It seemed once Christian was no longer there to be teased, his family and friends thought most highly of him. She already knew him to be generous, as exemplified by his donations to Olivia’s foundation, and that he cared devotedly for his relations.
Once again, Thea reminded herself she was not in London to find a husband.
The reason she despised ballrooms threaded his way toward her small cluster of friends. There was no running away. To be fair, this particular man, whose name she couldn’t immediately recall, although she did remember making his acquaintance, was not the precise reason, but she knew what he wanted by the purposeful way he approached her and maintained eye contact.
Thea fidgeted.
“Good evening, Miss Ashbrook.” The nice-looking gentleman gave a short bow.
“And to you, sir,” she replied and dipped her knees in a quick curtsey.
“I do hope you have room on your card. I have looked forward to a dance with you ever since our introduction last week.” He extended his hand while he spoke, reaching for her wrist where the dance card should have been dangling. It wasn’t. Thea had tucked it inside her tiny reticule with her townhouse key.
“I’m so sorry.” Thea did her utmost to seem genuinely rueful. She was running out of excuses. She’d been in London for little more than a month, and she’d already used headache, sore ankle and exhaustion more than once each. She feared she was going to have to trot out some absurd excuse like, “My people don’t dance. Religious reasons. I’m sure you understand.” The young man left his arm extended and palm open obviously expecting her to comply. Thea said the first thing that occurred to her. “Snake bite.”
His eyebrows flew up at the same time Anna guffawed loudly and Francesca choked on her wine.
“Oh.” He appeared dumbfounded. “That sounds … horrible. Are you well?”
“Oh, yes,” Thea replied with a sunny smile. “I’m sure to be right as can be in a week or two.”
The man was not to be deterred. “Where were you bitten?”
“In the woods.” Another snicker from the direction of Anna, but Thea held her expression and pretended she heard nothing.
“No, I meant, where on your person?”
“Oh, of course that’s what you meant. How silly of me.” Thea kept her smile steady and blinked at him innocently.
When she didn’t give an answer to his question, it was the gentleman’s turn to fidget. “Well, then.”
“It was lovely to see you again, sir.”
“And you,” he said with utmost politeness. They stared at each other for another beat and then a burst of words tumbled from his mouth. “I should see if I can find my sister. I’m her escort this evening since mother and father are in Dorchester for the month.” With that and another polite nod of the head he was gone.
“Thea,” Anna declared. “I can’t believe you said that.”
Francesca toasted her champagne glass in Thea’s direction. “Bravo to you. That is without a doubt the most creative excuse I have ever heard.”
“I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to come up with new ones.” Thea grimaced. “When he wanted to know where I had been bitten …”
“Oh, that was the best part.” Anna insisted. “You handled that beautifully.”
“Maybe, but for how much longer?”
Francesca lowered her voice and the ladies instinctively tightened their circle. “I’m still more than happy to have a dance instructor come to the house. It would be just between us. No one else would ever know.”
“You’re so sweet to offer again,” Thea thanked Francesca, “but lessons won’t help. When I say I can’t dance, my assessment has nothing to do with not knowing the steps. Honestly, I can’t dance. It’s painful to watch and excruciating to participate in.”
Anna shrugged and nodded in agreement. “It’s true. I’ve seen it.”
“You have something in common with my brother then,” Francesca gestured to her brother cutting a swath through the crowd. Thea practically heard the unattached young ladies sigh in longing and the married ones smack their lips as he passed by. “He doesn’t dance either.”
Thea couldn’t believe it. “Christian can’t dance either?”
“Oh no,” Anna injected, dryly, “Christian does everything well.”
“He just doesn’t dance,” Francesca clarified. “Ever.”
Thea looked at her friends, one at a time, for clarification. “Ever?”
Anna and Francesca each nodded once, decisively. “Ever,” they chorused.
The three of them turned as one and observed as Christian wound his way towards them. Thea noted he wasn’t rude precisely; he wasn’t especially polite either. He did not stop to chat with the ladies — young or old alike. He simply nodded an acknowledgment as they tossed greetings at him like girls toss flowers at a conquering hero in a parade.
Thea thought the whole display was repugnant.
He wouldn’t dance? Was he too vain? He was absurdly handsome, she couldn’t deny it. She assessed him as he approached their group, all cavalier yet cultured sophistication. She was sure he was aware and had no doubts exactly how he was perceived: debonair, relaxed, and devil-may-care. All those things, plus the man radiated desire, and it was obvious she wasn’t the only woman who sensed it. Even the most virginal maiden in the room had a reaction to him. Yet he wouldn’t dance with a single one of these ladies? Wasn’t that his obligation as an eligible bachelor? If he wouldn’t dance, why come to a ball? Knowing his kind, it most likely to find a partner for his bed. Thea wondered about his selection process. Did he already have someone picked out for the evening, or would he interview ladies while he was here? Did those women whose eyes followed him lustily hope to be in the running? Or did they already know the pleasures of his bed and were vying for another opportunity?
“Good evening, ladies.” His voice rumbled smoothly over her. Listening to him was a sensual pleasure. She could well imagine if she had another agenda how his voice would affect her.
“Your Grace.” Thea thought she should attempt to keep things formal or tempt fate. Her mother had often warned her against men who made a woman tingle.
“Miss Ashbrook.” Christian countered, equally formal in speech, but his smiling eyes led her to believe he was thinking of her as Thea. “I am to understand the next set leads with a waltz. Will you give me the honor?”
“What?” Francesca and Anna squeaked out the question.
“We just finished telling Thea you don’t dance,” Francesca protested.
“Clearly I dance.” Christian replied, his tone dry and bored. He held his hand out to Thea. “I trust the waltz is still open.”
“I won’t dance with you.” Thea was firm in her denial of his request for a number of reasons. First and foremost, she had no intention of humiliating herself at this party. Second, if she danced with him she would be despised by every woman in this room, possibly all of London, within minutes and that wouldn’t help her cause at all.
Christian slipped his gloved fingers under her forearm and caressed her skin until he reached her wrist. He said, sotto voice. “The gentlemen in the card room have started wagering.” Her hand slid easily into his grasp and then alit in the crook of his elbow. Before she knew what was happening, he had drawn her to his side, and they were turning towards the dance floor.
Thea glanced over her shoulder at Anna and Francesca, both of whom wore matching gob-smacked expressions. “What are they wagering on?”
“You, Thea dear.”
“What? Why?” He was guiding her inexorably closer to the other dancers.
“None of them know exactly why it is you won’t dance, but now they’re laying wagers on who the first man will be who manages to conquer you.”
“Conquer me? I’m not an invading army. That’s reprehensible.”
And utterly disgusting.
“Not an army, but a mysterious, beautiful foreigner who denies everyone who asks.” When Thea t
ried to pull her fingers loose, Christian pulled her closer still and settled his hand over hers. “The first rule of gossip: if you don’t give them answers, they’ll make up ones to suit themselves.”
“Who are they?” Thea asked. The music ended and the orderly lines of dancers merged into a mass of people surging around them.
“The ton.” He was matter-of-fact in his answer. “Surely there are gossips where you’re from. The principle is the same everywhere. It’s just in London we commit to gossip as a full time profession.”
“But I don’t want to dance. You don’t either,” Thea protested. She felt her heart racing as panic set in. It seemed as though every eye was on them.
“You also don’t want to end up in the wager book at White’s. I assure you.”
Thea realized with horror that he’d settled them at the top of the dance floor, where the entire crowd would be able to view her disgrace. Indeed, they seemed to be pouring out of the card room and from the furthest reaches of the ballroom.
“So your dancing with me is purely altruistic?” she asked. Christian smiled in response, but said nothing. She felt the heat of his hand settled into the small of her back. “It has nothing to do with winning a wager?” She didn’t believe this for a second.
“Why don’t you dance, Thea?”
She glared at him. He quirked an eyebrow in question. His deep brown eyes searched her face for an answer.
“Why don’t you dance?” he repeated.
“Because I can’t.” Thea admitted, keeping her voice low, anger seething. “You’ve brought me out here to win a bet, and now I will be utterly humiliated.”
“I won’t let you be humiliated. Follow me, and you’ll be fine. I’m an excellent partner.”
Fine. She’ll be fine. Thea snorted, knowing full well she would not be fine. This magnificent man in tailored superfine, overcome with hubris, had no idea the magnitude of how not fine things were about to become.
He smiled at her thinking for all the world he was in control of his destiny.
Oh the fool. Well, if she was to be humiliated there was no one she’d rather bring down with her. It serves him right, the pompous ass.
“All right then, you stupid man, lead on.” Thea placed her hands where they should be. Her fingers clutched his shoulder as a proactive stance against falling.
The violin introduced the waltz, and his palm on her back compelled her to take a step and she promptly trod on Christian’s foot. To his credit, he didn’t make a sound, not even a quiet grunt. Of course, that didn’t last long. It was only a matter of a few bars into the music before she crushed his toe again and this time he did expel a sharp breath.
“Don’t try to pass me, Thea.” Christian instructed. “Let me guide you.”
“I’m trying,” she insisted, but somehow her feet always tried to go where his feet already were.
“One, two, three,” Christian counted out the steps in time with the orchestra. “You move your feet on the two and the four.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” She winced on his behalf as she trod on him again.
“The turn is coming,” he warned her. When Thea lifted her head from where she’d been staring at their feet, she saw the turn was indeed looming, and she didn’t see any possible way she was going to be able to negotiate that. The other couples seemed to spin so effortlessly. She looked to Christian for encouragement, but the look on his face lacked confidence and that was not at all encouraging.
His grip on her waist tightened. “Hold on and take small steps.” He picked up the pace to keep up with the rest of the field of dancers. It was a mistake and Christian had to know it as well, nevertheless, he headed into the turn, his mouth set in a determined line. How she managed to avoid his toes, she had no idea. They were nearly out of the turn before she stumbled. They had been traveling quickly, and Thea thought maybe she would finally get the hang of dancing, but then her heel caught. She swallowed a shriek and grabbed at Christian’s jacket with both hands. Miraculously he caught her before they both tumbled to the floor. She met his eyes only to find him wearing the same expression of wide-eyed surprise. Giggles burbled in her throat.
“Oh dear Lord.” Christian made an effort to suppress his own laughter. “You’re an absolutely awful dancer.” He yanked them both upright and managed to get back in line with the other swirling couples.
“I told you.”
“I know, but I thought you were teasing. You’re really dreadful.”
Thea couldn’t defend herself. She was too busy laughing and counting her steps in order to avoid another disaster.
“Let’s get out of here before someone is maimed.” He pulled her off the dance floor and out the terrace door.
Chapter Six
She was still laughing even as Christian guided her from the safety of the balcony out into the treacherous, scandal-infested sculptured lawn.
She said she couldn’t dance. Christ, that was an understatement.
Less a tactical retreat and more a bid for self preservation, he’d seen the terrace door as salvation. His moment of triumph in getting the stubborn and elusive Greek to dance had turned into a circus, and her humiliation was entirely his fault. By rights, she should be furious with him. He would understand if she was livid, but, surprisingly, she wasn’t and he couldn’t begin to understand why not.
Her laughter was infectious, though. The full, throaty sound rolled over him, and he found himself joining in with her, regardless of the humiliation of only minutes before. In his mind, he was already thinking of ways to stop a hemorrhage of gossip. He may be a good-natured scamp or, as more of the ton probably thought of him, a wolfish rogue, but he was a sheep in wolf’s clothing. He was rigid in protecting his family from gossip, and this incident would be handled with his usual proficiency.
But Thea didn’t seem to be allowing any of this to bother her. Perhaps, she didn’t understand the full magnitude of what she was up against?
Christian made a serious effort to stop laughing. “I don’t think you understand how bad that was in there.”
That only made her laugh harder. “Surely you’re jesting, Your Grace. I begged you not to make me go through with it. I knew exactly what would happen.”
Even understanding the depth of the situation, Christian couldn’t suppress his smile. “I thought you were exaggerating.”
“Maybe you did.” Thea shook her head and looked to the heavens. “But what I really think is you thought you could be the one to make me dance like a ballerina.”
Christian ducked his head, sheepish. “Perhaps.”
“I had you figured from the beginning. How much did you win?”
“Win? What do you mean?”
Thea ran her hand along a low hedge and ruffled the leaves with her gloved palm. “You don’t recall the wager that set your plan in motion?” Her voice was filled with skepticism.
“Oh right, the wager.” How could he have forgotten the wager?
“Mmmmm.” She nodded clearly not believing he’d forgotten. “You’ll be giving your ill-gotten gains to Lady Dalton’s charity, won’t you?”
“If that will make you happy, then most certainly.”
Thea smiled at him, apparently forgiven.
“I can’t believe you’re laughing.”
“It’s either that or cry. Make no mistake — I’m mortified, but I’ll get over it. I imagine the crowd will chalk it all up to the uncultured interloper.” Thea shook her head and grimaced. “I’ll wager my problem of coming up with excuses for why I can’t dance is over.” Unbelievably, she chuckled again.
“You’re not angry with me then?”
Thea turned her head towards him, narrowed her eyes, and looked at him long and hard as if she was still deciding. The smile returned, and Christian exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “No. I’m not angry. I should have put my foot down. Besides, I can’t really expect anything more from you.”
Christian didn’t think she meant to in
sult him, but he felt maligned nonetheless. “Is that a cultural difference I’m not aware of?” he asked. Thea raised her eyebrows. This time is was her turn to be confused. “Why would you expect nothing better from me?”`
Thea pulled at their linked arms effectively stopping them under an oak tree. They were far enough away from any other couple to avoid their conversation being overheard. “Oh, Christian, I apologize. I never meant to insult you. I only meant I know your type, the type to rise to a wager,” she explained. “My father was a rogue, too, you see.”
“You didn’t like your father?”
Thea shrugged. “I loved my father.” Her answer was cryptic. He hoped she would elucidate so, when she turned from him and headed further into the depths of the garden, he eagerly followed. “He was like you, your reputation.”
“I hate that you think you know so much about me and my reputation.”
Thea glanced back at him again, her expression harder to discern in the darkness. “I can hardly help it. I’ve heard plenty about you from every member of the ton. You’re a favorite topic of discussion.”
“Besides some youthful indiscretions, really, what have you heard about me that is so awful?”
“You admitted your mistress burned her clothes in your foyer only a couple of months ago? How old are you now? Thirty? That’s not so youthful.”
“I told you it was the garden, and I am two and thirty,” he corrected. Was this how he was really seen? If he was so unlikable, why were so many of the ton clambering for his attention? Invitations constantly deluged him. How and when did he become so frivolous? “I’m working to perfect a change.” He looked inward for a moment, something Christian was not used to doing, and recognized that he meant it.
The Duke of Morewether’s Secret Page 5