Authors: Connie Mason
Sinjun paid little heed to Alice’s chattering. He rarely did. He smiled at the right times and murmured something when it appeared appropriate. Most of the time these drives in the park with Alice were pure torture. He didn’t know why he put himself through it. He supposed it was to keep himself from being eaten up with hatred for the little Scottish bitch who made love so sweetly while stabbing him in the back.
Thinking of Christy raised his ire another notch and brought a ferocious scowl to his face. If he ever got his hands on her…
“Sinjun, whatever are you scowling about?” Alice asked. She squeezed his arm. “One would think you weren’t enjoying my company.”
“How could I not enjoy the company of so lovely a lady?” he answered with little enthusiasm. “Are you ready to leave? I’m to meet Rudy at White’s later.”
Alice pouted. “I suppose by evening you’ll be too foxed to take me to the opera. I swear, Sinjun, I don’t know why I bother with you.”
She laid her hand on his thigh. When he didn’t respond like she’d hoped, her hand inched upward, stopping just short of his crotch. Sinjun seemed blissfully unaware until her palm cupped him and squeezed.
“Bloody hell, Alice!” he roared, flinging her hand away. “Can’t you wait until we’re alone? Anyone passing will get an eyeful.”
“Since when did Lord Sin care what anyone thought? I want you now, before you get too drunk to do either of us any good. Something always seems to happen to prevent us from being together intimately. I want you to make love to me and remember it the next day, Sinjun.”
Her hand crept back up Sinjun’s thigh. Sinjun groaned, feeling himself responding. What the hell, he thought as he transferred the ribbons to one hand so he could fondle Alice’s small breast with the other. He was about to turn the carriage toward the exit and find the closest bed when a coach lumbered past from the opposite direction. He had no idea what made him turn away from Alice to watch the coach, or why the woman swathed in a black veil and widow’s weeds caught his eye. Perhaps it was the small child with her. But if he wanted to be brutally honest, he’d admit his attention had been captured by an all too brief glimpse of a shiny copper curl that had escaped from the woman’s veil.
He had no idea why, but that one bright lock of hair triggered waves of intense longing he’d tried to subdue but usually couldn’t. He’d had but a fleeting glimpse of the child in the coach but it looked to be about the age of his own child had it lived.
Ever since Rudy had told him he’d seen Christy in London he’d wondered what he would do should he encounter her. Especially since he now knew that a brief glimpse of a woman he thought looked like her could cause him such anguish.
“Sinjun, you’re not paying attention,” Alice whined. “I hope you’re more attentive after we’re married.”
Sinjun returned his attention to Alice, suddenly aware that he didn’t give a damn about her. Nor had he any intention of marrying her. The sooner she knew it the better off they’d both be.
“There’s not going to be a wedding, Alice,” he said evenly. “I’m afraid we don’t suit.”
Alice’s face hardened, turning almost ugly as she sputtered indignantly, “What do you mean, we don’t suit? I had my heart set on becoming a marchioness.”
Sinjun swiveled his head for a last glimpse of the coach bearing the widow and silently upbraided himself for being fanciful. Cursing himself for a fool, he tried to concentrate on Alice. She’d expected to become his wife and he’d let her believe it would happen. Normally he wasn’t a cruel man, but since Christy … well, it had amused him to let Alice believe he would marry her. Hell, he’d even convinced himself that marrying Alice was what
he
wanted. Until he’d caught a glimpse of a shiny copper curl.
“There won’t be a wedding, Alice,” he repeated.
Alice’s eyes grew positively glacial, and her voice even more so. “I beg your pardon.”
“I’m a married man.”
He tooled the grays through the gate and into the busy thoroughfare. “You, my lord, are a liar. Everyone knows you are no longer married.”
“Everyone is wrong. I neglected to file the annulment document,” Sinjun muttered, wanting a drink so badly his hands shook.
She gave him a predatory smile. “I can change your mind. Come home with me now. Let me show you what marriage to me can be like.”
Sinjun guided the carriage around the corner and pulled up in front of Alice’s townhouse. “Perhaps another time, my lady. I suddenly find myself eager to become hopelessly drunk.”
Alice allowed Sinjun to hand her down from the carriage, molding herself against him with wanton disregard for propriety. “You and I aren’t finished, Lord Sin,” she murmured huskily as she lifted her face and pressed her lips to his. With a laugh and toss of her head, she hurried into the house.
Sinjun climbed into his carriage, Alice already a dim memory. He was going to meet Rudy and drown his anger at a certain Scottish laird in a bottle. If he was still able to stand at the end of the day, perhaps he could sleep without dreaming of Christy in Calum’s arms.
Christy knew Sinjun had seen her but felt confident the veil had kept her identity a secret. Still, she couldn’t forget the way he’d stared. He didn’t look well, she thought. His heavy-lidded eyes sported purple circles, and he appeared to have lost weight. Christy couldn’t help but notice where Sinjun’s hand had been when they had driven past … on the lady’s breast. The pain it caused her was like a knife in the gut. Christy hadn’t expected Sinjun to remain celibate, they were no longer married, after all, but the searing agony of seeing his hands on another woman sickened her.
At least Sinjun was alive, a voice in her head whispered.
The following day Christy set out to look for work. Spending her days in Hyde Park waiting for a glimpse of Sinjun was consuming her life and making her miserable. Gavin drove her to Bond Street, where most of the fashionable shops were located.
“Return for me in two hours,” Christy told Gavin as she surveyed the various shops just opening for business.
A shop called Paris Fashions caught her eye, and she marched determinedly toward the exclusive store, which sported an elegantly arrayed mannequin in the window.
So intent was she on making a good impression that she paid little heed to the man exiting the gentlemen’s tailor shop nearby.
“Lady Flora! How wonderful to see you again.”
Christy whirled, startled to see Lord Blakely hurrying to catch up with her. She felt the blood rush from her face and she would have given anything to turn and flee. But it was too late. The viscount had already reached her, his smile warmly genuine.
“I caught a glimpse of you a week or so ago but wasn’t able to catch your attention. When did you return to London?”
“A … a few weeks ago,” Christy said, stumbling over the words.
“Is your husband with you this time?”
It took Christy a moment to recall the elderly husband she had invented. “He … he died,” Christy stammered.
“I’m sorry, my lady. You weren’t wearing mourning, so I assumed…”
“You’ve nothing to apologize for, my lord. Before he died, my husband made me promise not to go into deep mourning after his passing. He’d been ill a long time and died shortly after I returned from London. ‘Tis why I left London in such a hurry. I was called home to be with him at the end.”
“Does Sinjun know you’ve returned?”
“I … no. ‘Tis better this way. What Sinjun and I had ended when I returned to … Cornwall.”
“Then I’m in luck,” Rudy crowed gleefully. “May I call on you? Or is it too soon after losing your husband?”
“‘Tis too soon,” Christy demurred. “I’m sorry.”
Rudy’s handsome face mirrored his disappointment. “I was hoping you’d agree to attend the masked ball my grandmother, the dowager duchess of Langston, is giving on Saturday.”
“Why me? I’m sure there are scores of women eager for your company.”
He gave her a rakish grin. “There are, but I prefer you. Will you reconsider, Lady Flora? Everyone who’s anyone will be there.”
“Even Sinjun?”
“If he can stay sober long enough to attend. But I won’t let him bother you, if that is your wish.”
Christy’s mind whirled. The opportunity to see Sinjun without being recognized was tempting. She could wear a wig to disguise the color of her hair and a mask that covered everything but her lips. It was unlikely that she would come face to face with him, considering the crush of people who attended a society event. If she did, she would face that obstacle when she came to it.
“I hope your silence means you’re reconsidering,” Rudy said hopefully.
She’d be crazy to contemplate appearing anywhere Sinjun might show up, she told herself. But after the things Emma had said about him, she
had
to see him, to judge for herself whether Emma had exaggerated his state of mind.
“Actually, I
have
reconsidered,” Christy said after a lengthy pause. “I accept your invitation to attend your grandmother’s ball.”
“Splendid!” Rudy enthused. “Give me your direction and I’ll call for you on Saturday.”
No, that wouldn’t do at all, Christy decided. She would only give out her address if Rudy agreed to certain conditions. “Before I give you my direction, you must promise to give it to no one, including Sinjun. ‘Tis the only way I’ll agree to go with you. Also, I want my identity to remain a secret.”
Rudy frowned. “What an odd request. How am I to introduce you?”
“However you wish, as long as no one knows I’m Flora Randall.”
Or Christy Macdonald,
she thought but did not say.
“If that’s the only way you’ll accept my invitation, then I agree.”
“I’m serious, my lord,” Christy stressed. “You’re not to tell Lord Derby where I live. Your word of honor.”
“You have it, Lady Flora,” Rudy pledged. “I don’t know what happened between you and Sinjun and I don’t want to know, but your secret is safe with me.”
“Thank you, my lord. You may call for me on Saturday.” She gave him her address, and if he was surprised by the less than fashionable section of town in which she resided, he was too much of the gentleman to mention it.
They parted a few minutes later, and Christy continued down the street. What had she done? she chided herself. Meeting Sinjun, with or without a mask, was asking for trouble. Her instincts had hummed a warning, and she had refused to heed it.
Emma’s description of Sinjun’s current state of mind had given her so much guilt that she had to see for herself what her deceit had wrought. How she wished she could have explained everything to Emma. She felt certain that Emma would agree that an angry, out of control Sinjun was better than a dead one.
Christy had no luck finding work that day or the next. To Christy’s chagrin, Madam Sofia had warned every modiste on Bond Street and beyond that hiring Christy Macdonald would cost them their clientele. Before too long Christy realized that finding work in the fashionable shops on Bond Street was no longer possible. She’d have to go farther abroad to find employment, to the modistes who catered to actresses, mistresses, and high-class prostitutes.
Sinjun no more wanted to attend the dowager duchess’s masked ball tonight man he wanted to hang himself from the rafters, but he had promised Rudy he’d attend. He supposed Alice would be there, and he’d have to spend the entire evening avoiding her. He’d been wrong to let her believe he was free to marry when in truth he was still wed to Christy. Not for the first time he wondered why he had dragged his feet regarding the annulment.
Initially he’d decided to wait for Julian to return. But since he had no idea when Julian’s mysterious business would bring him home, that excuse was rather lame. Then he’d misplaced the document and just recently found it stuck at the very back of his desk drawer.
As he paced his chamber, waiting for Pemburton to have his bathwater brought up to the bathing room, Sinjun mulled over the startling bit of information Rudy had recently imparted. Rudy had sworn he’d seen Christy in London. The thought of Christy in London had so unsettled Sinjun that he hadn’t been himself since, if one could call remaining in a perpetual state of inebriation his usual self.
What was she doing in London? Was Calum Cameron with her? Had they spoken their vows yet? He could think of no reason Christy and Calum would come to London; they both hated anything English. He was more inclined to think that Rudy had seen someone who resembled Christy. Aye, he decided, that’s precisely what had happened. For his own peace of mind, he had to believe that Christy was nowhere near London.
A knock on the door disturbed Sinjun’s reverie. Pemburton entered upon Sinjun’s command. “Your bath is ready, my lord,” he intoned dryly. “Shall you require my assistance?”
“Just bring me a fresh bottle of brandy,” Sinjun said as he headed toward the bathing room.
Pemburton’s eyebrows arched upward. “Before breakfast, my lord?”
“You’re not my brother, Pemburton,” Sinjun muttered. “Thank God he’s not around to flail me with his infernal carping. Just do as I say. I want to be thoroughly foxed before presenting myself at the dowager duchess’s ball tonight.”
His spine stiff with disapproval, Pemburton left.