Simon nodded. ‘Yes, I do.’
William hesitated, still vaguely intimidated by Lord Rockley’s aura of command, and yet grateful that he trusted him enough to accept what he said as truth. ‘Christina didn’t want either of us to benefit from Mark’s crimes. I still cannot believe he was sending his ill-gotten gains to France.’ He looked at Lord Rockley steadily. ‘I was not actively involved, but I did know Bucklow was using the chambers, for which I could be condemned. I can’t thank you enough for keeping my name out of it, but I know that in doing so you have deceived your superiors. I am surprised, since it was your duty to report everything to do with your findings.’
‘What I do has got nothing to do with duty,’ Simon said curtly, his expression suddenly grim. ‘When I was asked to track down Bucklow, I agreed to do so for no other reason than to right a wrong Bucklow did to my family. When he held up my brother’s coach late one night, issuing the usual threats and waving his pistol about, my niece was shot and killed. My brother was also severely wounded. Today he is the shadow of the man he was. Everything my investigations uncovered I passed on to the magistrate—leaving out your part in it. The reason why I did so I will come to in a moment.’
‘I have let Christina down very badly, but I shall make it up to her.’
‘I think I can help you there.’
‘How?’
‘I wish to ask her to be my wife—but I shall need your help in persuading her to marry me.’
William’s eyes opened wide in disbelief. ‘What? You and Christina? But—I had no idea…’
‘No. You were preoccupied,’ Simon reminded him bluntly. ‘There is something else you should know. It is something she would probably prefer to tell you herself, but she isn’t here. She is to have a child.’
Clearly shocked, William paled. ‘A child? But—I don’t understand. How can she? But—whose child is it?’
‘Mine,’ Simon answered, no longer in any doubt that the child was his.
William placed a shaking hand to his forehead and turned away, clearly upset. ‘I—forgive me—but I am shocked. This is all so—surprising. You—have seen her?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you will marry her?’
‘Without a moment’s hesitation,’ he answered, saying nothing about the terrible things he had accused her of, of how he had wronged her most grievously. Why, the poor girl must have been living under a nightmare for months, and he had done nothing but make matters worse.
‘Then—what can I say? Does Christina want to marry you? Is she in agreement? Although with a child to consider she is left with little choice in the matter.’
‘She has—reservations. In fact, she is dead set against it, which is why I would like your help in persuading her to accept my suit. I hold your sister in very high regard—indeed, I shall be proud to have Christina as my wife.’
William was uneasy about what Lord Rockley had told him, and reproached himself most severely for being so wrapped up in his own troubles he had not seen what was going on between Christina and Lord Rockley. At any other time and with any other man he would have taken him to task for seducing his sister, but he had much to be grateful to him for and he was eager to remain in his favour.
‘Then Miranda and I will leave for London in the morning. I shall have a letter dispatched immediately to Aunt Celia telling her to expect us.’
Simon left Oakbridge and headed back to London, knowing that the longer he stayed away from Christina, her hurt and anger would be hardening into hatred.
Chapter Nine
Waiting for William and Miranda to arrive and excited by the prospect, Christina gazed out of the window. It was mid-afternoon when she saw her brother’s coach pull up in front of the house. With her aunt, she went into the foyer to greet them, and a few moments later, amid a great deal of chattering and laughing, and Miranda being introduced to Aunt Celia, they settled down to refreshments. It was as William was sipping his tea that he casually told Christina of Lord Rockley’s visit to Oakbridge to inform him of how his investigations were progressing.
Christina’s spine stiffened and she looked at her brother warily, suspecting there was more behind Simon’s visit to Oakbridge, but if there was, William was certainly not letting on.
‘And when you left, Lord Rockley remained behind?’ Christina ventured to ask.
‘No, he and his valet left for London directly after leaving Oakbridge. In fact, I have taken the liberty of inviting him to dine with us later.’ The smile he gave his aunt was so youthfully charming that it never failed to win her over. ‘You don’t mind, do you, Aunt Celia? I know how much you enjoy entertaining, and I didn’t think one more would make any difference.’
‘Of course not, dear boy—the more the merrier. I am expecting four of my friends to dine with us—Mr and Mrs Webster and Sir John Bainbridge and his wife, Emily, all of whom you are acquainted with. Besides,’ Celia replied, avoiding Christina’s curious gaze, who was beginning to think there was some kind of conspiracy at work and feeling the first stirrings of alarm, ‘I would so like to become better acquainted with Lord Rockley. He’s such a handsome man, I thought, when Christina introduced me to him recently at a party at the Assembly Rooms. I’m only sorry I didn’t get the chance to become better acquainted.’
‘There you are then,’ William said smugly, placing his cup and saucer on the table. ‘I’m sure you will be charmed by him—and you, too, Christina. I know you and Lord Rockley will have much to discuss.’
Instead of being stricken, Christina was slowly standing up, propelled to her feet by a boiling wrath. ‘If I have anything to say to Lord Rockley, William, I shall do so in my own good time. His visit to Oakbridge was to discuss me, wasn’t it? Based on what you have said, it is obvious that this entire situation has been deliberately organised in a way to bring us together. You know, don’t you? That—that insufferable man has told you that—that.’
William stood up and went to her, hating to see her so angry and upset. ‘That you are to have a child. Yes, Christina, he did tell me.’
‘He had no right,’ she cried, beside herself with fury. ‘No right whatsoever.’
‘Since he is the father, he had every right.’
Christina stared at him in utter disbelief. ‘He—he told you that?’
‘He did. Why did you not tell me how things were between the two of you? I felt such an idiot when he told me.’
‘I didn’t tell you because there was nothing to discuss,’ she replied flatly in answer to William’s question.
‘Apparently there was. I cannot say that I wasn’t shocked when he told me—and disappointed that my sister would.’ He halted himself before he said something insensitive that would hurt her. ‘But what is done is done. We must make the best of it and look to the future.’ He looked at his aunt. ‘I expect Christina has told you?’ She nodded. ‘Then let us hope this can be sorted out as amicably as possible and the wheels set in motion for a wedding.’
Christina’s head snapped up in anger. How dare Simon assume that she would marry him after she had told him she wouldn’t? She was not without some pride. ‘A wedding? But—I have not agreed to marry Lord Rockley—in fact, quite the opposite.’
William looked at her accusingly. ‘Now, Christina, be sensible. You know the situation.’
‘Of course she does,’ Miranda chirped up, smiling sweetly at her sister-in-law. ‘William has so much common sense. That is what I have always admired about him.’
William threw his wife a look that told her to keep out of it. ‘I would be grateful if you would leave this to me, Miranda.’
‘But of course, my love. I am sure you will make Christina see sense. Lord Rockley is extremely charming and I am sure he is very rich. The offer is a good one.’
‘But I have told you, I have not agreed to marry him,’ Christina persisted, only to realise that no one was listening to her, and with a sense of utter despair she realised her own impotence. What could she do? What
could she say against these three people who were planning her future with an utter disregard for her own feelings in the matter?
‘Your reputation has been harmed, Christina,’ William went on, ‘though I wish it were not so. You must prepare yourself for the thought of marriage to Lord Rockley. I shudder to think what kind of life you will have if you do not—an unmarried woman with a child. It is unthinkable.’
With the words said aloud at last, Christina felt her heart shatter and her eyes sting with tears. She felt humiliated and hopeless. How had this happened to her? When she’d watched Mark Bucklow ride away from Oakbridge that day, she thought she’d been delivered safe from the clutches of one man, only to find herself trapped with another.
* * *
With so much time to prepare mentally for whatever unpleasantness William had planned for her later, except for her treacherous heartbeats, which insisted on accelerating every time she thought of Simon, Christina had almost convinced herself she was well fortified against her fate by the time of Simon’s arrival.
But nothing had prepared her for the moment she first set eyes on him. He was the last to arrive. He was wearing light grey velvet breeches and a dark blue frock-coat. His white silk vest had narrow silver stripes, and delicate white lace spilled from his throat and over his wrists. His dark hair was pulled back and tied at the nape with a black velvet ribbon. This elegant attire accentuated his virile good looks, for handsome he was, making him look like a story-book hero. A smile played on his beautifully shaped lips, and his eyes immediately sought her out where she stood alone in the doorway leading into the drawing room.
Her gown was a stunning creation of golden layers of silk fabric. It was as if she were clothed in a cloud that flowed in shimmering waves around her slender body. There was a duel of glances as his eyes challenged hers, drawing her to him, and Christina felt again the sudden heat of suppressed passion.
After introductions had been made, excusing himself to the others, he advanced towards her. Despite the civilised elegance of his attire, Christina thought he had never looked more dangerous, more overpowering than he did as he came towards her with that deceptively lazy, stalking stride of his.
‘Hello, Christina,’ he said, his penetrating gaze probing hers.
‘Hello, Simon.’
Simon was a little taken aback by the courteous, but impersonal smile she gave him, but he refused to be discouraged. ‘It is a pleasure to see you again,’ he said, reaching for her hand. After the briefest of hesitations, she placed it lightly atop his outstretched palm. He felt her tremble as he curled his fingers around hers and slowly drew her hand to his mouth. He stopped within a hair’s breadth between his mouth and her silken flesh. Glancing up, he again held her gaze, his senses aware of the feel and scent of her, and the way she caught her breath even as he used his own warm breath to caress the back of her hand, delighting in the soft flush that mantled her cheeks. He prolonged the contact for another couple of seconds, and then he gently touched her hand with his lips and released her.
‘I wouldn’t blame you at all if you refused to see me,’ he said. ‘I feel quite wretched about the way I treated you. My conduct was inexcusable.’
‘It was indeed,’ she replied as her hand drifted bonelessly to her side and her body tingled all over from the brief contact. This was the man who had stolen her virginity, got her with child, and then casually told her they would marry. Calmly she reminded herself that she was completely innocent, and that goodness and righteousness were therefore on her side. To further insulate herself against heartbreak, she had firmly put an end to her ritual daydreams about him. She would have to call upon the sturdiest reserves of her self-discipline to keep smiling, for keep smiling she would as long as the night lasted, and after that she would die.
‘Do you want me to go away?’ he asked.
‘Yes, I do. I told you I won’t marry you. I meant it then and I mean it now.’
‘Then why are you blushing?’ he asked softly. The colour in her cheeks and whatever flickered into her lovely eyes provided some insight into her true feelings, allowing him to see that she wasn’t at all indifferent to him, no matter what she tried to make him—and herself—believe.
‘I am not,’ she said. ‘If I have more colour than usual it can only be put down to the heat of the room. It is thanks to you that I have nothing left to blush about,’ she remarked pointedly. ‘Besides, I’ve always harboured a quiet contempt for women who blush and swoon at the slightest provocation. However,’ she said breezily, leading the way into the drawing room where everyone was settling down to drinks before dinner, ‘you are here now, so it’s too late to do anything about it. The last thing I want is to cause a scene, so we must both put on a happy face and grin and bear it until it’s time for you to leave.’
One corner of his mouth lifted as he met her gaze. ‘That shouldn’t be too difficult.’
‘Not for you, perhaps. Personally I shall find it excruciating. Come and have a drink—William is about to pour. Oh, and you must let me introduce you to Miranda,’ she said. Miranda had just joined them, having agonised all day about what she should wear, finally selecting a divine saffron-and-yellow satin, but discarding it at the last minute for an emerald-green silk. Christina turned and looked at Simon, managing to feign a wide-eyed, innocent expression. ‘Oh, but I forgot. You have already met—at Oakbridge. Is that not so, Simon?’
‘I have been to Oakbridge, and, yes, I have been introduced to your brother’s charming wife.’
‘And you had much to discuss with William, apparently.’ Her expression hardened. ‘How dare you?’ she uttered for his ears alone, all her resentment rushing to the surface at such male arrogance. ‘Had I wanted him to know about a certain highly sensitive matter, I would have preferred to tell him myself. You had no right.’
Completely unfazed by her anger, Simon shook his head slightly. ‘I disagree. I apologise if I have upset you in any way, Christina, but since I appear to be the father of the child you are carrying, I considered I had every right.’
They were prevented from further discussion when Miranda drew them into the conversation. In the true spirit of a matchmaker, Celia had contrived to place Simon at the table across from Christina. Simon ate little of his meal—he was too preoccupied with the elusive, lovely young woman who had stolen his heart, but who seemed either afraid, or unwilling, to meet his gaze. He watched her chatting playfully with the handsome Sir John Bainbridge on one side of her, winding him round her finger, and jealousy pulsed through him. To add to his mounting frustration, he was seated between Sir John’s wife and Miranda, who, delightful though she was, bored him and irritated him with her constant trivia.
* * *
As the evening wore on and there was quiet conversation and music, Simon was annoyed at the way Christina continued to avoid being alone with him. When she rose to bid everyone goodnight, pleading a headache, he followed her into the hall, where he halted her.
‘What is it, Simon?’
‘Must you leave quite so soon?’
She shrugged and looked away. ‘I must. I am tired and I have a headache.’
He moved closer. ‘What’s the matter, Christina? It has not gone unnoticed that you have avoided being in my company all evening. Does my presence unsettle you? Is that it?’
Her chin rose high, but not aggressively so, and her shoulders were straight, but then she had nothing to be ashamed of or to defend, whereas Simon had wilfully and wrongfully accused her of terrible things, therefore the responsibility and the guilt and the shame were his, not hers. From the moment Simon had walked into the house, her senses had been screamingly aware of his presence. She felt as if she were being tortured inside, slowly and painfully. Even so, it was all she could do not to humble herself at his feet. Only one thing kept her silent and upright—pride—outraged, stubborn, abused pride.
‘Yes, it does, and since you show no sign of leaving, then I must. Excuse me.’
Simon pr
otested instantly. Following her to the bottom of the stairs, he halted her, standing behind her and leaning close. ‘Don’t go.’
His voice was soft, so soft that if made something primitive stir deep inside Christina. She wanted to immediately affirm her desire to leave, but found the words wouldn’t leave her throat. She half-turned and looked at him bathed in the candles’ glow, his dark hair shining, his silver-grey eyes full of invitation. Why was he doing this? Why did he torture her so?
‘If I wronged you,’ he went on, ‘I ask only to acknowledge it freely. William has told me everything. I now know that Bucklow was threatening you both—that he made threats against your lives if you did not do as he ordered. Ever since I arrived at Oakbridge intent on capturing Bucklow, you have tried to throw me off the scent. At every opportunity your deception has got in my way. Many times I have asked myself why—and now I know. I am sorry if I appeared judgemental, Christina. Truly. It was never my intention to hurt you. William also told me that you were on the point of coming to me to divulge Bucklow’s whereabouts.’
‘Yes, I was, much good it would have done me.’
‘I would have listened.’
Christina stared at him, disbelieving. ‘And you are sure about that, are you, Simon—because I take some reassuring. I understand when you ravished me it was because you thought I was a woman of easy virtue, that you thought I was Mark’s mistress, and I would welcome any man’s advances. My virtue was intact—until I encountered you.’
‘I know that. You should have told me.’
‘You were in no mood to listen as I recall.’
‘That’s because when I saw you with Bucklow you seemed—close, and fiercely protective of him as I remember when I was about to shoot him. I now know my judgement was faulty that day.’
‘It was. Absolutely. You were too quick to judge and to condemn.’
Simon sighed deeply. ‘When we returned from visiting Mrs Senior, do you remember that I asked you to trust me?’
‘Yes, I do, and I cannot pretend that I wasn’t tempted. But how did I know that I could trust you? And after what followed when we…when you left me so abruptly in the chamber—which made me think you didn’t care—I knew that I could not.’
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