by Bree Wolf
However, desperate to rid herself of him, Christine was more than willing to discuss her views on marriage with her disapproving mother yet again.
When both her parents’ as well as the earl’s attention was no longer directed at her, Christine quietly excused herself, voicing her desire for a refreshment. Strolling around the ballroom, hearing people laugh and chat, seeing couples dance and smile at each other, Christine could not help but remember the Christmas Ball. It had been a truly marvellous night, and as though her thoughts had conjured her, she turned a corner and came face to face with Eleanor.
Instantly, the young girl’s solemn face vanished, and a deep smile came to her lips as she stepped forward. “Christine!” she beamed. “How wonderful to see you here.”
Delighted to see Eleanor again, Christine greeted her, ignoring the girl’s mother, who eyed her with a hint of disapproval. Lord Stanhope, however, politely inclined his head to her.
“I am just as glad,” Christine replied honestly. “To tell you the truth, I’ve been quite bored. Come, tell me how you’ve been.” Drawing Eleanor away from her mother’s watchful eyes, Christine guided her toward the large window front. “How is Henry?” she whispered.
Eleanor’s eyes opened in alarm as she glanced over her shoulder at her mother. “I haven’t seen him since the Christmas Ball,” she admitted, sadness returning to her eyes. “Mother was quite put out when she saw us kiss.” A hint of remorse rang in Eleanor’s voice, and yet, her eyes sparkled with the memory of that night. “But I cannot regret what happened. It was like a dream. Thank you,” she said emphatically. “Thank you for making it happen. If it hadn’t been for you, we never even could have danced.”
“It was my pleasure,” Christine assured her before her voice became serious. “Is your mother still insisting on a suitable match?”
Eleanor nodded. “More so than ever. I do believe she suspects I might do something foolish, which is why she is ever watchful these days.”
Glancing over Eleanor’s shoulder, Christine found the girl’s mother following their every move. “I’m sorry to hear that. I suspect you have not found anyone to your liking.”
Sadly, Eleanor shook her head. “No one even compares to Henry.”
Christine nodded as the face of a certain gentleman drifted before her inner eye. “I know what you mean,” she mumbled deflatedly before calling herself to reason. “Life is what it is,” she spoke out vehemently, momentarily startling Eleanor. “We ought to be out on the dance floor, enjoying ourselves, not because we are in search of a husband but because it is better than standing here and wasting away.”
A hesitant smile on her face, Eleanor nodded. “Maybe you’re right.”
Christine squeezed her hand in encouragement, and before long, they both found themselves on the dance floor, willing away the loneliness that threatened to engulf them.
Smiling at each other from across the room here and there, the two women found barely an opportunity to speak again as they spent the remainder of the evening dancing with a variety of gentlemen. While Eleanor did her best to be cheerful, Christine could see the effort it took her to maintain the polite smile that rested on her face. Lady Stanhope, though, glowed with delight, probably counting the days until her daughter would be properly married.
“You seem distracted,” Viscount Eastwood observed, his sharp eyes trailing over her face.
Forcing her attention back to him, Christine smiled. “I apologise, my lord. I…well, I cannot explain without betraying someone’s confidence.”
To her surprise, he laughed, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Your friend seems quite miserable,” he observed as his eyes shifted to Eleanor, “despite her effort to appear cheerful.”
Glancing at her dance partner through narrowed eyes, Christine said, “I was being too obvious, was I not?”
He shrugged, a good-natured smile on his face. “You were quite discreet, I assure you. However, I possess the gift of observation. Few things escape my notice.”
“Is that so?” Christine asked, finding the young viscount unexpectedly entertaining. “What else have you observed?”
“You’re not looking for a husband,” he said without preamble, his eyes holding hers, waiting, observing.
Seeing no judgement on his face, Christine nodded. “You would be right to assume that.”
“Your parents, however, disagree with your outlook on this issue.”
Christine chuckled. “No great skill of observation is necessary to know that. I dare you to find parents who are delighted with their child’s wish to remain unmarried.”
Lord Eastwood laughed, a delighted twinkle in his startling blue eyes. “You are indeed correct. Maybe you will allow me to prove my skill to you in the future.”
Nodding her head in agreement, Christine spent most of the evening in the viscount’s company. He was a truly delightful man, who spoke his mind and who obviously shared her views with regard to marriage. Would he agree to her proposal? She wondered. Would she want him to?
Clearing her throat of the lump of embarrassment that had settled there, Christine pushed those thoughts away. Nothing had to be decided that very night. She would simply wait and see what happened. Maybe he was the very man who would help her forget about Wesley.
Chapter Sixteen − Lady Rigsby's Proposal
Although he had all but wanted to run after Christine’s carriage as it slowly made its way down the drive of Harrington Park, Wesley had remained behind, forcing himself to prolong his stay at his family’s estate for as long as he could. January was already drawing to a close when he finally made his way to London.
Knowing that it would not serve him to shut himself away from society, Wesley reluctantly accepted an invitation to a ball. Would Christine be there? It was the only question on his mind as the carriage pulled to a stop outside the massive townhouse.
Climbing the steps, Wesley felt his heart hammering in his chest as anticipation threatened to squeeze the air from his lungs. Bright lights stung his eyes as he proceeded through the throng of people, craning his head without being too obvious, which, of course, was doomed to be a failed attempt.
As he ventured from room to room, Wesley’s heart began to slow for it seemed as though she was not among the attending guests. Just when he was about to reach for a glass of wine, he spotted her across the room, and his hand froze mid-air.
His throat closed up, and his knees almost buckled as he found the woman he…loved dancing with Lord Eastwood, one of London’s most notorious rakes.
Her eyes glowed as she laughed at something Eastwood had said, his gaze running over her in a way that made Wesley’s stomach turn. Christine couldn’t possibly be aware of her dance partner’s reputation, could she?
A block of ice settled in Wesley’s stomach as he realised his mistake. Of course, she was aware of the man’s reputation. How could she not be? His reputation was in all likelihood the very reason she was dancing with him to begin with. After all, he would be the very man who would not hesitate to accept her proposal.
Eyes glued to the dancing couple, Wesley stood by the dance floor, forcing his stomach not to expel the food he’d eaten earlier.
When the music finally ended and Eastwood led Christine off the dance floor, their eyes met.
***
Her mind still buzzing with the dance and the music, Christine smiled at Lord Eastwood as he offered her his hand. “Would you care for a refreshment?” he asked, a smirk on his face. “I admit I quite long for one after such a strenuous activity.”
Nodding her head in agreement, Christine couldn’t help but notice how Lord Eastwood continually insinuated an intimate relationship between them. By now, there was not a doubt in her mind that he would accept her proposal should she choose to offer it.
As they ventured toward the refreshment table, Christine’s eyes swept the crowd as though out of habit until to her utter shock, she found a familiar pair of blue eyes staring back at her.
&n
bsp; The realisation that after all this time he was here hit her like a punch in the belly, and she almost toppled over.
It had to have shown on her face for the pain that had rested in his eyes only a moment ago vanished, replaced by concern. Instantly, he started toward her, but then stopped himself, his eyes shifting to the man beside her.
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 − 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, threatenin
g 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 another 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.