“Christina came down with a headache just before we departed this evening and declared she could not go,” Robert said, with a sigh. “Frankly, I think she has had enough of parties for the instant. I dashed well know I have myself."
“Then, why did you not stay at home to bear her company?” Ned tried to muffle his concern, but the sight of Robert without his wayward sister alarmed him.
Robert said wistfully, “I would have been more than happy to, but Louisa insisted we could not all disappoint Lady Ensley. I would give anything to spend one quiet night at home, but no doubt she's right. I hope to get her out of here before too late, though, without Christina."
“Will you look in on her when you get home?"
“No.” Robert shook his head. “We promised not to disturb her. What she wants, she said, is a good night's rest. You know what the devil it can be to try to get back to sleep once one has been awakened."
“Of course."
Ned saw immediately that his uncertain tone had captured Robert's attention.
“What?” he said, a glimmer of worry taking birth in his eyes. “Why are you asking so many questions about Christina?"
“My dear Robert,” Ned said, using the arrogance he knew so well how to employ. “You have asked me to keep an eye on the girl until I barely have an evening to myself. Now, when I pose an innocent question about her health, you take me to task?"
His cool delivery calmed Robert, who said defensively, “Don't be so testy, Ned. Of course, I'm not taking you to task. It was just that for a moment—”
With a hasty frown, Robert refrained from pursuing the subject. Instead, he invited Ned to join him in the cardroom.
It took all the diplomacy Ned possessed to avoid being swept into a game, which would have tied him down for an hour at least, without raising Robert's suspicions over his reluctance to play. It was entirely unlike him to turn down an invitation to cards, especially at a ball, which could offer him no other enjoyment.
But he was determined to discover whether Christina's headache was real.
A quick turn of the room, and then two more, decided him that Levington had not come to the ball. The baron's failure to appear at such an elegant event, certain to be attended by many heiresses, ripe for the plucking, did not bode well for Christina's story. Ned tried to reassure himself with the possible reasons for Levington's absence, but his unerring instinct pointed him towards but one.
He left Lady Ensley's party and hired a chair to carry him to Pall Mall, cursing himself for a misguided fool all the way.
Over the course of the next two hours, Ned searched the private gambling hells where Levington might have dared to take Christina. He wasted no time in discovering their directions because he had frequented them all himself. On a gamble, he ruled out the ones at which ladies of the evening were known to be in prevalence, and opted instead for those at which hardened gamesters of both sexes might be found. He did not think that even Levington would be so foolish as to choose a place where Christina's virtue could be compromised.
The thought that the baron might well use the opportunity Christina had so innocently provided him to turn elopement into rape, with a consequent marriage, made Ned so feverish with anxiety, he found it hard to maintain a polite demeanor for the acquaintances he passed. Only by holding on to his cynicism, which told him Levington still cherished hopes of persuading Robert to sanction the marriage, could Ned conduct his search with any appearance of calm.
The first two houses, both on near side streets, offered no sign of the pair. But at the third, a private residence with an aging boxer standing guard at the door, Ned got lucky.
The owner of this hell, a former opera dancer with a trumped-up widowhood attached to her name, had invited her guests to partake of a masked supper tonight. The purpose of such disguises could only be to encourage the attendance of ladies who would normally fear to be seen in such an establishment. Masks would allow them to indulge their indiscretions without the consequences that would otherwise arise.
And to this particular assembly, Ned gratefully remarked as he made his way past the various tables in the dimly lit room, hazard and faro seemed to hold more allure than the opposite sex. Considering the anonymity of the group, surprisingly little in the way of flirting was going on. Instead, the guests remained intent upon their tables with all the passion of true gamesters.
One table in particular captured Ned's attention. This was due to the couple standing beside it who appeared to be engaged in an escalating quarrel. The gentleman, whose artful brown locks looked plastered in place, was eager to resume his play, while his companion—a young lady with smooth, blond hair piled high upon her head—seemed out of spirits. Her colorless lips beneath a rose pink mask gave the lie to the stubborn set of her jaw.
Ned had no sooner recognized Christina, than a rush of immense relief flowed through his body, followed quickly by a deadly rage.
Despite an inner voice which urged him to relish her discomfort a moment longer, he could not contain his temper one second more. A few hasty strides brought him to within inches of the pair.
As they turned, startled by his sudden assault, he began, “You will pardon me, my lady, but I must inform you that it is shockingly past your bedtime. I shall wait while you fetch your wrap, providing you had enough sense to bring one.
“And you, sir—” Ignoring Christina's gasp of outrage, he turned on Levington. “You, sir, will hear from me on the morrow. For the moment, you are excused."
As he expected, both objected to this high-handed treatment. Christina, he ignored. But Levington would not stand to be robbed of his treasure without a fight.
“Look here, Windermere! You cannot barge in here like this, laying claim to a lady who prefers my company to yours."
“Does she? Then, why did she first ask me to escort her to this kind of den? If I were you, Levington, I should learn to tell when I am being used."
“How—dare you!” Christina spluttered, but Ned's accuracy had made her flush. “Go away, and let me enjoy myself. We are having a marvelous time."
Her valiant effort to cover up an all-too-obvious misery relieved Ned's tension as it brought a reluctant smile to his lips.
“It pains me to deprive you of the pleasure you were so evidently enjoying when I entered the salon. Nevertheless, I fear I must."
This second proof of his perspicacity rendered her temporarily speechless. Fighting a betraying smile, Christina struggled for breath.
“You heard the lady.” Levington's feeble threat was made in a low, cautious growl.
Christina's raised voice had caused a number of heads to turn their way. Soon the boxer from the door, an old sparring partner of Ned's, would come to discover the cause of the disturbance.
“This young lady—” Ned was careful not to employ Christina's name “—will be leaving under my escort. I shall see her safely home."
“Over my dead body."
At Levington's stubbornness, Ned's temper rekindled.
He took a step nearer, permitting Levington to see the fury in his gaze. The baron started back with an involuntary step, but, remembering their audience, he resumed a threatening pose.
“You may make as big a scene as you like,” Ned spoke through a tightened jaw. “But if you do, you will find yourself the bane of polite society. What do you suppose the duke's reaction will be if he discovers you have walked out with his sister without his permission? That alone should ruin you. But when it is discovered to what type of establishment you have brought her, an innocent lady, you will never again be received in polite company. I guarantee it."
Levington was trying not to flinch under the lashing from Ned's tongue, but he found it impossible not to blanch. He stammered, “I merely acceded to the lady's own request. I knew it wasn't prudent for her to be seen at a house like this. That's why I arranged for the masks."
Ned nodded grimly. “I am happy to find you had that much sense at least. Show more on this occasion
, and I shall take her home without further ado. Our quarrel would best be left for later, if you wish for one."
Levington's gaze had flitted to Christina's masked face and back to Ned's several times while he was listening. Now, he only hesitated a moment before making a bow. Wishing Christina goodnight, he made his apologies for not being able to escort her home and quickly retired.
As soon as he was gone, Ned took Christina by the arm and said, “Where is your cloak?"
Her struggles to free herself were easily foiled by the tightness of his grip. Abashed, she quit after only a few useless yanks, raising her chin as if she'd decided on her own that it was time to leave.
“I left it with the footman near the door."
“Then let us fetch it."
With no more words between them, they found her wrap and headed out of the house. Ned quickly hired them a passing vehicle and thrust her inside.
* * * *
Christina's pulse skipped a beat when Ned set himself beside her on the bench. She told herself it was purely from annoyance that her evening had been spoiled, but a cold nugget of dread had settled in her stomach. She knew she had driven him too far.
If Ned was not entirely disgusted by her behavior this evening, she would be very much surprised. But she had been forced by the relentless need to escape the confines of her loneliness to seek a scandalous relief. How could he expect her to sit at home and make endless polite conversation at balls, when her heart felt as if it had a great, gaping hole in its center?
She was determined not to be the first to speak. She would never apologize for her conduct even though she knew it had been in the wrong.
She might have known she had no need to worry. Ned was perfectly capable of launching an attack.
His strategy, however, surprised her, as he leaned back against the side of the carriage. In a mildly curious voice, which held an indefinable current, he said, “I wonder if you could tell me why you seem so hell-bent on destroying the one possession with which a lady is blessed."
“If you mean my reputation, I would say it is because I place a much lower value on it than you do."
“That is perfectly obvious. But I find myself surprised that you would risk your security as well."
Christina felt a start. “I do not perfectly understand you."
“No? Then, all the more reason for worry. Are you truly so green that you have no notion of the danger you have just escaped?"
“Escaped?” She laughed. “As I recall, I was having a perfectly splendid time until you saw fit to deprive me of an enjoyable evening."
“Let us not play games, Christina.” His casual tone had vanished. “If it has fallen to me to educate you, then I shall do it, rudely or no.
“Has it not occurred to you that you put yourself entirely in the power of Lord Levington? A man, you have been repeatedly informed, is a desperate fortune-hunter who might quite logically have designs on a girl as wealthy as you. Count yourself fortunate that he did not take advantage of the situation you offered him to force a condition that would make you grateful to marry him, or for Robert to pay twice any price he asked."
Christina felt all the humiliating justness of Ned's words. A sting started behind her eyelids, but she could not easily forgive him for having uttered the truth in such a way.
She would not cave in to his scolding. “You much mistake the case, my lord. Lord Levington would do nothing to harm me. I was in no danger whatsoever."
“No danger!"
She could almost hear his frustration mounting. In the darkness, she could dimly see the hard-cut planes of his face.
“What you need, my dear, is an experience that will open your eyes to most gentlemen's motives."
“Oh? And what could those possibly be?"
Instead of answering her immediately, Ned gave a low, unamused chuckle, a sign that she had got his goat again. At the sound, Christina's spirits began to rise.
“Never you mind,” he said grimly, “but a good, thorough kiss from one of your swains would put an end to this recklessness of yours."
“A kiss?” Despite the instant pulse that had leapt into her throat, she would not allow him to intimidate her again. “A simple kiss means nothing to me. I cannot see why you would believe such a tiny thing would frighten me."
“I'm talking about a man's kiss, my dear. Not a parent's or a nursemaid's."
Infusing boredom into her voice, Christina treated him to a condescending laugh. “My dear, sweet Ned. Surely you must realize that I have been mauled before."
She felt him start up on the bench, before he quickly reined his temper in. Feeling his tension coiled beside her, she could not resist one final jab.
“The art master at my seminary confessed he was desperately in love with me.” Ennui dripped like honey from her lips. “But his overtures were simply tiresome, not the least bit frightening."
Before she could even finish this speech, Ned's body loomed in front of her. His silhouette blocked the light from the street. “I said a man, Christina. Not a bloody art master."
With a move so smooth she barely felt it coming, he wrapped her thoroughly in his arms. His hands tangled in the hair at the nape of her neck and, with a yank, he forced her to raise her chin.
He untied her mask and slid it back from her face. When Christina gasped at the feeling of bareness, Ned pressed his lips to hers.
She had been kissed. Or, at least, she'd thought she had, if the art master's struggles to meet with her mouth had met the terms of a kiss. Whatever they had been, the incident had been enough to have her sent down. Only her mother's high indignation had caused her to be reinstated.
But those clumsy fumblings had been nothing like this. No unerring aim to invade her mouth like a fresh taste of mint. No warmth from someone's lips to heat her own, carrying fire all the way down to her toes. No increasing tenderness to make the sound of his quickened breathing a melody to her ears.
'Christina melted towards him. Her eyelids drifted closed and she offered her neck most willingly to the nibbles he trailed down her skin. Ned's hands, those beautiful long-fingered hands, whose strength she'd gazed at and admired, stroked her face and throat, framing his soft, burning kisses and his deepening moans with the gentleness she'd always known he possessed.
When he pulled away, pushing her from him abruptly, Christina issued a sigh of disappointment.
Ned's voice was ragged as he said, “That was a kiss, my dear."
“Was it?” She couldn't hide a dreamy note. “I shouldn't call that frightening."
“No?” There was a hint of pain in his tone. “Perhaps I should have been less the gentleman then."
Turning sharply from her, Ned called up to the driver to stop. Christina noted, then, that they had arrived at the corner of Grosvenor Square. Ned's irritated tone had shaken her out of her fog. Cold despair settled in.
“If my kiss didn't frighten you,” he said through gritted teeth, “you might try imagining Levington's instead.
“Where is this window of yours?” With an abrupt change of subject, he took her by the hand and pulled her roughly after him out of the carriage. He yanked upon her cloak, drawing it closely about her unmasked face.
“What window?” She'd been knocked for a loss by the sudden alteration in his mood.
“The one you used to escape."
She poked her chin in the air and tightened her lips to stop their quivering. “I did not climb out of a window. My maid helped me out. She will be waiting to let me in by the pantry door."
“Bribed her, did you? I should have thought as much."
“No.” Christina bit back. “She is devoted to me."
“Then, I shall have to pity her."
It was cold in the street without the slightest hint of daylight to warm it, but Christina's shaking had begun in Ned's arms and it wouldn't stop. Her teeth were chattering. If not with fear, then with something much more alarming.
“You may leave me here. I do not require y
our assistance.” Her insolent manner was meant to punish him for getting her into this state, then treating her like such a brute.
But Ned was so intent upon returning her to the house, he did not seem to notice her tone as he led her around through the mews.
“Hush!” he threw back over his shoulder.
Fuming, Christina, nevertheless, minded her tongue. She knew as well as he what Robert would think if he found them out together at this hour of the night. He would never forgive either of them, and he would quite likely make them marry. As if she would go along with such a maddening idea!
The rear door stood in complete darkness. Christina swept past Ned and made a light scratching sound on the panel near her ear.
The sounds of a scraping chair leg, a quick, light step, and the clunk of a bolt being thrown with a soft cry of relief, and Mary's face appeared in the opening, cast in light by a candle in her hand.
“Thank goodness you've come ‘ome, miss!"
“Does my brother know I've been gone?"
“No, miss. They ‘aven't come in, yet. I was just that worried!"
“There was no need, Mary, as I told you."
While Christina had been greeting her maid, Ned had remained with one foot on the threshold.
Now, he gave a snort. “You would serve your mistress better, Mary, if you refused to help her in these escapades."
Mary gave a bobbing curtsy. Her whisper rose on a wail. “And don't I know it, my lord. But t'is all I can do to see she dresses like a Christian and not one of them heathenish statues you see. I see you took good care of her, my lord."
“I did, indeed."
There was no understanding the exact timber of Ned's last words, but Christina felt a leap in her heart at the thought of what had passed between them in the carriage. Her face felt as if it had been scrubbed with sand, and she wondered if the skin about her lips looked as chafed as it felt.
Fortunately, to keep from attracting the other servants’ attention, Mary had lit only one candle, and a small one at that.
“That will be enough now, Mary. You may run along to bed."
“We will all go to bed,” Ned declared. “Mary, I charge you to lock this door and not let your mistress out again."
A Pair of Rogues Page 10
