A Pair of Rogues (16 page)

If he was the man who was keeping her from choosing a worthy mate, he had only one choice of action. He must prevent her from marrying anyone else until her preference could naturally shift to a gentleman more deserving of her love.

“I’ll talk to Robert,” he blurted, as much to himself as to Louisa. “He mustn’t be allowed to bully her. She’ll make a decent choice in time.”

“I am sure she will,” Louisa said, her tears vanishing in the wake of a radiant smile. “I knew I could count on you, Ned. You are always so dependable.”

Her choice of word startled him. He had been called many things before, but dependability had never been numbered among his better known virtues.

Louisa’s mistake brought a cynical smile to his lips.

“You must be thinking of someone else. However, in this instance, I shall do my best.”

He strolled the room and found Robert in converse with one of his guests, the sight of whom made Ned halt in his tracks.

Lord Musgrove. Tall, frail, and obliged by his thinning hair to wear to wig, he was the son of the aged Duke of Gilmorgan. A marquess in his fifties if he was day, he had a pronounced disdain for frivolous society. Not yet come into his main inheritance, he seldom ventured into London; but rumor had it that the duke could not possibly last much longer, so Lord Musgrove was finally on the lookout for a wife.

Anger swelled in Ned. If this was the man Robert had selected for Christina, he would have something blunt to say.

* * * *

Christina had long since given up hope that Ned would invite her to dance. His tardy arrival had resulted in the effect of an icy bath. She felt chilled to the bone, and no number of compliments or amount of flattering attention from other gentlemen could raise a warmth in her veins.

Feeling pale and thin in her responses, she had nevertheless done her best to live up to the honor Robert and Louisa had done her by giving this ball. She had been generous with her smiles and had danced with every gentleman who’d been presented to her. The only privilege she had reserved for herself had been the choice of her supper partner.

She had delayed her decision until a real danger loomed of being forced to accept Lord Musgrove, Robert’s current favorite. She had decided Lord Levington would squire her.

He had been invited, despite Robert’s wishes. Louisa had been adamant that a man who had rendered her such a service could not be ignored.

Now, as Christina walked into the parlor where chairs had been set up for supper, she felt as if she might as well endure the penance of Levington’s company. Her experience with Ned had proven how unappealing she was to anyone who could inspire her devotion. Despite his passionate kisses, Ned had obviously decided she was unworthy of more.

Levington secured a pair of chairs and signaled to a footman to supply them with plates, then to another to fill Christina’s glass with champagne. He seemed pleased when she immediately raised it to her lips.

The strong, fizzing liquid stung her throat and nose, but her second sip went down much more smoothly and brought a sudden heat to her cheeks. The third left her with a warm, syrupy lassitude that partially chased away her rebellious spirits.

“I had almost feared I would not be invited this evening.” With a knowing smile, Levington leaned across his chair until his head was mere inches away from hers.

“Oh? And why was that, my lord?”

“I had begun to think your brother did not approve of me.”

“Undoubtedly, he does not.”

The champagne had added a certain directness to her speech. Levington’s evident dismay raised a giggle in Christina’s throat, but she smothered it.

“It is the duchess, then, who invited me?”

“She and I drafted most of the list.”

His smugness returned, taking shape in that slow, intimate smile. “Then, here we are at last.”

A wave of self-disgust nearly overcame her. Christina lowered her gaze to her plate and toyed with her food. Until this moment, she had not considered how her choice of dinner partner at her own ball might be viewed, especially by that choice.

Levington bent to whisper in her ear. “Will you give me leave to speak to your brother tomorrow?”

“I doubt you should make the attempt. Robert has not been known to express kindly feelings towards you.”

He pulled back quickly, a scowl on his face, before attempting to recover his good humor.

He moved nearer again, and his voice was low. “Are you saying we would do best to marry without his notice?”

“I have never said I would marry you, my lord.” Christina turned sharply towards him, so that he might see the sincerity of her words.

An angry light came into his eyes.

“My dear Lady Christina, surely you have intimated as much by your encouragement of my attentions. And I see no need for qualms as long as the duchess favors my suit, which I believe she does.”

“You are gravely mistaken. Louisa will accept my wishes with respect to my own future happiness.”

Lord Levington’s gaze narrowed to a slit as he slowly sat back in his chair.

Christina felt her own stare wavering as the error she had made burst fully upon her. With all the fortitude she possessed, she reminded herself that this man had wanted her for her fortune alone.

“It seems in that case that I have made a mistake,” he said with a sneer. “I had thought my attentions more agreeable to you. If you have no objection, I shall take myself off.”

“I give you leave.”

As he rose from his seat, Christina kept her eyes downcast. All around her, their guests were enjoying the delicious fare in twos and threes. The din in the parlor was such that no one could have heard what had passed between them.

When Levington was gone, she stayed where she was only long enough to make certain she would not run into him, but not long enough for someone to wonder that her partner had not returned. Exhausted in spirit and body, she quietly rose as if intending to rejoin the dance.

Instead, she made her way to the rear of the house where a servants’ staircase took her up to the second floor. She hoped her absence would not be noticed before she could collect herself again.

Once within the privacy of her own room, she removed her gloves and sat down on the bed. She could not recline without wrinkling her dress, so she simply closed her eyes and let despair roll through her.

She had defied the conventions. She had run all the risks her restless mind had forced her to run. And still she had not been happy. Sometimes she wondered if it would take utter ruin to quash this discontent that drove her on.

She remembered Ned’s warning, that social ruin would not bring her joy, and in her heart she believed him. Why, then, could she not stop herself from pursuing that very object?

The door to her room gave a click. She opened her eyes and jumped when she saw Ned filling the doorway. His angry expression chased the blood from her cheeks.

After a few moments, he silently closed the door behind him, before turning to lean against the casement with his arms crossed. Seeing him there when she had believed he had forgotten her made her heart beat queerly.

She was unprepared for his first words. “Levington is not yet here yet, I see.  We shall be able to scotch this scandal before it takes place.”

“Lord Levington?” Christina was taken aback, but the scorn in his voice flicked her like a whip. “Whatever can you mean?”

A slow, hard smile formed on his lips, but did not warm his eyes. “I saw him leave the dining parlor. Then, after a discreet interval, you also left.

“I have to credit you, Lady Chris. Not many girls would have the gall to seduce their escort at their own ball.”

Enraged beyond speech, Christina surged to her feet. With fists at her side, she started to move towards him, but an angry devil inside her made her stop.

She made a half-turn with her body, so that Ned could not see her face. “So you saw us, did you? And you came up to stop me from this ultimate indiscretion. How kind of you, Ned.”

Out the corner of her eye, she saw his body go rigid. He took an involuntary step in her direction.

“There is no cause for jokes! What in the name of Satan could you have been thinking to place yourself in such a compromising situation? If you want Levington, why don’t you marry him and spare the people who love you so much anguish?”

Tears were forming in Christina’s eyes, but she fought them down. “Is that what I should do?” she asked in a tremulous voice. “Marry Levington?”

“No!” In two quick strides, Ned crossed to her. He took her by the shoulders and spun her around. Giving her a shake, so hard it rattled her teeth, he said, “That scoundrel isn’t worth the tip of your finger. Anybody—take your pick—even Buffington or Musgrove would be better than Levington.” He gave a derisive snort. “Even I would make a better husband.”

With those words, Christina’s eyes, which she had squeezed tightly shut to keep her tears from falling, flew wide open. She saw a haunting desperation in his gaze, and her heart took a leap. “Are you saying I should marry you instead?”

A shocked, guilty look—full of fear and hope—broke over his face. His fingers dug deeply into her arms, and he gave a ragged gasp. Christina wished with all her might that he would embrace her. Ned seemed torn between thrusting her from him and pulling her to his chest.

“Good Lord!” Robert’s voice surprised them both, making them spin to face the door, where he stood with an air of outraged hurt. “And to think I trusted you.

“I must have been a fool,” he said, looking at Ned with disappointment and disgust. “That you would betray the trust you have enjoyed in this house to persuade my sister into this! I never should have trusted you. It went against by better judgment, but I let myself be foolishly persuaded.”

Christina saw that Ned had gone white, as white as a sheet of paper. Before she could utter a word in his defense, Robert drew himself up.

“I must ask you to leave.” His speech admitted no room for discussion.

To Christina’s dismay, Ned simply complied. His mouth twisted with irony, but he spoke not a word in his own defense. Instead, he made a formal bow to Robert, before repeating his obeisance to her more slowly.

“My apologies, madam, if I have done anything to give disgust.”

The complete acceptance with which this was said wrung Christina’s heart. For the first time, she felt Ned’s deep sense of worthlessness, and it rang with such harmony with her own as to paralyze her now.

In a moment he was gone. Robert stood quietly in the room until he could conquer his anger enough to speak.

“Downstairs are four hundred guests assembled in your honor. Will you please have the goodness to grant them your company?”

Stunned by all that had occurred in the past few minutes, Christina numbly walked past him. She went downstairs, and for the rest of the night, a brittle smile concealed the tumult in her mind.

*    *    *

In the morning, once their guests had gone, she exercised all her remaining strength to correct Robert’s misapprehension of the events. Surprisingly, the simple truth made the best story because, for once, Christina had nothing to hide.

Robert, however, was not so easy to convince. The evidence of his eyes tended to contradict what she’d said. Had he not discovered her alone in her bedroom with Ned? And had Ned not put his arms about her?

No matter how many times Christina informed him with increasing asperity that Ned had made the same mistake as he, but that his particular mode of punishment had been to try to shake the teeth from her head, Robert would not bend. He conceded that her own behavior might have been innocent. But if Ned’s had been, why had he refused to contradict the charges?

Christina could not answer this question without delving into facets of her own character she was only now beginning to understand. And she could not be certain that the hurts she had experienced could be applied equally to Ned, although she thought they might.

When one has been accused from infancy of evil intent, it is somehow easier to be the person one is imagined to be than to continue trying to prove that others are wrong.

Ned’s face last night, when Robert had accused him of the worst sort of treachery, throwing in doubt all their friendship had meant, had been a sight Christina never hoped to see again. That Ned had been severely hurt was obvious. And perhaps his own confusion over his motives had contributed to an appearance of guilt.

He had kissed her in the carriage. Had he meant to embrace her again last night before they’d been interrupted?

Whatever the case, she would never know. Robert stated in no uncertain terms that from thenceforth, she was not to see Ned again.

* * * *

It was a miserable party that climbed the stairs of Broughton House to seek their beds at dawn. Louisa put an arm about Christina’s waist and urged her to bed. She promised they would talk when they had all got some rest.

As she had feared, the worst had happened. Somehow, she knew she could believe Christina’s version of the story.

More alert to her sister-in-law’s doings than either gentleman knew, Louisa had not failed to notice when Lord Levington had left the ball. She had not witnessed Christina’s trip upstairs; but knowing the watch Ned always kept upon her movements, the number of times he had forestalled her most wanton escapades, and the pitch of his feelings that evening, she did not doubt he had acted, rashly perhaps, but still with Christina’s best interest in mind.

Her own part in raising his level of anxiety, Louisa deplored. She had pressed him to hard and too fast when, clearly, Ned could not begin to see himself as a legitimate suitor. And now that Robert had thrown his sordid reputation in his teeth, he would be even less likely to do so.

Added to all this heartache and disappointment was Robert’s anger at herself. Louisa sighed. She had made a pig’s breakfast of everything,  yet, she absolutely must not back out now.

Both Ned and Christina deserved a chance in life, but life had wrung all hope from both. If they were ever to come together, Louisa would have to go directly against her husband’s wishes. She could not bear the thought of hurting Robert, but she must do what was right.