Promise of Redemption

by Ellie St. Clair

  “I know more than enough,” she said, standing, her anger with him replacing any former nerves. “I believe I am beginning to understand why your father was so willing to have you marry the first woman who agreed to have you.”

  He swiftly turned toward her, and she thought, just for a moment, she caught a look of despair in his eyes before he quickly masked it with a narrowed glare.

  “Watch your tone.”

  “We are not wed, my lord, and therefore, you have no cause to tell me how to behave,” she said, crossing over to him and poking a finger into his chest. “And even if we were wed, I would not listen to you anyway.”

  “And now I am beginning to see why the daughter of a marquess has been on the shelf for so long.”

  Christina gasped at his words. Although she knew she had said something nearly the same to him, it did not lessen the bite of his words, for she knew there was truth in his statement. Before she could think of what she was doing, she reached back a hand and swung her arm toward his cheek, but he caught her wrist before she could connect.

  “Now, now, Lady Christina, I thought you had an issue with violence?” He raised his eyebrows as he looked down at her

  As angry as she was, she nonetheless couldn’t miss the tremor that coursed through her body from where his hand held her wrist. He looked down at where they touched and he rubbed his thumb along the delicate bone of her wrist. Despite the fabric of her glove between their skin, she shivered and then cursed when she realized he had noticed as he looked up at her with a wicked grin.

  Daniel had wanted to scare her. He needed his future bride to have no attachment to him, to want nothing more than an arrangement. He knew he had to marry in order to please his parents, keep his wealth, and continue his work, but he had no intention of marrying for anything more than continuing his name.

  Then this woman had quite literally stumbled into his life.

  She was right about one thing — he hadn’t recognized her from the garden. He had been so hell-bent on taking his revenge on Lord Northcliffe he had hardly paid her any attention. He knew kissing a woman of the ton was a risk, but he had hoped the young woman hadn’t been able to recognize him in the darkness, and wouldn’t say anything in order to not bring any shame to herself.

  Daniel had to admit it had been intoxicating to kiss her, to lose himself in a woman, just for a moment, as it had been so very long since he had. He could tell she was inexperienced, yet her passion had flared enough to incite him. It had been so dark in the gardens, she had been lost in the shadows the entire time, though now that he looked at his apparent future bride-to-be, he recognized the silvery dress, the lush curves he had felt under his hands. She certainly swelled in all the right places, and he was surprised to find that he had to tamp down his growing desire to pull her to him and feel her softness against him once more.

  He gazed down at her now, realizing that the teasing of his lips was not simply contrived nor the remembrance of his training as a young lad. No, he was enjoying himself — and that scared him. His smile fell, and he let go of her wrist quickly, her eyes — a mysterious shade of gray — now clouded in confusion.

  “Look here, Lady Christina, what you witnessed, what I did … there are circumstances surrounding my actions that you do not understand. I have demons from my past, and they are centered around the man you saw me with. I will not apologize, for I have nothing to be sorry for. You do not know the truth, although if you require it in order to follow through with this marriage, I will tell you all.”

  He saw her hesitate as her eyes searched his face. He took the opportunity to study her as well. He reached out toward her, noting her flinch slightly, but instead of grasping her shoulders and drawing her to him, he simply picked up the small dark blonde braid that had fallen and looped it back around her upswept hair. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t move out of the way.

  “Lord Hudson told me not to go after him, but I did not listen,” he murmured, knowing she had no idea of what he spoke but continuing nonetheless. “I should have left him alone, but after what he did, I could not do anything but go.” He shook his head, stepping back from her now as he pressed one hand firmly against the wall and looked away from her and down at the floor.

  “Lord Ravenhall, I do not know what you are talking about, but it does not change my decision,” Lady Christina replied, firmly. “Your demons are your own and are not an excuse for treating me so.”

  He turned to her then. She seemed a practical sort. Perhaps he was going about this all wrong. “Will you not allow me a chance to explain?” he said, slowly. “To show you that I am not the man you think?”

  Christina frowned. “Why should you care what I think, Lord Ravenhall? If you do not marry me then I am certain there are plenty of other young ladies who will have you.”

  He could feel her eyes on him as he pushed himself away from the wall and returned to his chair. She was correct. Many women would be thrilled to marry a future duke, no matter how reclusive or horrible he was rumored to be. But he had no wish to court young women of the ton, and all would be made much easier for him if he continued with his parents’ wishes. Besides that, he felt that a woman such as this one would not expect the romance a young, untried debutante might — romance that he had no time for.

  “I have done you wrong, Lady Christina. I do not want my reputation to be sullied, not even in your eyes, for I cannot have any kind of shame brought to my family.” He tried to remain calm and open, hoping to make her believe him. He opted for the truth. “Besides which, both of our parents wish for this match and I would not like to disappoint them. If you would but give me a chance to explain, to court you perhaps, then I am certain you might reconsider.”

  He could tell she was about to say no, to refuse him, but then she tilted her head back and studied him. He tried his best to remain earnest, to encourage her to believe in what he was saying, and give him one more chance.

  “Very well, Lord Ravenhall,” she finally said, slowly and softly. “I will allow you to court me, but nothing official is to be said until I have made up my mind. Will your parents agree to a bit of a delay?”

  He felt relief wash over him, and some of the tension go out of his shoulders. Now it was a matter of not offending her too horribly.

  “Yes, I am certain they will be persuaded to do just that,” he said, getting to his feet and reaching for her hand. “Thank you, Lady Christina.”

  She gave him her gloved hand and he bowed over it. He wanted to bring it to his lips, to kiss her fingers, but he did not want to push things any further than they already were. He could see the confusion in her eyes, and he knew she was questioning her decision. Daniel would convince her that she was right in her choice. He had to.

  8

  “Well, Christina, I cannot say that I am pleased.”

  Drawing in a long, silent breath, Christina fixed her eyes on her father as he stood tall in their drawing room. She had known this moment was coming ever since she and Lord Ravenhall had exited the small room last evening with the news that they intended to court for a short time before making anything official. Lord Ravenhall had promised that a final decision would be reached within the week, which the Duke of Ware had reluctantly accepted. It seemed as though the duke had expected to make the announcement at the ball, but Lord Ravenhall had not backed down. At least that gave him some credibility in her eyes, although it was not enough to make her forget his actions in the gardens.

  As Lord Ravenhall had spoken, Christina had seen the look in her father’s eyes then — a look that told her he was not pleased with this decision. When he trained his gaze upon her, she knew he blamed her for the delay in the announcement. She had also known that this conversation would be had, but she was determined to remain firm, although not wanting to describe in detail what had occurred in the gardens with Lord Ravenhall. It was partly because she knew she shouldn’t have been alone with him, but for some reason, she also felt that she had to protect him, tho
ugh why that would be so, she had no idea.

  “If you would let me explain, Father, I—”

  “I cannot understand what the matter is,” her father interrupted, blustering about, waving his hands theatrically. “Lord Ravenhall is a good and honest gentleman, who is one day to be a duke, and you are insisting that you must get to know him better before you agree to the betrothal?”

  He looked at her as though she had gone raving mad but Christina held her ground, even though it appeared he would not allow her to offer any type of explanation. Perhaps that was for the best.

  “Father, it was a mutual decision,” she said, calmly, sitting before him, her hands folded in her lap. “Did you yourself not tell me that Lord Ravenhall would have to agree before it all went through? This is better than him outright rejecting the match, is it not?”

  That took the wind out of his sails.

  “Yes, I suppose,” he muttered, taking his usual stance now, leaning on the mantelpiece. “But I’d presumed the duke had talked some sense into him. You do not have long to convince him that you will make a good wife. You are not the prettiest thing in the world, though you have a good head on your shoulders. Now that he’s back in London, you don't want another young lady to catch his attention.”

  Ignoring the familiar sting of pain, Christina inclined her head. “I understand there is some urgency, Father, but I believe I must also determine whether he would make me a good husband,” she said, refusing to bend. “It is only for a week and, should there be no agreement, then I am certain I can seek another gentleman’s court soon enough.”

  For a moment, the vision of a wonderful Season floated in front of her eyes, the Season she had always hoped to have. Perhaps, if she chose to bring her engagement with Lord Ravenhall to a close, then there would be the chance to have that Season, filled with opportunity.

  “If this Season does not end with you marrying the heir to the Duke of Ware, then it will be your cousin who takes you as his wife,” her father grated, one hand thumping the top of the mantelpiece, startling her. “Do not think for one moment that I will allow you to make a stupid decision, Christina. To turn down a marquess, a future duke? I think not. It would be the height of embarrassment for our family!”

  Horrified at the thought of marrying the one man who repulsed her more than any other, Christina stared at her father in shock. She knew that her cousin — her father’s nephew — was a degenerate gambler, who had very little money and the tiniest home to call his own since he had thrown the majority of his wealth away. She also knew that her father had no time or respect for the man, and she was shocked that he would even suggest such a thing.

  “Father,” she said, hoarsely, blood draining from her face. “You are not serious. You cannot stand Cousin George — would you really force me to marry a man like that?”

  “I will do whatever I have to, to make sure you accept the Marquess of Ravenhall,” he grated, his eyes narrowing as he turned to face Christina. “But this is entirely within your power, Christina. If the Marquess does not accept you, then I will not force your cousin’s hand into your own. However, if I find out that it is you who has turned from Lord Ravenhall, then I assure you that your marriage to Cousin George will be secured within the month.” He stepped away from the mantelpiece, coming a little closer to her and, for the first time, Christina saw the anger burning in his eyes. “Do I make myself clear?”

  Christina was frozen in place, not sure what to say or even how to respond, surprised at just how furious her father was. He always blustered about, to be sure, but he had never shown true anger like this toward her. Did he know that it had been her insistence that had stopped the engagement from being announced last evening?

  “My lord?”

  The butler stepped into the room, just as tears of frustration pooled in Christina’s eyes. She blinked them away as the butler looked at them both apologetically, his hands held tightly in front of him. “I did knock, my lord, but there was no reply. Lord Ravenhall has come to call on Lady Christina.”

  “Of course,” the Marquess replied, grandly, as though everything was just as it should be. “Show him in at once.”

  The butler did as he was told, leaving Christina with only a few seconds to try to regain her composure. Her entire world shrank as she rose to greet Lord Ravenhall, as every door seemed to close around her. She was not to have the freedom to reject the engagement in the way she’d hoped. This discussion with her father had only made things all the worse.

  She felt sick to her stomach.

  “Ah, good afternoon Lord Ravenhall,” her father said, as she dropped to a curtsy without raising her eyes to the man. “My daughter has very much been looking forward to seeing you again but we had not thought it would be until this evening.”

  Lord Ravenhall smiled just as Christina managed to meet his gaze and, to her surprise, a wave of warmth crashed over her. With all that had occurred the evening prior, she had not taken the opportunity to fully admire just how handsome he was. He cut a dashing figure, and that bit of stubble still graced his cheeks. She wanted to run her hand over it, to see how it felt beneath her fingertips. She felt herself turning red as she thought of it, and suddenly she was aware of just how dowdy she must seem to him, particularly this morning. Christina was not exactly used to having callers. She had not made much of an effort with her hair, instructing her maid to tie it back in a simple chignon. Already she could feel pieces floating out of it — and not beautiful ringlets that would look fetching, but just limp, straight strands that fell to her shoulders. Her simple blue-gray day dress was one of her plainest, the muslin falling from a simple empire waist without any adornments. What with her red-rimmed eyes — which they must surely be given how they were stinging from lack of sleep — Christina was sure she made a less than pretty picture.

  “I was hoping I might take your daughter out for a short walk around town, perhaps to the bookshop,” Lord Ravenhall replied, seeming somewhat hopeful, and Christina narrowed her eyes at him, wondering what he was up to. “I hear you are very fond of reading, Lady Christina.”

  “I am,” Christina managed to reply with some hesitation, as she wondered at this sudden transformation she saw in him.

  His smile spread, though it didn’t seem to reach his eyes, but he clapped his gloved hands together. “Capital! Then, what do you say, Lady Christina? A stroll?”

  Christina looked at her father and saw him give her the smallest of nods, aware that she was expected to say yes instead of finding some kind of excuse.

  “If you will just let me change,” she replied, quietly, her heart sinking to her toes. “Then I will join you at the door presently.”

  The warmth that Lord Ravenhall had shown toward Christina in the drawing room evaporated the moment they stepped outside, her maid following at a distance behind them. His smile vanished, his brow furrowed, and he did not so much as offer her his arm. Christina walked alongside him in silence, utterly wretched, knowing that at some point, she would have to make a decision as to whether she would accept the betrothal or risk that her father meant what he threatened. She wasn’t entirely sure he would actually force her to marry George, or whether he was simply trying to make her do as he bid.

  She couldn’t exactly explain all of this to Lord Ravenhall, however. He would think her confused or lacking judgment. So instead, Christina stayed quiet on the matter. When he didn’t say anything for some minutes, however, she could no longer take the silence stretching between them.

  “Did you enjoy the remainder of the ball last evening?” Christina asked, tentatively.

  He shrugged. “I did not stay long,” he replied, not so much as looking at her. “I prefer to be at home.”

  “I see.” There was nothing else to say and, to her frustration, they lapsed into silence once again. Christina was hit with a sudden vision of her future, a future of them living quietly and separately while pretending to all and sundry that they were as happy as could be.


  She paused, her step slowing as her thoughts on the matter grew all the more. Was that such a terrible fate? Would it truly be a sad existence? To marry a man who would live his life as though she were not a part of it? It was, after all, the way she had lived with her father for so many years, and Christina had become quite adept at living in such a way as she knew many couples did as well. She had her books and, on occasion, her friends and perhaps, with Lord Ravenhall, there was the possibility of children. She could easily devote herself to them and not feel the loss of his companionship in any way, she thought. It would be less lonely than her current situation. The more Christina thought of having children of her own, someone to truly love and who would love her completely in return, the more she warmed to the idea.

  “I suppose I should explain to you all that went on last evening.”

  Lord Ravenhall’s baritone voice broke into her thoughts and, as she glanced up at him, saw that he was studying her with eyes that seemed to glitter like an aquamarine gemstone. A curl of anxiety rose in her stomach but she pushed it away, determined to remain strong.

  “Yes, an explanation would be appreciated,” she said, calmly, as they continued to walk together. “You were to explain to me exactly what it was that the man you attacked last evening had done to you to deserve such treatment.”

  Despite his grave countenance, she still believed it was likely to be something trivial, such as a card game, a stolen love or even horseflesh, but, then again, she could not forget the agony in his expression when he had spoken to her following the incident.

  “Here,” he said, turning the corner of the street and gesturing to the waiting carriage. “Please, climb in.”