He looked toward the ballroom briefly, and her attention was
drawn back to the treat sliding along her taste buds. It was divine, tasting
sweet and buttery with little bits of dried fruit that added another level of
texture and flavor. She snatched the cake from his hand and took another bite,
eating the confection a little too swiftly to be ladylike, but she could not
stop herself.
When that was gone she reached for another food item, but he
captured her wrist and said, “You may want to remove one glove, my lady, or you
will soil them.”
“Oh, yes, of course.” She stripped it hastily from her right
hand, and he chuckled softly.
“You like it?”
“I have missed food. Your cook made some pastries that had
me dying to be alive again, just from the way the others reacted.” She tried a
sandwich this time. At least that’s what she thought it was. The bread was soft
and crust-less. She’d thought bread had been harder than this in her day.
“Eat up, darling, and when you have had your fill, we will
go to my mother.”
She noticed that as he spoke, he looked none too pleased
about the idea.
“Is there a problem—?”
“Certainly not. Try this one; it is one of my favorites.” He
lifted a flaky-looking little roll with a creamy filling spilling from within
to her mouth.
She partook, and observed again how fascinated he seemed to
be with the process of her biting and chewing and licking the cream that had
tried to spill over her lip. There was an almost hungry twist to his mouth that
made her wonder what he was thinking about.
Chapter
14
Chaperone
Christian was not thinking proper thoughts. He swallowed and
looked toward the ballroom.
“Are you not going to eat anything?”
He refused to let his gaze wander to her mouth again and
looked at the plate instead. “I’m not hungry,” he said.
“Oh.” She lifted the last pastry from the dish and foolishly
he followed her hand with his eyes. Her eyes, he thought, I’ll only look at her
eyes.
That didn’t help at all. She had these enchanting green ones
which darkened with pleasure as she moved the food around her mouth. “Mmm, that
was delicious, thank you Christian,” she said, her lashes lifting to reveal
more of her irises as she drew her fingers between her lips to clean them one
by one.
Christen groaned in his head. “Now put your glove back on,”
so he’d stop staring, “and we’ll go have a short visit with the marchioness.”
“You do not want her to learn too much about me, do you?”
“It would not be good if she discovered—about your past. I
don’t know how she’d react.”
Contessa’s pretty eyes slanted toward the refreshments at
the sideboard.
“Are you still hungry?”
She reconnected with his face and shook her head. He didn’t
believe it. If he’d been in her shoes he would have attacked the food like a
madman.
He drew her hand to his arm, deciding he’d use the excuse of
getting her more to eat to escape his mother sooner. With no one listening, he
dropped his mouth to her ear and whispered, “Contessa, Contessa, Contessa.”
He couldn’t risk her vanishing in front of Lady Sparks, and
he could see she too, understood that. But meet with his mother, and present
Contessa, he must.
Tugging gently on her gloved hand, he drew her back into the
ballroom, and around to the sitting area where his mother sat conversing with
Lady Wimple.
“Ah, thank you, Son,” Lady Sparks said as she accepted the
punch. And then patted the seat next to herself with a glove-muted thump,
thump, and cast her eyes upon Contessa. “Sit, darling, tell me about your
family.”
An oath popped into Christian’s head, and he watched as
Tessa swallowed nervously. Knowing she couldn’t answer that question, he said
instead, “They live in France.”
“But she does not have a French accent.”
“Quite right, Mother, she is from England, but they live in France.”
“Surely they have an estate here. Where, may I ask, might
that be?”
“’Tis in Surrey,” Christian said, knowing his mother didn’t
know the area very well.
Mother’s eyes shifted to his. Anger marched through the
blue-green depths of them. “Son! I am asking these questions of Lady Contessa,
not you.”
Taking Tessa’s slight fingers into her own, Lady Sparks
returned her gaze to Tessa, and then continued, “My dear girl, what is the name
of their estate?”
As badly as he wanted to answer for her, he knew he could
not, or he would only aggravate his mother’s suspicion concerning his odd
actions.
He was utterly shocked when Tessa answered, “Camberly
Lemere.”
With his eyes shooting to her face, he knew he was smiling.
Clearly this was something she’d suddenly remembered and he realized it was
another name he could search for.
“I have not heard of it. Christian, have you visited?”
“No, Mother, I have not.” And he fully understood his mother
only asked to assess the seriousness of his feelings for Contessa. He took
Contessa’s free hand into his. May as well let the woman think what she wants.
Perhaps he’ll gain the reinstatement of his allowance sooner.
Then Lady Sparks peered about the room. “Darling, where is
your chaperone? I must be introduced—”
“Oh, dear! C—Lady Contessa, your stomach is positively
grumbling like a terrible beast. We must remedy that.” He lunged to his feet
abruptly, jerking her along with him.
“But she just ate?” his mother sputtered.
Ignoring that, he went on, “Just a moment, Mother, I must
not neglect her needs. She could grow faint and swoon.”
As they neared the refreshments, Tessa said, “Do you really
think she’ll be fooled by that?”
“I hope she thinks I’m simply enchanted by you, and will
accept my odd behavior as that of a man in love.”
Contessa stumbled and peered up at him. Only then did the
meaning of his words sink into his brain. He’d just confessed his love. “Darling,”
he whispered, trailing fingers along her cheek in hopes of addressing his
feelings for her at a later time, “I must take you to my townhouse. We cannot
let anyone know you’re with me without a chaperone.”
“Will Lady Sparks be distressed if we do not return?”
“I can’t let her keep asking questions you cannot answer.
I’ll explain that you were feeling unwell and went home.”
Swiftly he tugged her to the food, filled a napkin with
another selection of sandwiches and pastries for her, then led her out to the
front and called for his carriage.
“Sweetheart,” he said, snatching her about the waist and
setting her inside once it arrived, “I’ll follow along shortly. I must say
goodbye to my mother.”
And see if she’s willing to get my allowance coming
again.
Contessa stared after him as she settled on the cushioned
seat, her eyes swimming with confusion and uncertainty.
“Tessa,” he said, passing the laden napkin to her. “Marvin
will get you safely to my home, and from there Jackson will help you.”
“But—but, Christian, he does not know of my—solid state.”
He hesitated. She was right. But he
had
to speak with
Mother. “Very well, wait here for me, and when I return we will travel on to my
townhouse.” She sank back with obvious relief as he shut the door, spun on his
heel and pounded up the stairs to the entrance.
“Ah, Christian dear, you have returned. But, where is Lady
Contessa?”
“She is indisposed, I’m afraid. I have escorted her to the
carriage.”
“What a shame. I so wanted to speak with her again.” His
mother smiled up at him, igniting a thrill of hope which ran through his chest.
It seemed she was indeed pleased with his performance for the evening.
He held his breath waiting for her next words. She smoothed
her sapphire gown with gloved fingers, glanced once in his father’s direction
and then spoke, “Don’t tell your father just yet, but I will speak with Mr.
Leeraby on your behalf. It won’t be what you’re used to quite yet, but it will
be something.”
“Thank you.” Gathering her fingers into his he kissed her
knuckles.
She held his fingers fast when he attempted to release her,
and he lifted his gaze to her blue eyes once again, the question written upon
his face.
“I must confess,” she began slowly, “I quite liked her,
Christian. But do not think this means you may keep stalling. I expect to see
some real—progress with Lady Contessa in the near future.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Was he prepared to offer marriage to Contessa?
Christian pondered this as he settled in next to her on the carriage seat. His
mother had made it pretty clear that was what she wanted, and expected.
His gaze shifted to her and he noticed she’d eaten
everything he’d put inside the napkin for her. Christian smiled.
He thumped the roof of the carriage, and it jolted forward,
then rocked and swayed as it began moving. She threw one palm to the wall,
curled one tiny fist around his sleeve, and dropped back into the cushions as
she braced her feet against the floor to keep from sliding off.
A chuckle rumbled out of him.
Watching her experience the physics of life anew was
entertaining to witness with her guileless reactions.
The smile slipped from his mouth.... Was he ready to
propose? As he considered the question, peering at her, he thought that perhaps
he was. As long as she stayed within this world of the living. He reached for
her tiny wrist and found her pulse. The thumping against his fingers was
comforting, and he kept hold of her all the way to his home.
Luckily, she didn’t seem to mind the contact, and he
wondered if his touch made her feel grounded during the jerky ride.
When they arrived, he helped her down and escorted her to the
front door. Poor old Jackson nearly fainted when he saw her clinging to his
arm, looking as opaque as ever, and Christian reached a hand out to steady the
loyal butler.
“It-it cannot be…” Jackson breathed, losing what little
color there was in his shriveled face.
“It is a miracle, if you ask me. And I’m not going to
question it.”
Jackson stumbled back, allowing them to enter. But the way Jackson’s eyes shifted nervously to the other room caused Christian to worry. “What is it?
Is all well?”
The old man sputtered and then Peter stepped out of the
drawing room, beaming a giant grin. “Chris! Since you’re in town, come to the
club with us.”
Next Brendan came into view. “Please do, we’ve missed you.
How can you stand that quiet country life?” His words left him when he noticed
Contessa, staring wide-eyed at the two of them. “And who might this lovely lady
be?” He swept into a bow, adding an exaggerated flourish with his hat.
Peter bowed too, eyeing his brother curiously.
“Lady Contessa, this is Peter Sparks, my little brother, and
Sir Brendan Middleton. Peter, Brendan, may I introduce, Lady Contessa.”
“’Tis a pleasure, my lady,” muttered Peter.
“Lovely to met you, my dear,” added Brendan with a wink.
They both moved in to kiss her fingers in turn, and Tessa
curtsied.
Christian bristled, and he didn’t really know why. Perhaps
it had to do with the lecherous look in Brendan’s eye. The one Christian had
witnessed on more than one occasion. The one that meant Brendan would use his
title and good looks to snatch her away from him the second his back was
turned.
“What will it be, Christian? Will you be joining us
tonight?”
“I’m afraid I cannot tonight.”
They stared at him for a moment or two, and then perused her
in a way that disturbed him. “Where is her chaperone?” Brendan asked. Christian
had feared his friend would notice that, though he’d hoped he wouldn’t.
“She…is…in…Lady Contessa’s chamber. Checking to make certain
all is prepared properly for her stay,” he lied.
“Ah, I see,” Brendan said, with unmistakable suspicion.
Damn.
Peter, the more level-headed of the two, pulled him to the
adjoining room and said in a whisper, “Chris, what are you doing? You cannot
take such an irresponsible risk. She’ll be ruined. How could you be so
thoughtless?”
“No, it is not what—”
“I see what’s going on here,” added Brendan, over Peter’s
shoulder. “If you’re caught alone, she will be force to wed you.” He chuckled.
“You dog. Such a cunning way to gain her consent.”
“Her chaperone should be down any moment—I would never!
You’re wrong.”
“Sure we are.”
His attention shifted to the young lady he’d left standing
in the foyer with a flummoxed-looking Jackson. It seemed she had already found
a distraction for herself, and clearly thought she was not being observed. He
watched Tessa in muted awe as she radiated innocence while removing her gloves
and bending to experience the fresh flowers on the entry table with touch and
smell. A honeyed lock of hair had tumbled free from her coiffeur, and danced
alluringly along her blushing cheek. The front of her gown gaped open just
enough to tempt him further. But when she caught him looking, she snapped
upright, and yanked the white coverings back on, blushing with awareness of her
mistake.
“Oh, well, terribly sorry you cannot join us,” Brendan
whispered into his ear. Only then did he realize he hadn’t been the only one
ogling at the lovely vision of Tessa through the doorway. “Shall we be off,
Peter?”
Peter jabbed one more criticizing gaze at Christian and then
left with Brendan.
Surely Peter knew him well enough to know he would not, he
would never—Oh, bloody hell! He had! He had let manners and propriety slip for
she was only a spirit. But no longer was that the case. Surely she had to be a
lady, or a prince would not be so intent upon marrying her. And that truth only
made things worse.
Guilt uncoiled and twisted within his chest. He’d addressed
her by her first name. Repeatedly. He’d been alone with her more times than he
could count. He’d kissed her, held her…and…oh, dear Lord, forgive me! he prayed
mentally. She’d slept in his bed!