Page 20 of The Scoundrel's Christmas Challenge
Lucius waited, leaning against the hearth of the library, listening to the crackle of the fire. His toe tapped a light thump in the thick wool of the Axminster carpet. He studied the miniatures on the mantel. Christiana’s parents, her grandparents, saw the resemblance between the women. He yanked on the bottle-green waistcoat that matched his coat, tugged at his cravat, then brushed an imaginary speck off his white trousers. He paced before the floor-length windows, their heavy draperies like hulking guards, blocking the cold from the frosted panes, then perused the selection of old tomes on the bookshelves.
The score so far was tied between Lord Bentson, Christiana, and himself. He led the midnight challenge one to zero. Since today’s challenge had been one of wit, he would do the same. A challenge of their minds. He smiled, knowing this point would probably go to her.
“Good evening, Lord Page.”
Her sultry voice swirled around him, tugging at his heart, warming his soul. Lucius knew she was interested, tempted, but he didn’t know if she was ready to marry him. And that must be the end result. The only logical conclusion for the two of them. He understood her hesitation. Edward had lured her, laying his trap carefully.
Lucius hadn’t realized how malicious his friend truly was until then. Their confrontation before the wedding had been ugly, and the men had never spoken to each other again. It had broken Lucius’s heart to know Christiana would be held under the man’s thumb, never pampered and adored as she deserved, only used as a tool of vengeance. How had he not seen Edward’s hatred earlier? It had burned so brightly after university, smoldering during their friendship until the flames of opportunity set the torch on fire.
He rose and offered his arm, which she took. “You didn’t tell me how it went today? Are your tenants well? Did they enjoy the boxes you delivered?”
Christiana nodded. She was lovely in a simple muslin gown of pale blue, the same color as her eyes. Her honey-blonde hair was twisted in the back and fell in long curls to fall across her shoulders. He wanted to trace the cord on the side of her long, slender neck with a finger and follow that with his lips.
“Everyone is healthy and grateful for the gifts.” She beamed. “It’s one of my favorite days of the year. A few hours when I can join the villagers, sit with them, and talk of crops and babies and the coming spring. I often feel as if I have more in common with my tenants than I do those I left behind in London.”
“You probably do. Honesty, integrity… traits that the common man cherishes and many of the peers value only when it suits them.” He poured them both a glass of madeira, and they settled before the cheerful fire, its flickering light casting long shadows across the room. The wingback chairs were made of a buttery-soft leather, and he tipped his head back with a sigh.
“May I ask you a question?”
His heart pounded. What did she want to know? “Of course,” was all he said, silently ordering his pulse to stop racing.
“Did you think I cheated this afternoon?”
He shook his head. “You didn’t give any specific instructions. In fact, when Lord Frederick asked if you expected him to pull it by hand, your answer was whatever he thought best. That was clever.”
“Thank you.” Her smile could have lit the darkest corner of the library. “What impish game do you have planned for tonight?”
“Again, I shall follow your lead. A game of wits, challenging one another with riddles. The first to make five points wins.”
“I see. Who shall go first?”
“I will give you preference,” he said with a wink.
“Since I did not know the game in advance, you may go first.”
“Fine. Let me think.” He drummed his fingers on his thigh. “What is always in front of you but can never be seen?”
Christiana pursed her lips in thought, then laughed. “The future. Heaven knows, my life would be different if I could have seen it!”
“And mine, too, no doubt.” His heart twisted a little when her smile faded. He wanted happiness shining in her eyes again. “Your turn.”
She tapped her forefinger against her chin. “Hmm. I know. What has hands but cannot clap?”
“A clock. I’m expecting you to challenge me, not humor me.” Lucius drummed his fingers again on his leg. “What is at the end of a rainbow?”
Christiana rolled her blue eyes. “It’s a pot of—” She closed her mouth abruptly and shook her head. “Too easy… a W!”
He laughed and nodded. “I knew you would get it. Two-one.”
“I cannot talk, but I always reply when spoken to.”
He studied her profile while he ran through the possibilities, but his thoughts got caught up in her perfectly shaped earlobe, nibbling at it with his teeth…
“Have I stumped you?” she asked, one brow arched.
“Do you know how distracting your ear can be?” he countered.
“Mine in particular, or ears in general? This isn’t a riddle out of turn, is it?” One corner of her mouth quirked up in a half smile.
