Page 98 of Ten Lords for the Holidays

A knock came at his door and Heath started. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. “Yes?” he called.

The door opened and Damien stepped over his threshold. “Ah, there you are. Is there a reason you’re hiding in your chambers?”

“I wouldn’t call it hiding. Just recovering from our journey.”

“I thought you said Drew’s sisters were children.”

Hardly that anymore. Heath shrugged. “They were the last I saw them.” He gestured to a chair opposite him. “Go on and sit down. You haven’t ever heard of a fellow called Balthasar Blommen, have you?” Though he was fairly certain the man was a figment of Lady Emma’s imagination, it couldn’t hurt to ask.

Damien shook his head, then dropped into the seat across from Heath. “Balthasar Blommen? What a ridiculous name. Who is he?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? Heath snorted. “I don’t think he exists, to be honest.”

“Oh, well, I can see why you’re asking me about some non-existent fellow then.” Sarcasm dripped from his words.

“It’s a long story.” One Heath wasn’t even certain where to start. “I think Lady Emma is playing some sort of a game with me.”

“A game? I do love games.”

“Hmm. I just can’t figure out what it is.”

“You think she’s playing a game with you, but you don’t know what sort it is?” Damien chuckled. “The better question, my friend, is do you want to play it?”

That was a very good question, indeed. Heath definitely wanted to spend more time with her, that was for sure. There was something very engaging about Emma Whitton, something that spoke to him. Still… “I’m not certain.”

“Oh, I think you are.” Damien laughed harder. “After Marianne’s defection, what is stopping you? Now about Is—”

Heath wouldn’t really call his lifelong fiancée’s recent Scottish elopement to another fellow a defection. “We never really suited.” Something their fathers would have known if they’d waited more than three days after Marianne’s birth to align their houses.

“To say the very least,” Damien agreed. “But Lady Emma… she looks at you as though you personally hung each star in the night sky.”

“I was kind to her when she was a child, that’s all.”

“Perhaps.” Damien smirked. “But she’s not a child anymore.”

No, indeed she wasn’t. She was a stunning girl with a proclivity for telling falsehoods. “I think she wrote the note that brought us here and signed Drew’s name to it.”

“Do you?”

Heath began to tick off his reasons with his fingers. “First, she was the only one, it seems, who was expecting my arrival. And she was surprised Drew had invited you, which she would be if she knew she hadn’t invited you. Do you see?”

Damien shrugged.

“Secondly,” Heath continued, “sherefers to Danby as ‘Grandpapa’. And finally, she said something to her father about me being alone for Christmas, almost exactly what was written in that letter from Drew.”

“So she wanted you here. Went to great lengths even.” Damien chuckled. “You should be flattered.”

He had been until… “And then she invented Balthasar Blommen out of thin air. I saw the whole idea take root in her mind. She created some fictional fiancé while sitting next to me on that settee. Just like that.” He snapped his fingers.

“To make you jealous?” Damien suggested. “Ladies do that sort of thing.”

But that didn’t make any sense. “No.” Heath shook his head. “There was no need for that. She already had my attention.” Completely undivided, as it was.

“You’re certain he’s fictional?”

Heath scowled. “Balthasar Blommen from Flanders of whom she begged me not to mention to anyone lest her deception be discovered.”

“I see how well you’ve done that.” Damien gestured to himself.

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