Mistletoe and Mayhem: A Regency Holiday Romance Anthology, page 51
"That is easily managed."
She piled his plate with everything imaginable, handing it to him when he returned with a bottle of claret. He set the wine on the table, along with two glasses.
"I did not think I had put that much on the tray," he commented. "Clearly you mean to see that I am well fortified."
She gave him a wink. "And plied with drink."
He took the plate and nestled next to her on the settee. "Now you shall have to pour the wine for us."
She did, and they sipped it, nibbling on the food in a companionable silence. She did not usually care for quiet, afraid it signaled disinterest, as it had happened that way in her marriage. Yet she was surprisingly satisfied in that particular moment.
Was it possible things could be different?
Desmond leaned toward her and motioned for her to open her mouth. "Is that not the best pickle you have ever tasted?"
Her face wrinkled up at the sour taste. "I am not usually enamored of them."
He chuckled, handing her a roll. She tore off a piece and chewed it. When she had swallowed, he murmured, "I must note that pickles are not to be added to the tray next time."
"Are you memorizing which foods I like and dislike?"
He nodded, taking another sip of wine. "I want to know all of your likes and dislikes." He winked. "How else can I sate every one of your desires?"
"I like your strategy. I must know all of yours, as well."
"I shall start then. I prefer beefsteak to salmon, and spring peas to carrots, though what I find most enjoyable is that sound you made when you were about to come apart in my arms. Twice."
She laughed. "I should be blushing at your outrageousness, but I find myself wanting to compete with it."
"Just as I had hoped."
Lorelei grinned, pondering how she should respond. "I prefer salmon to beefsteak, and carrots are superior to spring peas." She took a long sip of wine, relishing his visible impatience. "And when I was imagining kissing you, I did not let my thoughts stop there."
His eyebrows flew upwards. "And?"
"My imagination was paltry in comparison. Though just to be sure, perhaps later—"
"Of course. I quite agree we should see how they compare." He took a bit of cheese and chewed it thoughtfully. "What is it like to be married?"
Lorelei nearly choked on her wine at the unexpected question. She could see that he was quite earnest, however. She was not certain she wished to spend their time together with such a weighty subject, so she quipped, "That was definitely much better in my imagination."
"Truly? Why was that?" When she did not reply, he was instantly apologetic. "I did not mean to pry. I have spent my entire life having my parents' marriage held up as the paragon of a love story. It seems mythically unattainable at times, so I often wonder what others experience when they plight their troth."
Lorelei was fascinated by his answer. It made her confess more than she normally would have. "I wonder if my lack of wedded bliss was due to my expectations of a love story such as you describe."
"I hope you were not miserable."
"No, it was never anything but bland. It almost seemed that once I had pledged my future to him, my husband lost interest." She laughed at the comical look of shock on Desmond's face. "It is true. Granted, it took a few months, but then we settled into this routine of pleasantly describing our plans for the day, and once we carried them out, pleasantly describing them to each other at dinner."
Desmond looked completely horrified. "I cannot imagine wasting my time with you in such a fashion."
His words seemed so genuine that it was tempting to let herself believe he might always feel that way. But experience had taught her well, and she refused to learn that painful lesson twice.
It was best to enjoy the brief time with Desmond she had allotted herself, and, since it was speeding along, there was not a moment to squander. Yet she could not permit him to believe there was any future for this affair.
"Desire must come to an end, I suppose. And when it does…" She shrugged.
"Perhaps there are people who suffer from a deficiency of desire, and you had the misfortune of encountering one of them."
"A deficiency of desire?" she laughed. "You make it seem as though it is similar to a lack of nutrients."
"It is." He gave her a kiss. "And then there are those, you and I in particular, who have so much desire, the ancients decreed the hanging of ivy in a vain attempt to cure our affliction."
"You may have a point," she said. "I think a demonstration might prove useful, to persuade me completely about this endless supply of desire you believe in."
"I am happy to oblige. I must set the scene, to ensure you cannot contest the results at a later date." He removed the shirt of his she had been wearing, exposing her completely to his view. "Such a beautiful display. I nearly forgot what it is I am meant to demonstrate."
She leaned in and gave him a slow, deep kiss, treasuring how quickly he responded. "I have an idea. Would you like to see what I had imagined, when I thought of us like this?"
Desmond clasped a peacefully sleeping Lorelei in his arms. The settee was not built to hold two adults lying side by side, though he wished it had been. Still, they had managed to make it work in their favor earlier, when she had sat atop him, facing the fireplace instead of him. And he had not been able to refuse the invitation when she had scampered to the other side of the sofa, leaning over it in all her naked glory.
Now, though, she slept in his embrace, thoroughly satisfied. He was satisfied, too, though he was slightly troubled by her admissions about her marriage. She had not repeated her earlier words to him, from the night they had first met, about only indulging in short affairs. She had not needed to, because he understood perfectly that was all she was offering, even now.
Normally he could content himself with that. He squeezed her just a little bit tighter. Unfortunately, now he wanted more of her. He would have to persuade her the best he could to see things his way.
"See things in what way?" Lorelei murmured, rubbing at her nose as she tried to wake.
"I was hoping to persuade you it was time to return to my bedchamber."
"Yes! That is something I can agree to."
Desmond helped her to her feet, and they made their way upstairs, giving him plenty of time to wonder if she would ever agree to more.
Chapter Seven
Desmond spurred his horse into a gallop. The snowstorm had not lasted as long as he had hoped, and it seemed much too soon that he had returned Lorelei to her sister's home. She had thanked him for the visit, yet had not given him any indication she would make room for him on her calendar in the upcoming year.
Why could he not persuade Lorelei to view their affair as something that could last beyond the holiday festivities?
He had chosen to ride hell for leather across the countryside in the hopes he could rid himself of his frustration. Before he realized it, he was nearing his parents' home. He had not intended to stop by, but if his mother learned he had been in the vicinity and had not come to see her…
Which is how he found himself sitting in her parlor, gnashing his teeth against the delicate teacup, wishing it contained something a lot stronger.
"Darling, why are you making those dreadful growling sounds?" His mother's words might have been chiding, but her tone was nothing but concern.
His father chuckled. "I'll wager he is biding his time until he can depart, without causing you to rail at him for leaving so quickly."
"No, it is not that…"
His parents, seated next to each other, watched as he tried to come up with an answer that would not provoke another round of questioning.
"I am a bit disgruntled about something that does not concern you."
"It always concerns me," his mother said, "especially if it involves your happiness."
His father lifted her hand and gently clasped it in his. It was a tender gesture Desmond had seen hundreds of times while growing up, yet today it irritated him, since it seemed to demonstrate he might never have that with Lorelei. At one time, the lack would have been because of his resistance, but now he was on the receiving end.
"I would rather hear how the both of you are faring," Desmond said, changing the subject. "You are recovering rather well, I see."
His father bristled at the mention of his recent injury, but finished with a grin. "Yes, I am doing quite well. A good reminder that I wish to remain here for many years to come." He lifted his wife's hand to his lips, pressing a deep kiss to it. His mother returned a smile that was not exactly beatific.
Desmond's lips twisted wryly. "It is a mystery why I do not have any siblings."
His mother chuckled. "You are as impudent as ever."
"I fear I am. And you two are even more devoted than before. I did not think it possible."
"A life-threatening injury will do that, I suppose," his mother added.
"It was not life-threatening," his father protested. "It did prevent me from some of my favorite activities for a while—"
Desmond held up a hand. "Please, try to remember this is your son you are conversing with."
"You are out of sorts," his mother said. "Perhaps you need a new amour."
Desmond did his best to halt it but the sigh escaped anyway.
"Yes. Of course," his father said. "He has a new amour, but there are complications. Surely we can assist you with these troubles."
Desmond grinned. His parents were avidly devoted to each other, and had been their entire lives. He imagined they would spend their afterlife equally enthralled with each other. Yet they loved their son just as much, if not more, and could not bear that he might be unhappy.
"Your love story is one that everyone still talks about. I cannot believe you know the first thing about complications when it comes to matters of the heart."
His father snorted, while his mother burst into laughter.
"It has been nothing but complications," she said. "Your father can be so maddening there are days it would have brought me great joy to toss him from his horse."
"It is true," his father said, nodding sagely. "And there were times I was ready to throw myself from my mount because she had caused me no end of frustration."
Desmond sat forward, eager to hear more. "Yet that has only been recently."
"Not at all. I was frustrated beyond belief when we were first courting." His dad's gaze stayed pinned to his wife's face. "She did not believe my intentions were honorable…"
"He was the most renowned scoundrel," she added tenderly. "How could I believe he meant to be anything but scandalous? Women everywhere were throwing themselves at him."
"I fought my way out of that crowd, only to see you surrounded by a bevy of rogues and roués."
Desmond chuckled. "I feel I am hearing the outline of a Drury Lane production."
His father gave him a mock glare. "I can only hope you never experience such agony, knowing the woman who has your heart thinks you are merely trifling with her. Though it seems now you have."
"It was only to be expected," his mother said. "With Desmond's reputation."
Desmond winced. He had spent several years being a bit of a scoundrel, a man who could be counted on for a short affair, filled with enjoyment, but nothing beyond a few weeks or months. Now he had met a woman who viewed love in the same fashion—the way he had until he had encountered her.
"I do not think it is my reputation that is the problem," he confessed. "The woman I—uh, Lorelei—she seems to believe love cannot endure for very long. I am unable to persuade her otherwise, though I have done my best to do so."
"Oh, that saddens me," his mother said. "Why does she feel that way?"
"Her own experience with love, as well as marriage. She is a widow, and determined to remain unattached."
"I cannot believe she is able to resist you," his mother said.
His father chuckled. "I doubt she does. Yet it seems she is able to sidestep what Desmond now wants—a long-lasting love."
"Any suggestions for me?" Desmond tried to keep the question light, even though he was eager to hear what they could offer, hoping it would help to change Lorelei's mind.
"I have one or two," his mother said. "But I believe your father has more that will prove beneficial, based on his experience." She stood and walked to where Desmond sat, kissing his forehead. "Do not despair just yet."
She left, and Desmond watched his father gazing at the love of his life as though he could not believe his good fortune. It had always bemused him, their unabashed love for each other, yet now he felt bereft. Would such a love be forever out of his reach?
"Your mother is correct," his father answered. "Do not despair just yet."
"I have a few stages to go before I completely descend into despair," Desmond laughed. "Though I would not mind avoiding it entirely. I much prefer the happier phases."
"Tell me how you came to meet this woman. It will perhaps give us a clue as to how to proceed."
"A chance meeting with Martin started it. I asked if he was still involved with matchmaking, and asked him to assist me."
"That sounds like a promising beginning."
"It was, and then it took a bit of a twist." He explained how Lorelei was not actually the woman he had meant to meet, yet he could not imagine anyone suiting him more perfectly. "I think I lost my heart that very evening."
"I can sympathize. Though it does not tell me what we should do next."
Desmond grinned at his co-conspirator. "Martin will be dismayed that I am relying on a different matchmaker."
"He will not need to know. Besides, I am merely his assistant, working behind the scenes to ensure his matchmaking reputation continues intact." He paused. "Perhaps it might help if we determine how you were able to change your mind."
"That is quite brilliant," Desmond said. "Yet I am not certain I can articulate it. I was slightly predisposed to the notion when I first spoke with Martin. Then I met Lorelei."
"Martin could try to speak with her, I suppose." His father grinned. "Though I wonder if we might have more success if she comes here for a visit."
Desmond pondered that as well. "I like that idea." Everyone was so inspired by his parents' enduring love affair. Surely it would inspire Lorelei, possibly even convincing her it was possible for her, with him.
It was worth a try. He had spent his entire life believing the same as Lorelei when it came to love, yet once she had caught his eye, he had quickly seen how wrong he had been. It gave him hope that she was amenable to change as well.
His mother came back into the room, followed by a servant carrying a tea tray. "I thought you might need some refreshment while plotting."
Desmond grinned. "I believe we have finished our plotting and have moved now into the execution phase."
"I am delighted to hear it! We shall meet this paragon soon then?"
"Yes, quite soon. I propose we invite her sister, as well as her niece and nephew."
"Oh, that would be wonderful," his mother said. "It has been too long since there have been young children here, especially at the holiday season."
"They are a delight," Desmond answered. "It has been a joy to spend time with them recently."
His mother raised her eyebrows, giving his father a knowing look. "Then yes, they must be included in the festivities."
His father grinned. "At least let us have the party before you send notices to the papers, my love."
She clucked her tongue. "Silly man. I plan to invite the vicar instead."
They all laughed, and discussed the plans for the upcoming party, everyone's heart lightened by the thought of ensuring Desmond's future happiness.
"I swear you are fidgeting more than the children," Beatrice said.
Lorelei clasped her hands piously in her lap. "I was merely adjusting my gloves—"
"And your bonnet, and the buttons of your pelisse, and a stray tendril of hair," her sister teased. "Why are you so nervous?"
She came close to confessing she was anxious about seeing Desmond's family. She would have declined the invitation, had he not insisted his mother was eager to have young children in the house again. It would have been churlish to refuse her, and Caroline and Henry would have been so disappointed.
Yet it all seemed too momentous. How could she continue to believe her brief affair with Desmond was simply that, when he was including their families, expanding the number of people she would likely disappoint when she called an end to their holiday amour?
"I am not nervous," she fibbed, pasting a big smile on her face.
Her sister gave her a mock glare.
"Fine, I am nervous at the thought of meeting his family. It has been a long while since I have done something similar, and I am a bit out of practice."
"It is a simple holiday gathering, not a prelude to a marriage settlement. Though if that is required," Beatrice added with a grin, "I will be happy to assist with the negotiations."
Lorelei did not have a chance to reply, for they were turning onto a long gravel driveway, heading towards Mayfield Manor.
"Mama, is that where we are going?" Caroline's eyes were wide with amazement.
"Yes, it is."
"I want to live there!" Henry exclaimed.
"I do, too!" Caroline added.
"Let's not pack our valises just yet," Lorelei said with a laugh. "Or at least wait until you have been introduced to the Mayfield family."
Her words fell on deaf ears, for the children were making all sorts of fantastical plans, merely from seeing the outside of the building. She had to admit it was impressive. It was likely hundreds of years old, the stone face a lovely golden color, the entire thing sitting in the midst of rolling hills. It was meant to display wealth, yet it also exuded stability, and longevity, and family.
She did not allow herself to ponder that. They were at the front door, the carriage Desmond had sent for them slowing and then drawing to a halt. Desmond was waiting. A smile brightened his face as he opened the carriage door.
