by Wolf, Bree
Her lips thinned, and for a moment, she looked severely tempted to scratch his eyes out. Her nostrils flared, and she glared at him in a way that Thorne found most endearing. “I came here to make out your character,” she finally replied, her gaze sweeping over him as though it would only take one look for her to see to the very core of him and know the person he was.
“And what have you found?” Thorne asked lightly, belatedly realizing that despite the fact that they had only just met her opinion mattered to him. He swallowed hard and waited for her reply.
Again, Lady Christina seemed to survey him, her blue eyes trailing over his features as though wishing to commit them to memory. Thorne could all but feel her gaze like a caress upon his skin, and a shiver danced down his spine. “Well?”
“You are a most unusual man,” Lady Christina remarked, her nose crinkling slightly as her eyes continued to peruse him.
Thorne laughed. “Is that supposed to be a compliment or an insult?”
Her eyes snapped up to meet his, and she glared at him as though chiding him for daring to ask such an inappropriate question. “Why are you here? In London?”
Thorne paused, hesitant to discuss his business dealings, reluctant to stray away from this comfortable banter between them. Though, what else was he to say but the truth? “Among other things, I came in search of a bride.” He waited, looking deep into her eyes, seeing another spark of resistance flash to life.
Her jaw tensed, and she inhaled a slow breath. “And your choice has fallen on my friend?”
Thorne shrugged, pretending to be free of concern in this matter, knowing that it would unsettle her. “The union between us would be most beneficial to both parties, would it not? Is it not precisely how the ton conducts their business?”
Her nostrils flared. “Sarah is not a sheep to be bartered off to the highest bidder,” she hissed under her breath, casting a careful glance around them, ensuring that no one stood too close to overhear. “She’s sweet and kind, and she deserves someone better than the likes of you.”
Thorne gritted his teeth. “The likes of me?” Anger flared in his veins as all the moments of easy dismissal resurfaced, moments when eyes had swept over him but had not seen him, moments when pain had been ignored and suffering had been disregarded. It had not always been his own suffering, but also that of others.
Yet in this moment, it did not matter.
“Common men,” Lady Christina explained as though he did not know. “Men who do not know how to treat a lady. Men who –”
“What precisely have I done,” Thorne demanded, anger now etched into his voice as he leaned closer, “that offended you? Or your friend? In what way have I treated her ill?” Challenge lit up his gaze, and he could see that she was regarding him with new eyes.
“You discussed marriage with her father without even once addressing her,” Lady Christina huffed, now eyeing him with as much disdain as he himself felt in that moment. “You do not even possess the decency to—”
“Is that not how marriage is conducted in your circles?” Thorne demanded, aware that his pulse was quickening with each incremental step he took toward her. “How precisely have I given offense? From what I understand, I have conducted myself in a most appropriate manner.” He grinned at her. “Why then do you object? Why are you so determined to see me as a villain?”
Her teeth gritted together, and a barely audible growl fell from her lips. “You are rude and ill-mannered and—”
“Are you not also?” Thorne teased. “Or would you consider it good manners to judge me in such a way for behaving in the very same fashion as any other man here?”
Her arms unfolded, and he could see her hands balling into fists that she clenched at her sides. Although her eyes still shot daggers at him, no words left her lips.
“Why did you come here?” Thorne inquired, inching close enough to feel a faint brush of her breath against his skin. “You said to make out my character, but that is not all, is it? What is it that you want…from me?” The last two words made his question feel strangely intimate, and he could see the slight widening of her eyes, clearly stating that she had not failed to notice.
Lady Christina inhaled a slow breath. She clearly wished to lash out at him, but held herself back, knowing that if she did so, whatever she wanted from him would be outside of her reach. “I want you to retract your marriage proposal.” The words fell from her lips in one rushed breath.
“Truth be told, I have not yet proposed. I’ve merely entered into negotiations with—”
“Then step away from them,” Lady Christina urged, her fists now trembling with barely concealed eagerness. “Leave London and return to where you came from. You do not belong here, and Sarah does not belong in Manchester.”
Thorne regarded her carefully. “But what then? What if I do as you ask? We both know why Lord Hartmore is more than willing to give me his daughter’s hand in marriage.” His gaze narrowed as it swept over her features. “You are no fool. You know as well as I do that Lord Hartmore has no choice but to barter off his daughter’s hand in marriage. The real question is, why do you object to me so strongly?”
“Sarah does not wish to marry you,” she replied in her haste when it became clear to her that he would not simply comply with her request.
“Is there a gentleman she wishes to marry? A gentleman who also wishes to marry her?” Thorne demanded, enjoying the way she all but fidgeted where she stood. “If that is not the case, then this conversation is moot. Lord Hartmore requires funds, whereas I require a bride of noble birth. This union is of mutual benefit. Again, I ask you, is this not how marriage matters are conducted among your people?”
Lady Christina did not miss the mocking tone in his voice, and the look she gave him could have frozen the seas. “You are a most horrible man,” she exclaimed, returning to insults when all arguments failed her. “I only wish…”
Thorne grinned at her. “You only wish what? That you could take her place?” Where the question had come from, he did not know, but it seemed to make the air around them sizzle with heat and temptation. His pulse quickened, and he saw her eyes widening as she drew in an unsteady breath.
Yes, he would accept her as his bride in a heartbeat.
No questions asked.
But how far was Lady Christina willing to go in order to save her friend? Now that was an extremely interesting question, and Thorne could not help but wish that he knew the answer. He was not fool enough to believe that Fate would grant him such a woman. That somehow he would be meeting not Miss Mortensen, but Lady Christina at the altar.
Still, in that moment, Thorne dared to dream.
Chapter Five
Wrong Time, Wrong Place
Sarah’s face paled in a way that made Christina reach out and grasp her hands, concern quickening her pulse as she stared at her friend. “What is it?”
Sarah swallowed hard, but then quickly regained her composure, a polite but somewhat intense smile coming to her face. “It is nothing. I was merely—”
Christina frowned, then turned to look over her shoulder, wondering what her friend was staring at or rather trying not to stare at so intently. “What is it? What did you—?” Christina’s insides tensed at the very sight of him. “What is he doing here?”
Sarah shook her head. “I don’t have the faintest idea. I never expected to…”
Indeed, what was he doing here? At her sister’s wedding reception? In her sister’s new home?
Craning her neck, Christina spotted Leonora and her new husband speaking to a few other guests, their eyes aglow with happiness, her hand resting upon his arm as she leaned into him. “Why would they have invited him?” she mumbled more to herself than anyone else. Then she turned to look at Sarah. “Do you think it was your mother?” Christina felt the frown lines upon her forehead deepening. “No offense, but I would not put it past her.”
Sarah waved Christina’s concerns away. “Neither would I. However, I do not be
lieve she would invite him without permission from your parents or your sister.”
Together, they turned to look toward the pianoforte where Lady Hartmore stood in a small circle of elderly matrons, a glass of ratafia in her hand. Truth be told, she did not look particularly conniving at the moment. If she had, in fact, invited Mr. Sharpe, the expression upon her face did not betray her. Indeed, she looked completely unperturbed.
“Do you think he could’ve invited himself?” Sarah asked, keeping her gaze fixed upon anything but Mr. Sharpe. Clearly, the man upset her deeply. Whenever he was near or was merely talked about, Sarah seemed uneasy.
Christina understood why. The man was most irritating! In fact, he was most likely the most irritating man she had ever met. When she had spoken to him the other day at the ball, he had been most direct and impolite. No gentleman would have spoken to a lady the way he had spoken to her.
A small voice whispered that neither would a true lady have addressed Mr. Sharpe the way Christina had; however, Christina silenced that voice immediately. “Honestly, it would not surprise me. He has no manners, no sense of decency, no—” Her words broke off when the man’s gaze met hers from across the room.
Mr. Sharpe smiled at her in greeting, which infuriated Christina even more. What was he thinking? They were not friends! They were not even acquaintances! In fact, he was her nemesis. Granted, that might be a bit extreme. Still, Christina loathed him with every fiber of her being for the role he was currently playing in ruining her friend’s life.
“Who are you glaring at so intently?” Harriet’s voice chirped up a moment before she appeared in Christina’s field of vision. Her fiery red curls bounced upon her shoulders and then flew sideways as she quickly turned her head in Mr. Sharpe’s direction. “Oh, him.” Her green eyes narrowed as she looked at Christina. “Honestly, I never understood why you dislike him. He seems quite amiable.”
Christina snorted in derision. “How can you say that?” She glanced at Sarah, not wishing to upset her friend further. “Do you know why he’s here? Did Mother and Father invite him? Did Leonora?” She frowned and cast a quick glance at her new brother-in-law. “He’s not a friend of Drake’s, is he?”
Harriet threw back her head and laughed. “Oh, can you imagine that? They are like day and night, one dark and skulking and the other cheerful and teasing. Now, if he’s anyone’s friend, I think he must be Phineas’. They are a lot alike, wouldn’t you say?”
Christina frowned, then looked at Sarah, somewhat relieved to see an equally confused frown upon her friend’s face. “Harry, honestly, I don’t know how you cannot see it. He is so—”
Harriet lifted a hand to stop her. “If you insist on yelling and ranting on our sister’s wedding day, then please let me get away first.” She made to turn away, but then stopped and looked at Sarah. “Would you care for a stroll through the gardens?” Her eyes darted to Christina, then did a quick little roll before she held out her hand to Sarah. “You look like you could use a little fresh air.”
Christina tried her best not to be offended by her sister’s remark. “Go ahead,” she told Sarah, well aware that she was truly poor company at the moment. “I need a moment to myself.”
With a bit of a sigh, Sarah took Harriet’s arm, cast Christina a small smile and then, together, the two crossed to the terrace doors and stepped outside into the warm air of early summer.
Inhaling a deep breath, Christina tried her best to calm her nerves. However, the slight tingling sensation trailing down the back of her neck made her once more glance over her shoulder at Mr. Sharpe.
To her utter surprise, the blasted man was still looking at her. Worse! He was watching her. Why on earth was he watching her? After all, there was nothing she could do to protect her friend, and he knew it. Was it boastful pride? Did he delight in letting her know that he would win eventually?
Merely thinking about it stirred Christina’s blood. She felt the need to curl her fingers into tight fists. Her teeth gritted together, and her eyes narrowed. She could see that he saw that she was angry. She could see the teasing smile that came to his lips as well as the slight arc of his brows as though daring her to lose her temper.
Here.
In front of everybody.
Oh, no! She would not play into his hands. She would not explode. She would hold her temper until she was alone.
Straightening her shoulders, Christina lifted her chin and met his gaze head-on. Then she did her best to imitate a genuine smile, one that spoke of confidence and self-assuredness, and did her utmost to maintain that smile until she had counted to three in her head. A moment later, she shot him a challenging glare, turned her back on him and walked away.
Her heart was hammering in her chest, and Christina wanted nothing more than to stomp on his feet and scratch out his eyes. It was a childish and immature desire, but it was one he had only himself to blame for.
Leaving the assembled guests behind, Christina stepped out into the deserted corridor, the cheerful voices echoing after her a taunt, a reminder of how different she felt from those around her. If only she could have enjoyed her sister’s wedding day! If only she could have simply joined in! But no, he had to ruin everything! What was he doing here in the first place?
“Who stepped on your toes, my dear?”
At the sound of Grandma Edie’s voice, Christina whirled around. “How is it possible that you always manage to sneak up on us? And with your cane no less?” She drew in a replenishing breath, her gaze moving from her grandma’s chuckling face to her cane.
“I doubt it had anything to do with me, dear,” her grandmother replied with an indulgent smile. “You seemed rather lost in thought. Anything on your mind?” With her right hand leaning heavily upon her cane, Grandma Edie slipped her other hand through the crook of Christina’s arm as they proceeded down the corridor. “Speak to me, child, and I promise I shall not breathe a word of it to anyone.”
Christina shook her head. “Oh, it is nothing.”
Her grandmother snorted. “Chris, I have seen nothing countless times—although admittedly not as often as I have seen something—and I can tell you that nothing rarely leads to flushed cheeks and an accelerated heartbeat.” She grinned up at Christina. “Will you truly pretend that it is nothing?”
Christina heaved a deep sigh. “Oh, very well. There is no point in trying to hide anything from you, is there?”
Again, her grandmother chuckled. “Of course, you are free to try; however, I doubt you will succeed.”
Christina smiled at her grandmother, then gave her a quick hug, grateful to have her in her life. Although often quite intrusive and annoyingly tenacious when it came to knowing other people’s business, her grandmother had the kindest heart Christina had ever known, and she liked the thought that her own tenaciousness had come from her darling grandmother, passed down to her like a precious gift.
“What is it, dear? Is it Sarah’s soon-to-be-betrothed?”
Christina drew to a halt and turned to stare at her grandmother. “How do you know?” A deep frown drew down her brows. “Have you been watching me?”
Her grandmother chuckled. “How else would I know what I know?” Her pale, watchful eyes looked over Christina’s face. “He upsets you,” she remarked thoughtfully. “He upsets you deeply.”
Christina felt a surge of anger at her grandmother’s words. Yes, he did upset her! He irritated her! He—! “I don’t know what to do,” Christina admitted, realizing that Mr. Sharpe upset her so deeply because his insistence upon marrying her friend made her feel helpless. Never had Christina felt helpless. Never had she found herself confronted with a problem she could not solve. And now, here she was dependent upon his cooperation, which he stubbornly refused to give! “Sarah cannot marry him. She simply cannot.”
Her grandmother’s head cocked sideways. “Why not? Would he truly be such an awful match for her? You have to admit, he looks quite dashing with those teasing green eyes and those dark brown locks
.” A youthful twinkle came to her eyes.
Christina threw up her hands. “You sound like Harriet,” she accused. “He looks like a blackguard, a scoundrel, a rogue, a…villain! Yes, he looks like a villain, the kind of villain the hero has to defeat in order to save the damsel in distress.” She heaved out a deep breath and crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s what he looks like!”
Grandma Edie chuckled, and for once, that sound deeply annoyed Christina. “So, he is the villain, and I suppose it is safe to assume that Sarah is the damsel in distress. Then, who is the hero?” She asked, grinning at Christina. “You?”
Christina rolled her eyes. “Since we’re lacking a dashing gentleman, yes! Who else?” Oh, how she wished there were a man—a gentleman, to be precise!—who would swoop in and sweep Sarah off her feet. A man who would marry her. A man who would be good for her. A man who would be good to her.
“Well,” Grandma Edie began, once more slipping her hand through the crook of Christina’s arm, “even a hero needs a moment to breathe every now and then. Come.” Together, they slowly made their way a little farther down the corridor before Grandma Edie used her cane to point at a door. “I believe the library is through there.”
Christina nodded for she had known this house what felt like all her life. After all, it had been Sarah’s former home!
Stepping forward, Christina pushed down the handle and stepped inside, her eyes darting from the tall floor-to-ceiling windows to the many rows of books along the walls. A fireplace was nestled in one corner with inviting armchairs set around it. Indeed, the room looked peaceful with the warm sun streaming in through the windows, touching the dark mahogany wood of the shelves and the floor.
“Rest your thoughts a bit,” Grandma Edie instructed from the door. “I shall see to Sarah.”
Sighing, Christina nodded, suddenly feeling utterly exhausted. “She went outside with Harry. Please, make certain that Mr. Sharpe does not approach her. He upsets her whenever he draws near.”
