“I didn’t say anything!”
“You might as well have,” she snapped. “After all, you believed my idea to be ludicrous from the start.”
Leaning forward, Wesley met her eyes. “I did, yes, but that doesn’t mean I wanted it to fail. He is my brother. I want him to be happy, and I’ve never seen him as happy as when he was with Catherine.”
Dropping her gaze, Christine nodded. “Neither have I.” She turned her eyes to the window then, watching the white landscape pass by. “I truly want them to be that happy again, and yet, …”
“And yet?” Wesley pressed, his voice laced with tension.
Meeting his gaze once more, Christine sighed. “And yet, a part of me cannot help but think that love is like a worm on a fishing hook.” Clearly confused, Wesley’s brows rose into arches. “What I mean is that it is meant to lure you in, and once you are, you’re pulled from the water and have your heart torn out.”
Wesley snorted.
“What? Do you think this is funny?” she demanded, feeling her own resolve strengthened at the misery around her. She would truly be a fool to give away her heart!
“Your metaphor is a bit harsh, wouldn’t you agree?”
Rolling her eyes, Christine shrugged. “Harsh or not, it is accurate.”
“Do you truly believe that?” Wesley asked, his brows drawn down as though he could not believe what he’d heard.
Leaning back in her seat, Christine sighed. “I know that love can be beautiful. It’s dazzling smiles and hidden looks, thudding hearts and passionate kisses. But,” leaning forward, her voice hardened, and she raised her index finger, “that is only one of two faces. What about the other? Why do people constantly choose to ignore the ugly side of love?” Shaking her head, Christine snorted. “It is everywhere.” Holding up one finger, she said, “Although they were happy once, now it looks as though William and Catherine have lost everything that’s ever meant anything to them.” Another finger came up. “The day I received your letter about William’s accident, my friend Marianne told me that she believed her husband to be unfaithful. You should have seen the pain of dashed hopes in her eyes.” Yet another finger rose. “And now, Eleanor is beside herself with misery because the man she loves has been deemed unsuitable by her mother and there is no future for them.”
“Eleanor’s in love?”
Christine’s eyes went wide, and she clasped a hand over her mouth. “Bloody hell!” she cursed. “Why did you make me say that? I promised her not to breathe a word of this!”
Grinning, Wesley shook his head. “I didn’t make you say anything, my dear. You−”
“My dear? I’m not your−”
“You were caught in a tirade of hatred,” his eyebrows rose, and a crinkle came to his lips, “on the subject of love no less, which, I suppose, makes it ironic.” Shaking his head, he met her gaze. “Do you want to know what I think?”
Christine’s eyes narrowed. “Not particularly, considering that your opinion of me is never very flattering.”
Wesley laughed. “Although we are alike in many ways−”
“We are?” Christine asked, crinkling her nose.
“Would you let me finish?”
“Fine.” Gesturing for him to continue, Christine leaned back and tried her best to calm her thudding heart. This man was truly insufferable! What was she thinking fancying herself in love? Before their first year of marriage was out, they would kill each other.
“Although we are alike in many ways,” Wesley continued, the corners of his mouth still drawn up in amusement, “we differ in one particular aspect.”
“Which is?”
“Although I might not always admit it, I generally hope for the best,” he said, holding her gaze. “I believe that things will work themselves out, and even if they don’t, then happiness will come another way. You do the opposite.”
Christine frowned. “What? Are you saying I hope for the worst? That doesn’t make any sense!”
“I’m not saying you hope for the worst but you expect it.” Leaning forward, he looked deep into her eyes. “You only see the risks, the dangers, the losses and the sadness. They carry more weight for you because in your opinion happiness is generally short-lived. It is only a matter of time before good will turn to bad, and you believe that if you ignore the good, then the bad will hurt less. Isn’t that so?”
Christine took a slow breath as she stared into his blue eyes, so clear, and yet, so intense as she had never seen them. For once, his face was serious without the usual mischief that lurked somewhere in his eyes or in the curl of his lips. For once, she didn’t feel as though he was teasing her.
Wesley swallowed. “Why is it that you’re so dead set against marriage? Is it truly because you cannot guarantee how you’ll feel in the years to come? Or because you’re afraid of the pain it might bring?” Reaching out, he gently took her hand in his as his eyes continued to hold hers captive. “Hopes and wishes can be dashed even without a promise given,” he warned, and a tinge of sadness clung to his voice that made her look at him with different eyes. “Should you find a man, who agrees to your…proposal,” taking a deep breath, he swallowed before his teeth gritted together, “then what will protect you from losing your heart to him?” He shook his head. “Nothing will, and you will suffer the same or even worse for he will not feel responsible for your happiness because he never vowed to guard it as though it were his own.”
“I have no intention of giving my heart to anyone,” Christine whispered, her chilled hand warming in his gentle embrace.
Wesley laughed. “Only that is not your choice to make,” he counselled. Then he took a deep breath, and a slight tremble shook his hands. “After all, I never intended to lose mine to you.”
Her breath caught in her throat, and she found herself staring at him blatantly.
“It simply happened,” he admitted, and a sheepish look came to his eyes that stole the breath from her lungs once more.
Never had Christine thought Wesley Everett to be a man who would declare his love to a woman who had made it clear that she had no intention of becoming his wife. After all, despite his slightly annoying sense of humour, he had always seemed like a reasonable man. And a reasonable man surely wouldn’t…
And yet, he had. Hadn’t he? Had he truly just told her that he loved her? Still staring at him, Christine tried to recall the words he had spoken. Had she misunderstood him?
“I just wanted you to know that,” he whispered before releasing her hand. “I wanted you to know that the decisions you make will not only affect your own happiness,” sitting back, he swallowed, “but mine as well.”
As silence filled the carriage, Christine found herself frozen in place as though his words had turned her to stone. Her heart and mind felt numb, and it took every bit of strength she had left to force air down into her lungs.
What was happening? And more importantly, what was she to do now?
The remainder of the carriage ride back to Harrington Park passed in silence. However, as the horses turned down a familiar lane, Wesley turned to her and voiced his hopes that they would find William’s eyes once more lit with the spark of love. He spoke lightly, and his face held none of the intense emotions Christine had seen there before. Had she only imagined them? Had he truly spoken to her of love?
Looking at him now, she could not help but doubt her own memories.
With her head held high, Christine did her best to ignore the tantalising tingles that swept through her as he helped her out of the carriage and up the front steps. They stepped into the foyer, ears listening, eyes searching their surroundings.
After welcoming them back, the butler gestured toward the front parlour, through which the occasional discordant note could be heard. Exchanging a strained, but still hopeful glance with her, Wesley strode forward to greet William and Catherine.
Staying back, Christine reminded herself of the role she had to play and carefully observed the colour draining from Will
iam’s face as he jumped to his feet. Catherine, too, seemed flustered, and Christine felt her own heart rejoice at the sight of such obvious emotions.
Then William came toward her, his eyes meeting hers reluctantly as he bowed rather formally. “Welcome back,” he said, a forced loudness to his voice that betrayed how uncomfortable he felt.
“Thank you,” Christine whispered, then carefully raised her eyes to his. “I was rather hopeful when I received my sister’s letter.” Although the corners of her lips strained upward, Christine merely allowed a hint of a delighted smile. “Your request for my return led me to believe that there is still a future for us.”
At her words, his mouth fell slightly open, and the tortured expression that came to his face told Christine everything she needed to know.
As the dark clouds that her sister’s letter had conjured disappeared, Christine found herself determined to enjoy the time they had together. Always expecting the worst? Puh! She would show him!
Over supper, she chatted with her sister as well as Wesley, who would occasionally look at her with a warning in his eyes. However, reminded of the Christmas Ball that was to take place soon, she voiced her delight with the Christmas season in general as well as its enjoyments undeterred. Unable to contain her delight with her sister’s situation−what did Wesley think of her ludicrous plan now?−Christine noticed William’s confused glances with a hint of guilt. Still, she was unable to contain herself.
“I cannot wait for the Season to begin,” she beamed, delighted with the distraction such an event would bring. “I need a completely new wardrobe, for these days I feel as though I have nothing to wear.”
Wesley chuckled as his eyes swept over her in a fairly intimate fashion that reminded her of their entertaining banter at Sanford Manor. “If only that were true.”
Unlike her, the brothers’ mother was less than amused and completely failed to see the hilarity of the situation. “Wesley!” she chided. “Please refrain from such crude remarks at my table.”
Clearing his throat, Wesley dropped his gaze. However, the tinge of red that came to his cheeks had Christine’s heart hammering in her chest. “I apologise, Mother.”
Guiding the conversation back to the Christmas Ball, Christine noticed with barely contained glee the absent look in William’s eyes as he pretended not to stare at Catherine, who sat rather slumped in her chair, a touch of sorrow in her eyes. “We need to make a quick choice,” she said, and his head snapped up as he noticed her looking at him. Ignoring the flustered expression that came to his face, she continued, “Thank goodness, we have our own seamstress in the house or we’d never have everything ready in time. We’ll pick the masks first and then match the evening wear to them.”
“Masks?” William croaked.
A hint of mischief in his eyes, Wesley frowned−so he had noticed as well, Christine thought. “Surely you remember that. After all, the earl’s Christmas Ball has been a masque ball these past ten years.”
“Yes, of course,” William agreed. “Why do you not choose the masks?” he asked, turning to look at her. “My choice would probably not be well-received.”
“Gladly,” Christine agreed as happiness filled her heart, and for a moment, she closed her eyes in delight. “I cannot wait to dance the night away.”
“Dancing,” William whispered before he froze as all eyes turned to him. Clearing his throat, he straightened in his chair.
“Is something wrong?” his mother asked.
William shook his head. “I was simply wondering−with everything that I’ve forgotten−do I remember how to dance?”
Suppressing a chuckle, Christine smiled at him. What a glorious opportunity! “Do not worry, Dear. We’ll practise. How about tomorrow?” She glanced at Wesley as well as her sister and rejoiced when no one objected. “How wonderful! Finally something to do!”
This was even more perfect than even she could have planned!
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Eleven − Dance Practise
For once, Wesley had to admit, Christine’s plan truly had merit!
Although doubtful at first, he had instantly seen the familiar look of love shining in his brother’s eyes whenever they fell on Catherine. To an outside observer, it was unmistakable! Could his brother be truly unaware of his feelings? Should they not simply tell him?
However, Christine had insisted that it would be too soon since they could not be certain how deep William’s feelings were as of yet. Therefore, she had devised yet another plan to assure that William would fall in love with his wife all over again.
“Do you understand what you need to do?” Christine asked, eyeing him with a hint of doubt shining in her sparkling eyes.
Snorting, Wesley stepped in her path. “It’s a simple enough plan.”
“And yet, you didn’t think of it,” Christine mocked, a triumphant smile on her face as she took a step toward him, her chin raised. “Does this bother you?”
Delighted with the lightness that had returned to their communication−what had he been thinking confessing his love to her?−Wesley held her gaze. “Not at all,” he said before his voice dropped to a whisper. “But do you believe it wise to have us dancing?” A frown came to her face. “Won’t that make it harder for you to keep your hands off me?”
More or less all the women of his acquaintance would have blushed to the roots of their hair at such a remark, but not Christine. Instead, an amused smile came to her face before laughter spilled from her mouth. “Thank you for warning me,” she whispered, her eyes daring him to say more. “I suppose your mother would be quite put out if I seduced you right there on the dance floor.”
Wesley laughed. “I suppose it might be all she needed to finally disinherit me.”
“Disinherit you?” Christine asked, a look of pure innocence on her face. “Why you? After all, you are just the innocent victim in this.”
Shaking his head, he grinned at her, then took a step closer and his hands slid around her waist as though they belonged there.
A small gasp escaped her lips before the muscles in her jaw tensed and her eyes hardened. “Not now, Wes,” she said teasingly, and yet, a touch of painful longing shook her voice. “You’ve made your choice, remember?” Stepping back, she pushed him away. “Now, go and make yourself useful. Get your brother and bring him to the ballroom.” Then she turned on her heel and headed toward Catherine’s bedchamber, mumbling, “Men! Unable to make up their minds! What is this world coming to?”
A wistful smile on his face, Wesley watched her disappear into her sister’s room. Had he truly offended her by refusing her proposal? Was there any way for him to fix whatever had gone wrong between them? If only…
By now, there were too many if only’s. Wesley couldn’t even begin to sort through them, and so he turned down the other side of the corridor and retrieved his brother. Maybe if he helped with her plan, she would not think of him in an antagonistic way.
“I’m not certain that this is a good idea,” William said some time later as he nervously danced from one foot onto the other. Meanwhile, their mother had taken her seat at the pianoforte in the large ballroom, her fingers flying over the keys.
“Believe me, it is,” Wesley objected. A moment later, the door swung open, revealing the two sisters in its frame. Striding toward them, Wesley greeted them with a formal bow. While Catherine smiled at him graciously, Christine rolled her eyes at him in a way that made him want to kiss her breathless. Instead, he said, “William appears rather nervous.”
“Nervous?” Catherine asked, glancing at her husband, a hint of concern drawing down her brows. “Do you believe he truly forgot how to dance?”
Wesley smiled, then shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. I assure you his nervousness has nothing to do with dancing.”
Looking up at him, Catherine took a slow breath as a joyous smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “Truly?”
“Truly,” Wesley assured her.
As
they walked over to William, Wesley found Christine step around him, her hand slightly brushing his arm. “Thank you,” she whispered as their eyes met, and he could see her appreciation for what he had done.
Before long, awkward silence once more lingered in the room until Christine called for a country dance and Wesley found himself standing up with Catherine as his mother began to play.
“Do not worry,” Wesley counselled as he found Catherine’s eyes stray to her husband again and again. “Your sister has a plan.”
Laughing, Catherine turned her eyes to him. “As far as I can remember you’ve always been rather critical of her,” she remarked, her dark green eyes searching his face. “You seem to have grown fond of her.”
Wesley swallowed. “Well, she’s…she’s like no one else I’ve ever met.”
A knowing smile came to Catherine’s lips as they continued to twirl across the dance floor. They rehearsed dance after dance until toward the end of the cotillion, Christine’s angry voice echoed across the dance floor. “Wesley!” Then she stormed toward him. “Wesley Everett, you are unbelievable!”
Momentarily stunned, Wesley swallowed before he remembered her plan as well as his role in it. Shrugging his shoulders, he apologised to Catherine all the while looking as embarrassed as he possibly could.
Lightning bolts shot from Christine’s eyes as she fixed him with an icy stare; and yet, he thought to see a twinkle of amusement in her green depths. “My sister’s poor feet! How can you be such a clumsy oaf?”
Forcing his face to remain unaffected by the amusement bubbling up in his chest, Wesley bowed his head in shame, watching Christine approach his brother as planned. “Dear,” she said, her voice slightly apologetic. “I cannot have your brother continue to trample my sister’s feet. Would you mind if we switched? I’m much more resilient in these matters.”
Gritting his teeth, Wesley forced the laughter back down his throat. She was truly an actress to be admired!
“Certainly,” his brother croaked, unspeakable relief shining in his eyes as he turned them to Catherine. How could anyone doubt the love he felt for her? Why was Christine insisting on continuing this charade?
A Lady’s Christmas Rake Page 38