by Bonnie Dee
Chris rose to wander the room. As he stood before one of the tall windows, he caught a glimpse of a corner of the garden at the back of the house, and in the garden, the flash of a blue skirt. His heart rose at the sight of his beloved. He wouldn’t wait for the butler to announce him, but surprise her in the garden. He imagined coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her. She would shriek in surprise, then whirl to face him, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him.
The image of her reaction warmed him through. He ached to hold her in his arms again and quickly found his way down the hall and out a side door leading to the garden.
The air was fresh after the stifling enclosure of the house, and the heat of the sun beat heavily on his head. Chris wondered if the servants in Meredith’s city home were as close-lipped as the estate staff. If he and the countess were inclined to enjoy some pastoral coupling in the garden right now, would there be eyes peering from behind drawn drapes? The idea actually made his cock grow stiffer. He smiled at his fancy, and stepped away from the shadow of the house to walk beneath the foliage of a young elm.
The musical sound of Meredith’s voice coming from behind an evergreen bush made his smile widen, but he froze when a male voice responded. His first thought was that he should have expected some of her London friends would be male. Following that came the instant realization that it was his father’s voice. Shock rooted him to the spot. Why would Father be in Meredith’s garden?
Perhaps the old man had come to warn the countess away from his son. Lord Whitby would not approve of the ill-reputed woman as a daughter-in-law, no matter how titled and wealthy she was, especially since she couldn’t bear heirs, which seemed to be his prime desire in life. Before Chris could conjecture further, his father spoke.
“Overall, I’m mightily pleased with the changes you’ve wrought in the lad and in such a short time. I see a bolder, more confident side of him than I’d imagined he possessed.”
“Christopher is the same man he always was. He only needed a boost of confidence to bring forth his true nature.”
“Well, we’ll see how it translates at the ball tomorrow night. I hope you’ve broken him out of his shyness enough that he’ll finally pursue a young lady or two. The lad might produce an heir in my lifetime after all!”
Meredith moved, and Chris saw bits of blue through the leaves that shielded the pair from his view. “Sir, I can’t guarantee what he might do. You asked me to draw him out of his reserve and I believe that’s been accomplished. But I can’t make him any more willing to attend balls or to court whomever you select for him. That desire must come from within him.”
“And perhaps the lad has visions of someone a little older and more experienced blinding him right now, eh? Perhaps you’ve done your work a little too well. If I don’t get the results I expected, then you can’t expect to receive my help on that bill. I’ll neither support it nor use my influence in your favor.”
Chris was numb, his brain trying to interpret the words. They sounded exactly like a business transaction. His heart shriveled like a dying leaf in the long pause before the countess spoke again.
“I understand,” she replied coolly. “I tried to make sure your son understood our arrangement was merely a temporary liaison, but perhaps I needed to make it even more clear. I’ll be attending the ball tomorrow night and I’ll illustrate the lesson so there can be no mistake. Will that do?”
“I don’t know.” Father’s tone was arrogant. “It all depends on the results, doesn’t it? If I see the behavior I want in my son, I’ll ensure the millworkers’ bill goes through.”
“Very well.” Her quiet reply was like a slippered foot stepping down and crushing the dried leaf of his heart into powder for the wind to blow away.
A flash of black to the left and a soft clearing of a throat caught Chris’s attention. The butler interrupted the conversation. “Excuse me, madame. You have another guest, who insisted on waiting for you in the parlor.”
Chris’s throat constricted, and a jolt of energy set his legs moving away from the scene of his humiliation, back toward the house. He could not face her, not now. Behind him, he heard the countess say, “If you’ll excuse me, sir, I believe this discussion is concluded.”
His father replied, “I will speak to you again when our agreement is complete.”
Slipping in the side door, Chris walked quickly down the hall toward the foyer, located his hat on a side table, his coat on a tree, and put them on. His hands trembled as he fumbled with the doorknob. He finally got it open and burst out onto the front stoop. The door closed behind him as he took the steps two at a time and nearly raced down the street.
Hailing the first hansom cab he saw, he climbed inside.
The driver looked over his shoulder. “Where to, sir?”
He had no answer. He was unable to bear the idea of going home where his father had betrayed him—his privacy, his honor, his trust. Chris had never imagined the depths to which his father would sink to accomplish his goal of securing an heir. And Meredith—no, the countess. He could no longer think of her as Meredith, who had been an illusion put on for his benefit. She had been the one thing that ever truly felt like home. So where could he go now?
“To the Botanical Gardens, please.”
• • •
Walking the white gravel paths of the Gardens had always been rather like a meditation for Chris. He would breathe deeply of the pungent earth and green plants that enriched the air and stroll the familiar walk while mentally reciting a relaxing litany of the plants he passed. He didn’t need to read the little placards labeling them to know their names. They were more familiar to him than the names of the people whose world he inhabited.
Lady Darlington-Smythe, Lord Joseph Abernathy, the third Earl of Stokes, James Tavington and his wife, Lady Marian—those were his mother’s litany, the important details that gave meaning to her life. His father’s would be a list of club names: White’s, Brooks’ and Boodle’s as well as more unsavory gambling hells like Crockford’s and The Black Ram.
Everyone had something that gave meaning to his or her life, no matter how shallow or pointless it might seem to others. But today Chris trudged listlessly past Acer triflorum, Morus alba and Prunus serotina without even looking at them. They meant nothing to him now. His chest felt like a gaping wound and his soul as arid as a desert.
He had a new litany now, but it didn’t soothe him. It was a list of Meredith: the way her left eyebrow was a fraction higher than her right, the cluster of freckles shaped like Orion on her thigh, her mingled shrieks and laughter when he tackled her to the bed and showered her with kisses, the low murmur of her voice when she confided in him, her smile when he presented her with a wildflower, the light in her eyes when she beheld their joint handiwork in her newly refurbished greenhouse.
Everything he knew about Meredith was in question now. How much of her had been real and how much a sham? As they’d grown closer, he’d convinced himself she truly loved him, but then she’d warned him all along their affair was temporary. He should have listened for it was the one sure truth in the midst of her lies.
When he looked back, her insistence on teaching him to dance and play cards, her hints about exuding confidence to win a woman’s attention all made more sense. She was tutoring him as his father had requested, attempting to turn him into a standard man of his class. She hadn’t even been very circumspect about the fact she was grooming him for society, so he shouldn’t be so surprised.
Chris took a seat in the Japanese garden. He gazed at the peahens that roamed free, pecking for seeds on the ground, while the peacock fanned his tail feathers in an attempt to earn their attention.
Meredith had done her job well. He did possess skills now he hadn’t before, and not only in bed. He knew how to flirt and wouldn’t become tongue-tied if he had to chat with a woman. He could dance and look at her as if she was the most important thing in the world. With Meredith, those things had been easy, but he was sure he
could manufacture the same effect with any girl.
An idea began to take shape. His hurt and despair mingled with anger, adding up to an overwhelming desire for revenge. He would be exactly the kind of man his father and the countess had wanted him to be—for one night, at least.
He would go to the Overtons’ ball, which his mother had been harassing him to attend ever since his return to London. Meredith would be there. She would want to see the results of her tutelage, so he would give her a show.
He’d wear a new suit of clothes and take society by storm, dancing with every eligible young lady in the room and charming them all. And when he passed Meredith in the midst of the crowd, he would glance at her and then pass her by.
Chapter Eleven
“It’s for the best. It really is for the best.” Saying it aloud didn’t make Meredith feel the truth of it anymore than had repeating the same mantra silently for the past twenty-four hours. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, the pale bosom rising from the lace of her décolletage, the black velvet choker with the red garnet emphasizing her slender throat, hair piled high and pinned with a garnet-studded comb.
Her lips were rouged red, the bright color a stark contrast to her white skin. Her mouth was drawn tight and slightly down-turned at the corners. She forced herself to relax and manufacture a smile. When she saw Christopher tonight, she would have to play the part she’d set for herself and not let him see the melancholy that clenched her heart and turned it to a cold, hard stone.
But she couldn’t suppress the sadness in her eyes. She blinked her dark lashes to whisk away the mist of tears. “It’s what he needed to hear. There was no future for us.”
Meredith had no doubt Chris had overheard her speaking to his father in the garden yesterday. After she’d seen the elder Whitby out the door, she’d turned to Hawkins and asked who was waiting for her in the parlor. It wasn’t like the butler not to tell her a visitor’s name.
“The Honorable Mr. Whitby, madame. I didn’t think it wise to announce his presence in front of his father.”
She’d missed him terribly the past few days and had often considered sending a note to him, but knew pushing him away was for his own good. Her heart had begun doing acrobatics in her chest, flipping, twisting, then rising in a combination of nervous anxiety and eagerness at the prospect of seeing him. It wasn’t until she entered the parlor and saw the pink-blossomed plant but no Christopher that fear joined her mix of emotions.
“You left him here?”
“Yes, madame. I waited only a few minutes to interrupt your conversation with Lord Whitby, but perhaps the younger Whitby grew impatient and left.”
“No.” The word was barely a murmur, all she could push out past the thickness in her throat. In that instant she was absolutely certain that Chris had found his own way to the garden and overheard at least part of her conference with his father. Her hand rose to cover her mouth and her stomach lurched. “No.”
She imagined the scene as clearly as if witnessing it from above: the young man standing out of sight behind some trees, listening to a discussion he was never meant to hear. What exactly had they said—that his father had practically hired her like a whore to seduce him? What in the world had made her agree to such an arrangement? For a woman who prided herself on following her own desires and dictates, she’d allowed Whitby too much power over her. She’d taken on the project of Chris because she was intrigued by the challenge, but also because Whitby’s influence on the millworkers’ bill would benefit her financially. It had appeared a practical arrangement with entertaining side benefits when she accepted the offer. Now it seemed dirty, underhanded and utterly cruel.
“Oh dear,” she sighed, rubbing her hand across her forehead. The woman in the mirror did the same. “You’re despicable. You deserve to have him hate you.”
She finished preparing for the ball, all the while vacillating between the idea of attending or staying home and hiding in her bed for about a month. After what he’d heard yesterday, Christopher probably wouldn’t attend the event. He surely wouldn’t want to see her there. But if he was there… Oh, how she dreaded seeing the hurt and betrayal in his eyes before he shunned her by turning away.
Or it would be worse. He might confront her, try to convince her that the time they’d spent together had meant something. He might profess his love again. She couldn’t bear hearing that. Better to crawl under her covers and hide.
But a half hour later, the countess was handed into her carriage by her footman, and ten minutes after that she disembarked at the Overtons’ house. She removed her wrap in the foyer, where it was whisked away by the attending servant, and entered the rose-decked, crystal and gold ballroom. Mirrors on one wall served to make the already massive room and substantial crowd appear even larger. Music filled the air, and a steady murmur of voices rose above it. A few couples were already dancing. The charge of energy and excitement in the air, usually pleasurable to her, only enhanced Meredith’s nervous nausea tonight as she scanned the guests, searching for Chris.
Perspiration broke out, not only on her palms, but all over her flesh from anxiety coupled with the heat generated by many bodies. She longed and dreaded to see him with the powerful strength of a girlish crush. It was terrible how out of control her emotions were. Memories of their erotic play had her pussy clenching wetly, her breasts tender and aching, while recollections of his low voice, his kind smile and gentle hands made her heart palpitate. Fear that he hadn’t come to the ball mingled with fear that he had.
Then, across the room, she caught a glimpse of a sandy blond head and his profile as he turned.
Meredith froze and her breath caught. Oh God, this was a mistake! She should’ve met and talked with him before tonight. A confrontation in this venue was going to be a disaster. She swallowed and clenched her hands by her sides at the same moment that Christopher’s gaze fell on her, paused…and swept past as if he didn’t recognize her.
Perhaps he simply hadn’t seen her. Meredith took a step in his direction.
“My dear Countess! Where have you been? It’s been so dreary in town without you.” A hand fell on her wrist, and she turned to face Rupert Chadwick, an old friend and occasional lover. His thin moustache lifted as he smiled, and his royal blue coat made his eyes sparkle even more brilliantly.
“Rupert, how are you?” She clasped his hands and air-kissed each cheek, catching another glimpse of Chris over the man’s shoulder. He was escorting the Overtons’ eldest daughter, Elspeth, onto the dance floor. Jealousy stabbed her as he slipped a hand around the young woman’s waist, pulling her into his embrace. They gracefully moved into the stream of dancers circling the floor.
“…but then, she never was much of a fashion plate. Don’t you think?” As she stepped back, Rupert turned to see who she was looking at over his shoulder.
“See someone you know—or want to know better?” He laughed. He knew her sexual proclivities well and had attended to them in the past. Perhaps he was hoping for a quick téte-a-téte in a side room tonight, but that wasn’t going to happen. Meredith had never felt less sexual desire.
No. That wasn’t true. Her body was reacting strongly, but not to the man standing beside her. “I believe it’s time for a dance.” She grasped his hand and tugged him toward the floor. She needed to get closer to Chris, to see if he was actually ignoring her or merely hadn’t seen her. And what then? A quiet inner voice tried to inject reason into the wild jumble of emotions coursing through her. Your mission is to cut him. Do you simply want to make sure that you’re the one to do it first? Are you that proud and petty?
Rupert didn’t ask any more questions, simply swung her onto the dance floor, and soon they were in the thick of the glittering crowd of dancers. Meredith caught a flash of Chris and his partner whirling by. He was talking and the girl was laughing, her face tilted toward his and her eyes shining. And why not? He cut a dashing figure tonight. He was impeccably dressed and groomed and carried himself with a
bold assurance. His demeanor was the polar opposite of the distracted, uncertain air he’d presented when Meredith first met him. Was this even “her” Christopher? He seemed so different.
Once again, their eyes briefly met. His penetrating stare pierced her before he looked away. Her chest felt as if he’d stuck a knife into it. There was no doubt he’d seen her this time, but his expression was cold and remote, as if she was someone he’d been introduced to once a long time ago instead of the woman who’d recently taught him what passion meant. How dare he brush her off? Even as she knew her burst of anger was irrational, for surely she’d earned his disgust, Meredith couldn’t control the sudden fury that filled her.
Her partner leaned close. “Who’s the young buck? Do you want me to help make him jealous?” Rupert nuzzled her neck a moment before pulling away without ever missing a step in the dance.
Meredith gave him a brittle smile. “He’s no one, just a lad I…tutored for a while, a short-lived liaison. I had to end it when his affection grew too deep.” It was an effort to keep her tone light. She felt abruptly exhausted and more ready than ever to retreat from the playing field of the ballroom and curl up in the sanctuary of her bed. But she knew that even there she couldn’t escape Chris. Memories of what they’d done in bed together would continue to haunt her. No man had ever gotten past her defenses and touched her so deeply before.
The dance ended, and she watched him lead his partner from the floor, the pair of them still laughing and talking. For the first time, Meredith realized it might not be Chris who was at risk of a broken heart. It was hers that was shattering into pieces at the thought of a future without him in it.
Now that she’d ruined her chances with him, now that he knew her for what she truly was and despised her, she finally acknowledged the hopeless passion she harbored for him. She would give anything to accept the love he’d so freely offered—now that there was no chance of him offering it ever again.
Meredith subjected herself to the torture of being near him, but ignored for a little while longer. No matter whom she spoke with, he was always on the periphery of her vision. She couldn’t stop watching him laugh, flirt and dance with every eligible young lady in the room. His father would be so pleased, she thought dryly. Chris looked completely natural and at ease. His new assuredness attracted the women like bees to pollen. They fluttered and fussed around him while Meredith fumed. Her stomach was a cold, hard knot and she felt her facial muscles stiffen in a parody of a smile as she greeted people she knew.
