Christina threw him a chastising frown. “By that, I suppose you mean that you bribe them. Shall I tell my brother that his servants are not to be trusted?"
“Not unless you want to see them all put out in the streets without a character. Robert's servants are all very good, Lady Chris. They know whom they can trust and who not.
“Am I not a family intimate?” Ned's expression when he asked this was one of insulted innocence.
“Hmmmm.” Christina would not give him the satisfaction of an answer, but her lips longed to curve.
“I am becoming an intimate to one member at least."
Christina's heart began to flutter, but she told herself she must not fall into his trap of double-entendre again.
Adjusting the baby's coverlet more securely about him, she merely inquired, “I hope you do not mean you have been seducing Dobbs? I wouldn't have thought her your type."
Ned cocked her a glance with one brow raised and an evil glint lodged in his eye. “Let us simply say that Dobbs and I have a comfortable understanding."
His old roguish look was back. It struck dismay into her heart. He seemed so delighted to be suspected of the worst possible wickedness.
And, suddenly, she knew why his look distressed her so. He wanted her to know how little his kisses had meant.
Their lively encounter had lost its charm. Robert Edward felt heavy in her arms.
Ned must have noticed her sagging, for he offered to carry the baby, although he managed to hide his solicitude beneath more teasing.
“Are you going to allow me a visit with my godchild or not?” he complained, reaching out with both hands. “I have been as patient as I know how to be."
At any other time, Christina might have prolonged their little game, but now, exhausted by her feelings, she merely acquiesced. Whether Ned had meant to warn her against caring for him or not, she had no wish to come between him and the baby. She knew what comfort Robert Edward could bring, and something told her that Ned needed him just as much as she.
Nothing should have kept her from going inside at that moment, but instead, she strolled up and down, watching Ned lure chuckles from the baby, wondering with a heart full of pain whether he would ever father children of his own.
* * * *
Up in her room after Sir Anthony's brief visit, Louisa gazed down on the pair from her window and pensively chewed her bottom lip.
She had spied Ned as soon as he had approached the gate from the mews and with a growing sense of dismay had noted his hesitation. When he had nearly gone away, it had taken all her restraint not to open the casement and call out to him to stop.
It did not take a genius to see that something had passed between these two, which both were at pains to ignore. Christina's smiles were brilliant when they fell upon any gentleman other than Ned. The casual glances Ned threw her way betrayed nothing but an arrogant boredom. It was only when neither thought the other was watching that Louisa was able to spy the feelings they tried so hard to hide.
Louisa's instincts had told her they would be a perfect match. What Ned needed was a woman who would keep him too busy to get up to his own mischief. He needed someone to keep him on his toes, someone for whom to be responsible, until he could forget the misdemeanors of his past and begin to see himself in a new light.
His enchantment with her baby had told Louisa how much he longed to have a family of his own to love and protect. The trouble was that most girls’ parents felt the need to guard their daughters from him, with the result that Ned had no one looking to him for protection.
Robert's admission that Christina posed a challenge too great for one man had given Ned the excuse he needed to form an attachment. That he had been attracted to Christina from the start had been evident from that first day in the Abbey, for Louisa had never seen him so out of sorts. And she had not failed to notice Christina's flutterings the first time Ned's name was raised. Who better to appeal to a clever hoyden than a rogue who could match her every step? But two such sadly muddled beings could never be left alone to discover their fate.
Now, it seemed that something had happened to put Ned, at least, on guard against his feelings. Something the previous night, when he had brought Christina home. And Christina had been so affected by whatever it was, she had almost betrayed herself this morning.
Their affair was at a critical stage. One wrong step or push could destroy their only chance at happiness. The hint of a poorly timed opposition, an inkling of suspicion that they were being manipulated by Louisa, or even a quirk in either's personality could cause a major breach.
Nurse's tip, about the hour Ned could usually be expected to visit Robert Edward, had paid off today. At least, the two were speaking, even if every posture or gesture revealed their nervous restraint.
Christina's own ball was approaching. Louisa could only hope that the sight of Christina in her most beautiful gown, surrounded by scores of admirers, would make Ned forget his tarnished reputation long enough to declare his heart.
Chapter Eight
According to the daily journals, Christina's ball was to be the most talked about event of the season. Invitations had made their way across London to more than four hundred illustrious guests: society's grandes dames, the government's most prominent lords and ministers, as well as fashionable wits and famous men of letters. Among this number was the Prince Regent who, according to his nearest intimates, planned to make a late appearance.
Her Grace of Broughton had spared no expense either on lavish decorations or the tastiest refreshments to charm her company. The walls of the drawing room and dining parlor had been draped with fine layers of gauze and decked with garlands of fresh, spring blossoms to represent a faerie dell, while hundreds of lighted candles added sparkle to the magical illusion.
A horde of servants had been taken on in addition to the not-inconsiderable staff of Broughton House to bring this wonder about. They glided through the packed, glittering rooms, dispensing champagne of good vintage and serving a delectable array of canapés from trays.
As Ned entered the drawing room that night, long after the receiving line had been dispersed, he saw that the gossip-mongers had been right. Judging by the crush of bodies he'd just made his way through, no one of any note had refused Louisa's summons. The only clear spots on the floor were those that intermittently appeared between the dancing pairs, as each abandoned one position in favor of another in accordance with the steps.
Determined as he was not to show any partiality for Christina beyond the courtesy due the guest of honor, Ned found that his eagerness to see her could not be quelled. He searched the room until he saw her, weaving through the set on her partner's arm.
He took a deep, hasty breath.
Just as the walls had been adorned to resemble a woodland fantasy, Christina herself had been dressed as a faerie queen. Her fine, flaxen hair lay in a soft fringe about her face, with the rest left to sweep her shoulders. It gleamed like gold in the light from the candles. Her skin, as fair and delicate as parchment, reflected the soft, warm glow from the chandeliers.
As Ned stood, watching the play of light and shadow across her cheeks, the curve of her downcast lids, and the fragility of her smile, something inside him turned over.
Abruptly, he wrenched away, and stopping a passing servant, helped himself to champagne. He would not have to mount guard over Christina this evening. Broughton House had been constructed with no terrace, and the garden had no high shrubbery in which a couple might lose themselves. With such a lively throng inside, there would be no alcoves in which to hide.
Ned strolled about the room, greeting acquaintances and pausing now and then to talk, while a swirling agitation churned inside him. He yearned for just one waltz with Christina, though he was certain all her dances would have been claimed. He had purposely arrived too late to face that temptation, but it had hounded him all the distance between his house and here. And now he cursed himself for spoiling his one chance.
> Tonight was Christina's ball. Surely, as an old friend of her brother's, he might have been allowed one dance without causing tongues to wag.
Lost in these musings, Ned was startled by Louisa's voice at his side.
“Does she not look divine?"
He had not realized he'd been staring at Christina again. Caught, he did his best to sound nonchalant. “She is. You have done quite well by her, Louisa."
Her worried sigh alarmed him. “I do so hope you are right. But I cannot be happy with Robert's plans."
“Oh?” Ned feigned a humor he did not feel. “Has he found a new Buffington to woo her?"
“Yes, although I should be happier if the gentleman were Lord Buffington. Robert has decided that Christina needs an older man to govern her."
“Perhaps he's right.” With a half-shrug, he turned and saw that Louisa was gazing sadly at him.
“Not you, too?” she said, disappointment in the slow shake of her head. “I had counted you among her friends."
Ned dropped his glance to the glass in his hand. He tossed it back before discovering it was empty. “Why shouldn't she marry an older man?"
“Someone who is not of her own choosing? She would be miserable."
“So, Robert has chosen her a husband?"
“I think he has. He has become impatient with her for refusing so many offers."
Ned's hand suddenly shook. “How many have there been?"
“Quite a number. And several of those from eligible gentlemen. But Christina still fails to show a decided partiality for any one of her suitors. Although ....” With a guilty glance his way, followed by a puzzled frown, Louisa cut off her speech.
“Although...” he prompted.
Fumbling nervously with the lace at her breast, Louisa avoided his eyes. Ned fixed them firmly on her face, until she gave up with a sigh.
“If you must know, I think she might have developed a tendre for someone, but I cannot say who."
Ned's heart gave a jerk, but he concealed it with a smile. “Cannot or will not?"
“I do not know his name. And I will not pry into Christina's confidence."
The smile abandoned him. “It is just as well. He is quite likely to be unsuitable."
Louisa straightened, tilting her nose in the air. “I am not so doubtful of her judgment. If she has determined that only one man can make her happy, I am certain she is right, and I cannot bear the thought of her being wed to someone for whom she can only feel disgust."
A sickening wave roiled up inside him. “Robert would never force her into such a match."
“No. But he can bring such pressure to bear that she will decide to submit to his wishes rather than be an endless burden to her brother."
“You are being nonsensical."
“I am not! That is how women think."
A rush of pure, male irritation made Ned snarl, “But why would Christina be so stupid?"
To his surprise, a glimmer of tears came into Louisa's eyes. “If the gentleman she loves does not declare himself, what other choice will she have?"
A sudden fear seized his heart. He had never imagined Christina's future. He had been far too busy guarding her reputation from willful indiscretion ever to give her future a thought. He had regarded her marriage as the successful end of the season, even though he, along with Robert, had failed to think of any candidate for her hand who possessed just the right combination of dignity and experience.
Now, he realized how short his sight had been. Christina would need more than just a guardian. She would need a companion for life, someone to laugh and make love with. Someone to share her pride in their children. Someone to hold her through misfortune and to cuddle with her on cold winter nights.
Someone to make her happy.
Louisa's comment, that she suspected Christina of having developed feelings for an undisclosed gentleman, had made him wonder if the man could be himself. Surely, if he was the only man to have tapped into her passion—and he was almost certain he was—it would not be too terribly surprising if a young girl her age had mistaken such passion for love.
Ned fought the triumph that threatened to burst inside him. He knew it was shame he should be feeling. Shame for distracting her from the very serious business of finding a suitable husband.
If he was the man who was keeping her from choosing a worthy mate, he had only one choice of action. He must prevent her from marrying anyone else until her preference could naturally shift to a gentleman more deserving of her love.
“I'll talk to Robert,” he blurted, as much to himself as to Louisa. “He mustn't be allowed to bully her. She'll make a decent choice in time."
“I am sure she will,” Louisa said, her tears vanishing in the wake of a radiant smile. “I knew I could count on you, Ned. You are always so dependable."
Her choice of word startled him. He had been called many things before, but dependability had never been numbered among his better known virtues.
Louisa's mistake brought a cynical smile to his lips.
“You must be thinking of someone else. However, in this instance, I shall do my best."
He strolled the room and found Robert in converse with one of his guests, the sight of whom made Ned halt in his tracks.
Lord Musgrove. Tall, frail, and obliged by his thinning hair to wear to wig, he was the son of the aged Duke of Gilmorgan. A marquess in his fifties if he was day, he had a pronounced disdain for frivolous society. Not yet come into his main inheritance, he seldom ventured into London; but rumor had it that the duke could not possibly last much longer, so Lord Musgrove was finally on the lookout for a wife.
Anger swelled in Ned. If this was the man Robert had selected for Christina, he would have something blunt to say.
* * * *
Christina had long since given up hope that Ned would invite her to dance. His tardy arrival had resulted in the effect of an icy bath. She felt chilled to the bone, and no number of compliments or amount of flattering attention from other gentlemen could raise a warmth in her veins.
Feeling pale and thin in her responses, she had nevertheless done her best to live up to the honor Robert and Louisa had done her by giving this ball. She had been generous with her smiles and had danced with every gentleman who'd been presented to her. The only privilege she had reserved for herself had been the choice of her supper partner.
She had delayed her decision until a real danger loomed of being forced to accept Lord Musgrove, Robert's current favorite. She had decided Lord Levington would squire her.
He had been invited, despite Robert's wishes. Louisa had been adamant that a man who had rendered her such a service could not be ignored.
Now, as Christina walked into the parlor where chairs had been set up for supper, she felt as if she might as well endure the penance of Levington's company. Her experience with Ned had proven how unappealing she was to anyone who could inspire her devotion. Despite his passionate kisses, Ned had obviously decided she was unworthy of more.
Levington secured a pair of chairs and signaled to a footman to supply them with plates, then to another to fill Christina's glass with champagne. He seemed pleased when she immediately raised it to her lips.
The strong, fizzing liquid stung her throat and nose, but her second sip went down much more smoothly and brought a sudden heat to her cheeks. The third left her with a warm, syrupy lassitude that partially chased away her rebellious spirits.
“I had almost feared I would not be invited this evening.” With a knowing smile, Levington leaned across his chair until his head was mere inches away from hers.
“Oh? And why was that, my lord?"
“I had begun to think your brother did not approve of me."
“Undoubtedly, he does not.”
The champagne had added a certain directness to her speech. Levington's evident dismay raised a giggle in Christina's throat, but she smothered it.
“It is the duchess, then, who invited me?"
“She and I
drafted most of the list."
His smugness returned, taking shape in that slow, intimate smile. “Then, here we are at last."
A wave of self-disgust nearly overcame her. Christina lowered her gaze to her plate and toyed with her food. Until this moment, she had not considered how her choice of dinner partner at her own ball might be viewed, especially by that choice.
Levington bent to whisper in her ear. “Will you give me leave to speak to your brother tomorrow?"
“I doubt you should make the attempt. Robert has not been known to express kindly feelings towards you."
He pulled back quickly, a scowl on his face, before attempting to recover his good humor.
He moved nearer again, and his voice was low. “Are you saying we would do best to marry without his notice?"
“I have never said I would marry you, my lord.” Christina turned sharply towards him, so that he might see the sincerity of her words.
An angry light came into his eyes.
“My dear Lady Christina, surely you have intimated as much by your encouragement of my attentions. And I see no need for qualms as long as the duchess favors my suit, which I believe she does."
“You are gravely mistaken. Louisa will accept my wishes with respect to my own future happiness."
Lord Levington's gaze narrowed to a slit as he slowly sat back in his chair.
Christina felt her own stare wavering as the error she had made burst fully upon her. With all the fortitude she possessed, she reminded herself that this man had wanted her for her fortune alone.
“It seems in that case that I have made a mistake,” he said with a sneer. “I had thought my attentions more agreeable to you. If you have no objection, I shall take myself off."
“I give you leave."
As he rose from his seat, Christina kept her eyes downcast. All around her, their guests were enjoying the delicious fare in twos and threes. The din in the parlor was such that no one could have heard what had passed between them.
When Levington was gone, she stayed where she was only long enough to make certain she would not run into him, but not long enough for someone to wonder that her partner had not returned. Exhausted in spirit and body, she quietly rose as if intending to rejoin the dance.
A Pair of Rogues Page 12