A Christmas to Remember Read online

  “What incentive were you planning to offer me?” Caroline asked. It was clear that she would not consider his plan; she was merely interested to discover how he would have tried to entice her.

  Unfortunately that was the weak aspect of his scheme. He had little to entice her with. No money, no social advantage, no possessions that would allure her. There was only one thing he had been able to come up with that might be sufficiently tempting.

  “If you agree to help me,” he said slowly, “I will leave your brother alone. You know what kind of influence I am on him. He is in debt up to his ears, and he is doing his best to keep pace with the pack of miscreants and degenerates I like to call friends. Before long Cade is going to end up exactly like me—rotten, cynical, and beyond all hope of redemption.”

  Caroline’s expressive face revealed that this was exactly what she feared.

  “How far in debt is he?” she asked stiffly.

  He named a sum that astonished and sickened her. Reading the horror in her eyes, Andrew experienced a surge of predatory satisfaction. Yes . . . he had guessed correctly. She loved her younger brother enough to do anything to save him. Even pretend to fall in love with a man she despised.

  “That is only the beginning,” Andrew told her. “Before long Cade will be in a pit so deep that he’ll never be able to climb out.”

  “And you would be willing to let that happen? You would simply stand by and let him ruin his life? And impoverish my mother and myself?”

  Andrew responded with a casual shrug. “It is his life,” he pointed out matter-of-factly. “I’m not his keeper.”

  “My God,” she said unsteadily. “You don’t care about anyone but yourself, do you?”

  He kept his expression blank, and studied the scuffed, unpolished surface of his very expensive boot. “No, I don’t give a damn who gets dragged down with me. But if you decide to help me, I’ll take care of Cade. I’ll make certain the others in our set don’t invite him to their clubs or their favorite bawdy houses. I will ensure that all the listmakers I know—and believe me, that is a considerable number—will not extend him credit. He won’t be allowed into any high-stakes games in London. Moreover, if I am reinstated in my father’s will, I will assume all of Cade’s financial obligations.”

  “Does Cade know about your plan?” Caroline was pale and intent as she stared at him.

  “No. But it would prove his salvation.”

  “And if I refuse to accept your offer?”

  A hard, somewhat cruel smile curved his lips. His father’s smile, Andrew thought, with bitter self-awareness. “Then your brother is on the path to hell . . . right alongside me. And you will be left to pick up the pieces. I would hate to see your family’s estate sold to pay off Cade’s debts. Not a pleasant prospect for your mother, being forced to live off the charity of relatives in her old age. Or you, for that matter.” He gave her an insultingly thorough glance, his gaze lingering on her bosom. “What skills do you have that would earn enough to support a family?”

  “You fiend,” Caroline whispered, visibly trembling, though it was impossible to discern whether her emotion was fear or anger, or perhaps a mixture of both.

  In the silence, Andrew was aware of a twisting sensation somewhere in his chest, and suddenly he wanted to take it all back . . . reassure and soothe her . . . promise her that he would never allow a bit of harm to come to her family. He had a terrible feeling of tenderness that he struggled to thrust away, but it remained stubbornly lodged within him.

  “What choice do I have?” Caroline asked angrily, forestalling any repentant words from him.

  “Then you agree to my plan? You’ll pretend to engage in a courtship with me?”

  “Yes . . . I will.” She sent him a simmering glare. “How long must this last? Weeks? Months?”

  “Until the earl reinstates me in his will. If you and I are sufficiently convincing, it shouldn’t take long.”

  “I don’t know if I can bear it,” she said, regarding him with patent loathing. “Exactly how far will this charade have to go? Words? Embraces? Kisses?” The prospect of kissing him seemed as enthralling as if she had been required to kiss a goat. “I warn you, I will not allow my reputation to be compromised, not even for Cade!”

  “I haven’t thought out the details yet.” He kept his face unreadable, although relief shot through him in a piercing note. “I won’t compromise you. All I want is the appearance of pleasant companionship.”

  Caroline sprang from the settee as if she had suddenly been released from the law of gravity. Agitation was evident in every line of her body. “This is intolerable,” she muttered. “I cannot believe that through no fault of my own . . .” She whirled around to glare at Andrew. “When do we start? Let it be soon. I want this outrageous charade to be done with as quickly as possible.”

  “Your enthusiasm is gratifying,” Andrew remarked, with a sudden flare of laughter in his eyes. “Let’s begin in a fortnight. My half brother and his wife are giving a weekend party at their country estate. I will prevail on them to invite your family. With any luck, my father will attend as well.”

  “And then to all appearances, you and I will develop a sudden overwhelming attraction to each other,” she said, rolling her eyes heavenward.

  “Why not? Many a romantic liaison has begun that way. In the past, I’ve had more than a few—”

  “Please,” she interrupted fervently. “Please do not regale me with stories of your sordid affairs. I find you repulsive enough as it is.”

  “All right,” he said agreeably. “From now on I’ll leave the subjects of conversation to you. Your brother tells me that you enjoy gardening. No doubt we’ll have enthralling discourses on the wonders of manure.” He was satisfied to see her porcelain complexion turn mottled with fury.

  “If I can manage to convince a single person that I am attracted to you,” Caroline said through gritted teeth, “I vow to begin a career on the stage.”

  “That could be arranged,” Andrew replied dryly. His half brother, Logan Scott, was the most celebrated actor of the day, as well as being the owner and manager of the Capital Theater. Although Andrew and Logan had been friends since childhood, they had only recently discovered that they were related. Logan was the by-blow of an affair the earl had conducted with a young actress long ago. Whereas Andrew had been raised in an atmosphere of luxury and privilege, Logan had grown up in a hovel, frequently starving and abused by the family that had taken him in. Andrew doubted that he would ever rid himself of the guilt of that, even though it hadn’t been his fault.

  Noticing that Caroline’s spectacles were smudged, he approached her with a quiet murmur. “Hold still.”

  She froze as he reached out and plucked the steel-framed spectacles from her nose. “Wh-what are you doing? I . . . stop; give those back . . .”

  “In a minute,” he said, using a fold of his soft linen shirt to polish the lenses until they gleamed brightly. He paused to examine them, and glanced at Caroline’s face. Bereft of the spectacles, her eyes looked large and fathomless, her gaze slightly unfocused. How vulnerable she seemed. Again he experienced an odd surge of protectiveness. “How well can you see without them?” he asked, carefully replacing them on her small face.

  “Not well at all,” she admitted in a low voice, her composure seeming fractured. As soon as the spectacles were safely on her nose, she backed away from Andrew and sought to collect herself. “Now I suppose you are going to make some jest at my expense.”

  “Not at all. I like your spectacles.”

  “You do?” she asked with clear disbelief. “Why?”

  “They make you look like a wise little owl.”

  Clearly she did not consider that a compliment, although Andrew meant it as one. He couldn’t help imagining what she would look like wearing nothing but the spectacles, so prim and modest until he coaxed her into passionate abandonment, her small body writhing uncontrollably against his—

  Abruptly aware that his
erection was swelling again, Andrew shoved the images out of his mind. Damn, but he had never expected to be so fascinated by Hargreaves’s spinster sister! He would have to make certain that she never realized it, or she would have even more contempt for him. The only way to keep her from guessing at his attraction to her was to keep her thoroughly annoyed and hostile. No problem there, he thought sardonically.

  “You may leave now,” Caroline said sharply. “I assume our business is concluded for the time being.”

  “It is,” he agreed. “However, there is one last thing. Could you manage to dress with a bit more style during the weekend party? The guests—not to mention my father—would find it easier to accept my interest in you if you didn’t wear something quite so . . .”

  Now even the lobes of her ears were purple. “Quite so what?” she said in a hiss.

  “Matronly.”

  Caroline was silent for a moment, obviously suppressing an urge to commit murder. “I will try,” she finally said in a strangled voice. “And you, perhaps, might engage the services of a decent valet. Or if you already have one, replace him with someone else.”

  Now it was Andrew’s turn to be offended. He felt a scowl twitching at the muscles of his face. “Why is that?”

  “Because your hair is too long, and your boots need polish, and the way you dress reminds me of an unmade bed!”

  “Does that mean you’d like to lie on top of me?” he asked.

  He slipped around the door of the parlor and closed it just before she threw a vase.

  The sound of shattering porcelain echoed through the house.

  “Drake!” Cade strode toward him from the entrance hall, looking at him expectantly. “How did it go? Did you get her to agree?”

  “She agreed,” Andrew said.

  The words caused a flashing grin to cross Cade’s boyishly handsome face. “Well done! Now you’ll get back in your father’s good graces, and everything will go swimmingly for us, eh, old fellow? Gaming, drinking, carousing . . . oh, the times we’re going to have!”

  “Hargreaves, I have something to tell you,” Andrew said carefully. “I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

  Chapter Two

  CAROLINE SAT ALONE for a long time after Lord Drake left. She wondered uneasily what would become of her. Gossip would certainly abound once the news got out that she and Drake were courting. The unlikeliness of such a match would cause no end of jokes and snickers. Especially in light of the fact that she was notoriously particular in her choice of companionship.

  Caroline had never been able to explain even to herself why she had never fallen in love. Certainly she was not a cold person—she had always had warm relationships with friends and relatives, and she knew herself to be a woman of very deep feeling. And she enjoyed dancing and talking and even flirting on occasion. But when she had tried to make herself feel something beyond casual liking for any one gentleman, her heart had remained stubbornly uninvolved.

  “For heaven’s sake, love is not a prerequisite for marriage,” her mother had often exclaimed in exasperation. “You cannot afford to wait for love, Caro. You have neither the fortune nor the social position to be so fastidious!”

  True, her father had been a viscount, but like the majority of viscounts, he did not possess a significant amount of land. A title and a small London estate were all the Hargreaves could boast of. It would have benefitted the family tremendously if Caroline, the only daughter, could have married an earl or perhaps even a marquess. Unfortunately most of the available peers were either decrepit old men, or spoiled, selfish rakes such as Andrew, Lord Drake. Given such a choice, it was no wonder that Caroline had chosen to remain unwed.

  Dwelling on the subject of Andrew, Caroline frowned pensively. Her reaction to him was troubling. Not only did he seem to have a remarkable ability to provoke her, but he seemed to do it intentionally, as if he delighted in stoking her temper. But somewhere in the midst of her annoyance, she had felt a strange sort of fascination for him.

  It couldn’t possibly be his looks. After all, she was not so shallow as to be undone by mere handsomeness. But she had found herself staring compulsively at the dark, ruined beauty of his face . . . the deep blue eyes shadowed from too little sleep, the cynical mouth . . . the slightly bloated look of a heavy drinker. Andrew possessed the face of a man who was determined to destroy himself. Oh, what terrible company he was for her brother Cade! Not to mention herself.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of her mother, Fanny, who had returned from a pleasant afternoon of visiting with friends. Strangers were often surprised to learn that the two were mother and daughter, for they did not resemble each other in any way except for their brown eyes. Caroline and Cade had inherited their late father’s looks and temperament. Fanny, by contrast, was blond and plump, with the mercurial disposition of a child. It was always disconcerting to try to converse with Fanny, for she disliked serious subjects and did not choose to face unpleasant realities.

  “Caro,” Fanny exclaimed, coming into the parlor after giving her frilly plumed hat and light summer wrap to the housekeeper. “You look rather displeased, dear. What has caused such a sour expression? Has our darling Cade been up to his usual pranks?”

  “Our darling Cade is doing his best to ensure that you will spend your final years in a workhouse,” Caroline replied dryly.

  Her mother’s face wrinkled in confusion. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, dear. What do you mean?”

  “Cade has been gambling,” Caroline said. “He is going through all our money. Soon there will be nothing left. If he doesn’t stop soon, we’ll have to sell everything we own . . . and even that won’t fully satisfy his debts.”

  “Oh, but you’re teasing!” Fanny said with an anxious laugh. “Cade promised me that he would try to restrain himself at the hazard tables.”

  “Well, he hasn’t,” Caroline replied flatly. “And now we’re all going to suffer for it.”

  Reading the truth in her daughter’s eyes, Fanny sat down heavily on the pink brocade settee. In the grim silence that followed, she folded her hands in her lap like a punished child, her rosebud mouth forming an O of dismay. “It’s all your fault!” she burst out suddenly.

  “My fault?” Caroline gave her an incredulous stare. “Why on earth would you say that, Mother?”

  “We wouldn’t be in this predicament if you had married! A rich husband would have provided enough funds for Cade to indulge his little habits with his friends, and taken care of us as well. Now you’ve waited too long . . . your bloom has faded, and you’re almost twenty-seven . . .” Pausing, Fanny became a bit tearful at the thought of having an unmarried daughter of such an advanced age. Pulling a lace handkerchief from her sleeve, she dabbed delicately at her eyes. “Yes, your best years are behind you, and now the family will come to ruin. All because you refused to set your cap for a wealthy man.”

  Caroline opened her mouth to argue, then closed it with an exasperated sound. It was impossible to debate with someone so inured to the concept of logic. She had tried to argue with Fanny in the past, but it had served only to frustrate them both. “Mother,” she said deliberately. “Mother, stop crying. I have some news that might cheer you. This afternoon I received a visit from one of Cade’s friends—Lord Drake . . . do you remember him?”

  “No, dear. Cade has so many acquaintances, I can never keep them all straight.”

  “Drake is the Earl of Rochester’s only legitimate heir.”

  “Oh, that one.” Fanny’s expression brightened with interest, her tears vanishing instantly. “Yes, what a fortune he will come into! I do indeed remember him. A handsome man, I recollect, with long, dark hair and blue eyes—”

  “And the manners of a swine,” Caroline added.

  “With an inheritance like that, Caro, one can overlook a few tiny breaches in etiquette. Do tell, what did Lord Drake say during his visit?”

  “He . . .” Caroline hesitated, galled by the words she
was about to say. She did not dare tell Fanny that the courtship between her and Drake would be only a charade. Her mother was a notorious gossip, and it would be only a matter of days—no, hours—before she let the truth slip to someone. “He expressed an interest in courting me,” Caroline said, stone-faced. “Toward that end, you and I will allow him to escort us to a weekend party given by Mr. and Mrs. Logan Scott, to be held within a fortnight.”

  The news was almost too much for Fanny to digest at once. “Oh, Caro,” she exclaimed. “An earl’s son, interested in you . . . I can scarcely believe . . . Well, it’s nothing less than a miracle! And if you can bring him to scratch . . . what a fortune you will have! What land, what jewels! You would certainly have your own carriage, and accounts at the finest shops . . . Oh, this is the answer to all our problems!”

  “So it would seem,” Caroline said dryly. “But do not get your hopes too high, Mother. The courtship hasn’t yet begun, and there is no guarantee that it will lead to marriage.”

  “Oh, but it will, it will!” Fanny practically danced around the room. Her blond curls fluttered and her well-rounded form jiggled with excitement. “I have a feeling in my bones. Now, Caro, you must heed my advice—I will tell you exactly how to set the hook and reel him in. You must be agreeable, and flatter his vanity, and give him admiring gazes . . . and you must never, never argue with him. And we must do something about your bosom.”

  “My bosom,” Caroline repeated blankly.

  “You will let me sew some quilted lining into the bodice of your chemise. You are a lovely girl, Caro, but you are in definite need of enhancement.”

  Assailed by a mixture of outrage and rueful laughter, Caro shook her head and smiled. “Quilted lining is not going to fool anyone. Especially not Lord Drake. But even if I did manage to deceive him, don’t you think it would be a great disappointment on our wedding night to discover that my bosom was false?”