by Leah Conolly
Chapter 12
“Miss Becker?” Duncan called from the doorway of the library.
It took her a moment to come to him, and he felt a little guilty for calling her away from her duties. In truth, however, he no longer cared whether she completed her work. She could sit and sip tea all day, and he would be just as thrilled with her presence.
She approached him, her cheeks flushed and her eyes wide.
“Yes, my lord?” she asked.
Duncan took in her face, forgetting the reason he had called her. There really wasn’t a reason for calling her in the first place. He found himself looking for any excuse to talk to her. However, now that she was here, he knew he must think of something to ask.
“Do you like books?” he asked. He winced inwardly, cursing himself for being unable to think of no better reason to call for her.
Christine looked at him, confused.
“I enjoy an occasional good read,” she said. “Why?”
Duncan flushed, flustered.
“I was going through some of my old books, and I was wondering if there were some that you might enjoy,” he said.
Christine visibly relaxed, and only then did Duncan see how tense and worried she had looked.
“Oh,” she said, smiling sheepishly. “That is very kind of you. I would love to look at some of your titles.”
Duncan put down the book he was holding and stepped closer to Christine.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
The flush returned to her cheeks, and she averted her gaze.
“Yes,” she said. “I am quite well, thank you.”
Duncan frowned.
“Is something troubling you?” he asked. “Do you need anything?”
Christine shook her head, her smile still in place, but more strained.
“No, my lord,” she said quickly. “Everything here is wonderful.”
Duncan opened his mouth to point out that she did not look like everything was wonderful, but he changed his mind. Perhaps she would soon begin to soften and tell him what was bothering her.
He smiled warmly and led her over to a stack of books. In truth, he had not sorted through any of them on that shelf, but he had read nearly every book in the library, and he would not miss any that he chose to give to Christine.
“Here,” he said. “Take the rest of the afternoon and look through these. You are welcome to any that strike your fancy.”
Once more, Christine relaxed. She looked at him gratefully, and it tugged at his heart. Whatever was bothering her, his offer seemed to help. For the time being, he would allow himself to be satisfied with that small victory.
* * *
Throughout the rest of the week, Duncan enjoyed every second he got to spend speaking with Christine. However, he did his best to avoid the subject of going to the play. She was more tense than usual, and she seemed distant and lost in her thoughts. Duncan forced himself to resist the urge to coax her to tell him what was bothering her, as he feared that would only push her further away.
He had decided, however, that if she ever did decide to open up to him, he would do whatever it took to resolve her troubles. He cared very much for her, and it was difficult for him to see her in such distress.
The day before the play, however, Duncan noticed that Christine was acting much more like her usual self. She seemed happier, and he even caught her humming a few times throughout the day. By the time the workday was over, Duncan decided that he had to speak with Christine. He did not wish to pry, but he was curious to know what had her in such high spirits.
“Good afternoon, my lord,” Christine said, as he approached her in the library.
“Good afternoon, Miss Becker,” he said, bowing in an exaggerated fashion. To his delight, Christine giggled.
“You certainly seem to be in a happy mood,” she said, looking at him with sparkling eyes.
Duncan smiled.
“That is odd,” he said. “For I was about to say the same thing to you.”
Christine blushed and looked away shyly.
“Well,” she said. “I should imagine that any young lady would be thrilled about attending a play with a duke tomorrow evening.”
Duncan looked at her quizzically for a moment. Then the realization of what she had said sank in, and he beamed.
“Does that mean that you are accepting my invitation?” he asked, his heart pounding.
Christine laughed again.
“It does, indeed,” she said. “That is, of course, if the invitation still stands?”
Duncan chuckled and moved to Christine’s side, barely containing the urge to take her hands in his.
“Of course, it still stands,” he said. “I cannot tell you how pleased I am that you have agreed to attend. I very much look forward to showing you what it is like to enjoy the luxuries of the ton.”
Christine blushed again.
“I am very much looking forward to it, as well, my lord,” she said.
“And,” Duncan continued, unable to contain his excitement. “It would be an honor if Ruthie could join us, both as your chaperone and your friend. If, that is, she would be interested in attending.”
Christine clasped her hands at her chest and looked at Duncan. The joy on her face warmed Duncan’s heart, which began to pound in his chest.
“You are very kind,” she said. “I know that she would be thrilled to join us.”
Duncan nodded, elated at the change in his luck with Christine.
“Very good,” he said. “The two of you may freshen up here after you are finished working if you like, and we will leave as soon as you are both ready.”
Christine frowned.
“But our things are at the inn,” she said. “We will have nothing to wear.”
Duncan thought for a moment.
“Well, if you like, I could send someone to pick up some of your things for you,” he said.
Christine’s face lit up, and she nodded eagerly.
“That sounds wonderful, my lord,” she said.
Duncan cleared his schedule of all work obligations for the following day. He could think of nothing else but escorting Christine to the theater that night. He even gave his house staff strict instructions not to allow his mother to set foot in the house, should she decide to come by. He did not understand why his mother disliked Christine so much, and he did not care to find out.
Truthfully, his mother had not liked any of the women he had met at various social events, despite seeming interested in seeing him take a wife. Duncan had never felt a strong connection with any of the women he had met, but he had danced and dined with a few who were interesting, beautiful, and intelligent, and he would have liked the opportunity to know them better. However, it seemed that his mother had an uncanny ability to scare away any woman in whom he showed the remotest interest. He had tried to discuss it with her, but she would simply brush him off, saying that they were not good enough for him, and leave it at that. Christine, however, was different. The last thing he wanted was for his mother to scare her away. He did feel a strong connection with Christine, and he would do anything to keep her in his life.
That evening, Duncan dressed early and paced the floor at the base of the stairs, as the two women dressed for the play. Their dresses had been placed in a spare room hours ago, and he hoped that the servant had chosen dresses that pleased the women. Deep down, Duncan feared that Christine would change her mind and decide that she did not wish to go with him after all. However, after half an hour of pacing and watch checking, the women appeared at the top of the stairs.
Duncan stared as Christine and Ruthie descended. Even though Duncan had bought the dresses for Christine, he could have never imagined how beautiful she would look in them. Her loveliness could easily rival that of a faerie, and his heart raced erratically. His voice failed him as he looked at her, returning only once she put her hand on his arm.
“Miss Becker,” he said, smiling at her in awe. “You look astonishing
.”
Christine blushed and beamed up at him.
“Thank you, my lord,” she said. “You look rather handsome yourself.”
Duncan felt his own cheeks begin to grow warm. He resisted, with a great deal of difficulty, the urge to stroke her cheek. Instead, he turned his attention to Ruthie. He did not wish to make her feel left out.
“And you, Ruthie,” he said with a bow. “You look positively lovely.”
Ruthie flushed deeply and hid a smile behind her hand.
“You are very kind, my lord,” she said softly.
Duncan smiled warmly at her. Then, he offered his arms to both women.
“Are we ready, ladies?” he asked.
Christine looked at Ruthie, who nodded, bashfully.
“I believe that we are,” she said.
“Well, then,” he said with a smile. “We should be off.”
* * *
“Here we are, ladies,” Duncan said, as they reached the balcony. He could not help but smile as the two women looked around in awe, much as they had at the inn. He pretended to look away when they shared a look and a joyful laugh. It warmed his heart to see Christine enjoying herself so much. She certainly deserved it, and Duncan hoped for the chance to help her do so much more often.
Once they made their way to their seats, Duncan pulled out three pairs of theater glasses. He placed one in his lap and handed the others to Ruthie and Christine. The women exchanged another happy look and put the glasses to their eyes. They talked excitedly to one another, and Duncan sat back, relaxed and content to watch Christine so happy and carefree. He felt as though he were truly seeing her for the first time, and he took in every moment of her joy.
Suddenly, Christine’s laughter ceased. Duncan looked at her carefully and saw her become statuesque and pale. She remained that way for several moments, her gaze seemingly fixed on something all the way across the theater. Duncan lifted his own glasses, but he could not see anything that might have completely captured her attention, let alone anything that would have so drastically changed her demeanor. Concerned, he put his glasses back into his lap and turned to her.
“Miss Becker?” he asked. “Is everything alright?”
Christine did not seem to hear him at first. He waited a moment before speaking again.
“Miss Becker,” he said, raising his voice to be heard over the other voices conversing around them.
This time, she turned to face him, her head moving slowly, almost mechanically. He saw just how pale she was and noticed that she was sweating. Instinctively, he reached out and put his hand on hers, which he found to be clammy and cold.
“What is it?” he asked, his concern rising rapidly.
“Forgive me,” she said, her voice weak and trembling. “I am suddenly very dizzy and lightheaded.”
Duncan reached for Christine’s hand.
“Would you like to leave?” he asked.
Christine smiled weakly and shook her head.
“No, my lord,” she said, doing her best to reassure him. “I am sure this will pass. It must be all the excitement.”
Duncan was not convinced. He studied her face for several moments, debating how best to help her. He did not wish to embarrass her if she did not want to leave, but he feared that she might faint, which would likely be more humiliating for her.
“Miss Becker?” Ruthie asked gently. Her voice startled Duncan. He had temporarily forgotten that she was there.
Christine looked at her maid and tried to push herself up in her chair.
“Everything is fine,” she said, her smile more of a grimace. “Really, I am . . .”
Her voice trailed off, and she collapsed back into her seat, her eyelids fluttering.
Duncan looked at Ruthie, panic setting in. Ruthie’s expression of fright gave him the answer he sought.
“Come, Miss Becker,” he said, reaching gently for her arm. “We must get you out of here.”
He held his breath, expecting her to continue protesting. However, rather than insist that she was fine, Christine nodded feebly, staring at something across the theater.
Duncan looked at Ruthie.
“Let us help her back to the carriage,” he said.
Chapter 13
Charlotte feared that she might swoon as she stared across the theater. Even as Duncan began to help her from her seat and lead her to the entrance, she could not take her eyes off the sight before her. There, seated directly across from them, and using theater glasses identical to her own, sat her mother. She could not know for certain if her mother had spotted her, but she was sure that she soon would. Yet, despite that knowledge, she felt frozen where she stood. What on earth was her mother doing there? As far back as Charlotte could remember, her mother had never had any interest in the arts.
“Miss Becker,” a voice said from somewhere distant. “Come, let us get you out of here.”
Charlotte was vaguely aware that it was Duncan who was speaking to her. The room was spinning, and her heart was threatening to pound straight through her chest. At last, however, she felt a delicate tug on her hand, causing her to jump and gasp.
“Miss Becker,” she heard Ruth say. “Lord Willeton and I are right here. Let us get you to the carriage.”
Charlotte looked numbly to her other side and saw Duncan standing there, looking as frightened as she felt. She realized that they must have been trying to help her up for a few moments, and she grew warm with embarrassment. She slowly nodded and turned her gaze away from her mother. She barely noticed the people staring at the trio as they made their way out of the theater. All she could think about was how mistaken she had been to think that she could show herself in public so soon after she was supposed to have sailed to France.
“Miss Becker?” Duncan’s voice called her back from her thoughts. “Can you hear me?”
Charlotte realized that they were already in the carriage and on their way back to Duncan’s home. She tried to nod her head, but the carriage began to spin just as the theater balcony had. She leaned her head back against the coach seat and swallowed dryly.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I am just feeling a little unwell.”
Duncan was silent for a moment, and Charlotte dared to crack her eyes open. He was staring at her, the worry creasing his brow.
“Forgive me,” he said. “But you look more than just a little unwell.”
“I just need a little fresh air and some of rest,” she said, cursing herself for yet another lie. “I will be fine.”
However, by the time they had arrived back at Duncan’s estate, she felt even worse than she had at the theater. Her heart was beating faster than ever before, and she was drenched with sweat. She was suddenly very certain that her mother had indeed spotted her, and that word would very soon reach Duncan about her true identity. Duncan’s intense scrutiny did little to comfort or calm her. She irrationally feared that he would see all her secrets as plainly on her face as she could hear them screaming in her head.
She hardly registered her surroundings, until Duncan and Ruth began helping her onto a bed. She blinked and tried to focus on where she was, and saw that she was lying in a large, soft, bed, covered with a deep-purple blanket and canopied with fabric of the same shade. She shook her head, trying to understand what was happening. When she tried to speak, she found that her mouth was dry, and her voice would not cooperate.
“It’s alright, my lady,” Ruth said, taking her hand. “Just relax.”
Charlotte looked at her, confused. Ruth’s eyes were kind and full of worry. She allowed her maid to help her lie back onto the bed. Behind Ruth, Charlotte could hear Duncan shuffling around doing something. However, when she turned her head to look at him, she became dizzy and disoriented again. She closed her eyes and tried to take a couple of deep breaths.
The next thing she knew, something cold and damp was touching her forehead. Her eyes flew open, and she saw Duncan sitting beside her, pressing a wet cloth to her face. Her heart ached to see the
worry and distress on his face.