Page 11 of The Scoundrel's Christmas Challenge
“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.”
