Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Midnight in the kitchen

L ucius sat in a wooden chair before the large, scarred table in the kitchen. He had a way with cooks, and his charm had worked again tonight. The delightful lady, Mrs. Harding, was happy to be his accomplice.

The fire from the large cooking hearth spread a golden glow about the room. Rosemary, garlic, and lavender hung from the beams in a corner of the kitchen, their faint scents mixing together sweetly. A candle, next to a bottle of madeira and two glasses, flickered on the table, casting dancing shadows across the walls. On a side table were fresh biscuits and orange slices.

“Do not think I came only because you ordered me to.” She stood in the doorway, her hair pulled back, a simple black gown on with a thick wool shawl. “But I have questions.”

“Yes, I thought you might.” He stood and held out a hand. “I promise, no more hidden mistletoe. Unless you bring it.”

She smiled and shook her head. “Will you get me foxed and have your way with me?”

He barked out a laugh. “Tempting as it sounds, no. Please, sit.” He held out a chair and pushed it in slightly as she settled into it. He resumed his seat beside her. “I thought we’d play a game of Truth or Lie.”

“What does that involve?” One hand fisted her shawl close to her chest, the other lay clenched in her lap. “And how did you come by my invitation?”

“Ah, it seems the good baronet sent his unmarried nephew to claim his mines. His wife didn’t want him gone over Christmastide. Especially to the home of a young widow with a somewhat questionable reputation.” He tipped his head, studying her. “I convinced him that, as we were old friends, I might have the upper hand in negotiations.”

“I’ve explained the purpose of this house party.” Her eyes took on a cerulean shade in the soft glow. “And what have you heard about my reputation?”

“Rampant speculation about the first three Christmas parties. Masquerades, mistletoe in every dark corner, promises made, promises broken.”

“Hmm.” She tilted her head, imitating him. “Sounds like a typical ball in London.”

“The last one was particularly interesting. It was said only males were invited, and you chose one to be your lover for the year.” Lucius unclenched his jaw. He had punched the baron who’d told him the rumor. Apologized, of course, and gave the poor man his box at the theater for the Season. “Then last year, nothing. Not a peep from Falcon Hall. Was your prize so magnificent that you kept him an extra year?”

Christiana laughed. A boisterous laugh. Not a hint of spite in it, just genuine mirth. “Well, the broadsheets haven’t changed in five years, I see.”

“Did you think they would?” He chuckled too, the knot in his stomach loosening. He’d known, deep down, the on-dits couldn’t be true. “What did happen at those parties if you don’t mind telling me?”

She studied him for a moment, her gaze lingering on his mouth, down his neck, his chest, lower… then back to his face as her clear blue eyes locked with his. A fierce heat fired straight to his core. The devil, if she wasn’t as stunning as that night he’d first kissed her. More so. As if time had decided to improve on the original.

“I admit the first two were a bit raucous. I invited arrogant men and independent, brazen women. I will only say the females won the day, sending the pompous males home with their prides bruised.” Her lips quirked up. “It was magnificent.”

This explained a great deal. The coves who attended had either seemed hesitant to talk about it or bragged so blatantly about their conquests that Lucius knew they were lying. One even said he’d been sworn to secrecy. Lucius realized they’d all been embarrassed. But since the first lot hadn’t revealed their “defeats,” she’d been able to lure a second group the next year. “So did you run out of vindictive ladies the third year?”

Christiana shook her head, the honied waves curling across her shoulders. “A friend of mine, who had been ill-treated by several gentlemen , wanted retribution. I invited those men, and she proceeded to blackmail each one. They received their due—or lost it, I should say—and she is now living happily in Italy.”

His eyes widened. She had nerve, always had. Her strength had appealed to him once. Now it excited him. He would proceed with caution. “One of them must have started the rumor about you choosing a lover, then.”

“Or they all conspired to lie. It doesn’t matter. I don’t care what is said about me in Town.”

“Nor do I.” He leaned forward, curling his fingers into his palm to keep from reaching out and touching a silken amber lock. “Shall we start the game?”

Christiana nodded, eyes narrowed, interested. “The rules, my lord?”

“I say something about you. If it’s true, you take a drink of wine. If it’s not, I take a drink. Very simple.” He poured two fingers of madeira into each glass and pushed one toward her.

“Nothing about Lord Page is simple.” But her lips held a slight smile. “You start.”

“Gladly.” He rubbed his chin as if considering what to say, though he’d run this scenario through his head a dozen times. “You were never truly in love with Edward.”

She snorted and picked up the glass, taking a sip. “You believed those rumors about me.”

“You’ll have to be more specific,” he said with a grin.

“You believed I took a lover.”

He groaned and threw back the contents of the glass. “I will say in my defense that, having experienced the passion of your kiss, I couldn’t imagine you remaining celibate.”

Christiana’s stare made him want to fiddle with his cravat. What was she thinking?

“Lucius, we had only chaste kisses between us until…” She looked away, chewing on her bottom lip. “If you had always kissed me like you did the last time, when you tried to change my mind about Edward, I might not have married.”

A punch to the gut. “I was playing the gentlemen.”

“And he played the rogue. Rogues are always more romantic and thrilling than gentlemen. Especially to an innocent who doesn’t understand how men lie.” She shook her head. “Our last kiss was…”

“What?” He remembered how he’d danced her out of the ballroom that night after Edward had announced their engagement. Begged her not to trust him, then kissed her with all the repressed passion and years of longing spilling from his heart.

“I never felt such… passion with Edward. His words titillated my senses, not his kisses or… You found your voice too late. I’d already accepted.” Christiana sighed. “And now here you are, making me remember what took me years to forget.”

Lucius leaned back, satisfied with the answer. “You’re lonely.”

She nodded. He tapped her glass. With a chuckle, she took another sip. Spotting the nearby snack, she said, “I see you’ve already charmed Mrs. Harding.”

“Lovely woman. She’s very fond of you.”

“You think you still love me.”

His breath caught at the suddenness of the statement. But she was wrong. He tapped her glass again. Was that disappointment in her eyes? He grinned. “I know I still love you. I’ve never stopped.”

She blinked at him but said nothing.

“You don’t believe I can convince you.” He would call her bluff.

She tapped his glass. “I have every confidence you can.”

He poured himself more wine and drank it in one gulp. “You’re afraid to risk your heart.”

“It’s my turn, I believe.”

Clever chit, avoiding the statement.

“You still hate Edward and believe I betrayed you.”

This wasn’t going the way he’d planned. He grabbed the bottle and took a long drink, not bothering with the glass. “I’m not sure if it’s still so strong as hate. Time and death have a way of blurring the edges, but I will never forgive him for taking what was mine.”

“I belong to no one.” Christiana stood and retrieved the plate of biscuits and oranges. “You still have a penchant for these?” she asked as she popped a slice of the fruit into her mouth.

Lucius watched as her lips closed around the segment. “You are afraid to risk your heart again.”

With a sigh, she picked up her glass and took a drink, licking her lips. “Madeira pairs well with orange.” She closed her eyes, her head tipping back. “You cannot understand why I still shy away from men.”

He went to pick up his glass, but her hand dashed out to stop him. “No, not part of the game. An observation.”

They were talking again as they once had. No reservations, no correct words to be chosen, only the simple truth as they knew it. “Some men should always be shied away from. But you had a kind father, a model from which you learned not all men are thoughtless or cruel.”

“But he died. Followed too early by my mother, who couldn’t find happiness on her own.” Her sorrowful eyes held his. “I’m not sure which is worse—being ignored and humiliated by your husband, or being so in love, you do not wish to live without him. Either way, a woman has little choice.”

“So you prefer to be alone?” A waste, in his opinion. “You have so much to give, Christiana. Let me help you do that.” She looked away, and he pressed his point. “If you give me a chance, you will see I can make your life better. Fall in love with me, don’t fall in love with me. It matters not. After the past five years, you already know you can live without me. Where is the risk, then?”

“What do you propose?”

Hope sprung in his chest. “We’ll have our own competition in the dark of night while the others sleep. If I win the most challenges, you will allow me to court you. With an open heart, not merely tolerating my presence. If you win, I shall never shadow your doorstep again.”

She drummed her fingers on the table. “That’s why you kissed me earlier. To remind me of the passion missing in my life.” Her gaze returned, searching his face for something, an expression between longing and doubt in her green depths.

He smiled and reached out to cover her hand with his own. “Will you allow me the chance to show you the man I’ve become? To reacquaint myself with the woman I fell in love with?”

A heavy sigh, a bittersweet smile. “I fear I’m more disillusioned with love than hesitant. So, midnight tomorrow? Here?” Christiana stood, preparing to leave.

He did the same, wanting another kiss before she left him. Another memory to add to the earlier kiss as he tried to find sleep later.

“No, tomorrow night we’ll meet in the drawing room.” He moved closer and cupped her cheek in his palm. She pressed into it, and it was an almost impossible feat not to pull her close, feel her body meld with his. As he leaned forward to taste her lips, her hand reached out, and the glass of madeira went crashing to the floor. She let out a cry as it shattered on the stone floor.

The butler burst into the kitchen, chest heaving as he scanned the room and found his employer and then Lucius. With bunched fists, the giant of a man marched toward him, eyes narrowed, violence in his demeanor.

“I’m fine, Mr. Jensen. Just an accident,” said Christiana, one arm out to stop the butler. She turned to Lucius. “I will see you in the morning, Lord Page. I hope you sleep well.” And with that, she left the kitchen, her defender close on her heels.

No wonder she had no fear of hosting unattached men. Christiana was no fool. The brute would make short work of most men who threatened his mistress. And judging by Jensen’s face, he had no issue with receiving pain while inflicting it. His loyalty was obvious. And Lucius’s heart felt lighter at the realization.