Once Upon an Irritatingly Magical Kiss: #3 The Whickertons in Love

by Wolf, Bree

  “I admit, Leonora has a point,” Louisa stated, reaching out to pat her sister’s hand, to which Leonora responded with a grateful smile. “Quite frankly, I have never heard you speak well of the man. On the contrary, you seem to loathe the very sight of him.” Louisa’s green eyes looked deeply into hers, demanding an answer, demanding the truth.

  Juliet cast a somewhat placating smile around her small circle. “Is he not the man you thought him to be?” she asked gently, turning to look at Christina. “Or—?”

  “Wait!” Harriet interjected, holding up a hand to stop everyone in their thoughts. “Are you only marrying him so he cannot marry Sarah?”

  All her sisters’ jaws collectively dropped open.

  Christina shrugged. “It is a good plan. Frankly, the best one I could come up with.”

  Leonora stared at her, her cheeks paling. “It is not a good plan! It is not even a plan at all! It is foolishness! It is madness!” Her hands began to tremble, and once more Louisa settled her own steady ones upon hers, offering comfort.

  Louisa then turned her inquisitive gaze to Christina. “Are you serious? You’re only marrying him to protect Sarah?” Slowly, she shook her head. “Believe me, I, too, want to see her happily married, but not at the price of your own happiness. If this man is so awful that you fear for her, should she be forced to marry him,” anxiety darkened her eyes, and she once more shook her head from side to side as though hoping the movement would convince Christina, “how are you not afraid? Are you not worried about yourself?”

  Christina swallowed, struggling to maintain the lighthearted, unconcerned expression upon her face. She did not want her sisters to worry. She did not want them to know that, yes, of course, she was worried. Despite the temptation Mr. Sharpe presented, she could not be certain of his character nor of the way he would treat her once she was his wife.

  The past night, Christina had struggled to keep her thoughts focused on her accomplishment—she had found a way to save Sarah!—and away from the uncertain future now looming in front of her. A future with a man she knew little about. Of course, she had heard whispers about men of his kind. Whispers that suggested they were far different from the gentlemen she had grown up with. A part of Christina knew that these were only rumors spread by gossips. They were not necessarily the truth. People could not be judged according to superficial aspects. Although she knew so, she could not help but hear those whispers repeated in her head, and they made her wonder.

  Were the smiles Mr. Sharpe had thus far bestowed upon her genuine? Did they speak to his character? Or were they simply a mask, like the one Lord Gillingham had worn? He had seemed like a gentleman, and yet it had been he who had attacked Leonora. Was that not proof that those deemed gentlemen could possess equally dark souls? And that men of Mr. Sharpe’s kind could be…decent and respectful and treat a lady the way she deserved?

  Christina wanted it to be possible. She wanted it to be true, and yet she knew she did not honestly believe so. Because if she did, would she then not have let Sarah marry Mr. Sharpe? Would then Sarah not have been safe with him? Indeed, the only reason for why Christina had intervened had been because she believed him be a horrible scoundrel, had it not?

  Feeling her sisters’ eyes upon her, Christina focused her energy upon appearing unconcerned. The corners of her mouth once more drew upward, and she smiled at them, giving a quick wave with her hand, dismissing their concerns. “You all know that Sarah is all but a delicate flower. She would never be able to handle a man like Mr. Sharpe. I, on the other hand, have lots of experience dealing with…challenging personalities.” She lifted her brows in challenge and looked at each and every one of them.

  Harriet snorted with a grin. “Who are you calling a challenging personality?”

  They all laughed, and Christina could see that her sisters were not convinced.

  Leonora heaved a deep sigh, her hands still trembling. “Even if you marry Mr. Sharpe, it will not save Sarah forever.” She exchanged a knowing look with Louisa. “One of these days, her parents will find a suitor who cannot be discouraged. Who knows who that will be? And what then?”

  Christina gritted her teeth, upset with her sister for bringing this up in her moment of triumph. “Don’t you think I know that? Of course, I know that. However, this is the best I can do now. Tomorrow, I shall try and find Sarah a suitor deserving of her.” She looked at all of her sisters. “I would appreciate your help.”

  Juliet nodded, that maternal smile once more upon her lips as she looked from one sister to the other. “Of course, we will do what we can. However, today, we are concerned for you. What did Mother and Father say to this?”

  “Surely they are not forcing you to accept his hand,” Louisa remarked with no more than a slight frown. “They would not do that!”

  “Of course not,” Christina confirmed. “In fact, they have spoken to me in much the same way you are. They’ve asked me to reconsider, to take my time and think this through carefully, to not make any rash decisions that cannot be undone.” Indeed, speaking to her parents earlier this morning, Christina had felt all but discouraged upon leaving their chambers. Her mother’s words had been disconcertingly final as though agreeing to marry Mr. Sharpe was something akin to accepting a death sentence. Could it be?

  “And?” Leonora prompted.

  Christina gave her an exasperated look. “And I told them what I’m telling you now. I’ve made my decision.”

  Leonora shot to her feet and began to pace in front of the window, wringing her hands and casting the occasional disbelieving look at Christina.

  “Perhaps we should—” Louisa began when a knock sounded on the door.

  A moment later, their butler appeared in its frame and announced that Mr. Sharpe was here to see Christina.

  The sisters drew in a collective breath, their eyes slightly widened as they all turned to look at Christina. Leonora seemed dangerously close to arguing with her, but then clamped her lips shut. Louisa hurried to her side and drew her close. “We shall leave you alone to speak to him,” Louisa told Christina, a warning look in her eyes. “I suggest you try to get to know the man you agreed to marry.”

  Christina nodded and then watched her sisters one by one leave the room. She, too, rose to her feet and stepped over to the window, inhaling a deep breath in order to prepare herself to face Mr. Sharpe once more. As before, Christina felt torn in two different directions. A part of her felt a deep sense of unease while another almost tingled with anticipation. This was odd, was it not?

  Footsteps echoed to her ears, and then a familiar voice spoke out from behind her. “If I am not at all mistaken, your sisters loathe the very sight of me. I assume, you’ve shared your own unflattering opinion?” A teasing tone rang in his voice, and as Christina turned to face him, she could not help but smile.

  With him, it seemed she never knew what to expect, and she was not quite certain whether she liked that…or not.

  Chapter Twelve

  Irritatingly Tempting

  Thorne could not help but stare at Lady Christina as he used his boot to push closed the door behind him. She was beautiful; the early sun shone in through the window and sent golden sparks dancing across her silken tresses. Her eyes were wide and focused solely on him, and Thorne had to admit he quite liked it that way. A hint of nervousness lingered, and he could see the pulse at the base of her neck beating a little faster than he would have expected.

  Then her gaze moved from him past his shoulder, and she crossed her arms over her chest in a bit of a chiding gesture. “For propriety’s sake, the door is supposed to remain open,” she instructed as one would an unruly child.

  Thorne laughed and took a step into the room. “As you are well aware I am most ignorant of society’s rules. Care to instruct me?”

  A smile teased her lips as she did her best to fight it down. “Your behavior is outrageous, Sir.”

  He moved toward her. “Nevertheless, I cannot fail to notice that you are not i
nsisting I open the door. Why is that?” He held her gaze, enjoying the way indecision sparked in her eyes. She regarded him carefully, curiously, quite the same way he was looking at her. After all, they were strangers, and yet they were to be married soon. There was much to learn about the other, much to know and discover.

  “Why are you here?” Lady Christina asked instead of answering his question. Neither did she step toward the door in order to open it.

  Thorne could not help but chuckle. “I came to speak to my future bride,” he teased, delighted to see a soft rosy shine come to her cheeks. Still, she held his gaze unflinchingly, a touch of anger lighting up those blue eyes of hers.

  “You’ve come to tease me?” she remarked, giving him one of those haughty looks he had come to expect from her. Indeed, it seemed it was her way of teasing him.

  “I have come to see if you’ve changed your mind,” he said lightly. Nevertheless, he felt a hint of tightness growing in his chest as he waited for her to answer.

  She regarded him curiously and then took a step toward him, making a statement and showing him that he was not the one leading this conversation, that she was an equal participant. “Why would you think I changed my mind?”

  Thorne shrugged. “Quite frankly, we both know why we find ourselves in this situation, do we not? Had we not been discovered, none of this would have happened.” He took note of the slight rise and fall of her chest as she inhaled a deep breath, the way her gaze did not fall from his but…perhaps wanted to? Did he make her nervous? “I willingly admit that I know very little about your social circle; however, I have heard that it is not uncommon that in order to save the family’s reputation, young women are often forced to accept proposals they would otherwise wish to refuse.” He held her gaze, daring her to speak her mind, to be truthful with him. He knew very well that she had not agreed to marry him out of affection. He was no fool! Nonetheless, he was selfish upon occasion. He had been selfish that night. The night before. He knew he wanted her, but selfishly, he also wanted her to want him back.

  Of course, she did not.

  Not right now.

  Not yet.

  But perhaps one day she would.

  Only he was certain the path to her affections was found in open words. If he was to have any chance of proving her wrong, proving her impression of him wrong, then he needed to speak to her openly. She needed to know that he was not the kind of man Lord Hartmore was. The kind of man he had seen among the ton far too often. Men who dominated others through fear. Men who did as they wished with no regard for others. Was that not what had forced Miss Mortensen into this unbearable situation? Was it not precisely the accusation Lady Christina had placed at her friend’s father’s feet?

  Selfishly, Thorne needed her to know that he was not such a man.

  “My father would never force my hand,” Lady Christina insisted, her voice hard and determined, a whisper of outrage in the way she spoke. Clearly, he had offended her by suggesting that her father would go over her head and decide her future without consulting her. Indeed, Thorne had never believed it to be so, but it was good to know that Lord Whickerton was the kind of man Thorne had thought him to be.

  A man he could respect.

  “Perhaps there are other reasons?” he continued, allowing a wide grin to show upon his face as he sauntered closer. “In fact, you yourself have more than once described me as the worst sort of man.” He stopped an arm’s length in front of her, noting the way her eyes followed his every movement. “Why then would you agree to marry me?”

  Her jaw hardened, and a fiery glare came to her eyes. “We were compromised,” she replied flatly as though he was a fool for asking such a question. “I have little choice in the matter.”

  Thorne chuckled. “You don’t strike me as the kind of woman who bends to societal pressure,” he mused, noting a strange shadow pass over her face as though, once, perhaps long ago, she had.

  She did not drop her eyes, their deep blue like ice, hard and unbreakable. “Why are you asking me all these questions?”

  “To make out your character,” Thorne echoed her words from their first conversation, delighting in the slight eye roll she gave him. “After all, how am I to know if you’re the kind of woman I want for a wife?”

  Lady Christina laughed. “That you should have thought about before cornering me in the library.”

  He frowned. “I did not corner you.”

  “Yes, you did.” She stepped toward him, indignation in her tone as she shook her head at him. “You could have left, but you didn’t.”

  He grinned. “Neither did you.” He looked down at her, noting the exact moment when she realized how close they were standing. Her eyes widened ever so slightly, and she drew in a somewhat unsteady breath. “You stayed as well.”

  She swallowed, and for a split-second, her gaze moved from his. “I did not have my slippers, so I—”

  “That is nothing but an excuse,” Thorne accused, enjoying this small back-and-forth far more than anything else since coming to London. He had thought the city dull and full of pretentious people. He still did. Only now, he had found a ray of sunshine in the fog and he would hold on to her for as long as he could.

  Her mouth dropped open in outrage. “An excuse? How dare you—?”

  “Then why did you stay?” Thorne demanded, lowering his head no more than a fraction. Still, it was enough, and he could see the effect of his closeness upon her face. Could she see the same in him? For his own heart seemed to be doing somersaults as well. Never before had he known anyone this…exciting.

  Tempting.

  Irritating!

  “You knew even better than I,” he continued when she opened her mouth, no doubt to contradict him, “what consequences there would be should we be discovered. Yet you stayed, accepting the risk. Why?”

  “I told you why!” she snapped, then inhaled deeply, a hint of annoyance in her gaze. Not with him though, but with herself.

  A moment later, the anger vanished from her features, and Thorne was surprised to see even a small smile curl up her lips. Ought he to be wary? Was this some sort of trick or manipulation?

  “Let us be clear about something,” Lady Christina said sweetly. “The only reason I agreed to marry you is to protect my friend, and the only reason you wish to marry me is to gather support for your ambitions. Let’s not pretend this is anything else than what it is.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him teasingly, then turned and walked over to the settee and sat down. “Shall I call for tea?”

  Ignoring her question, Thorne laughed, then sank into the armchair opposite her. “You think you know exactly what this is?”

  A slight furrow came to her forehead. “This? Do you mean our impending nuptials?”

  Grinning at her, Thorne nodded, certain she knew exactly what he was talking about. It seemed his future wife enjoyed playing games. Indeed, the look in her eyes told him so for he could not help but think that she was not at all opposed to the idea of marrying him. Perhaps this thought was a bit presumptuous of him. Still, Thorne could not help but think that despite the circumstances of how they had found themselves tied to one another, the union would be a successful one.

  “Of course,” Lady Christina replied rather haughtily. She folded her hands in her lap, her gaze meeting his openly as she spoke with a calm he doubted she felt. “Marriage like most things in life is governed by rules. Two parties finding mutual benefit in such a union agree to—”

  “Is this truly the kind of marriage you wish to have?” Thorne interrupted as he leaned forward resting his elbows upon his knees. “You cannot tell me that as a little girl you dreamed of a mutually beneficial agreement.” He laughed, eyeing her curiously.

  Lady Christina cast him a bit of a glaring look, but momentarily refused to answer. Was it that she did not wish to lose her temper in his presence? After all, the pulse at the base of her neck beat as rapidly as before.

  “If that were the case,” Thorne continued, wonde
ring how far he could push her before she erupted like a volcano, “then why did you seek to protect your friend from me? After all, our agreement would’ve been mutually beneficial. Why did you interfere?”

  Her lips thinned, and she lifted her chin a fraction, giving him the impression that she was suddenly looking down upon him. “You simply do not deserve her,” she said calmly; still, a touch of anger resonated in her voice that she could not quite seem to quell. “We are not all equally capable to treat such a union as a business agreement.” Her brows rose pointedly.

  “May I ask,” Thorne began, curious to see what she would say, “what precisely do you object to? Yes, I know you despise my upbringing and my lack of manners. That much we have already established. However, I doubt it is enough to persuade you to think so ill of me. What then?”

  Her lips parted as though she wished to respond immediately. Then, however, she paused, her soft blue eyes trailing over his features as though suddenly uncertain that she knew the answer to his question. A deep sigh followed, and then she spoke, “Did you not notice? Not even once?”

  Thorne frowned. “Notice what?”

  Sighing, she shook her head. “Of course not,” she mumbled more to herself than to him. “Whenever you drew near,” she continued, her voice no harder than before, “Sarah paled, her hands began to tremble and she all but tried to flee your presence.” Her gaze held his for a long moment, challenge lighting up those blue depths. “Did you never notice?”

  Thorne swallowed, sensing how deeply his answer mattered to her. “Of course, I did. Despite what you may believe, I am not a heartless ogre. I did not set out to ruin your friend’s life.”