Once Upon an Irritatingly Magical Kiss: #3 The Whickertons in Love

by Wolf, Bree

  “What impression did you get of him?” Grandma Edie asked as she tapped her fingers upon the armrest of her chair. “Did you speak to him yourself?”

  Sighing, Christina shook her head. “I did not. However, I…” She could not quite say what it was, but something lurked in her memory, far back, whispers she had heard, but had not been meant to. “Men of trade,” she began, looking at her grandmother, “are they different from gentlemen?”

  Her grandmother’s eyes narrowed in a way that whispered of intrigue. “Different? Well, I suppose it’s safe to say that each man is different from any other. The same holds true for women, would you not agree?”

  Christina nodded, feeling her grandmother’s eyes upon her, aware of the way she was watching, waiting for Christina to explain herself more fully. “I’ve heard it whispered,” Christina began, uncertain what precisely it was she wanted to say, “by gossips, of course, that common men make different husbands. I’ve heard matrons speak quietly about it to one another, about the way they treat their wives, that they are not considerate and aware of a lady’s sensibilities.”

  Grandma Edie chuckled. “My dear sweet child, Mr. Sharpe may not possess the same manners as the gently bred men of your acquaintance; however, that does not mean he’s not capable of kindness and respect.” She cocked her head to the side, a quizzical expression coming to her eyes. “Is that what you believe? That somehow some people are simply better than others? Born better?”

  Frowning, Christina shook her head. “Of course not, Grandmother. However, the way we grow up shapes who we are, does it not? If Mr. Sharpe grew up among thugs and thieves, what does that make him? Is he truly capable of treating Sarah with the kind of respect she deserves? What would a marriage to him be like for her?” Christina shook her head, unwilling to picture such a possibility. “She’s too…gentle and kind and…a man like that would crush her spirit. I am certain of it.”

  “And you?” her grandmother inquired, a daring gleam coming to her eyes. “Would you consider yourself up for the task? Would you expect to see your own spirits crushed as well?”

  Christina snorted, knowing it was not ladylike, but also knowing that her grandmother would not mind. “Of course not!” Although she could not be certain for she did not know what it would mean to be married to such a man.

  Throughout her life, every once in a while, Christina had observed moments between a husband and his wife—at a ball or a picnic—that had made her wonder. She had seen a man grasp his wife’s arm and tug her toward him, angry words falling from his lips. The wife’s eyes had been open wide, her skin pale, and she had stood before him, bowing her head, accepting defeat. Christina knew that some husbands dominated their wives, that some even raised their hands to them. She had never seen it, but she had heard the whispers, and she could not help but wonder if Mr. Sharpe was such a man.

  “I know that look,” Grandma Edie remarked with a grin. “Tell me.”

  Smiling sweetly at her grandmother, Christina rose to her feet. “I have not the slightest inkling what you are speaking about.”

  Her grandmother laughed. “I may be old, but I’ve known you since the day you were born. You cannot fool me, nor do you seem to wish to.” Her eyes twinkled. “Good luck.”

  Christina smiled at her and then slipped out the door, knowing that she could not simply stand back and see her friend sacrificed to her parents’ ambitions. No, she needed to do something. She needed to—

  Somewhere in the back of her mind, Christina remembered the pleading sound in her aunt’s voice as she had begged her older sister for her assistance. Aunt Francine had found herself trapped in a marriage she had been unable to bear a moment longer. However, Aunt Francine had always possessed a daring spirit, not unlike Christina’s.

  Christina smiled, remembering her aunt. Years had passed since she had last seen her, and now that England and France were at war yet again, many more would pass before they would ever lay eyes on one another again. Still, what mattered was that Aunt Francine had found happiness after all. Not in the way demanded or expected of her. But in her very own way.

  Always had Christina known herself to be different from her aunt, that she would not choose her passion over her family as Aunt Francine had. No, all those years ago, Christina had decided that her stories were to remain a secret, a secret she would only ever share with those closest to her—her sisters. However, beyond that small circle, no one would ever know that a writer’s heart beat in Christina’s chest, that she sometimes spent the evenings writing page after page, her imagination running wild.

  And yet, over the years, Christina had often found herself wondering what would have happened to Aunt Francine if she had not taken the risk she had that night. Indeed, her aunt had been daring and she had found happiness because of it. And now, here, in this moment, Christina knew that she needed to be daring as well. This was not about her, but it was about someone dear to her. Sarah was like another sister, and Christina would not see her married to a man who did not appreciate the treasure she was.

  “No matter what,” Christina mumbled under her breath, “I will find a way to prevent this marriage from happening. No matter what.”

  For Sarah’s sake.

  Chapter Three

  Arrangements

  Thorne was tired of discussing the terms of his marrying Miss Mortensen with Lord Hartmore. The man seemed utterly heartless and greedy at the same time. All the stipulations were only with regards to Thorne’s fortune and the gains he desired in exchange for his daughter’s hand in marriage. Not one word concerning her welfare and happiness passed his lips, and Thorne began to feel like a villain because he was beginning to see that his agreement to Lord Hartmore’s terms would force Miss Mortensen’s hand.

  She did not wish to wed him. That much was crystal clear. No matter what he said to her or how kindly he spoke to her, she always seemed ill at ease, barely meeting his eyes and fleeing his presence the first opportunity she got.

  Lord Hartmore did not seem concerned. In fact, he did not even seem to notice. Even when Thorne addressed the issue plainly, Lord Hartmore merely waved it away. “There is no reason to worry. Young women are always a bit apprehensive when it comes to marriage. It shall pass,” the older man replied, not even casting a glance at his daughter, who once more stood across the room with her golden-haired friend.

  The fury!

  Thorne smiled. While Miss Mortensen was eyeing him with no small measure of apprehension and anxiety, the fury beside her seemed to burn with anger. Thorne could see her all but bouncing in her slippers, a muscle contracting as though she wished to charge across the room and slap him hard across the face. What he had done to deserve such hatred, Thorne did not know; however, he had to admit he found it most intriguing.

  He could not help but wish to speak to her for he fully expected the exchange to be life-altering. He did not know why, but he was certain of it. Perhaps it was those expressive eyes of hers, revealing how she felt quite openly while at the same time concealing something he could not quite grasp.

  Indeed, the most intriguing woman!

  * * *

  Glaring at the man across the dance floor, Christina felt her hackles rise when he flashed her a teasing smile. The nerve of that man! Was he completely unaware that his mere presence caused her friend deepest unease? In fact, Sarah looked ready to faint, her face pale with a tinge of green as though she were moments away from casting up the contents of her stomach. It all the more proved to Christina that Sarah would not survive such a marriage. Something had to be done.

  But what?

  “What did he say to you earlier?” she asked her friend, placing a gentle hand upon Sarah’s arm.

  Sarah blinked, her breath coming quickly. “Pardon me?”

  Christina smiled at her reassuringly. “When you spoke to him before, what did he say?” Indeed, she had watched Lord Hartmore and his daughter approach Mr. Sharpe with great care, tension lingering in her shoulders as she ha
d been well aware of her friend’s reluctance.

  Shaking her head, Sarah blinked, refocusing her thoughts. “I…He…I believe he asked about my favorite pastime.” She frowned, then shook her head again. “To be honest, I don’t quite remember exactly what he said. Whenever I see him, all I can think about is leaving London, leaving my family, leaving you.” Her hand reached for Christina’s and held hers tightly within her own as tears began to mist her eyes. “I never thought I would one day find myself marrying a man outside of the social circle I’ve always known. Manchester will be a completely new world, no doubt terrifying and overwhelming.” She swallowed hard. “I’m not certain I can do this.”

  “Then don’t,” Christina urged. “There must be another way. Perhaps…” She gritted her teeth, trying to think of something, anything.

  A defeated look came to Sarah’s eyes. “There is not. The only solution is for me to marry a man of wealth and no one else has offered.”

  Christina’s head snapped up, hope tingling through her limbs. “But if we could find someone, not anyone, but a gentleman who would—”

  Sarah shook her head. “My father’s situation is well known, and this is my third season.” A sad smile came to her face. “I have not received a single proposal in all this time.”

  “Neither have I,” Christina pointed out, determined not to allow Sarah to give up so easily. There had to be a way! There simply had to be!

  Sarah chuckled. “It is not the same. Everyone knows that the Whickertons marry for love and nothing less. No man simply seeking a connection would propose, knowing it would be a waste of time if he did not also possess the heart of the one he was offering for.” She shook her head. “No, Chris, it is not the same.”

  Christina huffed out an annoyed breath, unable to argue with her friend. Yes, the Whickertons married for love. Everyone knew that. It was like a law of nature. Something written in stone.

  “Then perhaps…” Christina thought out loud, uncertain what she wanted to say, but knowing that there had to be a solution. There simply had to be!

  Gritting her teeth, she turned to look across the room at Mr. Sharpe. Yes, he was not unpleasant to look at. Those teasing eyes of his might even seem appealing to some women. And that smile…

  Christina whirled around and grasped her friend’s hands. “I know what to do!”

  Sarah tensed, her eyes widening ever so slightly, hope as well as the fear to give into it mingling there.

  “It’s simple,” Christina explained, eagerness bubbling in her veins. Never had she been able to bear being idle. It gave her a feeling of helplessness, powerlessness. “We’ll see him married to another. That’s the solution. If he marries another, he cannot marry you.”

  The spark of hope vanished from Sarah’s gaze. “You know as well as I do, that only someone desperate would accept him. Someone like me.” She looked around the ballroom, then shrugged her shoulders. “Everyone is hoping for a great match, and he is simply not that. The only reason for anyone to accept him aside from his fortune would be to save face.”

  Christina’s eyes widened as a new thought formed in her head. “We could see him compromised with another.”

  Sarah cast her an indulgent look. “Would you truly do this to another? A young woman like us? Would you trap her into a marriage to a man you’re so determined to keep from my side?”

  Christina could have groaned as her newly formed plan slipped from her fingers, and she closed her eyes. “No, of course not.” Again, that feeling of helplessness washed over, and Christina felt like retreating from the harshness of the world and curling up into a ball, ignoring all that was and might be. Yet if she did so, she would find herself forever running. No, she was not that kind of person. No matter what, she would face what was coming head-on.

  Casting a smile at Sarah, Christina reached out to squeeze her hand. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment. There is someone I need to speak to.” And with that, she spun on her heels and began to march across the ballroom.

  Toward Mr. Sharpe.

  “Chris, please don’t do this!” Sarah hissed under her breath, a frantic tone in her voice as she tried to dissuade her friend. “My parents will be furious.”

  Christina could not have cared less. She could not simply stand by. She had to do something.

  Anything.

  Perhaps Mr. Sharpe would turn out to be a reasonable man after all.

  Miracles did happen upon occasion, did they not?

  Chapter Four

  A Lady & a Scoundrel

  The golden-haired fury was heading toward him!

  Surprised, Thorne noticed his heart skipping a beat, an altogether unexpected reaction. Few things surprised him these days or affected him in a way that would be considered noteworthy. Nevertheless, something about her was different.

  While speaking to Lord Hartmore, Thorne had continued to glance in her direction out of the corner of his eye, unable to ignore that almost magnetic pull he felt deep down. There was something about her. Something he had never encountered before. Even from across the room, he knew that something alluring rested in her gaze. He could all but sense her fierce glare, no doubt put there by a sense of loyalty to her friend. If she despised him—and it seemed quite reasonable that she did—then it something had to do with Miss Mortensen.

  A part of him realized, that now, there was another reason why he no longer thought it a good idea to marry Miss Mortensen. Still…

  “Good evening, Lord Hartmore,” the golden-haired fury greeted Miss Mortensen’s father with a kind smile. “It is a most enjoyable evening, is it not?” Although she kept her gaze fixed upon Lord Hartmore, Thorne thought he saw impatience in the way she stood before them as though she wished to do away with this polite chitchat and address Thorne in a more open and honest way.

  Thorne almost chuckled, realizing that without anyone to overhear, this woman was not one to hold her tongue! He had to admit he rather liked that about her.

  “Indeed, it is,” Lord Hartmore replied, a hint of annoyance coming to his face at being interrupted in his business negotiations.

  Thorne could not help but want to slap him!

  A sweet smile came to the golden-haired fury’s face, one that told him she was being the opposite of genuine. “I’m afraid I require your assistance, my lord. You see, Sarah doesn’t seem quite well. A turn about the terrace would do her a world of good. Would you be so kind?”

  Thorne listened curiously, wondering if Lord Hartmore would ask why she could not simply take Miss Mortensen for a stroll through the gardens herself. However, the old man did not, although he did look a bit perplexed. Perhaps, once again, it was some kind of societal etiquette Thorne knew little about.

  “Certainly. Thank you for alerting me,” Lord Hartmore said although he looked far from pleased. “Lady Christina. Mr. Sharpe.” And with a nod of the head, he strode across the room toward his daughter.

  “Lady Christina, is it?” Thorne addressed her the moment Lord Hartmore was no longer within earshot. Why he felt comfortable speaking to her as though they were confidants, he did not know. However, it felt perfectly natural.

  Lady Christina turned to face him, her gaze narrowed and the smile upon her face all but absent. “Mr. Sharpe, I presume.”

  Thorne laughed. “You presume right. However, I do believe you’ve known my name for far longer than you care to admit. The more interesting question is, why?”

  Her gaze narrowed even further as she regarded him, the right corner of her mouth curling upward in a sign of displeasure. “You are most direct, Sir.” From her lips, it sounded like an insult, and it bothered Thorne more than he liked to admit.

  “As are you,” he countered, enjoying the dark blue sparks that came to her eyes, proof that at least on some level he affected her as well. “Is it not true that you came here to speak to me?”

  Lady Christina chuckled. “How presumptuous of you!” Her brows rose in a daring gesture. “I came here to alert Lord Hartmor
e to his daughter’s…unease. Nothing more.”

  Thorne chuckled. “Is that so? Indeed, here I thought you had only used it as a distraction to rid us of his company.” He cocked a brow at her. “Or am I wrong?”

  Her lips thinned. “Us?” she demanded, a highly disapproving tone in her voice. “You speak as though we share confidences when in truth, I only learned your name a moment ago.” Something sparkled in her eyes that momentarily made Thorne’s breath falter in his chest.

  They both knew that she was lying. She had learned his name long before today. He could see it in her eyes. Yet she denied it. Why? Was she teasing him? But why would she when the very sight of him seemed to make her blood boil?

  “Then, pray tell, why are you here?” he demanded with equal boldness, taking a daring step closer to her. “Why did you seek me out? Is my company so desirable?”

  Instead of acting offended, Lady Christina smiled, a brief spark of appreciation flashing in her eyes before she crossed her arms in a defiant gesture. “I must inform you that it is highly untoward of you to speak to a lady in such a way,” she told him with no small measure of condescension. “I assume you are ignorant of society’s ways?”

  Thorne grinned at her. “I might be ignorant in some ways,” he said quietly, lowering his head as though he were whispering secrets, “but not in others. Despite my…rustic upbringing, I am quite capable of reading between the lines.” He lifted his brows and held her gaze. “You are stalling. Why did you come here? What is it that you seek? That you hope to uncover?”

  A touch of annoyance came to her blue eyes. “Your behavior is most unusual. Has no one ever instructed you on how to speak to a lady? To pretend in order not to offend?”

  Despite her chiding words, Thorne got the impression that she was not terribly disappointed with his reply. “Yet you seem to linger in my presence longer than need be, Lady Christina. Why is that? After all, you could simply tell me why you sought me out and then leave.” Again, he cocked an eyebrow at her in challenge.