Embarrassed as though she was doing something wrong, Christine averted her gaze and followed Lord Eastwood to the refreshment table. There, she almost gulped down the glass of wine he handed her, desperate to steady her nerves.
Amused, Lord Eastwood looked at her. “Once again, you seem distracted…and rather rattled if you don’t mind my saying. Is something the matter?”
Shaking her head, Christine returned her glass to the table. “Not at all. I was just…distracted,” she ended lamely, knowing there was no way for her to explain.
“I see,” Lord Eastwood said, a calculating sparkle in his eyes. “Do I dare ask if there is another gentleman whose company you would prefer to mine?”
Surprised by his boldness, Christine smiled, feeling a little of the tension leave her body. “You are indeed observant, my lord.”
“Ouch!” Lord Eastwood clutched his chest as though she had wounded him, thereby reminding her of the antics of another gentleman, who had never failed to make her laugh.
Sighing, Christine forced herself to ignore the memories that resurfaced and focus her attention on the man before her. He, at least, would not refuse her.
* * *
Although his insides ached, Wesley found himself unable to leave. He knew he ought to, and yet, he couldn’t. He stayed long past midnight, watching the woman he loved exchange meaningful glances with Eastwood.
When Wesley finally fell into bed that night, his dreams tortured him with images that he had forced from his mind before. Had she already made good on her threat? Had she taken Eastwood as a lover?
The next few days passed in a blur until yet another invitation found its way to his townhouse. As he stared at the sweeping letters, Wesley could not bring himself to tear up the invitation and continue his life regardless of what Christine did.
Without a doubt, he knew she would be at the ball, and although he knew he ought to, he couldn’t stay away. Torturous curiosity drew him there that night, and once again, he spent the better part of the night watching Christine and Eastwood as he himself stood half-hidden behind a towering column like a thief in a dark alley waiting for the opportune moment.
However, such a moment would never come.
“You seem quite forlorn?”
Almost spinning on his heel, Wesley found himself staring at Lady Rigsby, her clear blue eyes assessing the situation within a heartbeat as they shifted from him to Christine and Eastwood before returning to him once more. “However, it is quite obvious what has you looking so distraught.”
His jaw clenched, Wesley was at a loss. After all, Lady Rigsby was far from a confidante, with whom he might find himself inclined to share such intimate knowledge. Over the years, they had exchanged a few polite words here and there. However, ever since her husband had passed on, London had seen very little of the young widow. “Are you closely acquainted with Miss Dansby?” he finally asked, hoping to steer the conversation away from his current emotional state.
Lady Rigsby smiled, then shook her head. “Not at all.” Her eyes lingered on his face before she swallowed and dropped her gaze as though caught unawares by emotions she had long sought dead.
“Are you all right?” Wesley asked as her beautiful eyes clouded with sadness.
Pressing her lips together, she forced her mouth into a smile, then met his eyes. “You remind me of my late husband,” she whispered, a slight catch in her voice. “You look at her the way he used to look at me.” She took a slow breath. “It’s been so long, I thought I’d handle it better. I apologise.”
When she was about to turn away, Wesley stopped her. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said. “I didn’t realise…I…” Straightening his shoulders, he smiled at her. “Would you care for a drink?”
A soft smile on her face, she nodded. “I would. Thank you.”
After procuring a drink, they strolled around the ballroom, and quite unexpectedly, Wesley felt his own misery less acutely. “I barely knew your late husband,” he said, hoping his words would not upset her, “but from what I heard he was a good man.”
Swallowing, she nodded. “He was.”
“I apologise for reminding you of him. I assure you it was not my intention.”
Lady Rigsby chuckled. “Neither did I mean to intrude,” she said, her eyes shifting to someone beyond his shoulder. “I suppose something in the way you looked at her drew me near.”
Drawing a deep breath, Wesley forced himself not to turn his head and look at Christine.
“Did she refuse you?” Lady Rigsby asked bluntly.
Somewhat surprised, Wesley nodded. “She did.”
“Why?” Lady Rigsby asked, once more glancing past him. “She clearly cares for you. Her eyes have been shooting daggers at me ever since we started speaking.”
Wesley’s own eyes bulged. “She…what?” Unable to help himself, he spun around, his eyes finding Christine as though they were two magnets inevitably drawn to one another.
The moment he caught her staring, she quickly dropped her gaze, however, not before he had seen something that also burned in his own heart whenever he saw her with Eastwood: jealousy.
Wesley’s heart skipped a beat, and it took all of his willpower not to stride across the room and steal her away.
“Why did she refuse you if you don’t mind my prying?”
“Because she doesn’t believe in marriage,” Wesley admitted, forcing his eyes away from Christine. “However, I cannot…I would not…”
Lady Rigsby nodded. “I see. That is quite honourable of you.” Once more, her eyes shifted to the dancing couples, and a thoughtful expression came to her face before her gaze returned to him. “The tragedy of your situation pains me greatly,” she whispered, then leaned closer conspiratorially. “Please allow me to help you.”
Wesley frowned, a sliver of hope pulsing in his chest. “How?”
A soft curl came to Lady Rigsby’s lips before she coyly dropped her gaze for a moment. “Pretend she doesn’t exist,” she whispered to him as though they were sharing intimate secrets. “Pretend you care about me the way you care about her.”
Somewhat confused, Wesley frowned.
“It’ll help her realise what she is risking by refusing your offer,” Lady Rigsby explained. “Believe me, if she truly loves you, she will not be able to stand by as you…” She raised her eyebrows meaningfully, and Wesley’s eyes widened in shock.
A soft laugh escaped her before she shook her head. “Do not worry. I have no intention of seducing you. I merely hope to unite two people who so very obviously belong together.” Again, she took a slow breath as though needing to steady her nerves. “Will you let me help?”
Seeing the pain and anguish in her eyes at the memory of her beloved husband, Wesley nodded gratefully, touched by her selflessness.
“Ask me to dance,” Lady Rigsby whispered. “And try not to look at her. Only look at me.”
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Seventeen − A Truly Lucky Man
Shocked beyond imagining, Christine stared as Wesley led the young widow onto the dance floor. As shaken as he had seemed before when their eyes had met as disinterested did he appear now, his eyes gazing almost lovingly down at the beautiful lady in his arms as they twirled around the room to the soft melody of a waltz.
“Would you care for a stroll?” Lord Eastwood asked, his eyes showing her a deeper meaning than his words would have suggested.
Christine took a slow breath, willing her hammering heart to slow down as the world began to blur before her eyes. She needed to think. This could not be happening! What was happening? How could he…? What…? When…?
All the times that she had refused Wesley’s proposal, threatening to invite another man into her bed if he was not interested, she had never once contemplated the idea of him with another woman. How foolish of her! How could she not have seen this coming?
“No,” she finally said, “I’d rather rest my feet for a little while. Would you be so kind as to fetch me a
nother drink?”
With a slight nod of his head and a devilish sparkle in his eyes, Lord Eastwood marched off.
Instantly, Christine shifted her full attention back to the couple on the dance floor. Was this how Wesley had felt seeing her with Lord Eastwood? Finally, she understood his pained expression, wondering what her own face looked like in that very moment.
When the music ended, Christine breathed a sigh of relief as the young couple instantly broke apart, each venturing in the opposite direction as the other. Exchanging a few words here and there, Lady Rigsby eased closer to the side door, glanced around and then quickly slipped out.
Frowning, Christine looked around for Wesley, who stood by the refreshment table, gulping down another glass of wine, his eyes fixed on the very door Lady Rigsby had just disappeared through.
Oh, he wouldn’t! Christine thought, hoped, tried to convince herself when Wesley suddenly set down the glass and made for the door with determination in his eyes.
In the very moment when Christine thought she would go mad, Lord Eastwood reappeared by her side, holding out a glass of wine to her.
Turning her head to look at him, Christine couldn’t help but stare at the glass and then at Eastwood. What was she doing? This man didn’t care about her. He merely wanted to…
Christine swallowed. Finally, she understood what Wesley had tried to make her see. To Eastwood, she was just one woman of many. To Wesley, she was the one.
Or she had been.
As her heart hammered in her chest, threatening to break her ribcage, Christine spun around, eyes frantically searching for the man who held her heart.
Only, he was nowhere to be seen.
Was she too late? Had he already disappeared through the door and gone after Lady Rigsby?
“Is something wrong?” Lord Eastwood asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice.
Ignoring him as well as the glass he was still holding out to her, Christine fled the ballroom. Willing her feet to keep from running, she slipped out into the hall, eyes searching for a sign as to where they had gone. She peeked into one room after another before tell-tale sounds reached her ears.
Oh, if this woman so much as laid a finger on him, she’d kill her on the spot!
Following the widow’s soft giggle down the hall, Christine forced herself to remain calm. Stopping outside a door left ajar, she took a deep breath, then slowly pushed open said door and…her jaw dropped open as she found Wesley standing with his back to her, Lady Rigsby in his arms.
Instantly, her eyes narrowed and her jaw clenched as murderous thoughts raced through her head. Unable to control herself, Christine stormed toward them. “Get your hands off him! He’s mine!”
* * *
Standing with his back to the door was torture as they listened for Christine’s approaching footsteps. Would she come? Would the thought of him with another woman upset her as much as the thought of her with another man upset him? He could only hope so.
“She’s coming,” Lady Rigsby whispered in his ear, and he tensed as she slid her arms around his neck. This didn’t feel right.
About to step back, Wesley heard the slight draft of air as the door slid open followed by a moment of stunned silence that almost drove him mad before angry footsteps stormed toward them. “Get your hands off him!” Christine snarled. “He’s mine!”
At her words, Wesley thought he would faint with joy. However, reminding himself not to give in too soon, he forced his features back under control. Lifting his head, he turned around, eyes disinterested as he beheld the snarl on her face and the fire burning in her eyes.
“What are you doing here?” he asked before he glanced at Lady Rigsby as though in apology.
Jaw clenched, Christine fumed. “I…I…was looking for you.” A tinge of red rose to her cheeks as her anger slowly wore off and embarrassment found her.
“Why?” Wesley asked, taking a step forward. “What is it to you what I do or who I am with? After all, you’ve made your feelings perfectly clear.”
Snorting, Christine shook her head, sadness coming to her eyes, eyes that suddenly brimmed with tears. “I see. Well, if you’ve already turned your attention elsewhere, then whatever there was between us clearly was of very little consequence.” Turning on her heel, she made for the door.
However, before Wesley could even take a step to stop her, Lady Rigsby came forward. “Wait!” she called, then stepped around him and toward Christine, who reluctantly turned back to face them.
“Why?” Christine asked, disgust in her eyes as she looked at Lady Rigsby. “So you can parade your triumph under my nose?”
Lady Rigsby took a slow breath. “I did indeed triumph,” she said, kindness ringing in her voice that put a frown on Christine’s face. “The moment I saw you, I knew you belonged together. He is yours. Never doubt that.”
Through narrowed eyes, Christine looked at the woman before her. “It was not real?” Then her eyes shifted to Wesley. “You tricked me?”
Lady Rigsby shook her head. “No, we showed you how you truly feel.” Then she glanced at Wesley before returning her eyes to Christine. “Nothing happened. I swear it.”
Christine nodded, jaw trembling as though she was about to cry…or lash out at someone in anger.
“Be good to each other,” Lady Rigsby implored them, and Wesley could see the sadness that engulfed her. From the bottom of his heart, he hoped that one day she would find happiness again.
After the door had closed behind the young widow, Wesley and Christine stood across from each other like two strangers, barely daring to look the other in the eye. Too much had happened, too much had been revealed, and yet, doubt still hung in the air like a thick fog.
Glancing at Christine, Wesley took a deep breath. Never had he seen her so shaken up. She was always so calm and collected, confident in every way. Now, she looked nothing like the woman he knew, and he realised how frightening all this had to be for her. “What do you want?” he asked, taking a step toward her.
Lifting her eyes off the floor, she met his gaze. “I…Well…”
Willing to reach out to her one last time, Wesley walked up to her and took her cold hands in his. “I want you,” he whispered, forcing himself not to look away. “I always have–although in the beginning I didn’t know it. I didn’t want to know it. Believe me, this isn’t easy for me, either.” He swallowed as she looked up at him, her lower lip quivering in anticipation. “I love you.”
A deep smile spread over her face, and for a moment, she dropped her gaze.
“You’re the one woman I can actually see myself spending the rest of my life with. I know that marriage frightens you, but I promise that I won’t promise you anything I will not keep.”
An amused smile curled up her lips, and the muscles in her jaw relaxed.
“If it makes you happy, I will not promise to do anything until death do us part,” he said lightly, sensing that the mood was slowly shifting. “We don’t have to be perfect. Nothing is. If you wait for perfect, you’ll be waiting your whole life because it doesn’t exist.” Sliding a hand along the side of her jaw, he cupped her cheek. “However, in my humble opinion, what we have is frighteningly close to perfect.”
“It is.” Nodding, Christine met his gaze. “I love you, too.”
All air escaped Wesley’s lungs in one gigantic sigh of relief, and his eyes closed to savour the moment.
“You didn’t know?” Christine asked, a frown marking her face as she looked up at him.
“How could I know?” Wesley snorted. “I can’t even count how many times you refused to marry me, and I don’t want to count how often you threatened to take a lover.” A shiver went over him, and he quickly shrugged off that unbearable thought.
Then he stopped, and his heart twisted in his chest. “You didn’t…?” Staring into her eyes, he swallowed. “I mean, you and Eastwood didn’t…?”
“No, we didn’t.” Delight came to her eyes as she looked into his. “You truly lov
e me, don’t you?”
Relieved, Wesley drew her closer. “Why would that surprise you?”
“I don’t know.” Christine shrugged. “I just never saw myself as…as a wife. I don’t know if I can be.”
A delighted smile came to Wesley’s face. “Are you accepting my proposal?”
Frowning, Christine sighed, a hint of disappointment edged in her eyes. “To tell you the truth, I had my heart set on taking a lover. It’s such a rebellious notion for a woman, and I’ve always seen myself as a bit of a rebel.”
Wesley laughed. “Well, then I propose the following: I’ll accept your proposal tonight,” her eyes widened, and the corners of her mouth curled into a smile, “if you’ll accept mine in the morning.” To underline his words, Wesley tightened his arms around her and his head dipped down, placing a gentle kiss on her lips.
“Tonight?” Christine whispered against his lips as her arms rose and came around his neck.
Wesley nodded. “I’ll be your lover tonight and your husband…well, fiancé in the morning.”
“That sounds promising.”
“Agreed then?”
“Agreed.”
The second the word left her lips, Wesley kissed her the way he had wanted to for a long time. Lost in each other’s arms, they forgot the world around them and were only reminded of where they were when the sound of footsteps hastening down the hall echoed to their ears.
“We should leave,” Wesley whispered once the threat had left. “I’ll call for the carriage. Meet me by the entrance.” Then he stopped. “What about your parents?”
Christine shrugged. “I’ll speak to my mother.”
“What will you tell her?”
“The truth, of course.”
Wesley’s eyes opened wide. “And you don’t think she’ll object?”
“She won’t object if it means I end up a married woman. After all, I’m not a young debutante who loses her heart to every man who smiles at her. I know what I want, and I’m not easily persuaded.”
A Lady’s Christmas Rake Page 42