by Wolf, Bree
“Of course not,” their father replied, his face tense as he was no doubt torn into various directions. Of course, everyone knew that recovering from such a scandal was almost impossible for a woman. Nonetheless, their parents had always insisted their children make their own decisions, for better or for worse. Free will: it was the only way to live one’s life and find happiness. Her parents had always believed that to be a universal truth.
Never would Christina have thought that only days after Leonora, she herself would find herself in a similar situation, forced to decide between her own wishes and what might be best for those she loved. Indeed, if she married Mr. Sharpe, it would certainly protect her family’s reputation as much as it would protect Sarah.
Christina turned and looked at Mr. Sharpe, trying to imagine spending the rest of her life at his side. Yes, he was a nuisance of a man. Teasing and mocking, and those sharp eyes of his saw more than she would have liked. However, as far she could tell, he was decent enough for her not to worry about her well-being as the man’s wife. Indeed, she had always been made of sterner stuff than Sarah or even Leonora. Yes, she would be able to handle him. She would not allow him to bully her into submission. No, she would hold her head high and perhaps she would even be able to teach him how to treat a lady. God knew, he needed the lesson!
“Mr. Sharpe,” her father addressed him, “I have heard it said that you hail from the North?”
Mr. Sharpe nodded and provided a quick overview of his business dealings, including the cotton mill in Manchester.
“And what brings you to town?” Leonora’s husband, Drake, inquired, that look of protectiveness in his gaze that Christina had come to appreciate. Before it had only ever been directed at Leonora. Now, it seemed he was extending it to the rest of her family. Indeed, her sister had made a wise choice.
Christina looked at Mr. Sharpe, wishing that she, too, would have had such a chance. Even if she refused him, no decent gentlemen would now seek her favors. If she refused him, she would be worse off than Sarah.
“I believe,” Mr. Sharpe began, the look upon his face determined as his gaze moved from Drake to Christina’s father, “that fair labor should be a requirement in all business dealings. I have seen far too many workers injured or killed because of unsuitable working conditions. It is something, I believe, needs to be regulated by the law.”
The expression upon her father’s face relaxed, the look in his eyes becoming intrigued. “You seek to rally support?”
Mr. Sharpe nodded. “Quite frankly, I feel very much at home in Manchester. However, London is the place where one must travel to see any changes made to labor laws. I came here to see those I am responsible for, as well as others in their position, better protected. Thus far, it rests within each mill owner’s discretion to determine working conditions. Unfortunately, few take this responsibility seriously.” His voice darkened, and Christina was surprised to see his teeth grind together, his jaw tensing, as he spoke of something that clearly stirred anger within his heart.
Her father nodded in approval, and it was obvious that Mr. Sharpe had risen in his opinion. “That is very commendable. I would like to hear more of this issue,” he glanced at Christina, “at another time.”
Christina was not certain whether or not she liked the fact that hearing Mr. Sharpe speak with such compassion about the needs of others somehow endeared him to her…at least a little. It seemed he did possess a kind and caring side, somewhere below that obnoxious surface he generally portrayed in her presence. He was perhaps not the worst sort of man after all. However, he was not a gentleman. A gentleman would not have done what he had. A gentleman would not have maneuvered her into a position where she had no choice but to comply with his wishes.
Christina frowned as she realized her own thoughts were far from accurate. Yes, somehow, she wanted there to be good people and bad people. People who could be trusted, and people who could not. Would that not make the world a simpler place? Only the truth was far from simple. Indeed, there were those who were considered gentlemen who would surely commit deeds most heinous in order to achieve their goals. Had she not just learned that very lesson when Leonora had been blackmailed by a gentleman of the ton? Indeed, he had possessed breeding and standing, fortune and connections, and yet he had been the vilest sort of man.
He still was a most vile man.
Perhaps Mr. Sharpe, in comparison, was indeed the lesser of two evils. Perhaps, Christina thought, she simply ought to see this as a challenge. After all, she possessed strength and daring and no small measure of forthrightness.
“Very well,” Christina said into the momentary stillness, her eyes drifting from her parents to her sister and then to Mr. Sharpe.
“Very well?” she heard her sister ask, her voice slightly trembling with anxiety. “What do you mean?”
At her words, Mr. Sharpe’s gaze narrowed, yet a slow smile teased the corners of his mouth as he looked at her, watched her and waited. She could see amusement and curiosity dancing in those eyes of his, teasing her and mocking her as he always did. However, she saw nothing that frightened her or made her worry about her well-being. Perhaps, just perhaps, he was a more or less decent man after all.
And she would certainly be able to handle him. How hard could it be?
And Sarah would be safe.
At least for now.
“Yes,” Christina replied to her sister’s question; her gaze, however, never veered from Mr. Sharpe’s. “I will marry him.”
Silence fell over the room before all their voices seemed to erupt at once. While her parents urged her to delay and think this through, her sister objected outright to her decision. Mr. Sharpe, on the other hand, smiled at her, the look in his eyes reminding her of his earlier question.
How far would you go? Would you take her place?
Never would Christina have expected this day to end in such a way. Yet here she was, all but betrothed to a man she had only yesterday considered a scoundrel and the worse sort of man imaginable. Today, well, she had to admit that he was not…all bad. To her utter shock, it seemed they shared certain similarities. They both had a way of speaking their minds that was rarely appreciated by those around them. In fact, Christina could not say that she appreciated his outright manner. Still, perhaps, with time, they would learn to get along.
And perhaps a kiss would be worth the bother of teaching Mr. Sharpe proper manners.
If only she did not have to wait!
Chapter Ten
Repercussions
Angry footsteps echoed along the corridor, and Thorne put down his quill and looked toward the door. A moment later, it burst open and in sailed Lord Hartmore, closely followed by Thorne’s rather indignant-looking butler. “Sir, I’m terribly sorry, but—”
“How dare you treat my daughter this way?” Lord Hartmore roared, his face turning a dark red as he stormed toward Thorne’s desk. His hands had balled into fists, and he waved them around as though wishing to land a punch. “I ought to challenge you right here and now!”
Slowly, Thorne rose to his feet, familiar with the likes of Lord Hartmore. Men who ranted and roared, put up an aggressive front, but ultimately lacked the courage or determination to back it with deeds. “Then do so,” Thorne challenged the other man, his gaze steady as he stared across the small expanse of his desk between them.
Clearly taken aback, Lord Hartmore clamped his lips shut. His eyes narrowed in distaste, and his face darkened considerably. Still, he did no more than huff out an indignant breath before saying, “I demand an explanation. What happened last night at Lord Pemberton’s wedding reception?” His gaze narrowed even farther, and he looked at Thorne as though he were an insect Lord Hartmore wished to squash beneath his boot.
Thorne squared his shoulders. “I’m afraid I cannot share any details with you, my lord; however, it seemed that a misunderstanding occurred.” He chuckled, deviously delighted to see the other man squirm before him. He knew better than anyone that Lord H
artmore considered himself superior to others; nonetheless, right now, here he stood, furious to have been robbed of an advantageous match for his daughter. For himself. After all, his gambling debts were staggering.
The older man’s jaw ground together, his muscles tensing violently. “A misunderstanding?” he demanded, outrage in his voice. “We had a deal! Have you no honor?”
Thorne chuckled. “Do you?” Keeping his gaze fixed on Lord Hartmore’s, he slowly rounded the desk, noting the way the other man seemed to shrink back, unease coming to his bloodshot eyes. “You gamble away your family’s fortunes, risk their welfare and happiness, rob them of everything and then demand your daughter sacrifice her own future in order to save her family. To save you! Where is the honor in that?”
For a moment, it seemed Lord Hartmore would expire on the spot. His face turned a shade of dark violet and his eyes almost bulged from his head as he stared at Thorne in outrage.
“I apologize if I’ve caused your daughter any unease,” Thorne continued, suspecting that Miss Mortensen had been relieved to find that she was no longer to be his future bride. After all, whenever her eyes had fallen on him, her face had paled, and she had quickly turned away as though unable to bear the mere sight of him. Clearly, he had frightened her or at least something about their impending union had. Who knew what her parents had told her about him? Or what she might have overheard from others? After all, as far as society was concerned, he was not considered worthy to be among them.
“She’ll be ruined now,” Lord Hartmore snarled, his fists once more gesturing wildly as though by waving them fast enough he might be able to rewind time and set things right. “How dare you jilt her? Have you no decency? No gentleman will want her now!”
“I did not jilt her,” Thorne insisted, unable to curb that small stab of guilt he felt when thinking of Miss Mortensen. Yes, she had been the victim in all of this, and perhaps he should have been more cautious to spare her such humiliation. “We had not yet reached an understanding. Neither had I proposed to your daughter. Indeed, it was you who was presumptuous by circulating rumors of our impending nuptials. Had you been more discreet, none of this would’ve happened! No one would ever have known.” He gave Lord Hartmore a pointed look.
The man’s fists shook as he stared at Thorne, dumbfounded to have someone he deemed inferior speak to him in such a way. After all, Lord Hartmore seemed to be of the opinion that none of his troubles were his fault. Therefore, he had never even stopped to consider laying blame at his own feet. In Thorne’s humble opinion, that was precisely what had caused all this trouble. If the man had had any sense of responsibility, he would not have gambled away his family’s fortunes and future in the first place.
“I thank you for your visit,” Thorne said icily. “However, since I am on my way out myself, I must politely ask you to leave.” His brows rose into arches as he gestured toward the door.
A huffed breath left Lord Hartmore’s lips before he spun around, mumbled something unintelligible, but, no doubt insulting, under his breath, and then stormed from the room, his footsteps thundering down the corridor.
Thorne allowed a small smile to cross his face at seeing a member of the ton thus humiliated. Of course, it was petty and spiteful, yet after a lifetime of being looked down upon and treated with no respect at all, Thorne could not help it. In fact, in his opinion, Lord Hartmore deserved far worse for what he had done…for what he would no doubt continue to do to his family. If only there was something Thorne could do to protect Miss Mortensen from her father’s next scheme. Who knew, what solution Lord Hartmore would concoct next?
Striding from his study, Thorne donned his hat and then proceeded out of the house and down to the pavement in front of the townhouse, which he had let for the duration of his stay in London. The air was warm and soothing, a mild breeze stirring the leaves of the trees lining the street. He moved at a leisurely pace, his thoughts turning from Lord Hartmore’s visit to the woman he was to marry.
He smiled, a part of him still wondering if he had merely dreamed her acceptance. In fact, he had expected her to fight him tooth and nail. Nonetheless, it would be foolish of him to think that she had agreed to become his wife because she cared for him. Of course, Thorne knew that Lady Christina had only agreed to marry him in order to protect her friend, to protect Miss Mortensen.
Her devotion to her friend was something that made Thorne hold her in even higher regard. Yes, she had her faults and follies, but deep down, she was a deeply compassionate and loyal woman, willing to sacrifice her own happiness in order to protect someone she cared about. Thorne could only hope that in the end happiness would still find them both.
Thinking of her, Thorne’s steps quickened, and a smile came to his face the moment his gaze fell upon her family’s townhouse. Indeed, he was looking forward to seeing her.
A lot more than he would have expected.
Chapter Eleven
Among Sisters
Descending the stairs to the ground floor, Christina found a small mob waiting for her at the bottom, their eyes fixed on her and matching frowns upon all their faces. “I sense an intervention,” Christina mumbled, unable to help the smile that came to her face as her gaze swept over her sisters. Generally, Harriet was the recipient of these interventions for she was the one with the most outrageous ideas and plans.
Harry laughed, no doubt guessing Christina’s thoughts. “I actually have no objections.” She ignored the dark looks from her sisters. “I’m just here for the fun of it.”
Stopping on the bottom step, Christina turned to look at Louisa, Leonora and Juliet. “Well? Say your piece then.”
Louisa shook her head. “Not here. Come.” Without waiting, she grabbed a hold of Christina’s arm and pulled her forward, their sisters following in their wake. The door to the drawing room was shoved open, and Christina was pulled inside and then pushed down onto the settee. The door was closed behind them before her sisters settled around her, all their eyes coming to rest upon her. It was an eerie feeling, and Christina did not much care for it.
Jules, the oldest and most rational sister of them, smiled at her softly. “Christina, we only wish to speak to you to ensure that you—”
“You cannot marry him!” Leonora interrupted, the pulse at the base of her neck beating wildly as she shook her head. “You simply cannot!”
Christina could understand her sister’s concern considering what she herself had been through recently; however, she had made up her mind and would not be swayed.
“Why not?” Harry inquired, a bit of a frown coming to her face as she looked from one sister to the other.
Leonora gaped at her for a moment, then inhaled a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. Indeed, she had never been impulsive, but rather calm and collected, thinking everything through before taking a single step. Every once in a while, it had been rather maddening to wait for Leonora to make up her mind. Today, however, was different. “She hardly knows him,” she began, her voice trembling and a bit of hesitancy in the way she spoke as though she did not quite know what she wanted to say. “In fact, she does not know him at all. They have barely said two words to each other. The only reason we are even here discussing this is because they were discovered alone together.”
A wide smile came to Harry’s face. “Precisely,” she teased, her gaze moving to Christina. “How exactly did that come to be?” Something wicked twinkled in her eyes, and Christina knew from experience that her youngest sister more often than not was like a dog with a bone once she had found something that piqued her curiosity.
Christina rolled her eyes at Harry, then turned to look at Louisa and Leonora, deciding that at the very least she ought to try and distract them from this topic. “What are you two doing here anyhow? You’ve both been recently married, and yet you have nothing better to do than to call on your little sister early in the day? Leonora, you should be on your honeymoon. Does your husband not object to you spending all your time here wit
h us?”
Leonora shook her head. “Of course, he does not. He—” She paused, and her gaze narrowed. “There are more important matters to be discussed here than my marriage. Stop trying to distract us!” She threw up her hands and looked at Louisa for the two of them had always been close in the same way Christina and Harry had.
Louisa nodded, coming to Leonora’s defense. “She is right, Chris,” Louisa said with a bit of a chuckle. “You know we need to talk about this. You did not truly expect us to simply accept this madness and—”
Christina laughed. “What madness? You two are the ones to talk. Have you not both found husbands in…how shall we say it?…most unusual ways? Did you truly expect me to be an exception?”
“We married men we love,” Leonora objected, exchanging a knowing look with Louisa. “Are you telling us you’re in love with him? How could that be possible?”
Chuckling, Christina shook her head. “Of course, I’m not in love with him. However, I have my reasons as you have had yours. Why can you not respect that?”
Harriet scooted forward in her seat, curiosity sparking in her green eyes. “What exactly happened last night?” she asked, looking from Leonora to Christina. “I admit I am terribly disappointed that I was not there to see it.”
Heaving a deep sigh, Christina gave a brief recollection of what had transpired the day before, frowning when she realized that sharing the mere necessities of how she had retreated to the library and how he had come upon her there made it seem quite uneventful.
Yet it had not been.
Not for her.
Had it been for him?
Christina felt her breath momentarily lodge in her throat as she recalled how close they had stood in that moment. She could still feel his hands upon her, those emerald eyes of his looking down at her, seeing more than she wanted him to see. She remembered that teasing smile upon his lips and the way she had all but swayed toward him. More than anything, Christina remembered her regret upon being interrupted. Would he have kissed her if the door had not been flung open? Would she have let him?
