‘It is—although I’m beginning to wish I’d remained at home.’
‘Why do you say that? Oh—is everyone still harping on about that unfortunate affair at the Skeffington ball?’
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘After a whole year it’s a pity they have nothing better to talk about—Christopher told me about it. You know all about me—I know. Christopher told me that as well.’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘I’m glad. When you came to Rockwood Park I was still all mixed up—about what I had tried to do—but I’m not any more. Christopher told me about you and Mark Barrington. I hope you don’t mind.’
‘No. Why should I? It’s no secret. What he did in collusion with my stepmother was unforgivable. If I had not had Christopher to turn to, I shudder to think what might have happened to me.’
‘I’m glad you managed to get away from him. I cannot forget or forgive his offences against me. He did me a great wrong. When he came to Charleston I fell in love with him as soon as I saw him. He was a popular man about town who had all the eligible ladies setting their caps at him—and he chose me. What I did when he left me was a terrible thing which I deeply regret. I hadn’t told him about the child and I often wonder if things would have been different if I had.
‘When Christopher brought me to England I had to accept that that part of my life was over, but for some strange reason I feel as if it is incomplete, not quite done with—and it will always be so unless I see him again and ask him why he left me. I know what Christopher believes, that he wanted me for any money that would come my way from my grandfather, but there were times when we were so close that I cannot believe that was the only reason he was with me. In spite of everything it is difficult not to remember.’
‘But you have recovered from it, I hope.’
‘Yes, I think so. I’ve decided not to wallow in self-pity any longer. Life is meant to be enjoyed. There should be laughter and pleasure.’
Lucy stared at her. She had changed, grown up suddenly, and looked so lovely in her dusky pink gown.
‘At first I blamed Christopher for sending Mark away, but when he told me about the blackness of his character, I realised that what I had done was very foolish and irresponsible and that Christopher had acted in my best interest. When Mark left me I truly thought I had nothing left to live for—but I’m better now.’
‘I’m happy to hear that, Amelia. You’ve had a traumatic time.’
‘So have you. I can only hope that he’s not doing it to someone else. Have you spoken to Christopher tonight?’
‘No—I thought I saw him earlier.’
‘No doubt he will seek you out before long. Let’s try to meet up at supper, shall we?’
‘Yes, let’s do that.’
Lucy made her way back to her Aunt Caroline, not at all sure she would still be here for supper.
* * *
When Lucy returned to Lady Sutton, Christopher knew everyone was watching them both, positively bursting for a first-hand on dit about his relationship with her. After the Skeffington ball a year ago, everyone believed that in the wake of being ruined by his rival at cards and the young lady’s affections, Mr Barrington had thrown her over and hotfooted it back to America. Christopher was determined to turn things around. It did cross his mind that he should have done this before, but at the time there had been so much going on in his life and Lucy was leaving for the Continent that he had pushed it to the back of his mind. He should have known better, he realised that now.
He mingled with the throng, giving a nod here and pausing now and then to shake hands and speak with an acquaintance, but all the while never losing sight of Lucy. A friend from his schooldays, Lord Timothy Cawthorn, came to have a word, having noted the situation and asking if he could be of assistance. Christopher smiled, deciding to make the most of the offer.
A waltz was starting when Lord Cawthorn suddenly appeared by Lucy’s side and, with the permission of Lady Sutton, led her on to the floor, dancing her into the midst of the twirling couples. The fact that Lord Cawthorn was championing her was immediately remarked upon. Christopher breathed a sigh of relief. She was safe for the time being.
Mingling with a group of flamboyant young lords whose tongues had been loosened by drink, he accepted a glass of wine from a tray and joined in the frivolity. One of them, having glanced with interest to where Lucy was dancing with Lord Cawthorn, turned to Christopher, commenting on her beauty and with a leer and a nudge remarking that he would know, wouldn’t he, having been caught in a passionate embrace with the said young lady at the Skeffington ball. Showing his lack of polish—and also his inability to hold his drink—he gave Christopher another nudge and a wink and remarked that he had heard that Christopher knew her intimately.
‘Do I?’ he uttered in an amused tone.
‘By all accounts you do—don’t you?’
Christopher laughed. ‘Not in the way you imply.’ Then he automatically added a proviso to forestall further gossip. ‘However, Miss Walsh should count herself fortunate that I was there that night.’
The young lord noted that with some surprise. ‘She should? What are you saying? I thought you two were...’
Christopher lifted his eyebrows with some amusement. ‘Were what? Lovers? I should be so fortunate and all the rumours about that night are just lamentable nonsense and people should learn to separate the rubbish from the truth. It was nothing but a gross misunderstanding.’
‘But—are you saying you did not compromise Miss Walsh?’
‘That is exactly what I am saying. When I arrived at Skeffington House I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw an old sparring partner of mine, Mark Barrington, a man who made his living seducing wealthy young ladies in order to get his hands on their money—which was exactly what he was about to do to Miss Walsh and she just fresh out of the schoolroom and her father dead three months past. When I managed to draw her away from him I informed her of his character, telling her the man was a charlatan. It’s fortunate I was there that night otherwise she would have found herself married to Barrington—although it wouldn’t have lasted.’
‘It wouldn’t?’
Christopher shook his head. ‘He would have absconded with her money. Naturally she was relieved to know the truth and immensely grateful to me.’
‘And Miss Walsh was innocent in the whole affair.’
‘Absolutely. The lady is a paragon of virtue and a finer example of refinement you couldn’t hope to meet. Seeing her here tonight, I intend to renew our acquaintance and hope she will look on me with favour.’
Christopher almost felt sorry for the young man. He’d taken everything in like a hungry dog eager to set about a meaty bone, but Christopher had other things on his mind and was in no mood to indulge in further conversation. Draining his glass he walked away, leaving the young man to impart this new bit of information to his friends, that the beautiful Miss Walsh had been saved from a terrible fate by Viscount Rockley. He was confident that what he had disclosed would filter through the gathered guests like quicksilver.
Seeking out his sister, who was breathless from so much dancing and taking a moment to cool herself with a long, cold drink, he watched with satisfaction as the story he had imparted to the eager youth was circulated and in no time at all male heads turned to look at Lucy with renewed interest and speculation. It wasn’t long before several presented themselves to Lady Sutton and requested she introduce them to Miss Walsh. Glancing across the room to where Christopher stood, he gave her a knowing smile, leaving her in no doubt that it was his doing. More than happy with this new direction, Lady Sutton was delighted to oblige.
From a distance Christopher watched a group of young bloods with flirtatious grins and with furious persistence toadying around this gorgeous creature who had suddenly appeared in their midst. They were effusive in their compliments and attentions,
requesting introductions and dances with her, vying for her attention. He noted how, without a qualm, she happily used all her ability at flirtation—no doubt this was how she had been on her year abroad. She smiled happily, allowing first one and then another to lead her into the dance, clinging on to their arms and hanging on to their every word, carrying it all off with aplomb. Christopher stood watching from the sidelines, his face a veneer of bland sophistication, while inside he wanted to stride out on to the dance floor and drag her from their arms.
Satisfied that everything was going to plan, he casually shrugged himself away from the pillar and left the ballroom by the French doors to the terrace. Thankfully the gardens were quiet.
* * *
At first Lucy was bewildered by all this sudden attention, but she was so relieved that she was no longer being ignored that she said not a word as one young beau followed by another led her on to the floor to dance. She danced with Lord Cawthorn again and laughed when he danced her through the open French doors on to the terrace, where he released her. Looking at him with a good deal of confusion, she was about to ask him what he was about when he laughed and bowed his head before slipping back inside.
And then she knew. Christopher was responsible for the sudden change in everyone’s attitude towards her.
‘At last,’ Christopher said. ‘I was wondering when I would get you alone.’
Lucy froze at the sound of his voice, her shoulders tense. Christopher moved from the shadows to stand being her. After a long moment she at last turned.
‘I take it you are responsible for this about-turn. My coming here tonight has turned into a nightmare. Have I not been humiliated enough without you adding to it? What did you do to get them to dance with me—bribe them?’
‘Of course not, but I did the best I could to change people’s opinion. Those men wanted to dance with you. They are not nearly as malicious as their female counterparts and were looking for any excuse to lead you on to the floor. I provided them with the opportunity.’
She laughed, which was not without a ring of bitterness. ‘My, my, Christopher. Not only were you an accomplished captain on the high seas, you also appear to have a gift for strategy and subtlety on the dance floor, too.’
‘I do my best,’ he replied, ignoring her sarcasm.
‘You must have seen what was happening to me in there. They might as well have strapped me to a ducking stool and dropped me in the Thames.’
At any other time Christopher would have laughed at the image her words conjured up in his mind, but now he would not insult her by doing so, for the strain of what she had gone through—was still going through—was there on her lovely, troubled face for him to see.’
‘I did see, Lucy. You have done nothing to deserve that and I wanted to repair the damage. I merely thought it was time to put an end to the scandal.’
‘And how did you manage that? By telling them what really happened before I left for France? How it was not my fault and that the two men who ruined my reputation had escaped being vilified?’
‘Something on those lines—which is the truth. I started a rumour—which soon spread like wildfire—to blacken Barrington’s name, of the cunning and villainy he used to get his hands on the fortune of a vulnerable young woman.’
‘And everyone actually believes that?’
‘That you have been wrongly maligned? Yes. It might gratify you to know that I did not exonerate myself either, freely admitting that some of the blame was mine and that I hold myself accountable. I made it known that I had designs on you myself and that you evaded all my advances. I have no doubt they admired your good sense in steering clear of me. Personally I don’t care a damn what people think of me, but no matter what you think, it is not my wish to cause more gossip that will hurt you.’
‘And now here we are—in a similar situation as we were that night at the Skeffington ball—whereas this time you arranged to have your friend bring me on to the terrace. If we are seen, then everyone will believe we are starting it up again.’
‘Let them. Following your rejection of me at the Skeffington ball, they’ll think I’m trying to repair my damaged male pride. That is what I want them to believe.’
‘You do? I’m not sure I do.’
‘I am heir to a dukedom, Lucy—dukes are few and far between. Since acquiring a title and wealth is like a holy crusade for most of them, they’ll admire and envy you all the more for it.’
Lucy’s face was working with the strength of her emotions, which had, for the moment, got the better of her. Reluctantly she gazed up at him. His eyes glowed with the reflected light of the lanterns hanging from the trees as he watched her unrelentingly, heightening Lucy’s tensions until she could hardly stand the suspense. Two more couples stepped out on to the terrace.
‘I think I should go back inside.’
‘Walk with me in the garden. I would appreciate your company, Lucy.’
On a sigh she nodded, reluctant to return to the dancing.
She did not object when he took her hand and led her down the terrace steps to the garden below, then tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. They sauntered along a path lined with marble statues. Neither of them spoke until they turned a corner into a leafy arbour. Stillness was all around them and music drifted over the garden. Grateful he’d sought some privacy for them, breathing in the scented night air, Lucy turned to face him, gazing at his handsome face with its stern, sensual mouth and hard jaw, and in the moment that followed she felt once more that wild surge of excitement and anticipation when she remembered being in his arms.
‘Why have you brought me here?’
‘Because I wanted to be alone with you.’
‘I see.’ Horrified at the possibility that he’d somehow known what thoughts had been running through her mind on the terrace, she said uneasily, ‘Why should you think I want to be alone with you? What are you going to do?’
Moving until he was only inches from her, Christopher regarded her from beneath hooded lids.
‘Actually, I would like to kiss you—to see if it’s as pleasurable as I remember. You are a desirable woman, Lucy, and I am a man who possesses a fine appreciation for such beauty.’
‘Really? You do surprise me, Christopher. Is your memory so lacking that, not satisfied with compromising me a year ago, you are about to do the same again?’
He chuckled softly. ‘I’m willing to risk it if you are.’
She sucked in a deep breath, the scent of his warm, clear skin, assaulting her senses and making her body tremble with awareness. She could not deny a dark fascination as she watched his beautiful features twist with what appeared to be intense pleasure at the idea of kissing her, a pleasure that she’d briefly tasted as his lips had captured hers in the past.
It was one thing to want to be kissed by him before, but here, with absolute privacy and nothing to prevent him from taking all sorts of liberties, it was another matter entirely and far more dangerous. And based on that other time when she’d wanted him to kiss her, she couldn’t blame him for thinking she’d be willing now. Struggling desperately to ignore the sensual pull he was exerting on her, she drew a long, shaky breath.
‘I’m surprised that you want to kiss me again after the last time. I seem to recall you telling me that you regretted doing so—because of my age, I suppose,’ she said softly. ‘I, too, had regrets—about the fact that I behaved like a shameless wanton for letting you. We both should have known better and not allowed our—weakness to get the better of us.’
His voice was heavy with irony. ‘Weakness? Is that what you put it down to? It had nothing to do with the fact that we were attracted to each other, that I could think of nothing other than dragging you off somewhere even more private to make love to you? Or that I had scruples enough to ignore that ignoble impulse? I wanted you then, Lucy. I want you now.’
Lucy made the m
istake of looking at him and his eyes captured hers against her will, holding them imprisoned. ‘It was a year ago, Christopher. We—have changed.’
‘Neither of us has anything to gain by pretending that what we felt then is over,’ he said bluntly. ‘Seeing you again has proved that it isn’t.’
Lucy wanted to deny it, but she sensed that if she did he would hate her for her deceit. She raised her chin, unable to tear her gaze from his. ‘All right,’ she said softly. ‘I’ve never forgotten you. How could I?’
He smiled and his voice gentled to soft velvet. ‘Thank you for not denying it. Now I would like to kiss you again—if you are willing, that is. I will not force you to do anything against your will because I do not want you waking up tomorrow and saying it should not have happened.’
Some small, insidious voice in her mind urged her to do as he asked, reminding her that after the public contempt she’d had to endure this very night she was entitled to experience again the passion that had consumed her before.
His smouldering gaze dropped to her lips, riveting there. Taking her silence for consent, he placed his hands on her upper arms and drew her close. Lucy was breathing too fast so that she was almost dizzy and knew she would not be able to bear it if he released her now. There were certain times when certain actions seemed natural. Christopher placed his finger beneath her chin and tilted her head back. Perhaps he could read in her face what she could see in his—wonder and hunger. Then he kissed her, with a passion that was like an explosion, stunning them both.
Lucy felt the sturdy trunk of a tree against her back and his body against hers as she pressed herself closer to him with a shameless ardour she would not have believed herself capable of. They kissed with a passion and Lucy pressed the palms of her hands against his chest. His mouth moved urgently against hers and she began to match his pagan kiss, lost in the heated magic of the moment. A shudder shook his powerful frame as she fitted herself to him and his lips pressed down on hers, parting them with a hungry urgency before becoming gentle and caressing. Lost in the heated magic of the moment, Lucy touched her tongue to his lips and felt the gasp of his breath against her mouth. She could not have denied her longing for him any more than she could have commanded herself to stop breathing.
A Viscount to Save Her Reputation Page 18