Betrayal and Lies: Convenient Arrangements (Book 4)

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Betrayal and Lies: Convenient Arrangements (Book 4) Page 6

by Pearson, Rose


  Will you elope with her?

  It was an idea, Richard mused, considering what Lady Christina’s response would be should he ask her to do so. Perhaps she would be glad of his willingness; perhaps she would be all the more eager to go with him so that she might escape Mr. Markham. Yes, an elopement might bring scandal and embarrassment with it, but he could still put it to Lady Christina and allow her to make her choice, surely?

  “I will not give up,” he told himself aloud, his voice thin. “No matter what the truth is, I shall not give up.”

  * * *

  Going to the soiree at Lord Bannister’s was not something that Richard found any joy in, yet he knew that it was necessary for him to do so. He had accepted the invitation, and given he was not unwell, he could not be so rude as to remain at home. Despite the pain in his heart and the heaviness of his mind, Richard forced himself to dress and to make his way to Lord Bannister’s for what would be, of course, an overly jolly evening. Lord Bannister was well known for providing all manner of entertainment, which most of the ton found to be utterly enchanting, but to Richard, would be nothing more than an evening to endure.

  “You do not look as though you are enjoying your evening, Harlow.”

  The voice of Lord Prestwick was not the balm that Richard needed. “That is because I am not particularly enjoying it, Prestwick,” he said, a little sharply. “Pray, do not come to fill my ears with all manner of nonsense. I am in no mood to hear it this evening.”

  This, he knew, was unfair of him to say, but the truth was, he did not want to hear a single word about Miss Allerton and whether or not Lord Prestwick still found her just as enchanting as he had done before.

  “My goodness, you are a little ratty this evening,” Lord Prestwick answered, but without any sort of malice in his voice. “I presume this is to do with Lady Christina?”

  Richard rounded on him, his brows low and his eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

  Lord Prestwick settled a hand on his arm, a gentleness in his eyes that Richard had not expected.

  “You had come to care for her, I think,” he said quietly. “And now the news is all around London that she is going to marry the heir to the Fulham barony.”

  Richard’s heart ached anew as Lord Prestwick spoke. “I spoke to Lady Christina myself,” he said, dropping his head, his anger fading away. “I know that she is not willing to marry this man, but, for whatever reason, she is being forced to do so.”

  Lord Prestwick spread his hands. “Is that not the way for many a young lady?” he asked with a shake of his head. “Perhaps that is something we ourselves can recall if we are ever blessed with daughters!”

  Frustrated, Richard closed his eyes and took in a steadying breath. “I cannot betray myself to everyone here,” he said in a low voice. “And yet the pain in my heart is greater than I think I can bear. I have been in Lady Christina’s company for so long, and yet it has only been within the last sennight that I have found myself to be so firmly drawn towards her.”

  “Your heart is involved,” Lord Prestwick said as he had done before. “And that is why the pain is now so great.”

  “I am determined not to give in,” Richard told him firmly. “I must see Lady Christina again. I must speak to her. I must know what she is feeling and what she is fearful of. I must…give her the chance to escape.”

  Lord Prestwick’s eyes widened. “You intend to offer to elope with her?”

  Richard glanced about him before nodding. “It is as though I was in a darkened room and, in one single moment, the drapes were pulled back and I could see clearly,” he said honestly. “I saw Lady Christina as the desire of my heart. And I do not intend to lose her now.”

  “Then I can only hope that you are successful,” Lord Prestwick answered quietly. “I can tell that she means a great deal to you, but an engagement is very difficult to break, Harlow. Do take care.” His eyes suddenly flared and, as Richard watched, Lord Prestwick frowned hard, his lips pulled tight and his shoulders a little hunched.

  “I think you shall have to show a great deal of discretion, Harlow,” he said as Richard slowly turned around, his eyes following in the direction of lord Prestwick’s gaze. “You must control yourself at all costs, old boy. Now is not the time to lose your head.”

  Richard’s heart stopped for a moment as he took in the object of his affection, and, alongside her, a gentleman that was short in stature and, from the way he held Lady Christina’s arm in what was a possessive manner, clearly her betrothed. Richard had met the man once already, he realized, back at the night at Chadwick House, but he had paid the fellow very little attention. To see him now, standing by Lady Christina and with an arrogant smile on his face, made Richard’s anger begin to burn furiously within him—especially when Lady Christina herself looked to be deeply upset. Her face was white, her eyes darting from one place to the next, and, as he watched, he saw her trying to gently tug her arm from Mr. Markham’s.

  Only for Mr. Markham to slap his free hand down over hers and lean in to say something to her.

  “Steady,” Lord Prestwick murmured, reaching to grasp Richard’s arm in much the same manner. “You cannot go making a fool of yourself, Harlow. Mr. Markham may not even know of your affection for Lady Christina. Allow him to remain in such a position so that, should all go to plan as you hope, he will not know where to look for you, nor who might have taken her from him.”

  Lord Prestwick’s words brought a shred of calmness to Richard’s furious mind, and he took a step back, allowing Lord Prestwick’s hand to drop from his arm.

  “Speak to Lady Christina when you can,” Lord Prestwick said calmly, “but do not do so in a manner that will draw attention to yourself. And ensure that her betrothed is far away when you do so.”

  “I do not think I can wait that long,” Richard grated, as, finally Lady Christina looked up, her gaze suddenly meeting his. Her face paled, and she dropped her eyes to the floor, clearly either embarrassed or ashamed—although, he noted, her hand was now free of Mr. Markham’s grasp. How he wished she felt neither emotion, wished that she felt hope when she looked into his face! The urge to go to her at once, to pull her from Mr. Markham and to tell her that she had no need to feel any sort of shame, burned hot within him, but he forced himself to remain where he was.

  “I will speak to her,” he grated, half to himself. “Might you be able to distract Mr. Markham for a time, Prestwick?” He glanced at his friend, who was grimacing. “I know that he is not the most amiable of gentlemen, but I must have an opportunity to speak to Lady Christina.”

  This brought a look of understanding to Lord Prestwick’s face. “Very well,” he said quietly, his expression one of sympathy. “My goodness, man, you must feel a very great deal for Lady Christina indeed.”

  Richard closed his eyes as the words hit him hard. “I do,” he said slowly. “I feel a great deal, indeed. In fact, I feel so much that I think I will do almost anything to ensure that she is removed from Mr. Markham’s arm.” His jaw worked furiously. “And the sooner it is done, the better.”

  Chapter Six

  There had been nothing for Christina to do other than to accept the situation without question. Her father had apologized countless times, but it did nothing to bring her any sort of relief. It had been made all the worse when Mr. Markham had appeared at the house, ready to call on her without having made any prior arrangement.

  She had disliked him at the first. He was just as his father was, with such arrogance about him that it practically oozed from his every word and action. He had barely glanced at her but had made some remark about how he was delighted to be marrying the daughter of an earl, and had spoken at length about her dowry, wondering when he would receive it and seeking to know just how much it would be.

  Both Christina and her father had remained utterly silent at this, overcome by the man’s conceit and his clear disregard for either of them. When Mr. Markham had insisted that he would be taking Christina to the soiree
this evening, Christina had tried to find some excuse, but Mr. Markham had not even looked at her. Rather, he had instructed her as to when she was to be ready and had taken his leave, with Christina and Lord Enfield staring after him with shock and dismay written over both their faces.

  Once Mr. Markham had left, Lord Enfield had broken into yet more apologies, telling Christina that he was doing all he could to try to find a way to bring this engagement to an end, to find something to offer to Lord Fulham in her place, but in her heart, Christina had known that there was very little hope. The truth was, she did not want her father to fight a duel, for she knew all too well that he would die in an instant. It was better, she had told herself, to be wed to Mr. Markham and to have her father still living than to have herself free to marry Lord Harlow but to be without her father. As much as it pained her, she had to do her level best to keep her head held high and do what she could despite the fact she utterly despised her betrothed.

  “Good evening, Lady Christina.” Their host for the evening greeted her warmly, having already greeted Mr. Markham and Lady Newfield. “I am very glad you have been able to attend this evening.” Lord Bannister smiled brightly at her, but Christina did not return it. She knew all too well that Lord Bannister would gain a high level of interest in his little soiree given her presence here this evening. No doubt, there would be many people talking about both herself and Mr. Markham, and Lord Bannister would receive many questions from others in society. Yes, it would bring him a good deal of attention also, but it was attention that Christina herself did not want.

  “Thank you, Lord Bannister,” she murmured before moving quickly away, ready to take the arm of Lady Newfield. She needed a little support, needed to have a little security, and Lady Newfield was the only one at present who could provide it.

  “I think not.”

  Mr. Markham practically pushed Lady Newfield aside, stepping in front of her and offering her his arm. Christina recoiled inwardly but forced herself to take it, hating how he reached to pull her hand a little further through, so that she was almost pressed to his side. The possessiveness in this gesture made her stomach churn, and she turned her head away, seeing how Lady Newfield glared at Mr. Markham, her anger not at all hidden despite the company they were in at present.

  “You will stay by my side,” Mr. Markham said firmly, moving a little further forward into the room. “I will not allow you to remove yourself from me.”

  Christina stopped at once, refusing to walk any further. Mr. Markham’s words were abhorrent to her, and she had absolutely no intention of allowing him to rule over her in such a dominant fashion.

  “I do not think so,” she said firmly, making to withdraw her hand. “I may be your betrothed, Mr. Markham—and might I remind you that I have had no choice in the matter—but that does not mean that you can force me to do as you please.”

  Before she could take her hand away completely, Mr. Markham reached across and grasped her wrist hard. His fingers pressed into her skin, and she had to bite her lip not to cry out.

  “Do not be foolish, Lady Christina,” he said, leaning towards her as though he wanted to whisper something lovely into her ear. “This is our first outing together as a betrothed couple, and you shall not make a fool of yourself or me.”

  Christina wanted to say something back to him, wanted to make some sort of retort, but found that she could say nothing. Her fear was still barreling through her, the pain in her wrist burning hot. To make things all the worse, when she turned her head away from Mr. Markham, her eyes found Lord Harlow looking at her, his gaze fixed and intense.

  Shame rushed through her, recalling just how confused and upset he had been when she had spoken to him in the carriage. Her inability to tell him the truth, her confusing words and demeanor, had brought him no end of upset. She had seen it in his face—but had dared not tell him a word of truth for fear that something worse would happen to her father.

  Dropping her eyes to the floor and aware that her face was burning hot, Christina wrenched her arm from Mr. Markham. There was something about seeing Lord Harlow, the only gentleman in her affections, that had given her a little more strength.

  “What is it you think you are doing?” Mr. Markham hissed, his hand snaking out towards her—but before he could reach her, Lady Newfield swiftly stepped in between them both and slipped her hand through Christina’s arm.

  “It is as I have said, Mr. Markham,” Christina answered, aware there was a slight tremor in her voice but refusing to allow her fear to conquer her. “I will not be ordered what to do and where to stand and who to speak to. I am my own person, and I shall continue on in such a fashion.” She saw the fury in his face, the way his thick brows came low over his brown eyes, but steeled herself inwardly, still keeping her voice low. “And I do not expect you to ever grab my hand in such a manner again.”

  Lady Newfield pressed Christina’s arm, a small smile on her face as she looked at Mr. Markham.

  “Besides, Mr. Markham,” she said as Christina let out a slow breath in an attempt to steady herself, “we would not wish to prevent you from conversing with the other gentlemen present whom, I am sure, will be very eager to hear exactly how you have managed to find yourself engaged to the daughter of an earl.” There was a hint of ire in her voice, and Christina saw color begin to pour into Mr. Markham’s face—but Lady Newfield did not wait any longer, begging Mr. Markham to excuse them both and then bodily turning Christina around so that they might walk away together.

  “I think he is very angry, indeed,” Christina whispered, praying that Lady Newfield would not take her in the direction of Lord Harlow. “But I thank you.”

  Lady Newfield smiled and urged Christina to a quieter part of the large room, gesturing to a footman to bring them both some refreshments as they came to a stop, hiding in the shadows just a little.

  “You did very well yourself, Christina,” Lady Newfield said firmly. “I am astonished at the man’s attitude towards you.” She clicked her tongue, her disapproval more than apparent. “He may call himself a gentleman, but I am certain that he is not.” Her eyes turned back to Christina, looking at her steadily. “How are you faring, my dear?”

  The question seemed to unlock a flood of emotion that Christina had buried deep within her. Tears immediately sprang to her eyes, a shuddering breath shaking her frame, and she was forced to turn her head away so that she looked at the wall rather than at anyone else.

  “I am sorry,” Lady Newfield said gently. “Clearly, you are in deep distress.”

  “My father does not wish me to marry Mr. Markham,” Christina said shakily. “I do not wish to either, and yet, there is no other choice.” Closing her eyes, she forced the tears back. “I would not see him accepting a duel from Lord Fulham.”

  Lady Newfield shook her head as Christina opened her eyes, relieved that her vision was not particularly blurred with tears. “It is a very sorry affair,” she said quietly. “Would that I could do something to help you, my dear. I will be honest and tell you that I have been thinking of nothing else since I discovered this news, but that, as yet, I have not come up with a solution.”

  “Nor I,” Christina answered honestly, a rueful smile tugging at one side of her mouth. “But it is made all the worse given what I have had to be pulled away from.”

  Lady Newfield let out a long sigh. “And by that, you mean Lord Harlow,” she said, her expression filled with understanding. “You must tell him the truth, Christina. I know that Lord Fulham has threatened consequences if you do not, but I do believe that you have nothing to fear in telling Lord Harlow what has occurred.” Her shoulders lifted. “Mayhap, he will be just as willing as I to try to find a way out for you.”

  “I fear that I may have confused him too much,” Christina answered, dropping her gaze. “I have seen him here already this evening, and the way he was looking at me…” She shook her head, unable to find the words to express just what she had felt when he had first caught her gaze.


  “That does not mean that you should ignore him for the rest of the evening,” Lady Newfield said gently. “I am sure that he would be glad to speak to you.”

  Christina took in a deep breath and dared to glance over her shoulder, wondering if she would be able to see Lord Harlow in the room, only, to her astonishment, to see him walking steadily towards her. In an instant, her heart tore into a panicked rhythm, afraid that Mr. Markham would see her speaking to Lord Harlow and that, somehow, he would know that he meant a great deal to her.

  “Lady Newfield.” Lord Harlow bowed quickly, before his eyes caught Christina’s. “Lady Christina.”

  The way he said her name, with such tenderness and with such a kindness in his eyes, made her want to weep.

  “Lord Harlow,” she answered, bobbing a curtsy. “Good evening.”

  “Good evening.”

  He said nothing more, watching her carefully as she looked back at him. Her throat was tight, her chest constricting as she struggled to know what to say. The fact that he was not asking her anything only added to her distress, even though she knew that she was not meant to say anything about her present situation and how she had come by it.

  “Lord Harlow.”

  Lady Newfield stepped in, obviously seeing Christina’s distress.

  “Lord Harlow, my dear niece has been placed in a very difficult situation,” she said quietly. “It is not one that she is permitted to speak of, for there has been a threat against herself and her father should she do so.”

 

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