Hearing the chime of the bookshop bell as the door opened, Richard turned around at once, his eyes meeting those of Lady Christina’s almost. He made to rush towards her only for Lady Newfield to take her great-niece’s arm in her own and to lead her away from where Richard stood.
Immediately realizing what Lady Newfield meant by such an action, Richard turned on his heel and made his way back to the books he had been absently perusing only a few moments before. Lady Newfield clearly did not want them to be too apparent, given that rumors spread all too quickly and all too easily through London society. Even in a bookshop, one could never be too careful!
Picking up a book and making some attempt to look at it, Richard kept his gaze firmly fixed on it for what felt like an eternity, whereas in reality, he knew it was probably only a few minutes. Looking up, he set the book down with a sigh and then made his way slowly to where he knew Lady Newfield and Lady Christina had gone. Taking meandering steps and making sure to fix his eyes on the books rather than on the ladies themselves, he feigned surprise when he came upon them both, even though his heart was practically screaming with the joy of being back by her side again.
“Good afternoon, Lady Newfield, Lady Christina,” he said, keeping his voice low so as not to disturb the others in the bookshop. “How very good to see you.”
Lady Christina tried to smile, but it was rather wane, her cheeks pale and her eyes a little dim.
“Good afternoon,” she replied quietly as Lady Newfield took a small step back, letting him speak directly to the lady. “It is good to see you, Lord Harlow.”
There was a hope in her eyes that she could not hide, hope that he was reluctant to quench. “After last evening, you cannot know how relieved my heart was, how glad I was to hear you speak such kind words.”
“I have been thinking of what I can do to assist,” he told her, seeing how her eyes flared for just a moment. “I will also tell you that Lord Prestwick is also aware of this situation now, but solely so that I can have someone else to speak to, to come up with ideas and the like.” Aware of the alarm in her expression, of the whiteness that had pulled the color from her cheeks, Richard tried to quickly reassure her. “He has the utmost discretion, Lady Christina, and I am sure will be of benefit to us both.”
Letting out a slow breath, Lady Christina tried to smile, but her lips barely curved. “I see,” she said softly. “If you vouch for him, Lord Harlow, then I will, of course, trust your judgment.” Her voice still quiet for fear of disturbing the bookshop, she continued to speak. “I know it is very soon after we have spoken, but have you had any thoughts as to what we might do?”
Richard hesitated and, as he took a breath, he saw the brightness fade in Lady Christina’s eyes. The frustration settled within him like a tightly knotted ball, but he forced himself to speak honestly.
“Lord Prestwick is to befriend Lord Fulham, and I shall continue my acquaintance with Mr. Markham.”
Lady Christina's expression changed to one of utter horror. “But why should you wish to do such a thing?” she asked, her voice rising just a little. “Surely to make him further acquainted with you will, in fact, only make his awareness of you, and perhaps your intentions, all the more apparent?”
“I do not think so,” he said gently, reaching out to take her hand and squeezing it. “In fact, I think it will have the very opposite effect. We will, of course, have to make sure that Mr. Markham does not see us in conversation very often, but I am certain that, otherwise, he will not have any reason to suspect anything untoward.”
Her hand shifted in his, her fingers lacing through his own, and immediately, Richard felt heat spiral up. How desperately he wanted to take her in his arms! How eager his heart was to claim her as his own, and yet, he could do nothing of the sort.
“And what shall I do?” she asked, a small flicker of determination growing in her eyes as she looked back at him. “There must be something I can do to further things myself?”
“Indeed,” he said, encouraged by the lift of her chin and the way her trust in him had now led her towards finding courage within herself. “You must attempt to make yourself quite out of favor with him. In fact, you must make yourself quite dislikable in every way so that he is not at all inclined towards you.” Seeing how her mouth opened and fully aware that there would be a protest upon her lips, he stepped a little closer to her and smiled into her eyes.
“I am aware that you are, in fact, the grand prize to Mr. Markham and that, in marrying you, he will improve his standing in society as well as gain a very large dowry from your father. Therefore, you believe that no matter how much you might wish to behave in such a way, it will make no difference to him.”
“That is it precisely,” she agreed, her face gaining a little color as she looked up at him.
“But nevertheless, you must find the courage to do so,” he told her. “It may come to naught, but, at the very least, it will prove to him that you are not to be so easily trifled with.”
Lady Christina bit her lip, her eyes doubtful. “I am afraid of what he will do to me if I do not behave as he expects,” she told him quietly. “Last evening, he was very angry with me, indeed.”
“But I shall be with you,” Lady Newfield reminded her great-niece, speaking from where she stood. “He will not lay a hand on you, my dear. Your father and I shall make quite certain of it.”
Trying to encourage her further, Richard smiled into Lady Christina’s anxious expression, suppressing his anger that had exploded within him at the mention of Mr. Markham’s cruel nature. “And I am sure that, within a few days, I shall have something to put into action,” he said firmly, with a good deal more confidence than he had ever felt before this moment. “You will be free, Lady Christina.”
Lady Christina dropped her gaze to the floor, and immediately, Richard’s stomach sank with a sense of dread. What was it that Lady Christina feared?
“We may have less time than I might have first thought,” she said softly. “I believe that I told you yesterday that Mr. Markham did not intend to set our marriage date for some time yet.” Her eyes lifted to his and then dropped again. “I fear I was mistaken in my judgment.”
Richard’s heart seemed to stop for a moment, and he lowered his head just a little, his mouth dry as deep anxiety caught hold of him.
“He has set a date, it seems,” Lady Christina continued, her cheeks losing their color as she looked up at him. “It is for three weeks hence.”
“Three weeks?” Richard repeated, his voice drilling very low indeed. “But it is less than a month until—”
“It is, yes,” she answered quietly. “The final set of banns will be called on the very day of our marriage, it seems.” Her hand loosened in his, her head bowing low. “Everything is being arranged as Mr. Markham wishes it. I do not know what is happening.”
“Then you must try to discover it,” he told her, trying to be as direct and yet as gentle as possible. “And I swear to you, Lady Christina, if the worst should happen and we cannot find a way to free you and to protect your father, then I shall elope with you and take your father with us if I have to!” Reaching out, he felt her hand touch his, her finger tentative but finally, and with great joy in his heart, saw her smile. “I shall deal with the consequences thereafter.”
“I care very deeply for you, Lord Harlow,” Lady Christina whispered, her words meant only for him. “I wish I had been bold enough to tell you so before. Then perhaps now, these dreadful circumstances might not be upon us.”
Her words lifted his spirits more than he could express. His fingers tightened on hers and, before he could prevent himself, before he could glance around to ensure no one saw him, his other hand was at her cheek, his fingers brushing down over her warm skin as her lips curved with a renewed hope.
“Let us look to the future with certainty in spite of our circumstances,” he said softly, making her smile blossom all the more. “No matter what we may face, I believe that we shall achieve o
ur happiness, Lady Christina. In fact, I am quite determined that we shall do so.”
Chapter Eight
“You must now feel a little more hope, surely.”
Christina looked at herself in the mirror and took in her pale cheeks, the dark circles beneath her eyes, and sadness that seemed to linger in her expression.
“It was a reminder of what I have to lose,” she answered honestly. “But I do trust Lord Harlow. If he states that he will make certain I am removed from Mr. Markham before the wedding date, then I shall believe him.”
Lady Newfield looked on approvingly. “Excellent,” she said briskly. “You must not lose heart. Although, I did hear what Lord Harlow asked of you.” Her eyes slid back towards Christina’s reflection as the maid finished dressing her hair. “Do you think you can do as he asks?”
Christina took in a breath. “I can,” she said, despite the quaking in her heart. “I can be disagreeable, I am sure, although I am not convinced that my behavior will make any difference whatsoever.”
“Then we shall have to wait and see,” Lady Newfield answered with a small smile. “Come now. The carriage—and your father—will be waiting.”
* * *
Walking into Lord Fulham’s townhouse and thereafter, into his drawing-room, Christina made certain to look all about her in what she hoped was an unimpressed air. It was to no avail, however, for one quick look at Mr. Markham, and Christina knew he had not given her the slightest notice. He was, in fact, looking away from her with a smug smile on his face as though he knew precisely how awful she was feeling and was glad of it. It was almost enough for Christina to give up but feeling the touch of Lady Newfield’s hand on her arm reminded her that she was not to be pushed back so easily. She had stood up to Mr. Markham once already and, given what Lord Harlow had asked of her, she would continue to do so again.
“Good evening, Lady Christina.”
Christina kept her face turned away from her betrothed, ignoring him as best she could. “Good evening,” she murmured out of the side of her mouth.
“You had better teach your daughter how to address her husband to be, Lord Enfield!” Lord Fulham boomed, his voice so loud it seemed to rattle the candlesticks on the mantlepiece. “That is sheer insolence!”
Lord Enfield said nothing but took a small step towards Christina. She looked up at him, wondering whether or not he would berate her, but instead saw a small glint of steel in his eyes.
“And why did you insist on bringing the great-aunt?” Lord Fulham continued as Lady Newfield drew herself up to her full height. “Foolishness, a girl like that needing a great-aunt to care for her.”
“I think you will find that it is I who have requested to be in Lady Christina’s company,” Lady Newfield said sharply. “Now, is that the dinner gong?”
Christina dared a smile at Lady Newfield as Lord Fulham turned puce as he glared at Lady Newfield. If anyone could show her what it meant to have courage, to have determination and strength, then Lady Newfield could do so.
“No, it was not,” Lord Fulham muttered, throwing himself down into a chair. “Besides which, I have invited one or two other guests this evening. Simply so that we might have something to discuss since I am certain that there will be very little conversation from the three of you.”
Balking at the sheer disdain and vulgarity that came from Lord Fulham’s lips, Christina turned herself away from the man, meandering across the room so that she might look out of the window—although there was not a good deal to see, given the hour. She was being very rude, indeed, she knew, for she ought to be sitting next to her husband-to-be and, at the very least, being near to him even though she did not need to converse. By removing herself as far from him as she could, Christina knew that she was not creating a good impression.
She tried her best not to care, nor to fear what Mr. Markham would do in retaliation. Lady Newfield came to join her, as Lord Enfield sat down heavily in a chair and said nothing, the chair squeaking just a little under his weight.
“You are doing very well, indeed, especially in the face of such rudeness!” she said, her voice getting louder so that the end of the sentence could be heard more clearly. “Maintain it through the dinner and you shall be doing very well, indeed.”
The dinner was, however, a dull affair. The gentlemen spoke loudly and at length—all save for Christina’s father—whilst the ladies did nothing more than eat and then sit quietly until the next course was served. Lady Gilchrist, who had come to join them with her husband, seemed to be a mousey creature who had no eagerness to even speak a word to either herself or Lady Newfield, sat without expression, her eyes dull and her complexion almost gray. In her mind’s eye, Christina saw herself as she might be in a few years, should she marry Mr. Markham—and the thought made her shudder.
“I think,” Lord Fulham said, waving a hand and grinning in a delighted fashion at the ladies, “that it is time for the port.”
Christina looked away from him at once, seeing the man was already half-drunk. A glance at Mr. Markham told her that he was much the same, for his eyes were half-closed and a ridiculous smile played about his mouth. He was propping his head up on one hand, his elbow on the table in what was a state of appalling social etiquette.
“The port!” Lord Gilchrist exclaimed, banging one fist on the table as Lady Gilchrist rose quickly. “Yes! At once!”
“I think that we must depart,” Lady Newfield said, leaning towards Christina. “Hopefully, we will be able to leave Lord Fulham’s townhouse entirely soon, but for the moment, we must take tea.”
“I can do that,” Christina replied, rising gracefully and making her way towards the door. She ignored the lewd remark that came from Mr. Markham, even though it made her face go hot with embarrassment. Being the last lady to leave, Christina could not help but notice when another voice was heard from along the hallway, although she knew she ought not to listen.
Hesitating, Christina slowed her steps, seeing Lady Newfield look back over her shoulder and then begin to stop. Shaking her head no, so that Lady Gilchrist would not wonder where they had both gone, Christina waved a hand for her great-aunt to continue before walking softly back along the hallway, stopping for a moment as she reached the corner.
Yes, indeed. Someone was speaking and in anxious tones also.
“I must see him,” she heard a man’s voice say. “And I must see him at once.”
“Mr. Markham is dining at present,” came the reply of what Christina presumed was the butler. “He cannot be disturbed.”
“He will be disturbed if he does not come to speak to me at once,” came the now angry reply. “Tell him that Lord Sturrock wishes to see him at once. Else things will go badly for him.”
Everything within Christina told her to hurry along after the ladies, to do as she was expected and to wait until the gentlemen had arrived. But then the words of Lord Harlow came to mind, and she forced herself to remain where she was, wondering what might occur should she do so. If she stayed hidden, if the butler was to fetch Mr. Markham, then surely it would be wise for her to linger, to hear what was said?
But there is always the chance of you being discovered, said a small voice in her head. And what then?
There was no time for her to consider things further, for the murmur of the butler told her that he had agreed and was now on his way to fetch his master. Her stomach tight with anxiety, Christina looked all around her and then, not sure what else she should do, hurried in the direction where she had last seen Lady Newfield.
She did not have to look for long. A small parlor was to her left, and Lady Newfield was already sitting down opposite Lady Gilchrist, who, Christina noted, did not have even the smallest flicker of interest in her eyes.
“You must excuse me,” Christina said hastily, coming a little further into the room so that she might see Lady Newfield. “I believe I lost you both for a moment, for I was quite taken up with a painting on the wall.” She smiled at Lady Gilchrist, but the
lady simply looked back at her without speaking. It was, in a way, unnerving.
“I must beg you to excuse me again,” Christina said quickly, taking in a deep breath and praying that her courage would not fail her. “I must excuse myself for a short time.”
There was no other explanation needed, for ladies often excused themselves so that they might find the powder room or other small room set aside for that specific use. Lady Gilchrist let out a long breath and looked away as though she was already tired of Christina’s conversation, whilst Lady Newfield, wearing a look of concern on her face, merely nodded.
Christina stepped back out of the room again, her feet making barely any sound on the carpet. To her relief, she heard Mr. Markham’s voice from a little further away, the sound echoing back to her. She stayed in place for a moment, not taking another step and straining hard to hear what was being said.
“Why did you come here?”
She closed her eyes and let out a slow breath before opening them and scurrying forward, her hands curling into tight fists as though that might help her keep control of herself. Now was not the moment to lose her nerve, even though she knew Lord Fulham might appear from the dining room and catch her walking past the door at any moment. Making her way past it carefully, Christina came to the place she had been standing only a few minutes before and chose to remain there again. Mr. Markham’s penchant for liquor had, it seemed, made him a little less cautious than he ought to have been, for his voice carried clearly towards her, and he had not apparently thought about taking his unexpected guest to either the study or the library so that they might discuss matters in private.
“You have not been paying me your dues.”
Christina’s mind whirled as she blinked rapidly, trying to understand what was being said. Mr. Markham was in debt?
“You know very well I cannot make such payments to you at present,” Mr. Markham replied with an earnestness that surprised her. “But I shall, very soon. My betrothal agreement includes Lady Christina’s dowry, which will be more than enough to pay my father’s debts.”
Betrayal and Lies: Convenient Arrangements (Book 4) Page 8
