“It is quite all right,” Virginia said smoothly, smiling at them both. “We have enough people to make it quite the evening.”
Then there were more guests to greet and Rebecca forced the uncomfortable instant from her mind. She had been wrong, of course, to try to tease him into performing. There were many people who did not like to exhibit themselves before others. They were either shy or thought such performances beneath them. Christian remained a man who valued his privacy, even if he had confided somewhat in her over their time together.
She swallowed back her disappointment, took herself in hand, and pasted a pleasant expression back on her face to accept the congratulations of her neighbors.
Her father never made an appearance, which must be counted as a victory for Christian.
When all guests had arrived, Christian escorted her into the music room, leading her to a seat at the front where all the performers sat together. There were only two gentlemen there, but several women, married and unmarried, including Miss Dunhill and Lady Felicity. Christian bowed when she sat, then took himself away to stand near the wall. The room was full to bursting with people, and the doors to the adjoining parlor had been opened to seat still more.
Rebecca pulled in a deep breath and glanced back, several times over the course of the evening, to make certain Christian still stood there. Thomas and Christine had come; they were seated near Christian’s place against the wall. Her stomach twisted and turned with nervousness, but when the time came, she felt she performed well.
She played for Christian, with liveliness of fingers and lightness of heart. She imagined him sitting on the bench beside her, remembered the feel of his kiss.
Though she was not at all the best performer of the evening, she did not feel ashamed when she stood to accept the applause. Her eyes flicked from the disapproving frown of her aunt to Christine and Thomas’s enthusiastic smiles.
But the sole reaction she cared for, the only opinion that mattered, was Christian’s.
And he was applauding her, his eyes bright and his chin tilted upward with pride. “Brava,” she heard him call over the clapping. “Brava.”
The day’s events had taken place over a lifetime, she felt certain, and not the space of a few hours. Yet, she was grateful for them. Even for the time spent at her father’s house. Somehow, it had brought Christian closer to her. Warmed him toward her. After fearing he didn’t want her at all, that he would withdraw from their betrothal, his complete devotion to her care had reaffirmed his honor.
Rebecca retook her seat and folded her hands in her lap, giving her full attention to the next performer. She could feel Christian’s eyes on her, his study of her, but it wasn’t unpleasant.
*
The next morning, Rebecca rose and went to her dressing table as usual. Hettie was already in the room, shaking out a gown and searching out matching slippers. Though Rebecca knew the gown, a hideous shade called Pomona green, made her complexion turn yellow, she did not argue about it. What would be the use of engaging in such a battle this morning?
She sighed and lowered herself to her chair, turning her head to examine the state of her curling papers. Then she stopped, glimpsing something out of place on the corner of the table.
A stack of books, tied with an old velvet ribbon, sat innocently among her ribbons and combs.
“Hettie,” she said, staring at the spines with wonder. “Where did these come from?”
Her maid came forward, barely casting a look at the books. “Lord Easton sent them up last evening, during dinner. It’s an odd sort of gift, miss, if you ask me.”
Rebecca’s heart swelled. He had rescued her mother’s books and returned them to her. He couldn’t know how much such a gesture meant, and that made it all the sweeter.
“Miss, are you all right?” Hettie asked in some alarm.
Rebecca looked in the mirror and saw her eyes swimming with tears. She laughed and hastily wiped away the moisture with the back of her hand. “I am well, Hettie. Perfectly well.” She sniffed and sat up straighter. “But we must hurry. I promised His Lordship help on our treasure hunt.”
Hettie sighed and shook her head with all the gravity of a woman three times her age. She’d learned the expression from Aunt Jacqueline, of course. But she went about her work efficiently and had Rebecca out the door with speed.
Rebecca fairly skipped all the way to the table. The gift brightened her outlook considerably. Christian, protective and considerate!
Virginia met her outside the breakfast room, halting Rebecca with her bright exclamation. “Good morning, cousin,” she said loudly enough for her voice to carry down the hall and into the room behind her. “Oh, but dear, you look exhausted.”
Rebecca started and opened her mouth to refute that claim.
“Play along,” Virginia whispered, narrowing her eyes. “Oh, you positively must rest, my dear. And not in your room. The curtains are not suitable to keep it dark enough. Please, retire to my salon. I’ll see to it you are looked after.”
Rebecca narrowed her eyes.
Virginia grinned and waved her down the hall. “Through the greenhouse,” she whispered. “There’s a wagon waiting.”
Though she didn’t have gloves or a hat, Rebecca obediently followed Virginia’s instructions. She found the hall between the breakfast room and the greenhouse deserted, and when she stepped out of doors there was a cart and two men waiting for her. One was a stable hand, already seated in the cart, and the other a liveried footman who held gloves and a cloak for her.
“What is going on?” she asked the footman as he handed her each item, one at a time.
“You are to go to the Gilbert home, miss,” he answered, bowing respectfully. Then he helped her into the back of the cart. She glowered at him, then sighed.
She had hoped to spend the morning with Christian. If she could speak to him, she might find the courage needed to explain what he had heard, to tell him of her hopes. But she longed to spend more time with Julia and Christine, too.
“Will you make my excuses to Lord Easton?” she asked before the cart started moving.
“It is his lordship who arranged this, miss,” the footman said with a slightly impudent grin, then he tapped the side of the cart. The driver slapped the leads against the horses’, leaving her no opportunity to ask further questions.
What has come over him? Speaking to father, the books, and now an orchestrated visit to my sisters.
No one would miss her today, and she could spend as much time with her sisters as she liked. Another thoughtful gift, from a man hadn’t wanted to marry her.
Only when she was nearly to the Gilbert home did it occur to Rebecca that it was strange Christian would send her away without speaking to her first, or joining her.
The road passed beneath her, but she didn’t see it. She kept her eyes closed, trying to picture Christian as he had appeared the day before. He’d been keeping himself under tight control when they left her father. Had he ever relaxed his grip on his emotions?
The cart hit a rut, jarring her sharply from her thoughts. Rebecca’s eyes began to water for the second time that day, but for an entirely less pleasant reason. She let them fall, too busy holding on to the edge of the cart to wipe them away.
He was kind. But he was not in love.
And she was.
In another moment, she was swept inside the house by Christine, who had been watching for her, straight to the breakfast table. Thomas, in his father’s absence, took the head of the table, Christine the other end, Julia and Nathaniel sat next to each other on one side, and Harry sat next to an empty chair on the opposite.
“Harry?” Rebecca blurted. “However did you get away?”
Harry turned around in his seat, his boyish grin stretching wide. “Your betrothed sent a message ‘round to the house an hour ago, asking for the pleasure of my company this morning. Father wasn’t about to say no. Christian was waiting for me at the end of the drive and sent me here instead.
”
Julia stood, her brows knit in concern. “Rebecca, what’s wrong? You don’t seem pleased to be here.” The others grew still, all eyes inspecting her person.
“Are you not feeling well?” Nathaniel asked, ever the physician.
“I am well,” Rebecca said, coming to her chair. A servant pulled the chair out for her. Once seated, Rebecca did her best to appear pleasant. “I have only been surprised this morning.”
Her brother bent over the arm of his chair to inspect her, and she leaned away reflexively. “You’ve been crying,” he said, his voice low.
“Whatever is the matter?” Christine asked, leaning to the side of her chair the better to see Rebecca.
“It is nothing. Please. I haven’t breakfasted yet, and these pastries look divine.” Rebecca served herself from a tray of sweet baked goods, not meeting anyone’s eyes. After a few moments passed, Thomas turned the conversation and the others took up the subject of blackberry hunting with varying levels of enthusiasm.
Before long, Rebecca had hold of herself enough to discuss the next evening’s ball. “I’m looking forward to it immensely. I have only been to the earl’s Christmas ball before.”
Every Christmas the Earl of Annesbury hosted a fantastic Christmas ball, and people from all over came to join in the frivolity. Though Rebecca had not technically been out yet, Virginia had insisted she attend. Aunt Jacqueline was going anyway, and allowed Rebecca to dance only with Lucas, Thomas, and the vicar. But still. The music and atmosphere had been entertainment enough.
“This ball will not be so grand, though it will be elegant,” Christine said, a little smile playing across her lips. “And you will be permitted to dance the night away, as an engaged woman must.”
Julia cleared her throat. “But you must save at least one dance for Nathaniel, my dear. He’s a wonderful dance partner.”
Rebecca started to nod, before recalling her father’s decree on that score. “Oh. But I mustn’t. It is against father’s rules. And—and I didn’t think either of you would come.” Puzzled, she looked from Julia’s mischievous grin to Nathaniel’s slight smirk. “Not that I wish you to miss the evening, but—”
“Darling,” Julia said, regaining her attention. “We are coming as the personal guests of the Lord Easton. Your Christian sent an invitation this morning, along with the news that you and Harry would be coming for a visit.”
That hardly cleared up matters. “I’m forbidden to talk with you. Why would he do that?”
Harry spoke before anyone else could. “Because he’s going to be your husband, and Father’s rules won’t matter after that.”
“He’s making a very firm statement to your father and the rest of society,” Nathaniel added, his blue eyes sparkling. He obviously relished the situation. “As guests of your betrothed, a man of high rank, to snub us in public would be folly. I’m afraid your father has been out-maneuvered again, and just when he thought he had secured a check-mate.”
Rebecca gave up all pretense of understanding as she slouched back into her chair. “It doesn’t make any sense.” She raised both hands to her temples, and she closed her eyes to think. “Why would he bother? And there are still weeks until we marry—”
“Two weeks,” Christine’s voice said helpfully, and cheerfully. “Next to no time at all.”
I suppose any punishment Father or Aunt Jacqueline contrives for me will be short, at least.
“And I have the feeling this is just the beginning,” Thomas added. Rebecca stared rather rudely at him. “What?” he asked, his expression cheerful. “I think Christian means to make you happy, Rebecca.”
“Which has left me in a state of confusion,” Rebecca said, narrowing her eyes at Thomas. “I haven’t spoken with Christian since we visited Father yesterday. Not more than what could be said between parlor and dining table last evening. I haven’t even seen him this morning.”
“Obviously he was busy arranging this,” Harry said, waving his hand to indicate all of them at the table together.
“But why?” she blurted out at last, the question sounding plaintive to her own ears. She sat forward, looking from one family member to another. “He doesn’t even want to marry me.”
Nathaniel’s fork clattered to the table and everyone else froze, creating a tableau that might’ve been humorous had the situation not been so serious. Christine held a pastry half in her mouth, Julia had a pat of butter suspended above a scone, and Harry swallowed his tea the wrong way.
Thomas recovered first, but not well. “What do you mean, doesn’t want to marry you? Isn’t he the one who arranged the whole thing?”
“His grandfather did the arranging,” Rebecca said, her voice soft in the silence.
Nathaniel spoke next. “But he signed the contracts, didn’t he? No man can be forced into marriage. He chose to go through with it. Then he met you, and of course he was pleased—”
Rebecca interrupted him, shaking her head. “No. He wasn’t. After he met me, he asked his grandfather to end the arrangement.”
“When?” Christine asked, glowering across the table. “When did he ask that, Rebecca?”
“Did he tell you this?” Thomas asked nearly the same moment.
“Father told me,” Rebecca said. “I’m not sure when, though it must’ve happened quickly. Father came after he received notice the Earl of Ivyford wished to cancel the contracts in place.”
Harry snorted and slumped back in his chair. “That explains why he was in such a hurry to leave London. Father hates the country. I couldn’t understand his eagerness to be here. I thought something might’ve been wrong with the estate.”
“But wait, I don’t understand,” Thomas said, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his eyes narrowed to slits. “He came here, spent time with all of us, intending to break your engagement?”
“I don’t think I believe it.” When Nathaniel spoke, drawing their attention, Rebecca moved to the edge of her seat.
“Why no?” Any measure of hope he could give her would soothe her heart.
“We all saw him yesterday, publicly introduced as your future husband. The man is bound by honor. He wouldn’t have stood in that receiving line if he didn’t intend to wed you.”
“Honor.” Rebecca dropped her face into her hands. “He may be honor-bound now, but he didn’t want to marry me. He still might not. But he’s seen the alternative. He heard Father telling me what would happen should I not secure the marriage.”
“Why should that matter?” Harry asked, his voice cracking with frustration.
Rebecca hesitated. What Christian had shared with her about his past had been private, and no matter her situation it wouldn’t be right to divulge his history. “He knows what it is to be threatened and bullied. I do not think he would stand by and watch anyone be treated that way.”
Christine slammed both fists on the table. “Regardless, he mustn’t be all that wonderful if he was willing to abandon you before. It would ruin your reputation. Even if he knew nothing of Father’s horrid plans, he ought to have thought of that.”
“We don’t know the whole story, Christine,” Thomas said, fixing his wife with a look that somehow communicated caution and his agreement with her words.
“Have you spoken to Christian about this, Rebecca?” Julia’s calm words, her gentle tone, quieted the rest of the room. “Have you asked if he wishes to marry you? Or why he might not?”
Rebecca’s chest tightened and she felt the tears threatened to return. “No. I haven’t had a chance.”
Julia leaned across the table, her eyebrows drawn down and her words earnest as she spoke. “You must speak to him, darling. You must tell him how you feel. You love him, don’t you?”
No one breathed, the room remained still, and though Rebecca didn’t look from Julia’s understanding expression, she knew they all watched her and waited.
Did she love him? She’d set out to do so. She’d planned to devote her heart to him, to find the goodness in his charact
er, the admirable traits he possessed, and love him for the sake of those things.
Christian was many good and wonderful things. He was compassionate, determined, and possessed a dry humor she’d found endearing. But he was also impatient, sometimes rude, and he had a temper. He was not a perfect man, but flawed, hurt, and he carried a lifetime’s worth of pain in his heart. He was intimidating. He was handsome. When he entered a room, he brought with him the energy of thunderbolts and the anticipation of a summer storm. He was the most complex person she’d ever met, and she was drawn to him even when he might not be best disposed to be good company.
And his kiss. His beautiful, hopeful, gentle kiss in the lane….
“I do.” Rebecca’s heart thrummed, warming her from the inside out, and she blinked away the tears in her eyes. “I love him.”
Harry’s arm came around her shoulders. She turned to meet his eyes and saw more wisdom than she had ever expected to find in his youthful eyes. When had he grown up so much?
“Then you’d better tell him that.”
Chapter Twenty-six
Christian waited most of the afternoon for Dowding to bring him word when Rebecca returned home. It was nearly time to prepare for dinner when the servant found Christian in the billiard room. He’d actually forced himself to play, in order to pass the time, and listen to the other young gentlemen talk of their shooting that morning.
Lord Sharpeton spent most of the time bemoaning Christian’s absence, claiming Christian’s superior dog would’ve aided them in their work.
“You will let me know if you ever get a litter of pups from him, won’t you?” the marquess’s son asked.
The valet appeared in the doorway, eyes comically wide as he silently communicated to Christian that she had returned. Christian made his excuses and left the room.
Dowding spoke in the hall, once the door shut behind Christian. “She returned, my lord, and will be down shortly, her maid assures me.”
“Excellent.” Christian barely contained his smile. He went to stand at the foot of the stairs, anticipating Rebecca’s descent. His eagerness had built to a near fever-pitch. He wanted to pace, but he forced himself to hold absolutely still. He did not even rap his knuckles against his thigh, as he had when he was a boy, or rock back and forth on his heels.
Miss Devon's Choice: A Sweet Regency Romance (Branches of Love Book 5) Page 23