Mistletoe and Mayhem - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,174

her plait. He caressed them despite himself. He kissed his way from her temple past her ear and then to her throat.

She moaned. His cock strained against his breeches. This was getting out of hand. “Dorothea, we shouldn’t.”

“We must,” she said firmly. “I want you to ruin me good and proper, so Mother will have no choice but to accept you.”

“Why do you care what she does? She disowned you tonight.”

“Yes, but it may not mean anything. She has never disowned me before, but she’s not one to give up.” She rubbed herself against him. How the devil was he supposed to resist that?

He tightened his arms about her. Her breasts pressed heavily against his chest. Before he knew it, his hands were on her bum. So much for restraining his desire.

He had to tell her the truth. Then, if she still agreed to marry him… He tried not to think about what her answer might be.

“I love you, and if that means she will never speak to me again…” She sighed. “So be it. I don’t like her much, but she is my mother.”

Cecil understood all too well. “My father was as obsessed with wealth and privilege as she. He hated my uncle—his own brother—for inheriting a large estate, when he had a small one that was perfectly adequate to his needs. He was furious when I became a revenue officer, saying it was beneath me to work for my living. We didn’t speak for the last months of his life. He wouldn’t allow me to visit him on his deathbed.”

“Oh, Cecil.” She hugged him tight. “I had no idea.”

“How could you? I never speak of it. I hope you can reconcile with your mother.”

She rested her head on his chest. “When I was a child, my mother loved this time of year. She organized all the decorating and planned the feast for the villagers, and it was such fun. Then I refused seven offers in my first season and attended reformist meetings in my second, after which she began dragging me from one house party to another, trying to force me to wed. I wish I could make her happy. I wish I could make her enjoy Christmas again…but I can’t.”

“I think—or rather I hope—that you can,” Cecil said.

She raised her head, frowning. “How is that possible?”

“It may involve the sacrifice of a cherished principle on your part.”

“What do you mean?” Crossly, she added, “It seems to me that you’re the one with all the principles.” She stretched and moved sensuously against him. His arousal was evident despite his breeches. “It’s freezing in here. Shouldn’t we get into bed?”

He dropped a kiss on her hair. “Yes, darling, I’m longing to get as close as humanly possible, but you’ll have to agree to marry me first.”

“I already have agreed to marry you.” She toyed with the buttons of his breeches, which was terribly forward of her, but she didn’t care. “Or rather, you agreed to marry me.”

“Yes, but you were unaware of something about me when you proposed. I have a confession to make.”

How ominous that sounded. Was he a criminal? An imposter? Inflicted with a fatal disease? She withdrew her hand. “What? Just tell me.”

“It’s nothing particularly dreadful, but it may matter to you.” He turned away to stoke the fire. “I’m the heir presumptive to an earldom.”

“An earldom.” How unexpected. “Why does no one know?”

He added some coals. “Because I don’t tell anyone. Haledon is an obscure Welsh title. My uncle is the current incumbent, but he has only daughters and hopes I will carry on the line. I don’t mingle in society much, so only a few people, such as Restive, know I’m his heir.”

A thought occurred. “Does my father know?” Even before Cecil nodded, she knew the answer. Papa invariably checked into the family backgrounds of his men.

Cecil Hale was the only minion assigned to her who had stuck to his role despite growing to care for her. How could Papa help but approve such an honorable man?

Well. That explained why Rigby had so readily agreed to stage an accident here. Father had given him permission ahead of time, just in case—for he knew her brother might come to her for help. He’d done so all through his childhood, so why not now?

Papa was endlessly devious, but he was also patient and fair. He’d waited until he found the right sort of man for her—but then let her decide for herself.

Cecil turned at last. She