When She Was Naughty (A Christmas Short Story) Read online

  “That is an understandable assumption, I suppose.”

  “You made attempts to engage me in conversation. When we conversed, you shared your thoughts freely. I saw it as a compliment that you would entrust me with your honest opinions. I strove to repay that compliment, even when we disagreed.”

  “That makes a distressing amount of sense.”

  “My hovering about, my beholding you with admiration... Those we have addressed. I didn’t realize my manner might seem critical or intimidating. That is a flaw in my character, and I shall own it. I’m not accustomed to concerning myself with how I appear to others.”

  “I imagine most earls likely aren’t. Nor dukes, marquesses, or viscounts for that matter.”

  “And then last night. The party. That abominable vest. You told me it was a tradition among gentlemen of the family. When you made an effort to include me in it, I hoped...”

  He paused, letting the full weight of his idiocy settle on her.

  “You hoped I wanted you as part of the family. You believed I was hinting at marriage.” She set her teacup on the table and pressed both hands to her heart. “That’s why you planned to propose. You bought a ring. You wore the ugliest garment in England. Only to find out I’d played you a trick. Oh, Justin.”

  “Please. I beg you, don’t make it sound that pitiful. Leave a man a few shreds of pride.”

  “I’m so very sorry. Truly, I’m ashamed of myself.”

  “I’m ashamed of the way I spoke to you afterward. I made it sound as if it’s been a trial to love you.” He pushed a hand through his hair. “The fact is, it’s been rather wonderous. If not for our entirely one-sided romance, I might have gone my whole life without knowing what it is to be in love.” He would never regret that, despite how it had ended.

  “I brought this.” She drew a lace handkerchief from her pocket. One corner was knotted around the sapphire ring.

  He waved it off. “I don’t want it back. Mind, I’m not going to tell you I could never bear to wed another. I will eventually have to marry. That’s how earldoms survive. But whomever I marry, I don’t expect I’ll like her very much, much less love her, and the chances that she’ll have eyes the precise color of summer skies the day after a rain are so small as to be infinitesimal. So keep the thing.”

  “You’re certain.”

  “Do with it as you wish.”

  “Very well. I’ll take you at your word on that.” She refilled his tea. “So after you left, my mother told me to search my heart. And that’s what I did, all night. I couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t a cursory search, either. I turned my heart out like a pocket and shook it for loose coins.”

  “Find anything of interest?” He lifted the tea to his lips.

  “Well, apparently I’m in love with you.”

  The teacup and saucer slipped from his hands and fell to the floor, sending tea sloshing on her slippers. “Christ.”

  She laughed. “You are a curse on good china.”

  “Nevermind the china. Go back to the bit where somewhere between the hours of midnight and five this morning, you deluded yourself into believing you love me.”

  “Deluded myself? Give me more credit than that.”

  “Don’t tease me, Chloe. Not today, not about this.”

  “I’m not teasing.”

  “I don’t trust my own perceptions. I’ve misunderstood you at every turn.”

  She smiled a little. “You understood me better than I understood myself. I was awake all night, reliving the history of our acquaintance. Every word, every look, every incidental touch. I remember all of it so clearly, as though I’d been saving up the memories. Making treasures of them.” She picked at the lace edging of the handkerchief. “From the start, I cared so deeply what you thought of me. I could never understand why. You were handsome and worldly and intelligent. A caring guardian to your cousin. A perfect gentleman. I couldn’t hope to match you for those things, and that hurt to admit. So I was your opposite. Teasing, improper, shameless at times. Looking back, it’s embarrassingly juvenile. I was desperate to draw your attention, to draw you out.” Her eyes lifted to his. “To draw you closer.”

  Her words planted a kernel of hope in his chest. He tried to uproot it before it could take hold.

  “You were so hopelessly above me, you see. So I teased you and provoked you and treated you with impertinence—always trying to knock you down a peg. Because if I knocked you down enough pegs, perhaps...” She sighed. “Perhaps then you’d be within my reach.”

  Within her reach?

  Justin looked out the window and laughed. He couldn’t help it.

  “At least I’ve finally managed to make you laugh.”

  “Chloe. From our first meeting, I have been your servant. Helpless to follow you like a pup, hanging on your every word. If you allowed it, I would always be within your reach.” He stroked her cheek. “And you, within mine.”

  He watched as she unknotted the handkerchief in her lap. She struggled with it, as if her fingers were unsteady. At last it came loose, and she shook the ring into her palm.

  “Would you put it on my finger? If you still want to.”

  Of course he still wanted to. He wanted to jam that ring on her finger and dip her whole hand in lacquer or glue, just to make sure it stayed there forever.

  He shook his head. “No. It’s too hasty.”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  “I’ve been thinking of marrying you for months, and you’ve had one night to consider the idea. ”

  “Yes, but I crammed a lot of consideration into that one night, and my feelings were there all along. I’m a highly efficient thinker, and I’m a woman. When it comes to marriage, a woman can consider more things in one night than a man considers in a decade. I have thoughts on the headstone, by the way.”

  “The headstone?”

  “Yes. The headstone that you said we’d be buried under, side by side. I want to be clear from the outset that it must have my name. There’s nothing worse than a headstone that says ‘Mr. Manford Manly McManning’ in engraved letters, and then in tiny chiseled script at the bottom, ‘his wife.’ I won’t be a ‘his wife,’ Justin. It must say the full thing. Chloe Anne Garland Montague, Lady Cheverell. If not, I shall haunt the house with a vengeance. I’d be good at haunting. Sounds more amusing than heaven, if I’m honest. Maybe I can divide my eternity. You know, the way people summer in Ramsgate or Bath.”

  Justin rubbed his face with one hand, amused. She truly was astounding. This was going to be an interesting forever.

  “You may put whatever you like on the headstone,” he said. “I don’t care if you reduce me to ‘her husband.’ However, we will write an engagement announcement first. And that will take place after I have proposed to you properly. Sometime in March, perhaps.”

  “March?” She made an indignant little bounce. “You will make me wait until March?”

  “It’s only three months.”

  “That’s a quarter of a year.”

  “Correct. It’s also approximately thirteen weeks, or ninety-one-and-a-quarter days.” He held out his palm. “Give the ring here. I’ll put it in the lockbox for safekeeping.”

  She snatched her hand away. “You will not. You just told me the ring was mine to keep. That I could do with it as I wish. And I wish to wear it.”

  “Chloe.”

  “I know that you mean well,” she said. “You are concerned for my reputation and you would like my family’s blessing first. Most of all, you want to be sure that I’m sure. I adore you for being protective of me and my family.”

  “It’s no less than my duty as a gentleman.”

  “Justin, you’re very good at doing what you should. But sometimes you need a nudge to do what you truly want. That’s where I come in.”

  Hah. If he did what he truly wanted at the moment, the divan beneath them would require new upholstery, and they’d need to marry by the end of the week. She would do well to be careful with those nudges of hers
.

  Carnality aside, however, she was doing remarkably well at reading his thoughts.

  “You weren’t exaggerating,” he said. “You did do a lot of thinking last night.”

  She grinned. “You’ve no idea.”

  “I don’t even want to know the full extent of it, do I?”

  “No. You’d be terrified.”

  “Well, then. Let’s just close that Pandora’s box, shall we.”

  She held up the ring. “Here is my proposal. You put the ring on my finger today, but I promise to keep it secret for now. I’ll only wear it to bed until you ask my father’s permission and formally propose. Twelfth Night would be the perfect occasion, in my view.”

  “That’s less than two weeks away.”

  “Precisely.” She squeezed his wrist, and his pulse pounded under her touch. “I love you. I don’t want to spend another minute pretending I don’t. I want to show off this gorgeous ring. And I want everyone to know I’m yours, and you’re mine. You want that, too.”

  He pretended his chest wasn’t exploding with joy. He couldn’t be a complete milquetoast, giving in to her every whim, or they’d never get on. She needed him to be resolute and practical on occasion, just as much as he needed her to remind him of life’s delights. “If I agree to this...”

  “When you agree to this. Which will be a minute from now, if that.”

  “I insist we add three months to our engagement. Six months in all.”

  “A June wedding would be acceptable.”

  “And I must be allowed to call you dearest and darling.”

  “As long as I am allowed an endearment for you.”

  He was wary. “Which endearment?”

  “I haven’t yet decided.”

  “That’s worrisome.”

  She shrugged.

  With a dramatic sigh, he plucked the ring from her grasp. “This is a very big leap of trust, you know.”

  “Yes, I know.” She caressed his arm sweetly. “I love you for taking it.”

  He held the ring poised at the tip of her third finger. “Will you marry me?”

  And even though they’d been talking about it for the past half-hour, negotiating everything from wedding dates to grave markers, his heart battered his ribs for the brief-but-endless moment it took her to answer.

  “Yes.”

  Thank God.

  He slid the ring on her finger. She twisted her hand back and forth admiring the way the gems sparkled. He propped his elbow on the arm of the divan and admired the sparkle in her eyes. “Are you happy, my dearest darling?”

  “I am ecstatic, Manford Manly McManning.”

  “No.” He sat up at once. “No.”

  She played innocent. “But we agreed.”

  “I did not agree to that.”

  “It’s the endearment of my choosing.”

  “Give me that ring back.” He lunged for her hand.

  She eluded his grasp. “Too late, Manford.”

  Oh, now this was serious.

  He caught her by the waist, and she shrieked with laughter as he hauled her into his lap. Her body fit perfectly against his. All her soft, generous curves complemented his unyielding edges. “Do you know how much I love you?”

  “Which answer will get me more kisses? Yes, or no?”

  “Excellent question. Try both, and we’ll find out.”

  When he kissed her, he did so tenderly. This morning, he had nothing to prove in a few stolen moments, no resentment simmering beneath his desire. She was his now, and he was hers. They had all the time in the world.

  She pulled away with a gasp. “Oh, dear. Oh, no.”

  “What is it?” Blood powered through him in a primal response. He was ready to leap fences, or punch something, or carry her over his shoulder to safety. Whatever she required.

  “The goose,” she said. “I have to take it back home.”

  Justin was nonplussed.

  “My parents didn’t send it. It’s our goose, for our dinner. I stole it. I needed an excuse to knock at your door and ask to speak with you, and I couldn’t think of anything else.” Her mouth tugged to the side. “This is awkward, but I must ask for it back. It should be plucked and roasting already. The cook must be beside herself.”

  He tucked a finger under her chin. “I’ll have the carriage readied at once.”

  She exhaled with relief. “Thank you.”

  “Happy Christmas, my darling.”

  “Happy Christmas, my love.”

  He dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Much better.”

  A Note from the Author

  Thank you so much for reading When She Was Naughty! If you enjoyed the story, please recommend it to a friend or post an honest review. Recommendations and reviews help other readers find new books to enjoy.

  Keep turning pages for a peek at my latest book!

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  More Books by Tessa Dare

  Girl Meets Duke series

  The Duchess Deal

  The Governess Game

  The Wallflower Wager

  The Bride Bet (forthcoming, date TBA)

  Castles Ever After series

  Romancing the Duke

  Say Yes to the Marquess

  When a Scot Ties the Knot

  Spindle Cove series

  A Night to Surrender

  Once Upon a Winter’s Eve

  A Week to be Wicked

  A Lady by Midnight

  Beauty and the Blacksmith

  Any Duchess Will Do

  Lord Dashwood Missed Out

  Do You Want to Start a Scandal

  The Stud Club series

  One Dance with a Duke

  Twice Tempted by a Rogue

  Three Nights with a Scoundrel

  The Wanton Dairymaid series

  Goddess of the Hunt

  Surrender of a Siren

  A Lady of Persuasion

  Novellas

  “Meet Me in Mayfair” in How the Dukes Stole Christmas

  His Bride for the Taking

  The Scandalous, Dissolute, No-Good Mr. Wright

  How to Catch a Wild Viscount

  An excerpt from The Wallflower Wager

  (Girl Meets Duke)

  They call him the Duke of Ruin...

  Wealthy and ruthless, Gabriel Duke clawed his way from the lowliest slums to the pinnacle of high society—and now he wants to get even.

  Loyal and passionate, Lady Penelope Campion never met a lost or wounded creature she wouldn’t take into her home and her heart.

  When her imposing—and attractive—new neighbor demands she clear out the rescued animals, Penny sets him a challenge. She will part with her precious charges, if he can find them loving homes.

  Done, Gabriel says. How hard can it be to find homes for a few kittens?

  And a two-legged dog.

  And a foul-mouthed parrot.

  And a goat, an otter, a hedgehog . . .

  Easier said than done, for a cold-blooded bastard who wouldn’t know a loving home from a workhouse. Soon he’s covered in cat hair, knee-deep in adorable, and bewitched by a shyly pretty spinster who defies his every attempt to resist. Now she’s set her mind and heart on saving him.

  Not if he ruins her first.

  TURN THE PAGE FOR AN excerpt from The Wallflower Wager.

  The Wallflower Wager

  Chapter One

  Over her years of caring for unwanted animals, Lady Penelope Campion had learned a few things.

  Dogs barked; rabbits hopped.

  Hedgehogs curled up into pincushions.

  Cats plopped i
n the middle of the drawing room carpet and licked themselves in indelicate places.

  Confused parrots flew out open windows and settled on ledges just out of reach. And Penny leaned over window sashes in her nightdress to rescue them—even if it meant risking her own neck.

  She couldn’t change her nature, any more than the lost, lonely, wounded, and abandoned creatures filling her house could change theirs.

  Penny gripped the window casing with one hand and waved a treat with her other. “Come now, sweeting. This way. I’ve a biscuit for you.”

  Delilah cocked her plumed head and regarded the treat. But she didn’t budge.

  Penny sighed. She had no one to blame but herself, really. She’d forgotten to cover the birdcage completely at sundown, and she’d left a candle burning far too late while she finished a delicious novel. However, she’d never dreamed Delilah could be clever enough to reach between the bars with one talon and unlatch the little door.

  Once the parrot had escaped her cage, out the window she flew.

  Penny pursed her lips and whistled. “See, darling? It’s a lovely biscuit, isn’t it? A gingersnap.”

  “Pretty girl,” the parrot chirruped.

  “Yes, dear. What a pretty, pretty girl you are.”

  Delilah made a tentative shuffle sideways. At last, progress.

  The bird came closer . . .

  “That’s it. Here you come, sweetheart.”

  Closer . . .

  “Good girl.”

  Just a few more inches . . .

  Drat.

  Delilah snatched the biscuit from Penny’s fingers, scuttled backward, and took a brief flight, coming to land on the windowsill of the next house.

  “No. Please. No.”

  With a flutter, Delilah disappeared through the open window.

  Drat and blast.

  The old Wendleby residence had lain vacant for years, save for a few servants to watch over the place, but the property had recently changed hands. The mysterious new owner had yet to make an appearance, but he’d sent an architect and a regiment of laborers to make several noisy, dusty improvements. A house under construction was no place for a defenseless bird to be flying about in the dark.