His Heart's Delight (28 page)

She walked to the door but turned around once
more. “Do think of him kindly, Christy. He does care, I am sure of
it.”

“More love-dazed wisdom?”

“No. I watched the two of you for most of a
Season. Do read his letter and begin to think about the future at
least a little.”

Joanna closed the door softly and for a
moment Christiana stared at the envelope. It was addressed directly
to her, with the Braedon frank in the corner. What room had he
written this in? How many sheets had he ruined before he had it
exactly as he wanted it? Holding it gave her no insight so she
broke the seal and read.

Dear Christiana,

The London we shared is cold and lonely
without you. But I know that it is not nearly as empty as your
world is right now. To lose someone loved and longed for is an
immeasurable loss. I send my deepest sympathy to you and Richard
Wilton’s family and hope that his death in service to King and
country will, in time, bring comfort.

Morgan Braedon

She read it five more times. How thoughtful.
How sweet. But Joanna was wrong. It was a sympathy note, not a
declaration.

She stared at the ceiling, refusing the
tears. It was something that Joanna, aglow with her own personal
happiness, could not understand. Not only was Richard dead, but she
had lost Morgan Braedon too.

~ ~ ~

Was it the warmth of the day or perhaps the
way the sunlight spread across the façade? Morgan was not sure but
whatever the reason, Monksford was one of the loveliest houses he
had ever seen. Large enough to impress, but not grand, it was a
building that time and family had made into a home.

Any number of the leaded windows that marched
across the front of the house and rose for three stories were
thrown open to catch the summer breeze. It added to the welcoming
feel. A maid was shaking a rug from an upper window, but ducked
inside the moment she saw him.

It was most likely that the other guests were
outside, perhaps by the folly he could see in the distance, but he
went to the front door, to present himself formally and change his
clothes before joining the company.

He watched the cricket match from his bedroom
window. The teams were well matched though of varying ages from
youngsters to grandfathers. The ladies sat nearby. He thought he
could pick Christiana out. Had she cut her hair? He supervised
Roberts as Roberts supervised the unpacking, and then rejected two
neckcloths before he was satisfied with the knot.

Suddenly in a hurry to join the company, he
rushed down the stairs, then changed his mind. It would be better
to see her for the first time at tea, indoors where she could not
easily leave. He decided to stop in the library and choose a volume
to help him to sleep later on.

That was where John Monksford found him. His
welcome was effusive and Morgan was impressed at how happiness took
years from Monksford’s face.

“Braedon, put that book down and come with
me. You have put off this meeting long enough.”

“What is it about the newly engaged, John? Do
you think you have all the answers or do you want the reassurance
that you are doing the right thing by urging others into the same
state?”

“Both.”

“That’s another thing about happy couples.
They almost never allow themselves to be annoyed.”

“Whereas, the unhappily single want to argue
with anything that moves.”

“How is she?”

“Better than she was”—Monksford considered
his answer a moment—“but not anything like she used to be. Joanna
tells me that she is too calm. At first she was angry and upset,
now she is little more than quiet.”

“I suspect that at least part of the change
is permanent.” Morgan shook his head. “You know as well as I that
loss like that changes one.”

“As it should. When my wife died, I
determined that the best way to honor her memory was to make the
most of the rest of my life. I think that is true for all of us.
And I think that Christiana needs you in her life before that
change for the good can take place.”

That was a large order. He tried to shake off
his insecurity. “Enough melancholy, John! This weekend is a
celebration. How many will be here for the engagement ball
tomorrow?”

“Most every family for ten miles and about
twenty or so from London. Our close friends and family are staying
here and the rest are at near neighbors’. It makes for an engaging
house party.”

Monksford seemed to relish the idea of
spending the small fortune it would take to entertain them all.

His host walked to the doors that opened onto
a terrace. “Come this way. Later I can show you the results from
that new seed I used this year. Very satisfactory.”

Morgan followed him, relieved that some
things did not change.

He knew the exact moment that Christiana
realized who he was. Joanna rose from her seat to come and greet
them, and Christiana turned to see where she was going.

He could have looked away, but he was so
hungry for the sight of her that he held her gaze. Before Joanna
claimed his attention he decided that Christiana looked thinner and
much too serious.

“Welcome, my lord. It is so lovely to have
you join. us. It reminds us both of the best parts of this past
Season.”

Joanna and Monksford were a pair of smiling
fools, Morgan thought, but their happiness was near irresistible.
He held her hand a moment and then kissed it.

“Thank you, Miss Lambert, for including me. I
trust your wisdom completely.”

Her smile dimmed a little. “Never say it will
be easy, my lord.”

“Nothing worth winning is.”

In complete understanding the three of them
turned back to the garden party. The cricket match was over, or at
least suspended, and the group gathered in the shade had more than
doubled. Youngsters hurried to the trees and began climbing the
lower limbs, trusting that their parents were sufficiently
distracted by conversation.

Christiana stood up, her face pale, and
walked toward the three of them as though she were accepting a fate
decreed but not desired.

He had longed for this meeting, but now that
it was upon him he had no idea what to say. All he could remember
was her demand that he never darken her door again.

Joanna Lambert rescued him. “Christy, I am so
happy that Lord Morgan could join us. He was able to change his
plans at the last minute.”

Someone called to Monksford and he and Joanna
both stepped away with entirely too much alacrity.

“I very much wanted to share this celebration
with your sister and Lord Monksford.”

“And so do I.” Christiana nodded, her face
much too composed.

“I can only hope their happiness is
contagious.”

Christiana looked at him as though he were
asking for the moon. Then she smiled. Not her familiar gamine grin,
but one that was more practiced and much less sincere. “The
happiness they share is rare, my lord. That is something I have
come to understand most clearly of late.”

He had no answer for that. Should he express
sympathy again? He had done that once already. Now he wanted her to
know how he felt, but this was not the place for a declaration.

Right now, even the easy friendship they had
shared seemed beyond his grasp. Civil conversation was the most he
could hope for. He had two days at least. He was not going to rush
his fences again.

“My lord, you must excuse me. My father asked
to have a few moments with me this afternoon.” With a slight
curtsy, she turned and walked slowly across the grounds.

Morgan watched her until Monksford came up
from behind and spoke. “I am sorry, Braedon. It will, I suppose,
take time.”

~ ~ ~

The meeting with Papa had been more than a
convenient excuse. When she had come early to breakfast, he and
Mama had been in a close conversation that ended the minute she
walked into the room. As he’d left the room a few moments later,
Papa had asked her to meet him in the library before tea.

It was a bit early. Tea was not for another
hour, but she would find something to read and wait for him. She
sat by the window with a book of fashion plates and turned the
pages without looking at a single illustration.

He looked wonderful. If his eyes seemed
strained that could well be because of the long ride in the bright
sun. A good night’s rest would take care of that.

He did seem a trifle formal, but that could
easily be blamed on the awkwardness of their meeting. Joanna had
insisted that he had called while she was still in London. And his
denial there would account for some uncertainty now.

Of course, if he had managed to win all the
funds he needed for his property then he had no need to pretend
anything with her anymore. There was even less to regret. One
kiss.

Had he not made it clear that he had come for
Joanna and Lord Monksford? So, his friendship with them would be
their only contact.

That meant he would be at the wedding, too,
she supposed. Well then, after that it would be over and she would
never have to see him again. She would not have to worry that he
was being polite for all the wrong reasons: to ease his
embarrassment, or worse, her own. Did he feel sorry for her?
Please, heaven, let his good manners come from more than that.

She would not go to London for the Season
this next year. Her heart was not ready for courtship. If she went
up to London again in two years then most likely he would have
found a match and would spend his time at the tables.

When her father came into the room she was
still debating the wisdom of claiming a headache to skip
dinner.

“Christy, my girl, are you all right?”

“Oh yes, Papa, just a little tired.”

“To be sure, watching cricket is an
exhausting exercise.”

She smiled at his silliness. “Papa, what were
you and Mama discussing this morning before I came into the
breakfast room?”

“Exactly what I wanted to talk with you about
now.” He sat down in the chair, put his hands on his thighs, and
nodded firmly. “There was too much chance of interruption at
breakfast, and since then there have been enough activities to
distract a wooden horse.”

He stood up, walked over to the beautifully
carved fireplace screen, and then back to his chair. There was no
laughter in his face now. If anything he looked upset.

“Daughter, your mother tells me that she has
it from Joanna that you are still upset about the influence your
London Season had on your feelings for Richard.”

Christiana nodded, miserable at the thought
that her father probably knew the whole sorry tale.

“Your mother says that Joanna says that you
say that you were disloyal and dishonest to Richard.”

“I think faithless is the word I used.”

“You are too hard on yourself.”

She shrugged. He was her papa. Of course he
would think so.

“Hear me now. I can tell you something that
may help you see your relationship with Richard differently.”

“You know something? What could that be?” She
all but laughed at the thought of her father as an adviser to the
loveless.

“Yes, all right.” He rubbed his forehead with
his hand. “You recall the acreage that has been in dispute between
the Lamberts and the Wiltons? It must be a hundred years that we
have been arguing over it.”

“Of course. And I know that if Richard and I
had married the land would have gone to Sir Howard, to the
Wiltons.”

“Good, but what you may not know is that Sir
Howard promised his son a goodly amount of money if he did contract
an alliance with you and the land did come into the Wilton
holding.”

She clenched her hands and made a conscious
effort to not let her jaw drop in amazement. She was more than
surprised. She was shocked.

“Now, there are always settlements, you know
that, so I am not sure that this is all that much different.” He
pulled out a handkerchief and began mopping his brow.

“It is completely different, Papa, and you
know it. The money Richard’s father would have given him was not
part of my dowry unless your accounting is extremely convoluted.”
She jumped up from the chair, ignoring the book when it fell to the
floor. “Papa! Do you mean to tell me that the courtship was not
about love or passion, it was about land and money?”

“Christiana, calm down. All marriages are
about land and money. Most of them are very satisfactory. Look at
your mother and me.”

“Do not try and distract me, Papa.” She spoke
each word with rigid clarity “Whatever other marriages are based
on, I wanted mine to come from love. You see how happy Joanna is?
That was what I hoped for, what I thought I had found with Richard.
I learned in London that I did not love Richard, but I still
believed that kind of love was possible even if it is as rare as
snow in May. And now you tell me that for Richard this was never
about loving? It was only about money!”

“Yes, all right. I told your mother this
might not be the best time to tell you.”

“Oh, Papa, yes, it is. My mourning is over.
He has had all the tears he is ever going to get from me.” It was
as thorough a purging of her guilt as anything could have been.

They both heard the gong announcing tea.
Christiana took a deep breath, walked over, and gave her father a
hug. “Thank you, Papa, I know how hard that was. You go to tea. I
think I must sit here a few moments and gather my composure.”

He held her at arm’s length and stared at
her. “All right.” He kissed her on the cheek and moved toward the
door. “Do you think Monksford will have something stronger than
tea?”

“Papa, he will if you ask him.”

“Yes, yes, he will.” With that assurance he
hurried from the room.

Christiana tried to let the silence of the
room calm her. She picked up the volume of fashion plates and set
it on the library table. She walked to the doors and pulled them
shut. Then she went back to the chair and sat down, folding her
hands in her lap. Deep breaths eased some of her anger but did
little to assuage the hurt.