He was in the midst of telling her about a joke played on one of the most universally disliked professors when Rebecca felt eyes upon her. The sensation wasn’t frightening in the least, but an awareness that someone was looking at her. She turned, already knowing who it would be. Christian stood between two hedges, on a path leading to the stables and kennels, watching her.
Unbidden, a smile overtook her lips and she stepped in his direction. “Christian,” she called, then hurried to his side, leaving her brother in the midst of a sentence.
Christian held his hand out when she drew near. She slid her hand into his, smiling up into his deep brown eyes. To her delight, though his expression was as solemn as always, she could see the barest hint of a smile at the corners of his lips.
“How was your hunt?” she asked.
“Enjoyable. Especially for Ajax.” He turned and called to the dog in Italian. The red hunter burst out of a bush, tail wagging madly, and trotted up to Rebecca to greet her with a dog-grin and lolling tongue.
Rebecca crouched to rub Ajax’s ears with both hands, glancing up when Harry joined them. Without standing, her hands still buried in dog fur, she made the introductions.
“Christian, may I introduce my brother, Horace Devon? Harry, this is Christian Hundley, Lord Easton.”
Harry bowed his gangly form, but his eyes stayed on the viscount, his stare pointed. “A pleasure, my lord,” he said, his tone politer than Rebecca had ever heard from him. “I hope you know how lucky you are, marrying Rebecca. She’s my favorite sister.”
Rebecca started. “Harry!”
Christian’s lips quirked upward. “She’s my favorite of all the Devons.” He directed that crooked smile at Rebecca. “You’re going to spoil my dog.”
She snorted. “I’ve seen you dote on him even worse.” Rebecca stood, brushing at her skirts with her bare hands. They were quite covered in short red hairs. “Bother. Another dress ruined.” She couldn’t help feeling gleeful at the thought.
“It’s dog hair,” Harry pointed out. “A good brushing will get it off.”
Rebecca narrowed her eyes at him, then looked back to the hunter. “Ajax, here boy.” She patted her legs and the dog immediately jumped forward, both paws landing squarely on her middle. Harry caught her arm when she stumbled a step backward and Christian rebuked the dog for jumping.
“Oh, don’t fuss.” Rebecca pushed a lock of hair behind her ear and examined her skirts again. “He’s done exactly as I wished. Good boy, Ajax.”
Harry, staring at her like she was a mad woman, shook his head. “I believe it would be ‘bravo cane,’ if the beast responds to Italian.”
Christian raised his eyebrows. “You are learning Italian? Quanto bene parli?”
With a shrug and red cheeks, her brother replied. “Ne so abbastanza per essere educato o molto maleducato.”
Christian barked out a laugh and held his hand out to the boy. “Sono entrambi bravi quando mi parli.”
Rebecca looked back and forth between them when Harry shook his lordship’s hand, looking a trifle sheepish.
“What on earth are you two saying to one another?”
“Your brother knows enough Italian to have a pleasant or rude conversation in my mother tongue. I told him I appreciate either.” Christian gave a command to Ajax, who came to heel. “I must see to Ajax and clean up. I am not fit for polite company at the moment. Will I see you both at luncheon?”
“Yes, of course.” Rebecca studied him, tilting her head to the side. Something about Christian had changed; he even stood differently. There was an easiness to his manner she had first noticed when they took their leave of her sisters. His posture was relaxed, his hands hung loosely at his side instead of clenched or tucked tightly in his folded arms. The tightness around his mouth and eyes had eased, too. Had the hunt put him in a comfortable frame of mind? Or was it their shared kiss?
She blushed to remember it, then realized he remained there, watching her, both his eyebrows raised. Heat rushed into her cheeks. How long had they been silently staring at one another?
“I-I will see you at luncheon,” she stammered out, raising her hand to push her hair back again, though it didn’t need her attention.
A slow, knowing smile spread across his face. Her breath caught in surprise at the way her heart stuttered upon seeing that smile. It was as if he knew she was thinking of their kiss—
“Until then, mi bella.” He bowed, then turned to continue down the path, whistling to himself as he went.
Rebecca watched him go, Ajax trotting at his side with tail held high, and she imagined Christian was grinning as widely as his dog. His square shoulders and straight form cut a dashing figure as he strode down the walkway, a confidence in his step she could not help but admire.
“I think he likes you. More than a little bit.”
She started, looking over her shoulder. Harry had the most impudent, pleased look on his face. In fact, he appeared to be trying not to laugh.
Rebecca narrowed her eyes at him. “Horrendous Horace, that isn’t funny in the least. If you tease me about this, I promise I will make your life miserable.”
The laughter escaped him, despite Rebecca’s threats. She crossed her arms and glared at her brother, but after a moment she could not help smiling.
“Ah, Rebecca.” He came forward and wrapped his arm around her still-tense shoulders. “He really likes you. I’m glad, truly I am. I didn’t know what I expected, with the way Father’s been talking of the arrangement.”
She relaxed and lowered her eyes to the walk. “I know. I didn’t expect Christian, either.”
Harry gave her shoulders an affectionate squeeze. “Of course, how Lord Easton could like you enough to overlook those ghastly freckles on your cheeks, I’ll never know—” He broke off when Rebecca pinched him in the side and before long they were both laughing.
Her heart lightened considerably, Rebecca almost forgot her father’s presence. She couldn’t completely. What if he learned of Julia’s visit? What if he had further stipulations to push upon Rebecca? She could only hope his sudden appearance in the country didn’t damage all her efforts with Christian. If ever a thing could be ruined, her father seemed to find a way to do it.
Four weeks. In four weeks, she wedded Christian. And she would be free.
Chapter Twenty
Rebecca tried to escape the private conversation with her father, but he waited until Harry and she returned from the gardens. The moment they stepped into the entry hall, he was there, standing stiff and colder than the marble statues decorating the gardens.
“We cannot stay, but I must speak to you in private, Rebecca,” he said, something about his look making her feel immediately ill.
I haven’t done anything wrong, she reminded herself as she led the way into a small parlor off the hall. She looked back once, over her father’s shoulder, to see Harry give her an encouraging grin. Taking courage from that, she shut the door to the room after her father stepped inside.
“I hope your journey was an easy one, Father,” she said, folding her hands meekly before her.
Mr. Devon had his back to her, standing in the middle of the pleasant little room rather like a weed in a patch of flowers. “How could a journey ever be pleasant when one is faced with such news as I have received?” Each word was spoken with barely-restrained hostility.
Rebecca stood very still, sensing the change in the air. Something was terribly wrong.
“What news, Father?” she asked, forcing her voice loud enough to be heard. There was anger in his stance, and frost in his voice.
“News from my solicitor. A letter, in fact, from the Earl of Ivyford.” He turned, his presence filling the room and making her shiver. “It seems he heard from his grandson. They are going to break the marriage contract.”
Rebecca’s heart faltered. “What?” She started shaking her head, barely aware of her own movements. “That cannot be. He hasn’t—Lord Easton, he hasn’t said anything of
the kind to me.” Had he even once indicated that he might not wish to marry her?
No. Even when they’d been arguing upon the lake, he’d never even hinted that he wished to end their betrothal.
“Why would he?” her father asked dismissively. “You’re a woman. What do you know of such things? And why show his hand, when it has yet to come to pass? I have informed my solicitor to argue the matter as long as possible.” He abruptly came across the room, his shoulders squared and his eyes blazing.
Rebecca stumbled back a step, but he caught her arm to keep her still. “It cannot be,” she whispered frantically, watching her father, frightened of what he would do. He’d never struck her before, but with such an insult before him—
“Oh, but it is true,” her father hissed, his hold on her tightening. “Somehow, despite all my efforts, one of my daughters still ruins my plans to see this family made into something greater. All you had to do was show up at your wedding, but instead the viscount met you and rejected you completely.” He looked her over, finding every flaw in her features, then pushed her from him in disgust.
Rebecca’s knees nearly gave out, but she found the back of a chair to lean upon. When her father withdrew, her mind began working again, her panic replaced by despair. How could Christian do this to her? Breaking their engagement would ruin her reputation beyond repair, and it would result in her father’s severe and vengeful punishment.
Christian wasn’t the type of man to do such a thing to a woman. He wouldn’t do it to her. He had kissed her. He’d confided in her. Met her sisters. Why would he ever seek for her ruin? His honor wouldn’t allow it. Society would cast aspersions on them both, but it would shun her completely for being part of a broken betrothal.
The woman was always at fault. Always seen as a lesser creature, unworthy and unwanted.
“You will fix this,” her father said, the weight of lead in each word. “Or you will regret it until the end of your days.”
She dared to look at him, finding only anger and hatred in his eyes.
“How?” she dared to whisper. “If he doesn’t want me—”
“Make him want you. I care not how.” He moved toward her and Rebecca shrunk into herself, but he brushed past her without touching her again. “Repair the damage and do it quickly. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” But she didn’t understand. Not any of it. Her answer satisfied him well enough. He left, the door closing behind him with a harsh snap. And she stood, unmoving in the shadows.
Christian had promised to be honest with her, from the very beginning. If he truly had requested an end to their betrothal, behaving as though it was an eventuality was a lie and dishonorable.
I cannot think him so cold. She shuddered and moved away from the shadows, to the tall windows flooding the rest of the room in light. She leaned up against one, allowing warmth to seep into her shoulder.
There was no help for her. She couldn’t tell her sisters what she had learned. That would turn them against Christian forever. Dared she ask Christian? Perhaps it was only a misunderstanding.
But if it wasn’t, if she was wrong about him, her future was far less uncertain than it had been before she met him. She’d taken it for granted they would wed, whether they liked each other or not, whether she fell in love with him as she planned or not.
Despairing, Rebecca nearly gave in to her tears. Only the last shreds of reason kept her emotions in check until she’d gained the privacy of her bedroom. She folded herself onto her bed, the tears falling silently, her mind fighting to understand her circumstances and how she might see herself out of them.
She envied Fanny Price of Mansfield Park at that moment. The fictional woman’s troubles paled in comparison to Rebecca’s and would doubtless be resolved in Fanny’s favor. In the real world, nothing ever ended so tidily as it did in a novel.
Chapter Twenty-one
Although he found it odd that Mr. Devon would not make it a point to seek him out, now that the man was in the neighborhood, after seeing his effect on his daughter, Christian counted himself lucky. Rebecca had been out of sorts the whole evening after her father’s visit. Her smiles had seemed pasted on, her posture timid. She’d excused herself after dinner, citing a headache for her sudden need to withdraw.
The next day, she’d been waiting for him after the hunt, her brother with her. She’d been more like herself, though a touch quieter. Or perhaps it only seemed that way because her younger brother had so much to say. Harry managed to attend every event held, from after breakfast to before dinner, for two whole days.
When the men were hunting, Harry and Rebecca either amused themselves in the library or played with their young cousins, they told him.
After Rebecca confided in Harry that their eldest sister was staying with the Gilberts, he made it a point to slip away for an hour or two, visiting them. He also reassured Rebecca that not a word of Julia’s visit had come to their father, which Christian noted was a great relief to them both.
When Harry was away visiting, Christian invited Rebecca to help him check every fireplace in the house for the earl’s hidden treasure. Her maid shadowed them, which seemed to cast a shadow over Rebecca’s mood.
Hearth and home is where the treasure lives. But you must have lofty thoughts to find where it’s hid.
They must’ve repeated the words a dozen times, but Christian didn’t think they were any closer to understanding them.
Christian found her sitting with Harry, talking of the boy’s studies, when he escaped from the earl’s study one afternoon. They were in a small window seat off the first-floor hallway. Harry leaned against the window and Rebecca had curled her legs beneath her on the cushions.
“My head is full of agriculture and the price of beef,” Christian said, tired and hoping for one of Rebecca’s beautiful smiles or quick-witted responses.
She barely raised her eyes from her lap.
“It is your own fault for spending so much time with politicians who are also landowners,” Harry replied smartly.
Rebecca chuckled and lowered her feet to the ground, but her attention seemed more on her brother than on Christian. It was ridiculous to notice such a thing, and to be troubled by it. She cared a great deal for her brother, after all, and rarely spent time with him.
“I will soon join the ranks of the politicians, I’m afraid.” Christian’s brow lowered as he spoke, his mouth pulling downward.
At last she responded, stepping forward nimbly. “Lucas must think you are capable if he continues to invite you to join them.” Rebecca moved to stand next to him, nudging his shoulder with hers. “What would you rather be doing, if not discussing politics?” The ghost of her formerly bright smile appeared.
His thoughts immediately went to their shared kiss. They hadn’t spoken of it. Hadn’t even come close to repeating it. Did she think of that moment as often as he did? “Something with you, I think,” he answered aloud.
Rebecca’s cheeks flushed a lovely pink. Hastily, she spoke to her brother. “We haven’t been doing anything amusing, have we, Harry?”
Harry chuckled. “Not at all. But I think it must be time for me to return home. Father insists on an early dinner when we’re in the country.”
“Oh.” Rebecca’s shoulders tensed and she bit her lip, looking down.
Christian studied the pensive look on her face, the way a crease appeared between her brow. She had told him she missed her home, hadn’t she? Perhaps there was a way to assist her with that.
“I have been thinking of paying a visit to your father, at his house. It doesn’t seem like very good form to be in such close proximity to my future father-in-law and not visit.”
Rebecca’s color fled and she turned away abruptly, folding her arms across her chest. Harry frowned, watching his sister’s reaction as well.
He spoke slowly, facing Rebecca though his words were meant for Christian. “You are right, of course. I will speak to my father. If he knows you desire a meeting, he w
ill extend an invitation.”
“Excellent.”
Rebecca interjected quickly. “For tea, Harry. See if you can invite us for tea.”
Her betrothed gave her an odd look. “I gather you do not wish the visit to be long, tesoro mio.”
That was a new endearment. She glanced to Harry. “What does that one mean?”
The tips of the boy’s ears turned red. “My treasure. I think.”
Christian chuckled. He’d taken to using different phrases and words in conversation to test the boy’s understanding of the language. He hadn’t flummoxed Harry yet, but if he kept using phrases like that Rebecca’s brother might eventually refuse to translate for her.
“That’s quite enough of that,” Rebecca said with a huff. “But yes, Christian, I would rather not spend an excessive amount of time with my father. My aunt is highly critical of me, but our father is more so. It is most uncomfortable at times and I would not wish you to be a witness to it.”
The way she spoke each word, tightly, almost through gritted teeth, made him question whether it was wise for them both to go. But he knew how to handle difficult people. After all, Christian had told her of his grandfather’s less than compassionate behavior.
Her manner changed greatly after speaking to her father. Perhaps if I see the two of them together I might learn what happened, why she’s suddenly so reserved.
“I will send you word, if Father is agreeable.” Harry bowed. “And now, I take my leave of you. Good afternoon, Rebecca. Lord Easton.”
Christian nodded and they watched the boy saunter down the hallway, obviously not in too much of a hurry to be away.
“Your brother,” Christian said, watching Harry disappear around the corner of the staircase. “He is a cheerful young man. I hope he can continue on in that way.”
Miss Devon's Choice: A Sweet Regency Romance (Branches of Love Book 5) Page 19