Mistletoe and Mayhem: A Regency Holiday Romance Anthology, page 52
"Welcome! We have been waiting impatiently for your arrival."
"We have been waiting too," Caroline said. She launched herself from the carriage, and Desmond quickly caught her and swung her around before setting the squealing child on her feet.
"It is my turn now!" Henry leapt, as if he had been ordered to abandon ship, yet Desmond was prepared. He tossed the boy into the air and caught him deftly, grinning as Henry cackled gleefully.
"Mama, are you going to jump, too?"
"I do not think I will." Beatrice stepped down from the carriage, carefully placing her foot on the step, and then making her way to where her children stood. "But maybe Auntie will."
Lorelei narrowed her eyes at her sister, but it had no effect, especially since the fiend joined with the children, chanting, "Yes, yes, yes!"
Desmond stepped closer to the carriage door. "How would you prefer I catch you?"
"Preferably in such a way that I do not tumble to the ground," she laughed.
"I can promise that will not happen. After all," his eyes gleamed with mischief, "though I have not had a lesson, not a single one, I do practice every day."
She burst into laughter. His playful manner always warmed her heart, and today it inspired her to toss her fears aside as well.
She placed her hands on each side of the open door. "You have the better of me then, for I have not practiced alighting from a carriage like this. I shall likely screech the entire way."
He grinned. "We had planned the musicale for later this evening, but we can rearrange the schedule to accommodate you." He wriggled his fingers. "I am ready."
It was not supposed to be a momentous occasion. Yet it was hard not to view it that way. Desmond was asking for her trust, and she was taking a leap of faith, believing in his ability to keep her from a precipitous fall.
Lorelei gave her head a little shake. She removed her hands from the doorway, and jumped. She was in Desmond's arms in an instant, clasping her hands around his neck, while his were tight around her waist.
He slowly twirled them a few times, his gaze locked with hers the entire time. Lorelei felt her heart beating in an erratic fashion. It took all her strength not to place her mouth against his, especially since his lips were inviting her to do just that.
Too soon, even though it felt like an eternity, Desmond set her down. She started to fuss with her bonnet or her pelisse, but stopped to glance at her sister, expecting a teasing remark about fidgeting.
Instead, her sister was dabbing her forehead with a handkerchief as if overheated. She tossed Lorelei a sly wink.
Desmond chuckled. "Let us go inside and continue the festivities there."
Desmond stood just inside the entryway of the blue parlor. He could see the grandeur of the place was making Lorelei and her sister a bit nervous, while the children gaped at the opulence on display. He began to wonder if this had been such a great idea. He had not wanted them to feel out of place.
"Oh, Desmond, what lovely children!" His mother crossed the room and stopped in front of Caroline and Henry. "Aren't you perfectly wonderful?" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I hope you like tea with lots of sugar, and cakes with icing piled on top."
"I do," Caroline said, her head bobbing vigorously.
"I do, too!" Henry beamed as if he had just been given a prize.
His mother held her hands out to them and they each grabbed one. "I have all of those things right over here." She led them to a small table Desmond could not recall seeing there before, and remembered it was something from the nursery, which his mother had likely had brought down for just this occasion. She seated herself with them in one of the child-size chairs and chattered happily as if they were friends from long ago.
"You have brought my mother immeasurable joy," he said to Lorelei and her sister. "Do not be surprised if she refuses to let them leave."
Beatrice chuckled. "Do not be surprised if my darling children send me home to gather their things. They were plotting to take up residence here the moment we headed down the drive."
"I will be happy to give you a tour of their new residence," he said with a grin, "but I can see my father is glaring at me for taking too long to introduce you."
His father had approached them slowly and now stood there, pretending to be put out with his offspring. Desmond made the introductions, adding, "Do not heed any disparaging comments he makes about me. I am his favorite son—"
"You are my only son!"
"A perfect specimen. That is what you told me when I clamored for a sibling. You said there could not be another child to rival my perfection."
Lorelei and Beatrice laughed at his father's mock dismay. "How could I have known you would prove me so wrong?"
His father grinned, not hiding his affection. He turned his attention to Lorelei and Beatrice. "Two beauties in the same family. Your parents must praise the Fates each and every day."
"When we were younger, they likely wondered why they had been cursed with two hellions." Lorelei linked her arm with her sister's. "We did our best to be merciful, with one of us attempting to be angelic when the other was not."
"It was only fair," Beatrice said, "to give them a slight reprieve. Imagine if we had both been on our worst behavior at once."
"Now I must pester you to hear some of these tales," Desmond said.
"I agree," his father said. "Perhaps we should fortify ourselves with some tea." He motioned them towards a nearby settee. "Mrs. Goddard, will you join me?"
"Of course," she said with a pert smile.
That left Desmond and Lorelei the sofa facing them. Once she was seated, Desmond sat next to her, wishing he could move even closer. He did not want to give his father any satisfaction in his patently obvious attempts to play matchmaker, however. He would be insufferable otherwise.
They had barely taken a sip of tea before Caroline and Henry came running over. "Mama, you have to come see what Mrs. Mayfield has given us."
Caroline grabbed her mother's hand, while Henry took Lorelei's. "You, too, Auntie."
"Of course," she said, giving Desmond an apologetic look.
"You must tell me every detail when you return," he insisted.
"I will."
He watched her hurry across the room, trying to keep up with her nephew, her rich laugh ringing throughout the room.
"If mother had not agreed to marry you," Desmond said, turning towards his father, "what would you have done?"
"I cannot even consider the possibility." He gave a theatrical shudder.
"But if she had withstood your entreaties—"
"Which she did for quite some time."
Desmond gave him an exasperated look. "I had hoped you would be able to advise me in my current predicament, but I might have better luck consulting the cake plate on the table."
His father chuckled. "I sympathize with your situation. I truly do. I despaired of convincing your mother to tie her future to mine. In truth, I was forced to give up—"
"What do you mean?" He had never heard this before. His parents had teased recently about becoming exasperated with each other over the years, but he had assumed—wrongly, it appears—they had fallen in love and gotten married and that was it.
"Desmond, it took me a while to admit I could not force the one I love to feel the same. I pleaded my case, let her know my love would never fade, and then asked her to tell me what she desired. When she was ready to do so."
"That was quite a gamble."
"Indeed it was. After I delivered that speech, I left, trying to keep my knees from buckling, desperate to give off an air of confidence I was not yet feeling."
"How long did you wait?"
"An eternity." He grinned. "It was only a matter of weeks. I was tempted to woo her, with a posey or daily poem. But I refrained, wanting her to make up her own mind. And she did. Never has a man been more grateful that a gamble paid off."
Desmond watched Lorelei from across the room. A chance meeting—one that should not even have occurred—and he was in danger of losing his heart forever.
"What would you have done if she had not changed her mind?"
His father's expression was sympathetic. "I would have loved her forever, sad that she did not wish to unite her future with mine, yet buoyed by the belief I had done what was best for her. That is the essence of love—caring for the other's wellbeing, even if it is at your own expense."
"Yet I have grown up believing love is to be shared, not experienced from afar." Desmond hesitated. "I have also spent my years believing a love such as yours was beyond my reach. I am dismayed to discover it truly is, only I did not learn it until after losing my heart."
"Love is filled with many surprises. It may surprise you again, just when all seems lost."
Desmond was unable to reply, because Caroline and Henry were racing his direction, eager to tell him something important. Lorelei followed closely behind. He could scarce tear his eyes away from her, even though the children were clamoring for his attention.
He heard a deep chuckle from his father. "Children, have you heard of a game called Snapdragon?"
They shook their heads in unison, while Henry asked, "Is there a real dragon in this game?"
"Not quite," his father answered, leading them to the other side of the room. "Although there is fire involved."
"Your family is wonderful," Lorelei said when they were alone again.
"I am realizing just how wonderful they are," Desmond admitted. He had learned a great deal about his family's history, and how it affected his own future. "They are quite enamored of your family."
"They may change their mind when they discover the boundless supply of energy my niece and nephew possess."
He grinned. "I have no doubt they shall recommence their lament about not having grandchildren, and prodding me to give them the opportunity while they are still able to chase after them."
"Until you are able to do so," she said, her eyes twinkling, "please assure them these imps are available to visit at any time."
Chapter Eight
Lorelei took her time donning her clothes. She had tried to pretend this day would never arrive, and yet it had, and she was not even the slightest bit prepared. The past week in Desmond's arms had been a test of her resistance, for he had done his best to prolong her eventual leave-taking.
One night he made love to her with a fierceness that left her craving him even more than before, followed by an evening of lovemaking so tender it caused an ache knowing it would soon be at an end. Yet throughout he was playful, and teasing, doing everything possible to elicit her laughter, and happiness.
She would miss that as much as anything else.
Once she was dressed, she turned to give Desmond's bedchamber one last glance. He stood there, a lone mistletoe berry in his palm.
"The last one," he commented.
"Yes."
"No more kisses after this berry has completed its service." He gave her a hopeful look. "We could save it for the New Year."
She shook her head, trying to keep a lighthearted mien, but it was a challenge. "What about quarreling?"
"I am not in favor of it generally, but if it pleases you—"
She laughed. "No, if we do not rid ourselves of the berries before the New Year, we are bound to quarrel, remember?"
"We are quarreling now," he reminded her with a grin, "about whether to save the berry for a later time." His grin faded. "And whether to continue our affair."
"We are not quarreling about that. I have made up my mind. It is best, for both of us."
"I do not agree that it is best." His lips twisted wryly. "Still, I have given a similar speech many times in the past, so I am well aware of how this will proceed. You never did mislead me as to your intentions. It was my own vain hope that led me to believe I could change your mind."
"The reason I am intent on leaving now is to ensure all of the memories remain good ones."
She could not bear the thought of weeks or months into the future when Desmond had tired of their affair, knowing she could have prevented that moment, but hadn't, succumbing to her unceasing desire for him right now.
"I can provide every assurance possible, Lorelei, that good memories are still available to us in the future. I sincerely believe that is true. Yet in the end, you will have to assure yourself."
Lorelei shook her head once more, and then plucked the berry from his hand. Desmond's expression was morose as he gazed at her. He lowered his head towards hers.
She expected this last kiss to be a passionate one, a last attempt to change her denial to an acceptance. Instead, it was a tender, gentle kiss, as if he wanted to remember this aspect of their affair, and to remind her of the possibilities they could share.
Before she was ready, Desmond stepped back, though she could see he did so with reluctance. "Goodbye, Lorelei the temptress." He lifted her hand to his lips. "The mistletoe berries may be gone, but I shall have the imaginary kisses, which will be a balm to my heart."
He turned and headed for the doorway. Lorelei's heart grew heavy with every step he took, putting distance between them. She had not counted on experiencing these emotions. In truth, this was usually the moment when she felt relief, along with a sense of freedom as she contemplated her next plans.
Why did she feel as though she had just done something horribly wrong?
Lorelei dug deeper into the covers. Why did she not feel better? It was two days since she had sent Desmond on his way. She had made the only choice that made sense, the one that confirmed what she already knew: best to leave before the situation deteriorated, and then became intolerable.
Except it felt intolerable now.
She tried to bury a groan in the pillow.
"Are you not feeling well?" Beatrice asked, standing at the doorway.
Lorelei turned slightly so she could look at her over her shoulder. "I think I may be catching a cold." She added a sniffle or two that sounded rather convincing.
"It came on so suddenly." Beatrice approached the bed, her eyes widened with concern. "Do you have a cough? I could check your temperature to ensure you do not have a fever."
"No, there is no need. I am sure I shall be better in another day or two."
Beatrice plopped down onto the bed next to Lorelei. "You shall feel better even sooner," she said, all evidence of concern dissipated, "once you admit the real reason you are feeling so poorly."
Lorelei sat up until her back rested against the headboard. "I had expected a small measure of sympathy from you—"
"While I expected a large measure of common sense from you."
Lorelei sputtered. "Whatever do you mean?"
"You are ensconced in this bed, pretending you have a cold. I would say you are heartsick, except you are convinced your heart is immune to such ailments."
"I do not consider myself immune. In truth, I do all I can to prevent such ailments from occurring."
"Too late, it appears. Fortunately, you have caught it in the early stages, so it can be cured quickly."
Lorelei rubbed her chest absently, the spot where a dull ache had taken up residence. "I cannot believe there is a quick cure for this." It was hard not to wonder if the ache would ever cease.
"It should not take so long. We merely need to clear your mind of anything related to Desmond. That is the last time we shall utter his name." She dusted her hands as if she had just successfully banished him. "I also recommend you do not recall any of the moments that brought you joy." Beatrice added a wink. "And never, under any circumstance, let your mind dwell on every single one of those moments of passion."
"The cure seems exceedingly harsh," Lorelei grumbled. "Especially as I am the one who ended the affair. Why cannot I revel in memories at least for a short while?"
"Because, you ninny, the more you think about him, and what you enjoyed, the more you will want to see him again, to hear his voice, and feel his touch—"
"Cease!"
Lorelei wanted all of those things, and more. She had never ended an affair while feeling this way. Was it possible she had misjudged what she had experienced with Desmond? She had insisted on viewing it as yet another diversion instead of recognizing it for what it was—the chance for a long-lasting love she secretly desired but was too afraid to believe in.
"I suppose it is possible I made a mistake," she began.
Beatrice scoffed. "Impossible to imagine." She softened the rebuke with a fierce hug. "There are always going to be mistakes, Lorelei. Life is filled with them."
"I am well aware, as I have made my fair share. Yet you seem to believe the solution is to choose between which mistake is the most bearable."
"Or the most enjoyable." Beatrice grinned. "I know which I would prefer." Her expression became more indulgent. "You are accustomed to taking bold steps, even if they do not ultimately turn out the way you hoped. Why are you so fearful this time?"
"I am not fearful," Lorelei protested. "I just do not want to see love fade away, and then slowly die."
Beatrice studied her for a moment. "So instead, you made Desmond feel like a cicisbeo."
"A what? A chi—"
"I do not know how to pronounce it."
"What precisely is it?"
"A paid companion," Beatrice said, "but of the male persuasion."
Lorelei laughed. "Where did you ever hear such a word?"
"I have only read it, which is why I am not sure of its pronunciation. It is not a word that is tossed about in polite company."
Lorelei gave her sister a considering look. "I wonder if I should review your reading material. Particularly if it gave you the notion that I treated Desmond as a," she waved her hand, "paid companion."
"I did not say you paid him to be your companion. But your insistence on a brief affair after knowing his wish for a long-lasting love…particularly after seeing his parents, and what he was raised to expect. I wished you had treated your husband this way instead."
"You have become more outrageous by the moment," Lorelei said. "So I should have treated my husband as a paid companion—"
