingly safe and dependable they blended into the wallpaper. All depressingly in want of a wife with a substantial dowry. When the ancient Earl of Ockendon came to claim her, Lizzie pretended to need to visit the retiring room, fled on to the terrace and shivered behind a statue. Freezing to death was infinitely preferable to dancing with him.
‘Isn’t it a little cold to be stood out here without a shawl?’
Lizzie spun around and saw the Earl of Redbridge lounging against the balustrade, smiling smugly and looking effortlessly gorgeous. ‘Where