In fact, the first bookshop he entered was flooded with the name Crimson Parish and all twenty seven of her books, lined up on the shelves. For whatever reason, he felt the need to tell the bookseller that he was buying the book for his younger sister, though everyone in London knew that Thomas Lacy was the only child of his father.
There was a knock at his door and he quickly threw aside the first of Crimson Parish’s books, hoping not to be caught.
“What,” he growled through gritted teeth.
“Sir, you need to get ready now,” James said through the door. “For your evening… with Miss Duncharm.”
“Damn it,” he muttered, moving to store the book away in the trunk at his bed, where Crimson’s twenty-six other books lay.
He was almost done with the first book and entirely captivated. He hadn’t put it down all afternoon, losing track of time entirely, consumed by the pulsating stories this new to him author wrote. He was surprised by the… content of the book, and jealous that Christine felt comfortable spending time reading about lovers hiding away in alcoves, clothed in passion, when he could hardly stand within ten feet of her without her recoiling from him.
Well, he needed to focus on tonight — focus on getting rid of Christine. Calling his butler in, they set to work.
* * *
It was a foreign feeling, having a respectable young woman at his side, for once. No matter the scowl that the young woman wore, or the confusing looks they got as he led her to the Lacy family’s private box and assisted her into one of the plush red seats.
He must have been reading about too many heroines in their glorious beauty, because he couldn’t help the spike of awareness the rose in his chest as he looked at Christine in her deep green dress, jewels accenting her throat and ears — she looked entirely too tempting. No matter though, he’s always known Christine was attractive, but her shrew like personality made any many repulsed.
He assisted her into her chair, damning himself already. The private opera box was perfect for his usual dalliances — plenty of privacy in an intimate, closed in space — but he didn’t take into consideration that Christine wasn’t one of his usual dalliances. He had to sit right next to her, his own seat so close that his leg brushed against the folds of that unusual dress.
Christine flicked open her fan in annoyance. “What a terrible waste of an evening.”
“It hasn’t even started,” he grumbled, settling into his seat. When he said it in that tone he could almost believe his own lies, but he couldn’t ignore the flare of anticipation in his bosom. “Lean forward a little,” he prompted.
She looked at him, fan stilling in suspicion. “Why?”
“We have to show people we are here,” he said, as if it were obvious. And he meant it, truly. The sight of her smooth neck, elongated by the gaze was only an unexpected plus. “We have to make our courtship known.”
“The one thing we can both agree on.” She settled her chin into her palms, looking out at the crowd where the gossip mongers and daughters of scandal liked to wait about, looking for anything they could start a rumor about. “My parents don’t think we’re making enough of a public statement, which I think it ridiculous. Can’t couples court in privacy?”
“I believe that causes… indiscretion. Or rather, opens up couples to situations where propriety may not be acted upon.” He debated his next words, but decided to say it anyway. “You may remember in Lost on the Island of Passion, what Lady Izabelle and Lord Rutherford—”
Her head whipped to his. “You read Crimson Parish?”
For some reason, her tone of surprise made him proud to say, “Yes. I bought all of her books, though I was a little disappointed that I didn’t have to start some illegal trade to get them…” He couldn’t help his smile.
Her own bright eyes echoed his sudden beat of happiness. “I only said that to try to dissuade you. It is a secret amongst us Parish readers the true… nature of her books. You cannot simply recommend Parish books to others without being judged, if they know the contents.”
Oh, Thomas knew the contents all right. And if it weren’t for the dimming of the lights and sudden swell of the orchestra, he would have leaned forward and showed Christine that the contents were not simply for the pages, but that same passion could be found in the real world, if only she would give into it.
He shifted away from her, pushing aside the thoughts in his head. He was here to make a public statement, and that was it. Nevermind the fact that he was growing more and more attracted to his soon to be wife with every second that passed.
When she was lost in the enjoyment of the evening, Thomas found that Christine Duncharm had many more expressions than her usual frown, expressions that made him feel a whole number of feelings and funniness — feelings he certainly shouldn’t be feeling.
Like when the Lady Rosalie sang her aria, the wave of sorrowful understanding and compassion that crossed Christine’s face… An expression she would wear when lending a listening ear, being a sounding block, a companion to help bear his stress.
The joy and triumph she wore when the friends finally came through with their promise… An expression she would wear when they shared their joys, their successes.
Lastly, the smallest flash of lust, the quickening of her breath when the Lover’s Duet number was played… It was all too much for Thomas to bear.
“Christine.” Without thinking, he tugged gently on her arm, pulling her into the shadows with him. The music swelled, operatic voices rises with the beat of his pulse.
“Your Grace, I—”
Christine didn’t have time to finish her protest before Thomas took his mouth with hers, claiming it in a kiss. All hatred and distaste melted away with that one kiss, all of the feelings that had been simmering under his skin for years, coming to life when her lips began to move with his — her resistance lasted but a second, her body melting into his caress, her hands moving to take neck as she pulled him closer.
Thomas hardly took a breath, not wanting this moment to end. The passion of the music matched the tempo of their own love, growing headier and more intense as he slipped a hand around her waist, pulling her to him — the green dress admired moments ago suddenly became the greatest annoyance, a hindrance to his desire.
“Your Grace, I—” Christine suddenly pulled away from his kiss, pressing herself deeply into her seat.
The deep flush of her cheeks and heavy breaths against her bodice only made Thomas want her more; he moved to pull her back into his embrace but she stood, slipping away from him.
“I need to… excuse myself…” Her flustered manner would have been charming, if she wouldn’t have slowly been backing away to the door. “I need to—”
“You’re going to be my wife,” he muttered. “Is it such a horror to enjoy one kiss?”
She scowled her deep and famous scowl, the scowl that sent many men fleeing away, the scowl that both tempted and irritated Thomas.
“I hate you!” She threw aside her fan and exited the opera box, door slamming behind her.
Thomas winced and knew without turning his head that there were clever eyes and looking glasses already trained to their box, thinking up the most scandalous and delightful gossips for their parlors and lady’s clubs the next day.
“More wine,” he grumbled. “Please.”
Five.
Thomas paced the length of the library, deep in thought. He was of two minds, and could not make up which one to go with, which one would bring him the most happiness in the end. He didn’t usually think so long term as he was now, but the events of the past month had forced him to really decide what he wanted in life.
He could reject Christine at the altar and create a huge scandal. Within months, the scandal would die down and he could continue the way life was before the frustrating woman had entered his life. Hell, he could even take a boat right now to France and simply never show up to the wedding — he could go gamble and drink and love his life away, all without a
care for the world.
But for some reason, his usual manner of life hadn’t suited him lately. He had tried the gentlemen's clubs and the upper town brothels, he had tried the women and the drinks and the games — all the same, never changing despite his absence. Yet that was the thing: the pleasures may not have changed one bit, but Thomas had changed.
Deep down, he knew it was because of Christine.
Or rather, his feelings for Christine.
Thomas had always loved Christine, from the time he was sixteen and she was twenty, making her third season in society. He had loved her when he had finally been able to grace those ballrooms as a young man, determined to win her hand, but scorned year after year. He loved her even now, despite how trying she was and how much she absolutely vexed him.
Thomas knew Christine was the reason he couldn’t go back to that way of life. In just the past month, he had spent more time with Christine than he ever would have thought he would get, and he was far more addicted to her than he ever had been any drink or game.
Sure, she may make a nagging, frustrating wife, but would it be worth it to have her always by his side? To call her his wife, if only in a legal sense?
Thomas stormed out of the library, moving deeper into the house and away from the sounds of the party beginning down below. He had to make his choice within the hour: run away to France, or go downstairs to announce his engagement to Christine Duncharm.
As he turned into his room to get ready, deep down, he knew his answer. Never mind the packed trunks or the carriage that was ordered to be ready to flee at any moment, nevermind the risk he was taking in loving a woman who may never love him back.
When his father first made the announcement all he wished to do was get rid of her. And that it what frustrated him most, even more than her hatred from him—
Thomas couldn’t let go of Christine.
No matter how he tried to hate her, no matter how he rejected her, she just wouldn’t go away. And when he did want her to stay, she walked away from him, just like that. As if he had absolutely nothing she wanted, as if she was repelled by him.
Thomas adjusted his coat and looked out the window. The snow was coming down fast and sticking, if he didn’t leave soon, he would never be able to make the roads without getting stuck. If he got stuck, he might choose to turn back, and that would only make this more of a mess than anyone needed.
Yes, Thomas was making the right choice by leaving.
Six.
“And where are you going?”
The soft voice behind him stopped him in his tracks entirely. He couldn’t move for a moment, eyes fluttering closed, a deep breath of annoyance going through him… Or was it relief?
Thomas didn’t know as he turned around and took in Christine Duncharm, robed in a sinfully red dress. She stood coyly at the door, just the thing he didn’t need. All though his mind wanted to paint her in the light of a seductress meant to kill him, he could see in her manner there was a deeper sense of sadness, reluctance.
She took a small step forward. “You haven’t been at the party all evening.” Her small smile faltered. “Were you simply planning on showing up for the engagement?”
“I—” He couldn’t bring himself to tell the truth or bring himself to lie. He simply stood there, tongue tied, not knowing what to do.
There was something about the soft sadness on her face that made him feel the wrong way, made him hesitate. This was his one chance to finally let her go, but as always, he couldn’t. He stayed put.
“Thomas, I—”
“Yes?” The hopefulness bloomed in his bosom at the sound of his name on her lips, the way her small hand pressed against his heart.
She looked up at him, eyes dark in the dim light. He was the fluttering of her pulse under her skin, the way her eyes seemed to shimmer with emotion.
“You never loved me back,” she said, slowly. “That’s why I hate you.”
“You…” What? Thomas tried to piece the small clue she’d given him together.
A single tear slipped out of the corner of her eye and he moved to catch it with his thumb, brushing it away. She took a step closer into his embrace, letting out a deep breath.
“I’ve always loved you, Thomas,” she said. “But I knew you would never love me back, you… couldn’t love me back. How was a young man such as yourself to notice someone as plain and old as me?”
Thomas opened his mouth to correct her, to tell her how truly beautiful she was, but he was lost for words when her lips lifted to his and pressed a small, sad kiss on his mouth. His head spun as he leaned forward to seize her embrace, but she pulled away.
“When my parents announced the engagement, I knew it was too good to be true. I couldn’t believe it.” She brushed a finger against his chin and he leaned into her touch. “I hated you so much by that point, I couldn’t just let you win me, willing and ready for you.”
It all made sense, Thomas thought.
“And it seemed like too much good… because good things always have a way of being taken from me. I knew, or rather I thought that would be the same case here.”
He clasped her hands in his, pressing it to his heart. “Let me be a good thing, Christine. Let me be a good thing that isn’t taken away.”
“Thomas, I hate that I love you,” she said, smiling between tears.
“I love you too,” his voice dipped in emotion. “I do think we are missing something…”
“What?” Her eyes shone with curiosity.
He guided her quickly through the house, guiding her up the servants staircase. Leading them through the hall, he showed them to the grand staircase, decked in Christine boughs and lights. The party was in full swing below, a festive blend of reds and greens and yellows.
“Attention everyone,” he said from the top of the staircase. His heart beat as everyone slowly looked at him. “I have an announcement to make.”
“Thomas, what are you—”
Thomas got down on one knee in front of Christine — in front of everyone. His father wanted them to make their engagement public, and by golly he was going to make it public.
“I’m giving you the proposal you deserve,” he whispered. Raising his voice so everyone could hear, “Christine Duncharm, will you marry me?”
“Yes!”
The crowd below erupted in clapping, echoing the own thundering of happiness in his heart.
On the third day of Christmas…
On December 16th, look out for
DREAMING OF A DUKE
Estella Wentworth has watched a whole season go by without a single proposal — both Ivy and Ginny have been lucky to find love, but love doesn’t seem to apply to her. But when her and her friends decide to dabble in the telling of fortunes, it seems that a Duke might be on her Christmas list this year… but at a house party filled with Dukes, which Duke could it be?
A Duchess For Christmas: Novella (The 12 Dukes 0f Christmas Book 2) Page 2