“Louisa.” Ned kissed her hand and held onto it a second longer than was proper merely to annoy Robert who was standing at her side. Then he glanced at Christina, who had been greeting another guest as Ned had entered and only now looked up.
Expecting to be met with her usual challenging gaze, he had intended to find some way to tease her. He'd been searching for a probing phrase to rouse her ire. But he was taken aback and then dismayed to see that dark circles had formed under her eyes. Christina's fair coloring gave away most of her feelings. At the moment, her face had the pale cast of sheepskin, with its delicate veins and brittle texture exposed to the light. This dangerous game she had been playing seemed to have done her more harm than he'd thought.
Her cheeks had none of their usual bloom, no matter how perfectly the light blue of her dress enhanced her eyes and the soft, white glow of her pearls matched the color of her breast. Her cheer seemed listless and forced.
She rallied, though, as soon as she saw him. Her back became straighter, and she lifted her chin before acknowledging his bow with a tantalizing smile. Alert to her tricks, Ned wondered what thought could be behind her angled glance and curving lips. Some deviltry, he was certain. But what would it be tonight?
Louisa's dinner party consisted of several men in the government with Robert, along with Louisa's particular set of friends. Normally, Ned would not have made one of this company, but he assumed his status as Robert Edward's godfather had given him a permanent legitimacy in this house. At he thought of Little Ned now, he wished he could retire to watch the baby struggle to roll himself heels over head.
The episode with Christina in the nursery had changed the aspect of that haven, however. Ned could not step into it without wondering if she might appear.
She had not given away his secret. For that, he was grateful.
The company soon gathered for dinner around a long mahogany table, lighted by a pair of magnificent chandeliers and laid with gilt-rimmed porcelain. As the footman guided Ned to his place near the center of one long side, he was astonished to find Christina already seated to the right of his chair.
Startled by this arrangement, he was unprepared to school his features. His reaction astonished him, as his pulse gave a leap, and a smile welled up from deep inside.
Christina's expression, which had been composed, underwent a subtle change, as if a shy, little flame inside her had been lit.
Ned quickly recovered his sangfroid and accepted the footman's help with his chair. His pulse, however, still raced. It must be due to the game they'd been playing, he decided. There was a certain thrill, a sort of heightened chase, in his intercourse with Christina. Nothing so risky as an affair, of course, but there had been an element of intrigue in the way they had managed to hide their particular breed of intimacy from everyone. In front of Robert, and now surrounded by his guests, they would have to play the part of polite acquaintances, when in truth, little between them had been polite.
What the assembled company would think if they knew the sort of conversations he had enjoyed with Christina, Ned could only imagine. They would be shocked, that was certain. He could only assume it was this latent shock, threatening to wake at the slightest slip of a tongue, that gave such spice to all their dealings.
Surely, without this sport, he would sooner have been bored by the sight of a girl.
Ned ignored the niggling feeling that something in this diagnosis was not right, as he lowered his voice to speak. “My dear Lady Christina, how delightful to have your company at dinner."
“Thank you, my lord. Does the arrangement astonish you as much as it does me?"
“Not at all,” Ned said.
Although it did. Now that he thought of it, he could not imagine what had got into Robert. A rise in the voices of the other guests allowed him to add for her benefit alone, “Your brother has come to regard me as your guardian angel, I believe. But even Robert has no idea of the truth. I daresay if he did, he would pack you back to Bath at once."
“You will not tell him, however."
“If I were you, I should not be so certain. Come to think of it, you would probably benefit from more schooling. Tell me, did you listen to anything your masters told you?"
“Certainly. My music master thought I had the best ear for music he had ever seen."
“Oh?"
“Yes. He played me love songs on the pianoforte. Unfortunately, this gave me little time on the instrument myself."
Ned gave a choke, before Christina's attention was begged by Lord Albemarle on her right. Ned found himself forced to entertain the Duchess of Gant on his left.
The Duchess longed to discuss Ned's ancestry, which somewhere in the seventeenth century contained a relative of her own. Ned was only saved from this lengthy chronicling whenever Louisa decided it was time to entertain the gentleman on her right. Unfortunately, her most loquacious guest was to her left, which kept everyone's heads tilted in that direction.
Dinner conversation proceeded in this unequal fashion: long tastes of a drab sort of course followed by short, spicy tidbits of dessert.
Lord Albemarle was young, but a gloomy kind of peer. A poet, with a philanthropist's heart, he and Louisa had been involved in several of the same causes—a virtue Christina tried to appreciate as she listened to him agonizing over the dismal conditions to be found in burgeoning cities like Leeds and Manchester.
Knowing nothing of those towns herself and incapable of doing anything to relieve them, Christina quickly found her tolerance for pity being sadly overwhelmed. The relief she found, when occasionally she was able to turn towards Ned, made it hard to conceal her delight at the sight of his teasing eyes.
Under the cover of clinking spoons and clattering china, Ned expressed his regret that her Grace of Gant could not have been seated next to Lord Buffington, “for they would have found so much to go on together about.”
His voice was so low, Christina was obliged to lean his way to hear. As their shoulders touched, for the space of a tiny moment, she felt as if there were no one in the room but themselves.
“He is quite devoted to family trees, is he not?” Ned continued, forgetting to eat his trifle as he scanned the room. “But I do not see him. Was Buffington not invited?"
“Oh, yes, he was,” Christina replied with a conspiratorial grin, “but I am afraid Lord Buffington has lost interest in blending our two distinguished families, and since he's as rich as Croesus, he can afford to turn up his nose at my attractive dowry. From what Robert tells me, he was rather alarmed to detect a sign of high spirits in me. He fears that too much spirit in a female is evidence of a bad strain in the line."
“Fool.”
Ned's simple response, uttered halfway between anger and contempt, provoked a surge in Christina's heart. The feeling was so acute and unexpected, she was at pains to hide the tears that sprang into her eyes.
When Robert had reported Buffington's remark, he had clearly taken the gentleman's side and had expressed his hope that Christina would learn from this rejection what she must do to improve her deportment, if she wanted to catch a prize like Buffington.
Ned's unequivocal opinion seemed a confirmation of her rights, even a tacit approval of who she was. No one but Louisa had ever offered her such a gift, and Louisa did not really know her.
But Ned did. Or, at least, he was privy to the worst of her actions. As a rake, she supposed, he could not truly be shocked by anything she'd done. The only trouble was she had not been happy with her actions of late. Not that she had often been delighted with herself, outside the occasional burst of triumph at besting an adversary and the few precious times she had put Robert Edward to sleep.
But, for the most part, since coming to London she had felt out of control, as if she were riding downhill on a runaway sleigh, grasping hard to the seat to stay on, but certain of plunging off a cliff.
“Don't let that pompous windbag cast you down.” Ned's gaze moved swiftly to her face and then away. They were s
peaking softly so that no one at the table could overhear.
Starting, Christina realized he must have noticed her tears. For the moment, his hard, teasing look was gone, and she caught a glimpse of the boy who had comforted her so long ago.
Then, he spoiled the moment by saying, with an irritable jerk of his head, “There are far worthier gentlemen who will relish your high spirits. I am sure you will find happiness with one of them."
“Thank you, my lord.” Christina did her best to hide her sharp disappointment. So, Ned, like Robert, thought she ought to find a worthy gentleman to marry, did he? Well, she would soon disabuse him of that notion.
“You are too kind, my lord. However, I find that unworthy gentlemen are generally more to my taste."
Ned's brows snapped together in a frown. “You are not still encouraging that fortune-hunter Levington, are you?"
“Why not? I have a fortune of my own."
“Which shall be eaten up before you see twenty-five if Levington ever gets his hands upon it."
“Really? But how can one be certain? Do you not think we should give Lord Levington the benefit of the doubt? He seems quite devoted to me, so perhaps he would turn over a new leaf. And as boring as that seems, it would probably be the best thing for the children."
“Children? What children?” Ned had blanched.
“My lord, you will surely make me blush if you ask me to explain the inevitable consequences of marriage."
“Christina, I'm warning you ...."
“Now,” she said delightedly, “you are sounding just like Robert, when I had thought you a rogue. Amazing how age can turn even the most dangerous men into models of propriety. I wonder if Levington will turn respectable when he is one and thirty?"
“He is six and thirty now.” Ned spoke between clenched teeth. “And getting desperate, I see, if he is bothering to lie about his age."
Christina hid the sudden urge to giggle at the sight of his tightly controlled fury. “Is he truly?” was all she said. “Well, I have always loved an older man."
“Always?” Ned's tone expressed his incredulity. “Coming it much too brown, my dear. You've never been in love or my name is Buffington. Nor can you convince me that Levington has won your heart."
“Ahhhh...” Christina formulated her response on a long, drawn out breath. “Perhaps you are right, and I am only temporarily dazzled. But then, Levington is always so willing to give me what I want."
“And what is that?"
A footman stepped between them to serve the final course, and Ned's frustration could be read in the tense line of his mouth.
As soon as the footman disappeared, Christina leaned closer to Ned, with a surreptitious glance at her brother. Fortunately, Robert did not seem to be paying her and Ned the slightest mind.
“What I want is to be taken to one of those gaming houses you undoubtedly frequent in Pall Mall."
If she had expected to be rewarded with a flash of anger or even amusement, she was quickly disappointed. Ned's eyes were as sober as the set of his jaw, when he replied, “You would never do anything so stupid."
“Why not? I am sure you do stupid things all the time."
She saw that she had taken him aback with her logic. “You might even offer to take me to one yourself, if you think Lord Levington is not to be trusted. As good a friend as you've become, I am sure you can be."
“Don't be absurd. You are acting like a brat."
Christina felt all the truth in his words, but still she could not help herself. Ignoring a pressing ache inside, she shrugged as charmingly as she could. “Very well,” she promised lightly. “If you will not take me, I shall simply ask Levington."
A gleam of intelligence relieved Ned's stormy visage. His unyielding posture relaxed. “This is all bluff,” he said, speaking through a grin. “You will never be able to leave the house without someone's being aware."
“Dear, dear Ned” —with a little chuckle, Christina shook her head at his innocence—"has no one ever told you of windows? I assure you I know how to make full use of mine."
Just then, Christina's gloomy neighbor tapped her on the shoulder in order to finish his monologue on factory conditions, which had been interrupted on their last switch of partners.
With a dazzling smile, she could not feel, Christina turned her back on Ned.
Chapter Six
Ned left the dinner party that evening, worried that he had underestimated Christina's desire to do herself in. Her threat, that she would make Levington take her to a place she had no business going, had sounded an alarm. While she had threatened many pranks before, none had approached this degree of seriousness.
All along, he had wondered what sort of demon was driving her to practice such impropriety. He'd doubted that she could receive much gratification from her acts. And, yet, she persisted in thinking up ways to court social ruin.
At first, he reluctantly confessed to himself, he'd found her brand of girlish impudence entertaining. He had not truly minded keeping an eye out for her interest, not when her clever powers of invention had posed such a challenge. It had almost seemed as if they'd joined in a battle of wits. He had let Christina know he would not allow her antics to pass the bounds, and Christina in turn had done her utmost to confound his efforts to guard her reputation. Their constant dueling over society's rules, a thing they commonly despised, had actually brought them into friendship, he'd thought.
Ned could not deny their fellow feeling, nor his sympathy for a girl with such high spirits being forced to play the ingenue. Nor did he seriously deny his growing interest in her welfare.
But this last start, the one she had so casually mentioned tonight, was of an entirely different sort. Ned wondered if he could dismiss it as merely an idle threat. She might have uttered it in an attempt to tease him. He had not failed to notice the pleasure she took in raising his ire.
But the trouble was her threat had not seemed idle. How she could even contemplate an action, not only outrageous by anyone's standards, but of serious danger to herself, had disturbed him all evening.
A voice in the back of his head tried to tell him he had often acted the same, but Ned rejected this notion outright. Christina was a very young female, with kind relations, a proper education, and a woman's sensibilities. She could not possibly be suffering from the same dark restlessness he had known all his life.
Nevertheless, she'd appeared to be suffering from something tonight. Her wan coloring and the glint of desperation he'd detected in her eyes had sent him a warning signal he could ill afford to ignore.
He knew he ought to tell Robert. But would Robert believe his sister was threatening to go to a gambling hell, or would he reasonably suspect Ned to be out of his mind? The notion that a delicately raised female would contemplate such an action was not one a man usually threw at the girl's brother. Not unless he wanted to meet that brother at dawn.
Ned sighed heavily over the prospect of offending Robert to that degree. No, he would do better to watch out for the chit himself to make certain that the proposition she'd made remained just so much idle bluff.
* * * *
Over the next many nights, he stayed alert to Christina's whereabouts. In the course of normal events, this was actually quite easy. They were certain to be invited to the same affairs. At the height of the season, the list of balls and parties was entirely predictable to one with Ned's social expertise.
If a ball was in the offing, he could search the room to make certain Christina had arrived and that she was being properly chaperoned. If the evening called for the theater, he had only to sit where he could spy on Robert's box to reassure himself that nothing was toward.
In the meantime, however, as a result of this private concern, which was causing him an unanticipated amount of anguish, he decided to avoid Christina as much as he could. Her most outrageous acts often seemed provoked by himself, as if the pleasure she took in thwarting him were part of her reason for misbehaving. It was all part
of their game, he thought. But if, in playing, they had lost control of the game, Ned would have no part of feeding her waywardness.
Christina's high spirits, though they stirred his blood with their youth and daring, could have no permanent place in her future. She must marry. Even though she revolted at the notion of pleasing an eligible man, she must soon reconcile herself to that necessity.
She would not wish to remain childless and a spinster. It was time she woke up to the risk of losing all chance of matrimonial harmony. Ned could only wonder what was wrong with all the young bucks these days that no one suitable had seen what a prize she would make and fought for the pleasure of making her his own.
He continued his vigilance, forsaking his clubs and his gambling hells in the possibility that Christina would try to visit one herself. Ned paid particular attention whenever Levington was about. Even though the baron's visits had been politely discouraged from Broughton House, Robert had found no legitimate way to keep Christina from speaking to him at functions they attended.
Forewarned by his mistake at Almack's that night, Levington had altered his tactics and had become the very model of propriety in order to win Robert's heart. As a result of his moderation, Robert had begun to worry less about him than some of Christina's other suitors and had consequently lowered his guard.
During the week following Louisa's dinner, Ned spotted Levington several times in Christina's company. More than once, they seemed disturbingly intent upon a private conversation, but he had not been able to come between them without giving the appearance of someone more concerned than he wished to appear. But nothing scandalous had yet occurred.
Then, just as he'd begun to feel that his extreme care in guarding the girl had been unjustified, Christina failed to appear at a ball to which she had been invited.
Robert and Louisa had come. As soon as Ned spied them entering the vast drawing room, he casually scanned the corridor behind them for Christina as well. But no amount of searching discovered her whereabouts, so he was forced to ask Robert where she was.
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