Love Me Again (17 page)

Almost in a daze, she sank down onto her heels so she could look into the child's eyes. She was so like him! The brilliant ice-blue eyes, wide and unblinking, framed by an abundance of dark lashes. The bold, slashing brows, so much darker than her hair, frowned solemnly at her. Christina reached out to touch a fine textured curl that was still the white blond of childhood, but with age it would darken to the deep honey rich shades of her father's silken hair. Looking sideways, she saw her little hand engulfed in her father's gentle grasp.

Swallowing thickly, she gave the curious little girl a smile. “Hello. I'm Christina.”

Crowding closer to her papa's leg, she poked her thumb into her mouth. Squatting down beside them, Varek gently tugged his daughter's thumb out of her rosebud mouth. It came out with a smacking pop. Christina didn't know whether to hug Varek, his child, or to run.

“Say ‘Hello’ to the pretty lady, Tina,” Varek's low voice rumbled softly as he wiped the sticky thumb on his kerchief.

Dutifully, the child repeated, “Hello.” Then she dipped a clumsy curtsey.

Tears prickled her eyes as Christina looked into Varek's intense gaze, which seemed to possess her completely. “Tina?” she whispered.

Slowly, he nodded. “Tina Marie.” Christina's middle name was Marie. Christina's eyes slid closed to capture the tears she refused to let fall.
Oh, Varek, my dear love.
Even all those years ago he had been telling the world who was his child's mother in his heart.

Blinking rapidly, Christina again studied his daughter. Tina Marie. If Varek was her soul mate, did that make Tina Marie her soul daughter? She almost laughed at the sad absurdity of it. Her voice quavered as she said, “She's gorgeous, Varek. You must be so proud.” When she again had control of herself, she dared to look at him.

Still watching her intently, Varek merely nodded, his penetrating gaze speaking a multitude of his feelings, none of which could be spoken out loud at that moment.

Taking a deep breath, she stood abruptly and stepped away from them. She had to get away.
Now!
Linking her arm with the silent Sergei, she smiled with false brightness down on them. “It was a pleasure meeting you, young lady. Be sure you tell your father to take you to see the puppet show.” Then she literally dragged Sergei away as she did what she was best at, she ran.

Tina Marie popped her thumb back into her mouth, then tugged impatiently on her papa's arm to get his attention. But he wasn't looking at her; he was watching the pretty lady until she was out of sight. He looked sad again and she didn't like to see her papa look sad. Holding onto his cheeks, she pulled his face around to her. “You a'right, Papa?”

Varek looked at his littlest love and felt a sadness swamp him that almost unmanned him. Christina should be standing beside them, not running away. Covering his daughter's hands, he pulled them to his lips and kissed them. “Oh, Tina, hopefully one day we will all be all right.”

Standing, he lifted his daughter into his arms and determinedly strode toward the puppet show.

“Are you all right?” Sergei asked, concerned, as his long-legged stride easily matched Christina hurried steps.

“No. Just keep walking.”

“He named her after you.”

“Shut up, Sergei,” she snapped, her voice cracking. Her shoulders started to jerk, and Sergei quickly swept her behind a colonnade, offering her some privacy. Blindly, she turned into his arms and held on as if she expected a wave to sweep her away. “She should have been mine, Sergei! Why?
Why?"
Her body was shaking with tremors that had Sergei frightened. Ignoring the curious and frowning stares around him, he held her close enough for it to seep into her panic that she was not alone.

Looking back through the crowds, he caught a brief glimpse of Varek, with his daughter in his arms again. He cringed at the stark pain etched on his friend's usually impassive face.

Still trembling, Christina pushed out of his arms, and he was surprised to see her eyes dry. However, seeing the hard, brilliant cast to the glare she tossed about her, he much preferred the tears. He didn't like this stranger suddenly standing before him. Her body was as rigid as stone when she moved off, striding with hurried steps toward the British apartments.

Sergei looked once more toward Varek and saw him gone. He stood undecided for a long moment, not knowing whom to follow. Then, with a sigh, he took off after Christina. God, in the mood she was in, she might charge across a street not caring what she walked out in front of.

Enough was enough. Tonight he was going to write to Edward. If the duke was intent on playing God, then he could sure as hell fix this mess he had instigated.

Two days after that heart-wrenching meeting with Varek's daughter, Christina's steps dragged as she let herself into the apartment, weary and heavy-hearted. She looked about the room as if in a daze, drawing off her gloves and bonnet. She was surprised to see a light on in the study and curious, as Robert was hardly ever in at this early hour, she walked into the cozy room.

Her feelings were mixed as she noticed his figure sprawled in the chair before the fire, engrossed in a letter. Stepping closer, her heart skipped a beat. The crest on the letterhead was Kerkston's. Edward had finally written. For months she had waited impatiently for word from home.

Tossing her apparel aside, her skirts rustled sharply in the quiet room as she moved eagerly forward to stand over Robert.

Startled, he jumped to his feet and blinked down into her radiantly smiling face. Not having received such a show of warmth from her in weeks, he offered her a hesitant smile in return, bending down to give her a kiss.

“We have finally heard from Edward?” were the first words out of her mouth, her gaze fixed almost hungrily on the letter in his hands. His smile died a swift death as he realized her buoyant good cheer had nothing to do with him. As usual. The letter fisted in a convulsive grasp as she reached for it. Perversely, he stepped away from her, holding it out of her reach.

Confused, she looked into Robert's eyes and warily stepped back from the scowl he bent upon her. Her hands came up to twist together at her waist. She was having a hard time biting off the anger she was beginning to feel. Not another argument. “Is something wrong?” she asked hesitantly, striving to keep her voice calm.

He offered her no reply as he stepped around her and headed for the door. She couldn't believe he was simply walking away from her.

“Robert!” she bit out sharply.

He paused in the doorway and turned partially toward her without looking at her. Again he said nothing.

Taking a deep breath to tamp down her anger and confusion, she waved weakly at the letter. “How is Eddie...”

“Fine!” he grated out, turning to fling a sidelong scowl at her. “He's just fine! How about asking how my day was?” With that dearth of information he left her alone staring in turmoil about the empty room. In the distance she heard the slamming of a door and the rage that swamped her had her trembling.

From head to toe, her body shook. She was truly and totally enraged, and it felt cleansing. Striding over to the door, she did her own share of venting, and slammed the door so hard that the lintel cracked. With a strained smile, she inspected the damage.
Not good enough.

Looking around she spotted the new mechanical music box he had just purchased and was so proud of. He had a passion for mechanical knick-knacks.

Very well. If he was going to act like a spoiled child, it was only fair she should be accorded the same privilege. Picking up the ugly box, she started to heft it at the abused portal, and then paused abruptly, the aborted toss throwing her off balance. Biting her lip, she weighed the substantial bulk in her hand, considering the damage it would cause. After all, the door and its delicate woodwork was not hers to destroy.

A decision made, she stepped quickly to the window and, sliding it open, she casually tossed the expensive box out. She smiled smugly as she heard it shatter with a delightful tinkling of debris. However, she frowned quickly enough as a muffled curse exploded up toward her. Leaning out, she apologized abjectly to the disgruntled pedestrian and then surveyed her handiwork. Sighing with contented goodwill, she gazed about the beautiful plaza. Venting her anger felt good. She should do it more often, she decided as she stepped back into the study.

Closing the window with a snap, she dusted off her hands briskly and went to her room to change for dinner.

The next morning when Christina sat down at her dressing table she noticed the letter from Edward propped against the mirror with a rose.

She couldn't help the spurt of guilty anger she felt toward Robert. Why hadn't he just given it to her yesterday?

Refusing to brood over Robert's twisted reasons for both the argument last night and his apology this morning, she hurriedly opened the letter and searched first for any reference to her little son. Soon she was laughing and wishing more than ever that she was back home.

Lord and Lady Castlereagh bumped another chair as they executed a rather untidy turn. Their feet tangled and the lady was thrown off balance, almost falling to her knees. With curses aplenty, they paused, straightened themselves and then with dignified hauteur gamely tried again. Castlereagh's secretary, Peterson, sat oblivious at the pianoforte and banged out an inferior rendition of a waltz. He knew better than to pause, so on he continued, wisely ignorant of his superior's ungainly progress around the dance floor.

Every other day, or when their hectic schedules allowed, the Castlereaghs met here and tried to teach themselves the intimidating steps of the Viennese waltz. So far they weren't doing very well. But they did try, saving themselves the embarrassment of the eyes of the snobbish European elite.

Seeing a bit of color out of the corner of his eye, Castlereagh stumbled to a halt, catching hold of his wife, whom he had just thrown off balance. The music tinkled off into silence. Together the Castlereaghs stared a bit self-consciously at the appearance of Lady Basingstoke in the doorway.

Smiling at the odd couple, Christina moved farther into the room. She liked the Castlereaghs. The viscountess at times was testy and difficult to deal with, but it was a fault that could be overlooked, for the devotion the two showed each other was so obvious. Castlereagh was handsome and elegant enough to be a rogue of the first water, but he truly loved his dowdy, overweight wife. It rather gave one an optimism that love really did exist for everyone and not just the beautiful.

Looking between the foreign secretary, his wife and the shy little man, who was now standing beside the pianoforte bowing, she teased lightly, “Do you require any help?”

The Castlereaghs both drew up and stared warily at her. They were accustomed to being laughed at.

Even though she was not invited to join them, Christina stepped briskly over to the pianoforte, pulling off her gloves as she crossed the shining parquet tiles. Her steps echoed loudly in the large, empty ballroom, which at that moment was silent as a tomb. After tossing aside her gloves and reticule, she reached up and untied the bow of her bonnet. With typical feminine pats to her hair, she turned around and explained as she walked over to them, “The Viennese waltz must be felt, not counted out. Herr Beethoven has gifted us with a banquet for the ears, and therefore we must savor it and applaud it with the grace of our bodies.” She cocked a humorous brow at them. “Sound pretentious enough?”

Castlereagh's lips quirked with a wry twitch as he continued to try to stare solemnly at her. “Quite. But how does one get the feet to relate such homage when the grace is lacking?”

Christina held up a finger in admonition. “Not so, my lord. If you will allow me?”

So saying, she stepped up to Lady Castlereagh and, taking her hands, she drew her farther into the middle of the room, safely away from all impediments. The viscountess sent a look of confusion over her shoulder at her husband as Christina arranged her partner into the classic waltzing stance.

With a slight nod of her head, Christina motioned to the secretary, and the brisk strains of a waltz wavered bravely in the silence. Christina frowned lightly at the timid man, and he instantly slowed the tempo down. Then down some more, until she smiled. His shoulders heaved with a sigh of relief, and he applied all his attention to his task.

Looking at her partner, she asked softly, “Ready?”

Almost immediately Lady Castlereagh stepped forward, right on Christina's lightly shod foot. “Forgive me,” the flustered lady mumbled.

Wriggling her toes, Christina smiled warmly and said, “First, my lady, you must relax. You need to feel the music, find the tempo. Close your eyes.” The hazel eyes snapped shut. “Now listen to the strains. Catch the rhythm.” Christina watched as the viscountess's features twisted with the effort of feeling the rhythm. Biting her lip to hold back a chuckle, Christina carefully began the steps of the waltz, starting slowly and gently, just back and forth. When she sensed the tension dissolving in the rigid arms, she carefully began to turn her. The lady's eyes snapped open in fear. “No, no. Keep them shut. Just feel the music. I will lead you. Trust me.”

As Lady Basingstoke patiently led his wife about the floor, Castlereagh watched in amazement as the clumsiness in his wife's steps melted away. Soon the couple was floating with a semblance of grace about the room. After long minutes of faultless spins they came to a graceful stop before him. He gulped in apprehension as Christina held out her arms to him.

“Come now, my lord. ’Tis your turn.”

He turned embarrassed eyes on his flushed wife and found her smiling widely at him. Her pride in this simple accomplishment was quite apparent. “Oh, do go on, Robert. ’Tis ridiculously easy.”

With a sigh, he stepped forward and bowed, then almost awkwardly held out his arms. Christina stepped nimbly into them and after a minute of reserved fumbling, Castlereagh was ready. With another nod of Christina's head, the music again filled the room.