‘I am—yes,’ she said falteringly, walking towards him, holding a large spray of white chrysanthemums in her hand. ‘I thought you intended remaining at Chalfont until after the ball.’
‘I changed my mind.’ Shoving his hands into his pockets, he regarded her with mild curiosity. ‘I apologise for deserting you, Jane. I hope everything is progressing with satisfaction for the ball tomorrow night.’
‘Yes—perfectly—at least it will be, when I have arranged the flowers.’
‘And the exhibition?’
‘Finn is managing without me. He has plenty of willing hands.’ She turned her attention back to the flowers. ‘I find it amazing that so many different blooms can be grown in your greenhouse, even in winter.’ Casting a critical eye over her efforts, she sighed. ‘I’m afraid I don’t seem to have an eye for this sort of thing.’
Christopher cast an eye over the numerous vases filled with exotic blooms and didn’t believe her. ‘You underestimate yourself, Jane. They look wonderful.’
Jane sighed. ‘I can’t take all the credit. Maisie had a hand in deciding which flower should go with which. Lady Octavia was keen to do her bit, but I’m afraid she lost interest. Will you be attending the ball?’
He nodded. ‘I shall insist on a dance, Jane. Perhaps two, if I find you are good at it.’
‘I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed. I do dance a little, but on the whole it was one thing I never bothered to learn properly.’
* * *
Jane and her aunt arrived in good time for the charity ball. Entering Lansbury House, they climbed the curving staircase to the next story, where the ballroom was located. Footmen dressed in formal, dark blue velvet livery stood at attention beside tall silver stands of the exotic flowers Jane and Maisie had so carefully arranged the day before. The ballroom, with its tall windows and marble pillars, was not as large as the one at Chalfont, but it was every bit as grand. The butler stood on a balcony, his back ramrod straight, as he announced the arrival of the guests.
Clad in a rose-red gown of taffeta in simple lines yet full at the back, Jane wore a pearl choker round her neck and her bright chestnut hair was pinned in a sleek and elegant coif. It was a dramatic and sophisticated look.
With one shoulder nonchalantly propped against a pillar, from his vantage point Christopher idly watched her move serenely from group to group, untouched by the noise and bustle all around her. Suddenly he wanted her in a new and urgent way. He had thought her beautiful before, wholesome and innocent, with her sunshine hair, but she seemed different tonight. Her colouring was more vivid in this glamorous setting, he thought. She belonged in beautiful gowns and glittering jewels, he decided. They suited her far better than the sombre clothes she had worn when he had first met her. She was like a young woman fully coming into her own as she adjusted to her new place in his world.
Except that she was about to leave his world for the life she had known before. He would do everything within his power to prevent that.
Dancing was in progress, with some of society’s most influential and respected ladies and gentlemen dipping and swaying to the music. The room resounded with conversation and laughter and glowed with the brilliance of the immense chandeliers dripping with sparkling crystals reflecting the dazzling kaleidoscope of colour of gowns and jewels.
There was little opportunity for the ladies of the charity committee to relax and enjoy themselves. Full purses were plentiful. They never openly asked anyone for money—that would never do—but all of those who had been invited were aware of the occasion and were sympathetic to the causes and subscribed on a regular basis.
* * *
It was just before the supper break that Jane sensed Christopher’s presence behind her. She even recognised the spicy tang of his cologne. Her throat went dry and a nervous quaking jarred through her as she waited for him to speak to her.
‘Dance with me, Jane.’
She turned slowly to face him. He was watching her, his teeth showing in a lazy smile. ‘I don’t think that would be wise—at least, not if you value your feet.’
‘I’ll risk it if you will.’
Without waiting for her answer, taking her hand, he drew her on to the dance floor and into his embrace. It was a waltz, a swirling, exciting dance that brought couples into close contact as no other. He swung her into the rhythm with a sureness of step and she followed with a natural grace.
‘You were not telling me the truth when you said you were a poor dancer, Jane. You dance as beautifully as you make love.’
Jane felt a sudden warmth infuse her body and she knew her cheeks had pinked. ‘I must say, Christopher, that you do pick your moments.’
‘I meant what I said.’
‘Remind me. I have forgotten.’
‘I will not accept your refusal to marry me.’
Leaning back in his arms the better to see his face, she met his gaze. ‘I know.’
‘And I never say anything I don’t mean. At some point very soon I will have persuaded you to overlook your refusal and marry me.’ The heat of his stare lent the weight of truth to his words.
‘You are very sure of yourself, Christopher. Have I given you reason to believe my feelings have changed since you made your proposal?’
‘It is something that I sense.’
‘So you persist.’
‘Because I cannot get you out of my thoughts.’ His voice became soft and serious. ‘I think of the times when we have been together—when we have talked, what it felt like when I held you, how soft your skin and how warm and willing your lips. I remember how you looked when we made love. In fact, I remember everything and were we alone I would swiftly prove the ardour you have stirred.’
‘Christopher, please, stop this.’ Blushing beneath his intimate, predatory gaze, she noticed the increasing interest of the gazes being directed at them. ‘People are looking at us.’
‘Let them look,’ he murmured, his eyes shining softly, hungrily as he gazed down into hers. ‘I am a man with a very beautiful and desirable woman in my arms. How else should I behave?’
‘Like a gentleman would be a start.’
‘Ah, my love. Am I really to believe that you care nothing for me at all? How can I believe that when you took such pleasure in my kisses—and I can pleasure you again? Do not deny yourself, Jane—or me.’
His gaze was now direct, challenging, raking her face upturned to his. The bold stare touched a quickness in Jane that made her feel as if she were on fire. She did want him. She wanted him more than she had ever wanted anything in her life.
And then the dance was over. Taking her hand, he led her off the floor and placed her beside his mother and her aunt, who had been watching the two of them with great interest and more than a little satisfaction.
When Christopher had walked away, Lady Lansbury leaned into her ear and with a little smile curving her lips quietly told her that she was to return to Chalfont the next day and that she was taking Octavia with her. When Jane turned to look at her and met her eyes, she knew what she was saying. Turning back to watch the dancers swirling by, her heart surged. She was shocked by the way her mind was working, but she had already decided that she would take the initiative.
* * *
The following day Lady Lansbury tactfully removed herself from Lansbury House and returned to Chalfont with the sole purpose of giving Christopher the opportunity to court Jane. She didn’t say as much but Christopher knew what she was about. However, he was pleasantly surprised when Jane suddenly presented herself on his doorstep on her way home from the exhibition, which was to open in two days.
He opened the door himself. Night was descending.
‘Jane.’ His first word was spoken quietly. He smiled and reached for her hand to draw her inside. In the dim light his eyes shone softly as he gazed dow
n into hers. ‘May I say how lovely it is to see you—although I’m not entirely surprised.’
‘You’re not?’ she said, slipping out of her coat and handing it to him.
‘Not really, although I thought you would be too occupied with the exhibition’s opening to visit me. We are quite alone here.’ His eyes caressed her. ‘Even the butler has the night off, but then,’ he said, his eyes dancing wickedly as he draped her coat over a chair, ‘I suspect you already know that.’
‘I do?’ Her gaze was one of wide-eyed innocence.
He nodded. ‘You and my mother are not as devious as you think you are. I have a notion that the two of you have entered into some kind of—conspiracy.’
‘You have?’ He nodded. ‘Would it worry you if we had?’
‘No, not in the slightest, although your Aunt Caroline might have something to say about it—considering your reputation and all that.’
‘It’s a little late for that, when you and I have known each other as well as it is possible for a man and woman to do.’
The house was strangely silent as Jane followed him across the hall to a small sitting room. He went without a word to the sideboard and poured a glass of wine. Returning to her, he offered her the goblet, standing close before her, desiring yet not daring to touch her just yet.
Jane took the glass with both hands and sipped from it while her eyes softly searched his face. The goblet was lowered and Jane’s gaze followed as confusion filled her mind. She could find no word to break the spell. Christopher’s hand came up and gently caressed her cheek. Taking the goblet from her, he set it aside.
‘Come and sit down. Before anything else I want to talk to you. I should have done so before now, but—it was difficult.’
Drawing her down on to a sofa at angles to the fireplace, they sat facing each other. He was tense.
Christopher couldn’t know how Jane had waited for this moment. ‘What is it you want to say to me? What are you thinking about?’
Gradually his shoulders relaxed and the tension left his face. ‘My father and the long traditions that automatically make a man lord and master in his own house, regardless of his competence—or incompetence.’
‘But is that not how it is in every house?’
‘Sadly, yes. The law decrees that any greedy, self-seeking fool is entitled to chance the well-being of his family on the outcome of a horse race, or wager their safety on the turn of a card. It’s madness.’
Jane looked lovingly into his eyes. ‘Please tell me about him, Christopher. I realise that you are entitled to your privacy and if you choose not to talk about it, it is your decision. But until you face what happened to you, you will never be at peace. Tell me why he made you so unhappy.’
Thinking of his father darkened his mood. ‘Not only was he a scoundrel, the aura of power and patriarchal control he exerted over others terrified me as a child. The lives of ordinary, decent people are subject to the whims of such men as long as they happen to be a husband or father. A man such as that is at liberty to exploit his dependants as he sees fit, even if his children go hungry and his wife, who might well come to him with a private fortune, ends her days in poverty.’
‘That is what inequality of the sexes means, I suppose. It does seem most unfair.’
‘I agree. It leaves a man free to take full advantage of the many privileges of his sex, the family he so casually abuses no more free to question his authority than the menials who clean his boots.’
‘It must have been difficult for you when he died.’
‘When I discovered the enormity of the problem, I racked my brains for some way to pay the bank and the creditors. I was determined not to fall into formal bankruptcy. The idea was almost too painful to contemplate. All my life I have lived beneath the shadow of my father’s gambling and debauchery. My whole life has been an attempt to prove I was not tainted. All these years I’ve tried to forget. I put the past behind a door in my mind and tried to keep it shut fast. But it was always there.’
Jane looked at his proud, lean face, moved by the pain that edged his voice. ‘And you are still tortured by what he did to you. I can see that.’
‘There have been times when the pain was so deep I couldn’t bear to look at myself in the mirror. He inspired me with nothing but disgust. On his death my mother found her peace.’
‘And you?’
‘I felt a thankfulness that eased my soul. But when I remember the nature of his death, the...’ He faltered and stared off into the distance.
‘What?’ Jane prompted. ‘What do you remember, Christopher? Tell me. Lay your demons to rest once and for all.’
When he continued his voice was flat and drained of feeling, as if he were telling someone else’s story and not his own. ‘He was a brute—like an animal, a dirty, lustful animal.’ He checked himself with a firm tightening of his lips against bitter comments so long unexpressed. A lengthy silence fell between them, during which Jane sat by his side, still and silent. ‘He almost killed my mother with his indiscriminate infidelities,’ he went on, his voice fierce with remembrance. ‘Octavia was conceived in anguish. It was a terrible time for my mother. When she was into her seventh month of pregnancy he—forced himself on her. Two weeks later she went into labour. It was a difficult birth. She blames my father for Octavia being born the way she is.’
‘And you? What do you think?’
‘That she is right.’
‘What happened then?’ she asked softly, sensing his despair. Her warm fingers slipped around his and gripped hard, giving him strength.
‘I had to go and find the man I loathed as effectively as death itself.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I was in London when a note was brought to the house asking me to go to a certain address—a brothel, to be precise. It said a gentleman who was known to me was in trouble. I knew it was my father.’
‘You went?’
He nodded. ‘He was already dead—a seizure of some sort.’
He fell silent, but Jane said nothing. She simply waited, afraid that if she spoke he would retreat behind that wall of his again—afraid that he would make some glib comment to change the subject and never tell her the rest.
‘He didn’t live to see Octavia.’
Jane was deeply moved. Her heart filled with compassion, she pressed her hand over her mouth, listening in anguished silence, her heart breaking for him.
‘You mother... Does she know how—he...?’
‘I couldn’t tell her. How can you tell your mother something like that?’
Jane knew that what had happened would be a part of Christopher for ever—it was burned in his brain, sunk deep in his heart. It would remain as clear in his memory as though it had just happened.
‘But—that wasn’t the end of it, was it?’ She hated prolonging his pain, but better to tell everything and put it behind them. It was the only way they could move on. ‘No more secrets, Christopher. Tell me about the woman who hurt you so badly.’
Closing his eyes, his lips compressed in a tight line, he shook his head. But after a moment his body relaxed and he opened his eyes, resigned. ‘Lily. Her name was Lily. She worked at Chalfont.’
‘She was a servant?’ He nodded. ‘And she betrayed you with someone else?’
‘Yes. My own father. I was eighteen years old. Lily was my first love and I adored her. I suppose I always knew there was no future for us together—but for those few months we were together she was mine and for the first time in my life I knew a happiness I could never have imagined. My father was touring abroad at the time. When he came back and he saw Lily he—he lost no time in seducing her.’
‘And Lily?’
‘Went to him willingly.’ His lips twisted bitterly and hatred burned in his eyes at the memory. ‘Why would she want the boy wh
en she could have the master?’ he uttered fiercely.
‘What happened to her?’
‘Eventually she went her own way. As to what became of her I really have no idea. She became dead to me the moment she climbed into my father’s bed.’
‘And you still carry your hurt and bitterness around your neck like a millstone.’
Christopher’s smile was one of cynicism. ‘Does it show all that much?’
‘Sometimes.’
‘There are some things, Jane, that cannot easily be put aside. When I first met you, you reminded me of Lily.’
‘How? Do I look like her?’
‘No, but you have the same colour eyes. For a time I held it against you, which was stupid of me. But I was on my guard. You were unsullied, untouched by another man, and that suddenly posed a threat, a danger to my peace of mind. You were dangerous because never having belonged to another man made you different, gave you added appeal. I had no wish to become shackled in that way to another woman ever again. I’d been there once and had no mind to travel down the same road twice.’
‘And yet you still asked me to marry you.’
He gazed at her, thinking how wonderful she looked. She positively glowed with health. Lifting his hand, he traced the outline of her jaw, unconsciously looking for some trace of the young woman he had met on the boat from France, the woman with the inviting smile and warm violet eyes, the woman he had fallen in love with, although he had not known it then.
‘When Lily left me I persuaded myself that I would never fall in love again, that I would have the strength of character to withstand such a debilitating emotion, but then I had not met you.’
‘And now?’
‘Everything is changed.’
‘It is? How?’ she asked, awaiting his answer with baited breath.
‘When I gave you the roses it was the truest way of expressing my feelings that I could give you. I have fallen in love with you, I know that now. I think I have loved you from the day of my mother’s birthday party. When I saw you with Octavia—showing her the horses and telling her not to be afraid—that was the first time I really saw you. I want you more than I have ever wanted anything in my life.’
Lord Lansbury's Christmas Wedding Page 23
