Instead, she made her way to the rear of the house where a servants’ staircase took her up to the second floor. She hoped her absence would not be noticed before she could collect herself again.
Once within the privacy of her own room, she removed her gloves and sat down on the bed. She could not recline without wrinkling her dress, so she simply closed her eyes and let despair roll through her.
She had defied the conventions. She had run all the risks her restless mind had forced her to run. And still she had not been happy. Sometimes she wondered if it would take utter ruin to quash this discontent that drove her on.
She remembered Ned's warning, that social ruin would not bring her joy, and in her heart she believed him. Why, then, could she not stop herself from pursuing that very object?
The door to her room gave a click. She opened her eyes and jumped when she saw Ned filling the doorway. His angry expression chased the blood from her cheeks.
After a few moments, he silently closed the door behind him, before turning to lean against the casement with his arms crossed. Seeing him there when she had believed he had forgotten her made her heart beat queerly.
She was unprepared for his first words. “Levington is not yet here yet, I see. We shall be able to scotch this scandal before it takes place."
“Lord Levington?” Christina was taken aback, but the scorn in his voice flicked her like a whip. “Whatever can you mean?"
A slow, hard smile formed on his lips, but did not warm his eyes. “I saw him leave the dining parlor. Then, after a discreet interval, you also left.
“I have to credit you, Lady Chris. Not many girls would have the gall to seduce their escort at their own ball."
Enraged beyond speech, Christina surged to her feet. With fists at her side, she started to move towards him, but an angry devil inside her made her stop.
She made a half-turn with her body, so that Ned could not see her face. “So you saw us, did you? And you came up to stop me from this ultimate indiscretion. How kind of you, Ned."
Out the corner of her eye, she saw his body go rigid. He took an involuntary step in her direction.
“There is no cause for jokes! What in the name of Satan could you have been thinking to place yourself in such a compromising situation? If you want Levington, why don't you marry him and spare the people who love you so much anguish?"
Tears were forming in Christina's eyes, but she fought them down. “Is that what I should do?” she asked in a tremulous voice. “Marry Levington?"
“No!” In two quick strides, Ned crossed to her. He took her by the shoulders and spun her around. Giving her a shake, so hard it rattled her teeth, he said, “That scoundrel isn't worth the tip of your finger. Anybody—take your pick—even Buffington or Musgrove would be better than Levington.” He gave a derisive snort. “Even I would make a better husband."
With those words, Christina's eyes, which she had squeezed tightly shut to keep her tears from falling, flew wide open. She saw a haunting desperation in his gaze, and her heart took a leap. “Are you saying I should marry you instead?"
A shocked, guilty look—full of fear and hope—broke over his face. His fingers dug deeply into her arms, and he gave a ragged gasp. Christina wished with all her might that he would embrace her. Ned seemed torn between thrusting her from him and pulling her to his chest.
“Good Lord!” Robert's voice surprised them both, making them spin to face the door, where he stood with an air of outraged hurt. “And to think I trusted you.
“I must have been a fool,” he said, looking at Ned with disappointment and disgust. “That you would betray the trust you have enjoyed in this house to persuade my sister into this! I never should have trusted you. It went against by better judgment, but I let myself be foolishly persuaded."
Christina saw that Ned had gone white, as white as a sheet of paper. Before she could utter a word in his defense, Robert drew himself up.
“I must ask you to leave.” His speech admitted no room for discussion.
To Christina's dismay, Ned simply complied. His mouth twisted with irony, but he spoke not a word in his own defense. Instead, he made a formal bow to Robert, before repeating his obeisance to her more slowly.
“My apologies, madam, if I have done anything to give disgust."
The complete acceptance with which this was said wrung Christina's heart. For the first time, she felt Ned's deep sense of worthlessness, and it rang with such harmony with her own as to paralyze her now.
In a moment he was gone. Robert stood quietly in the room until he could conquer his anger enough to speak.
“Downstairs are four hundred guests assembled in your honor. Will you please have the goodness to grant them your company?"
Stunned by all that had occurred in the past few minutes, Christina numbly walked past him. She went downstairs, and for the rest of the night, a brittle smile concealed the tumult in her mind.
* * * *
In the morning, once their guests had gone, she exercised all her remaining strength to correct Robert's misapprehension of the events. Surprisingly, the simple truth made the best story because, for once, Christina had nothing to hide.
Robert, however, was not so easy to convince. The evidence of his eyes tended to contradict what she'd said. Had he not discovered her alone in her bedroom with Ned? And had Ned not put his arms about her?
No matter how many times Christina informed him with increasing asperity that Ned had made the same mistake as he, but that his particular mode of punishment had been to try to shake the teeth from her head, Robert would not bend. He conceded that her own behavior might have been innocent. But if Ned's had been, why had he refused to contradict the charges?
Christina could not answer this question without delving into facets of her own character she was only now beginning to understand. And she could not be certain that the hurts she had experienced could be applied equally to Ned, although she thought they might.
When one has been accused from infancy of evil intent, it is somehow easier to be the person one is imagined to be than to continue trying to prove that others are wrong.
Ned's face last night, when Robert had accused him of the worst sort of treachery, throwing in doubt all their friendship had meant, had been a sight Christina never hoped to see again. That Ned had been severely hurt was obvious. And perhaps his own confusion over his motives had contributed to an appearance of guilt.
He had kissed her in the carriage. Had he meant to embrace her again last night before they'd been interrupted?
Whatever the case, she would never know. Robert stated in no uncertain terms that from thenceforth, she was not to see Ned again.
* * * *
It was a miserable party that climbed the stairs of Broughton House to seek their beds at dawn. Louisa put an arm about Christina's waist and urged her to bed. She promised they would talk when they had all got some rest.
As she had feared, the worst had happened. Somehow, she knew she could believe Christina's version of the story.
More alert to her sister-in-law's doings than either gentleman knew, Louisa had not failed to notice when Lord Levington had left the ball. She had not witnessed Christina's trip upstairs; but knowing the watch Ned always kept upon her movements, the number of times he had forestalled her most wanton escapades, and the pitch of his feelings that evening, she did not doubt he had acted, rashly perhaps, but still with Christina's best interest in mind.
Her own part in raising his level of anxiety, Louisa deplored. She had pressed him to hard and too fast when, clearly, Ned could not begin to see himself as a legitimate suitor. And now that Robert had thrown his sordid reputation in his teeth, he would be even less likely to do so.
Added to all this heartache and disappointment was Robert's anger at herself. Louisa sighed. She had made a pig's breakfast of everything, yet, she absolutely must not back out now.
Both Ned and Christina deserved a chance in life, but life had wrung all ho
pe from both. If they were ever to come together, Louisa would have to go directly against her husband's wishes. She could not bear the thought of hurting Robert, but she must do what was right.
She only hoped that Robert would come to forgive her in time.
Chapter Nine
Ned stayed abed until mid-afternoon, sleeping off a headache from too much champagne. He could not so easily rid himself of the more nagging pain in his chest.
He was sitting in his breakfast parlor, staring at a plate filled with ham and bacon, eggs, and pickled fish, with little appetite, when his Grace of Broughton was announced.
Robert abruptly entered the smallish room. The black severity of his morning costume lent an air of strain to his already pallid skin. The stiffness in his shoulders made Ned want to sigh.
Instead of rising to greet his guest in an obsequious manner, Ned pushed back in his chair and crossed his arms.
“Well, Broughton,” he asked, “have you come to apologize or to call me out. If it's the latter, I should warn you my seconds have grown quite weary of transacting my affairs of late."
Robert took this as a poor attempt at humor, when as Ned could have informed him, it was the truth.
“I have not come to call you out,” Robert said irritably, “but neither am I certain you deserve any sort of apology."
“No doubt you are right.” Ned unfolded his arms, and despite his lack of appetite, took up his knife and fork. “You will not mind, I hope, if I eat before the fat on this bacon congeals?"
“Hang it, Ned! How can you eat at a time like this?"
Ned raised his brows. “Have you not breakfasted yet?"
“You know I have. I would not otherwise be out."
“Then, you will understand my pressing need for sustenance.” With his fork, he pointed to a chair across the table. “You may sit, if you like. That should prevent you from pacing a hole in my Turkey carpet."
Ignoring Robert's offended glance and attacking his plate with a feigned relish, Ned spoke between bites. “You might have the goodness to tell me why I am to be spared a drawing and quartering."
Seating himself with a show of reluctance, Robert gnawed on the inside of his cheek. He appeared both angry and uncertain. “Christina said you followed her to her room to break up—as you mistakenly thought—an assignation with Levington."
Ned looked up sharply. “Was I mistaken then?"
“If her story is true, you were. She said she had merely gone to her room to rest before dancing again."
“And where was Levington?"
“Louisa said he had left. But this is not about Levington, Ned. It is about you and what you were doing when I walked in."
“I assume Christina told you all about that, too. But you don't believe her, I see."
“How can I, when you looked as if you were about to ravish her? There, in her own room!"
“It did look black, I suppose. What does Christina have to say about it?"
Robert glanced at him guiltily. “That you got angry with her for planning an indiscretion, and so you shook her."
“Is that all she said?"
Robert sat up straighter. “What the devil do you mean?"
“I am saying"—Ned lent a harder edge to his voice—"that no matter what Christina says, you still have your doubts of me. You were right, and you always have been right, not to trust me, Robert. You should never have let your sister near me. Fortunately, no one but us is aware of what transpired last night, and as it was, it was nothing.
“But if I were you, I should prevent her from seeing anyone remotely as bad as me for the rest of her life."
His frankness took Robert's breath away. He recoiled, and his eyes searched Ned's face.
“I still don't understand you,” he said warily.
“It is very simple,” Ned said, resuming his breakfast, though his throat was dry. “I have every respect for your sister. However, as you must have told yourself a hundred times, she can only be harmed by any intimacy with me. You, yourself, jumped to the wrong conclusion last night. If we had been discovered by anyone else, that person or persons would have been much less forgiving."
Robert was staring at him, still bemused.
Ned wiped his mouth with a serviette and put it down, before leaning back in his chair. “What have I said to confuse you?” he asked.
“I don't know,” Robert responded with a frown. “But you have to admit it's deuced odd."
“What is?” In spite of the leaden weight that had pressed on his chest since yesterday evening, Ned's affection for Robert made him smile.
“The way you sounded so serious. Why would you warn me against yourself? There must be a trick in it somewhere."
Ned felt his smile fade. A bitter grimace took its place. “Undoubtedly, there must. However, since I have only given you a confirmation of what you already know, I should not waste too much time stewing over it, if I were you.
“Look,” he added, feeling the need to remove himself from a scene in which he could only play the villain, “if it would make you feel any more secure with respect to Christina, I shall take myself off. I could stand a few weeks in the country. And I could even take Levington with me for a spell. He could use the break from his creditors’ calls, and you would be getting rid of both of us at once."
Robert must have noticed the bitterness Ned had tried so hard to suppress. “I doubt that will be necessary,” he said, looking ashamed.
To Ned, however, it seemed that his protest was less than sincere. “It will be no trouble at all. I do have one request, however, if you are willing."
“What is that?” Robert seemed to brace himself for the trick he suspected.
Ned grinned without any mirth. “I should like to pay a visit to Robert Edward and Louisa before I go. I promise not to see Christina."
A slight hesitation on Robert's part was enough to cause a tightening sensation in Ned's throat. But, he reflected, he should not have been surprised. Robert's lack of faith was no more than he deserved.
He had subverted Robert's servants to gain entry to his house. He had concealed Christina's most wanton behavior from her brother and guardian. He had betrayed his trust by giving in —once and nearly a second time last night—to his lustful feelings for his friend's younger sister. He deserved to be mistrusted for all the things he'd done, even though he had never meant Robert any harm.
But that had always been his way. He had always been heedless and careless, and he'd discovered his errors when it was too late to repair them. That was why he was considered such a rogue.
“But, perhaps"—Ned filled the silence himself—"you prefer not to trust me in the house with your wife."
Robert's frown held shock and more than a hint of chagrin. “Don't be such a complete ass, Ned. I wasn't thinking about that. I was merely trying to come up with the proper time for your visit. Would Tuesday afternoon suit?"
“Certainly.” Ned hid an immense relief. He was not to be cut off from Robert's family entirely. “If he agrees to go with me, Levington and I could take off the next day for Yorkshire."
“You don't have to do that, you know. I did not ask it of you."
In response, Ned stood, giving him a stiff nod. But he said nothing beyond sending his compliments to Louisa with a request to see her on Tuesday next.
Once Robert had left, Ned sat down again, but he could not eat.
There, he thought. He had done what was best for Christina. He had nearly fooled himself into thinking he could resist her and still watch over her, but last night had proven him wrong.
How he had been so impulsive as to follow her to her room in defiance of every prudent thought, he did not know, but the sight of her rising only moments after Levington had alarmed his suspicions. He had thought her over Levington, but when he had seen them whispering so intimately, he had let jealously get the better of his sense.
And in his anger over her foolishness, he had made the mistake of touching her again, and for a mo
ment, he had looked into her eyes. The invitation he had seen there had made him want to give in to a host of yearnings he had not known he possessed.
A desire for a home. A painful need to be tender. And a wish for someone to love other than himself.
It was good, he convinced himself now, that Robert had interfered in time to remind him of how unfit he was even to dream of quenching those desires in Christina's arms.
From this moment, his only task would be to leave her alone, to hide this still burning wish to hold her, so the world at large would never know how close Christina had come to being ravished by a rake. He would have to trust Robert to keep her henceforth out of trouble. But, just in case, Ned would make good on his promise to get Levington out of the way.
* * * *
Louisa had failed to persuade Robert to change his mind. She could not use her usual tactics when her husband was so distressed. In spite of Christina's revelations, he had seen enough to convince him that Ned's feelings for his sister could no longer be considered in an avuncular light, and no others from such a quarter would be acceptable.
And, now, Ned had added his own bit of foolishness to the equation by deciding to be noble. Though sympathetic, Louisa had a strong desire to wring his neck.
She was equally exasperated with her husband for failing to see how ideally suited the two were. And with Christina for being too afraid of having her love spurned to declare it.
For so she was.
So deep in misery, she had no idea how much it showed, Christina had taken the tack that Robert's high-handed pronouncement was nothing more than a bit of silliness, which he would soon forget, but which in the interim scarcely affected her at all. The only regret she'd confessed was that Robert and Ned should have had a falling out over such an insignificant incident.
On the contrary, Louisa opined, Robert and Ned were all too much in accord. Robert had declared his friend a scoundrel, and Ned had seconded the motion.
* * * *
Ned appeared on Tuesday, as agreed. He saluted Louisa with a kiss on one cheek before demanding to hold her son.
A Pair of Rogues Page 13
