“Machiavelli gave me the idea,” he said. “âAmong other evils which being unarmed brings you, it causes you to be despised.'”
She smiled. “There's more to Machiavelli than arming oneself. âThe friendship which is gained by purchase and not through grandeur and nobility of spirit is merited but is not secured.'”
“You quote Machiavelli, too.” He turned her hand and traced tiny circles on the underside of her wrist. “I should not be surprised.”
“Never. And you were never unarmed, either. Do you see? You think you've bought your friends, but your social power is real. People like to follow you. Now you can decide where you want to lead them.”
He had to think that one over. “You may be right. Lord Xavier might not be such a worthless fellow after all.”
“I know I'm right.”
He laughed. “Without constant reminders from Lockwood,” he said, “Lord Xavier can begin to fade away. Someday, we won't even have to talk of him as though he's a false person.”
“I'd like that,” Louisa decided. “I think you would, too. Much less tiring to be only one person. But a talent for acting will never go amiss.”
He pressed a kiss to the underside of her wrist; touched it with the tip of his tongue. She closed her eyes. “That talent won't go amiss, either.”
He sat back on his heels. “I can show you much more than that.”
Oh, what a wicked smile. “I should like to see it. Give me your finest performance.”
So he did. Not because he was biddable. Simply because of love.
And when he called to her to come, shatter with him, she did so at once. For the same reason.
Epilogue
Containing a Wedding, Then a Marriage
When the banns were called for the marriage of Alexander Edgware, the ninth Earl of Xavier, to the Honorable Louisa Oliver, the
ton
indulged in much speculation.
The men of the
ton
decided that there must be something extraordinary about the young lady in question. Seven seasons' worth of the most beautiful maidens in England had been unable to entrap the earl.
The women of the
ton
thought the reverse. They, better than their husbands and fathers and lovers, remembered the quiet young woman who'd once been dragged into a scandal. She had vanished from society after thatâonly to turn up betrothed to Xavier. What appeal would a notorious rake hold for a shy bluestocking?
Unless . . . he wasn't. Or unless she wasn't.
The solution to this puzzle was not provided by Lord Lockwood, who returned to London shortly after Twelfth Night. Though the marquess was much-plied with invitations from the curious, he was disappointingly closelipped about the whole affair. In fact, he was quiet about everything, attending few parties. He drank much brandy at White's. Sometimes he requested the betting book and paged through it slowly. He was thoughtâonly in masculine circlesâto have transacted some business with a former mistress.
The puzzle only grew more obscure when Xavier's wedding took place. The modish earl was married not in fashionable St. George's church in London, but in the tumbledown old country church on his property. It was rumored that some of his tenants had attended, and that a notorious opera singer had performed a soaring aria for the occasion.
By the time the London season began in the spring, rumor floated everywhere, like dandelion seed. Perhaps the bride was heavy with child. Perhaps she had a mysterious power of influence.
But Lady Alleyneham and Lady Irving, the most sociable and most forceful countesses of the polite world, took the new Lady Xavier under their wing. And society's matrons soon saw that the young countessâwho was neither visibly pregnant, nor possessed of supernatural giftsâwas a pleasant sort. If she was quiet, she had a lovely smile. And when one spoke to her at length, there was no denying she was a wit.
As the season stretched on, the
ton
became accustomed to seeing Xavier at the theater with his wife rather than a lightskirt. It made sense, too, that a recently wed man might choose to go home to his wife at times, rather than staying out till all hours at his club.
Over time, the betting book at White's would fill with other names. That was the way of the world. Lord Xavier's ruling years had been riotous, but he was by no means indispensable to the
beau monde
's happiness.
To his wife, however, he was. By any and every name.
Author's Note
Regency Christmas celebrations were often very mild affairs. Most of the traditions we now associate with an old-fashioned English Christmas (Christmas trees, caroling, elaborate gift-giving) came about during the Victorian era, a few decades later. Our Regency counterparts did enjoy a good pudding, though, as well as party games and a kiss under the mistletoe.
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Sharp-eyed readers will note that Twelfth Night occurs on January 5th in this book. While we sometimes celebrate it on January 6th todayâcounting the 12 Days of Christmas from December 26thâduring the Regency, the 12 Days began on Christmas Day itself. Twelfth Night and Epiphany were distinct celebrations.
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Charades in the Regency were more elaborate than the way the game is played now. Instead of a single actor miming a word at a time, a group of actors might present a tableau (scenery and all!) representing a word from a phrase or poem. In SEASON FOR SURRENDER, Xavier's accomplices play a form of charades called Nebuchadnezzar, in which one
letter
at a time is performed. Nebuchadnezzar hit its height of popularity in the early 1900s, but there's no reason a clever and half-drunk crowd couldn't have played this form of charades during the Regency.
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Finallyâjust what is the problem with Xavier's vision? Nothing that couldn't be corrected today with a pair of reading glasses. He has
simple hyperopia
, which is a genetic form of farsightedness resulting from a too-short eyeball. A convex lens can correct this condition. Since Xavier can't bring himself to wear spectacles, we must assume he had his quizzing glass ground to suit his needs.
Did you miss SEASON FOR TEMPTATION?
Two Sisters . . .
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Julia Herington is overjoyed when her stepsister, Louisa, becomes engagedâto a viscount, no less. Louisa's only hesitation is living a life under the
ton
's critical gaze. But with his wry wit and unconventional ideas, Julia feels James is perfect for Louisa. She can only hope to find a man like him for herself. Exactly like him, in fact . . .
Â
One Choice . . .
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As the new Viscount Matheson, James wished to marry quickly and secure his title. Kind, intelligent Louisa seemed a suitable bride . . . until he met her stepsister. Julia is impetuousâand irresistible. Pledged to one sister, yet captivated by another, what is he to do? As Christmas and the whirl of the London season approach, James may be caught in a most scandalous conundrum, one that only true love, a bit of spiritous punchâand a twist of fateâwill solve . . .
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