by Golden Angel
Unfortunately, it was all too soon before the intermission was over, and he had to escort her back to the Marley box before returning to his brother’s. Isaac and Lydia had barely had time to be introduced, but at least the deed had been done so now Lydia could call on Christina and - hopefully - help press his suit. They’d seemed to take to each other even though they’d barely had a full minute to converse before the bells signaling the end of intermission had begun to ring.
At the next intermission, Benedict had gone out to find Christina again, hoping to bring her back to the Manchester box for more private conversation with his family - and another signal of his intentions - but she and the Marley party had left the theater.
As tempted as he was to appear in her home again, he decided to stay away for now. After all, Lady Daphne’s ball was only two days away, and Lydia and Arabella had quickly found and responded to the invitation once he’d told them why he wanted to attend.
Christina might be running, but it was the Season… she couldn’t hide.
Chapter 6
The delicate wood of Christina’s fan creaked in her hand, making her relax her grip lest she snap the thing in half. She felt sick with churning jealousy as she watched Benedict, politely smiling and nodding to an entire bevy of beautiful, young, virginal misses. The very kind of beautiful, young, virginal misses Society would expect him to choose from when he married.
“I heard the mamas have realized he means to marry and are hoping to tempt him to marry one of their darlings instead of you,” Daphne said in her ear, having noticed Christina’s distraction. “Too bad for them, he doesn’t seem so inclined.”
Did he not?
He didn’t look at them with any kind of lust or passion… but many men didn’t view their wives in such a manner. Something she knew all too well. They were everything a nobleman like him was supposed to marry - pure, virginal, and without a single blemish to their reputation. While she’d been discreet with her lovers, everyone still knew who her ‘special acquaintances’ had been. That was just the way of the ton. No one would look askance at Benedict marrying one of the young misses while keeping Christina as his lover. Not even many of the young misses.
Certainly none who were currently pursuing him. They had an eye on his title, with his youth and good looks making him a much more palatable choice than many other titled gentlemen on the prowl for a young, dewy-eyed wife.
A virginal bride and a widow lover would make sense to everyone.
Of course, she would never allow it. Benedict’s involvement with another woman, in any way other than family or friendship, would end her relationship with him. Christina would not be put in such a position again. She had not understood it when she realized George had been unfaithful to her, and she would not countenance it now.
Especially not when her feelings for him already ran so deep. Her care for herself ran deeper.
“You should go rescue him, put him out of his misery,” Daphne whispered.
Part of her wanted to but…
What if he decided a young, virginal miss suited him better as a bride? Shouldn’t he at least have the option? And she would much rather know sooner than later if one of the young ladies appealed to him. No matter how bitter jealousy clawed at her insides while she was forced to watch.
She also had to admit, she did feel better seeing them all angling for an invitation to dance, while he stood stiffly and ignored the first notes of music lifting into the air.
“Pardon me, Lady Stanhope? Would you like to dance?”
Christina turned to see Mr. Chestertown, second son of the Earl of Rawling’s cousin, addressing her. She’d met Mr. Chestertown last Season, before ending her affair with Haversham, and found him to be rather good company. Handsome, with a nose that was just a tad too big for his face, his sandy blonde hair just brushed the stiff, white collar of his shirt. As usual, his sartorial splendor was colorful; his dark rose waistcoat was quite pretty next to the plum jacket he was wearing and Christina made note of the color combination. Mr. Chestertown dressed as a dandy, but he had a reputation as a rake and he flirted the same way he breathed - without thinking.
They got along rather well as she appreciated his style as well as his warm occasional hints about furthering their relationship. He took no umbrage when she ignored those hints, nor did he take her disinterest in being seduced as a challenge. All in all, his company was often both flattering and fun.
“I would love to,” Christina said, perhaps with more feeling than usual, which made the man blink and refocus on her, a glint of heightened interest in his eyes. As he led her to the dance floor, he was examining her out of the corner of his eye, as though appraising whether she was interested in more than a dance with him. Inwardly, she cursed, because she hadn’t meant to give off that impression at all.
As they took their places for the dance, her head instinctively turned towards where Benedict was besieged by the young misses. She didn’t know if he’d seen her heading towards the dance floor with Mr. Chestertown - or even if he’d care - but it was as though Benedict was a lodestone. Her gaze was drawn to him, regardless of all else.
However, he wasn’t where she expected him to be, and her gaze skittered around the ballroom, seeking out his broad-shouldered figure. Fortunately, as he was quite tall, it did not take her long to locate him, moving towards the dance floor with his sister on his arm. The little coterie of young misses had already scattered, many of them having accepted an invitation to dance from another gentleman if they didn’t already have a name on their dance card.
“Ah, I see the rumors are true,” Mr. Chestertown said suddenly, amusement tinging his voice, and Christina looked up into his warm brown eyes, which flicked back and forth between her and Benedict. A hot blush suffused her cheeks.
Christina didn’t bother to pretend she didn’t know what he was referring to. “My apologies for my distraction, sir,” she said, as the dance began.
The smile she received in return was filled with amusement and just a touch of mischief. “Quite alright, my dear, I’m happy to assist.”
She gave him a repressive look, but his grin just widened.
“If you really want to make him jealous, you should smile adoringly at me,” he teased, and Christina’s eyes narrowed.
“That was not my aim,” she said, although she suddenly wasn’t entirely sure. Had part of her wanted to make Benedict feel a bit of what she had been feeling? It seemed rather petty of her but she couldn’t deny the sense of satisfaction it gave her to watch Benedict dance with his sister rather than any of the young debutantes.
Three dances later, Benedict came seeking her hand for the waltz, deftly avoiding the young beauties and their mamas or chaperones who attempted to converge on him at the end of each set. So far, he hadn’t danced with a single one of them, confining his attentions to his sister, his sister-in-law, and Daphne. That last gave Christina the most unease, because her friend had been speaking quite animatedly throughout the entirety of their dance, and the pair had constantly looked across the dance floor to where Christina was dancing with Lord Burlingstroke, a cheerful elderly gentleman who was a particular friend of her father’s.
As Benedict pressed his hand against her back and began to move, his powerful stride leading her through the circles of the waltz, Christina’s body responded with tingling awareness. He pulled her close - closer than was necessary and certainly closer than propriety allowed. Yet trying to step away was impossible with his strength set against hers, his body leading hers through the steps.
“Are you trying to drive me mad?” he asked softly.
Frowning, Christina looked up at him, distracted by the question, no longer noticing how closely their bodies brushed as they moved.
“Drive you mad?” she repeated, not understanding.
“By dancing every single dance with a different gentleman,” he replied, his voice low.
“You’ve danced every dance,” she retorted, tilting her hea
d to the side as she realized perhaps she truly hadn’t been the only one of them pricked by jealousy. While his expression was bland, now that she was paying attention she could feel the tension in his body, the possessiveness in the way he held her. It both surprised and pleased her… and yet she couldn’t help but feel wary.
Seeing the covetous and disapproving looks sent their way by the marriage-minded mamas didn’t reassure her.
“It’s not the same,” he said, a hint of a scowl threatening his brow. “The quality of my dance partners vastly differs from yours.” His voice lowered further, his head tilting forward to speak so low only she could hear. “In fact, with every dance, my hand itches a little more. Believe me, I’m counting every dance you partake in.”
Christina’s bottom tingled at the implied threat, her heart suddenly racing as arousal and anxiety welled. Breathless, she couldn’t even think of a response, because she was too taken aback by his brazenness. Taken aback, and yet completely taken in.
When the dance ended, Benedict remained by her side as Daphne and Hazel joined them, followed by a small crowd of gentlemen, many of whom eyed Benedict’s presence at her side with competitive glances. Christina might have found it amusing if Benedict’s presence hadn’t also attracted the young ladies as well. It took a concerted effort by several parties, but after a few minutes he was no longer by her side, and now she was having to watch him deal politely with the importuning young women and their mamas from close quarters.
Their mamas were not very subtle in their biting remarks about the differences between their young, pure daughters against widows who ought to know their place. As much as Benedict sallied back, just as biting even as civility was maintained on both sides, it didn’t deter any of them, and the constant malice was giving Christina a headache.
So when Mr. Shipley asked her to dance, she accepted, just to have a momentary break from the nasty glares and judgmental comments.
******
Seeing Christina being led to the dance floor by Shipley - who had no reputation as a rake but did have stars in his eyes whenever he looked at Christina - grated on Benedict’s temper. Especially because she didn’t even glance back at him as she walked away.
He’d been aware of her growing distress over the matrons’ remarks and their daughters’ presence, but Society’s dictates were very specific about what a gentleman could and could not do. So far, he’d availed himself of hiding behind the skirts of women he trusted in order to avoid testing Christina’s trust in him without causing offense.
Watching her with Shipley, hemmed in by the petticoat-line and their spiteful mothers, Benedict was rapidly losing his patience with both Society’s strictures and the importuning women who were using them to their advantage. He was supposed to be the one using Society’s rules, to catch Christina, not to be caught himself by some young miss he had no interest in.
“Oh, I do love this song. It is my favorite to dance to,” said Miss Russell, her eyes wide and calculating. She tipped her head to the side, expecting him to do the gentlemanly thing and offer his services.
But Benedict’s patience with being a gentleman had reached its limit. “It is a lovely song,” he agreed, and turned away to address Lady Daphne’s sister, the Lady Hazel, who was quite lovely as well as being someone who wouldn’t rouse Christina’s uncertainties. “Lady Hazel, would you do me the honor?”
Small gasps rose up around him and Mrs. Russell turned pale with horror. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Miss Russell’s lovely blue eyes fill with sudden tears as her lower lip trembled. Guilt suddenly assailed him. It wasn’t the poor girl’s fault that she’d angled for a dance just as he’d run out of patience. She certainly wasn’t the first to drop a broad hint, but he’d been much kinder to the previous aspirants, excusing himself by saying he’d already promised the dance to another. By being so blatant in his refusal, he’d basically cut her when she hadn’t been any more importuning than the other young ladies, and a good deal less than some.
Even Daphne and Hazel’s expressions were reproachful. Such an action could actually do the young woman a great deal of harm when it came to making a match, as the gossip could be quick and vicious. Not only had he marked her out, but with his social standing against hers, others would be quick to follow suit.
Inwardly sighing, he looked at Daphne, a silent plea on his face. Rolling her eyes heavenward, she nodded as he led Lady Hazel away from the group.
A minute later, his brother Isaac was leading the starry-eyed Miss Russell onto the floor and shooting him a look which promised future retribution. Benedict was certainly in for a lecture, one which he rather deserved. His impulsive snappish behavior was more like Arabella than himself.
“That was not well done, but I believe you may have achieved your goal,” Lady Hazel said. “Your harem is already dispersing. And your brother has ensured there is no lasting harm to Miss Russell.” Her tone was still somewhat reproving.
“Believe me, I did not intend to sink Miss Russell’s prospects,” he said contritely. “I am merely at the end of my patience… and yet that’s no excuse either. Still… I can’t entirely regret it if what you say is true.”
A little smile turned up the corners of Lady Hazel’s lips. “Seeing as Lady Christina’s patience is also already stretched thin as well and no real harm done, I can’t bring myself to scold you.” She glanced over to where Miss Russell was obviously in alt to have been singled out by the Duke of Manchester. It didn’t matter that he was married, his attention would be noted and far more influential to her status among the debutantes than Benedict’s cut. “And I don’t believe Miss Russell will have any complaints in the end either.”
Indeed. Although Benedict still felt a bit guilty - especially later in the evening when Miss Russell hastily swerved away from him, obviously changing her path to avoid him - he hadn’t done her any lasting harm. Several gentlemen, intrigued by whatever had brought the Duke of Manchester out onto the dance floor with a debutante, had converged on the young woman immediately following her dance, including the second son of the Duke of Richmond (incidentally, Benedict’s guilt in its entirety was assuaged when the pair’s engagement was announced six weeks later and was, by all accounts, a love match).
Fortunately, neither Hazel nor Daphne informed Christina about why all but the most aggressive of the young ladies had disappeared from his side between dances. Despite her obvious unhappiness with the young ladies, she would not condone outright rudeness and possible harm to a young woman’s reputation. By the end of the night, most of them seemed to have taken the message as well. No matter how they implored or hinted, he steadfastly danced and strolled only with ladies Christina personally knew and trusted or his family members, and Christina herself. The number of young ladies surrounding him slowly dwindled in the face of his steadfast sidestepping, much to his relief.
On the other hand, Christina continued to dance with whomever she wanted.
While watching her dancing with other men exercised his possessiveness, Benedict didn’t miss where her attention fell - continually on him. Her eyes sought him out whenever he wasn’t by her side, constantly flicking his way during the dances, and she only truly relaxed when he was beside her. Yes, he still had moments of jealousy, but the emotion didn’t ride him the same way it did her. Considering her past, he supposed that was only natural.
He was determined to prove she could trust him. Therefore, he would do his best to avoid piquing her jealousy, even as she pricked his. Responding in kind would be the surest way to prove her fears about marrying him. Since her own behavior showed no other man to be a serious threat, he managed to ignore those who certainly wished they had a chance for her affections.
Since he found his way back to her side at the conclusion of each dance, he was able to see when she began to wilt and immediately suggested a stroll outdoors to breathe some fresh air. To his relief - and the disappointment of her coterie and those young ladies too stubborn to give up
on Benedict yet - she immediately agreed and he offered her his arm.
Sadly, the terrace was not as sparsely populated as he might have liked, and neither were the gardens. Daphne’s ball was such a crush that quite a few attendees had taken advantage of the fair weather to venture outside for a bit of fresh air and slightly more privacy.
Christina idly fanned herself with a lacy cream confection, which matched the trim on her jade ballgown, wafting her floral perfume towards him. No matter what color she chose to wear, she always smelled of violets.
“It’s quite lovely out tonight, isn’t it?” she remarked as they began to stroll about the terrace. The air was decidedly cooler than in the ballroom, but still warm enough both she and Benedict could appreciate her fan.
“Not as lovely as you are,” he responded, moving his arm to draw her closer to him, rather than following the approved social script of discussing the weather. Christina made a shushing sound and thwacked her fan against his arm as she pulled away to put a respectable amount of space between them again, making him grin in the face of her reproving look. No matter how she tried to hide it, he could still see the pleasure she took in his comment.
“Behave,” she hissed. “You’ve caused enough talk when it comes to me already.”
Shrugging, Benedict sighed and complied. “The moon is very full.”
He missed their time together before Christmas, when they hadn’t been quite so hemmed in by social mores. When Christina hadn’t had to be quite so stringent about the rules regarding their conduct in order to keep her reputation intact. When so many eyes hadn’t been watching them.
Declaring his interest so blatantly had alerted the ton to his intentions, just as he’d wanted, but it had also roused Society’s interest. People would be watching each step of their courtship, which meant following the rules so as not to cause Christina any hardship. Or himself, for that matter. Not that he truly cared about being admitted to the highest sticklers’ houses or Almack’s, but Christina certainly did - and it was an unfortunate truth that Society was much less forgiving to women than men.