Instead, she spent the first few hours of her day helping Edith bid farewell to her guests, trying all the while not to look over her shoulder, toward the road, at five-minute intervals.
The last to go was Sir Edmund, who had kissed her hand and begged her to consider a visit to Longberry come springtime, appealing to her mother when Christobel had answered as noncommittally as possible. Of course they would, Mother had assured him, nudging her in her ribs as she did so.
With a sigh of relief, Christobel watched his enormous Mercedes touring car rumble off down the road. As soon as he was gone, Christobel hurried inside and summoned Simpson to help her change into her cycling suit and knickerbockers.
The day was sunny and mild, only the faintest hint of an autumn chill in the air. She’d borrow Edith’s bicycle and ride down the well-worn path that led off the main road toward the river. The fresh air would clear her head, give her time to think. Besides, it was better than staring at the drive, watching for the dark green motorcar.
An hour later, she returned, her skin dewy and covered with dust. I must have a bath, she thought, hurrying up the front stairs and across the marble-tiled front hall.
“Thank goodness, Christobel!” Edith called out, hurrying in with her hands clasped to her breasts. “I thought you’d never return!”
“I wasn’t gone more than an hour,” she said with a shrug.
Her sister just stood there, smiling broadly.
“Well, don’t you look like the cat who swallowed the canary,” Christobel teased, swiping her forehead with the back of one hand. She really did need a bath. “I should think you’d be ready to collapse with exhaustion by now.”
Edith shook her head, her mysterious smile widening. “Come, dearest. Follow me into my sitting room. I have the most wonderful news!”
Entirely baffled as to what sort of news could make Edith grin so, she followed her sister down the corridor and into the sunlit room with pale green walls.
“So tell me your news,” she said, taking a seat on the embroidered sofa beside Edith.
Edith took her hand and patted it. “Did you not see Sir Edmund’s motorcar, back by the stables?”
“No, I came in the front. Besides, he left over an hour ago. Why ever would he come back?”
Edith positively beamed. “To speak to Jasper, it would seem. He’s asked for your hand, dearest!”
Christobel rose, dropping Edith’s hand. “Asked for my hand? Whatever do you mean?”
“He said that as soon as he drove away, he realized he was entirely sure of his heart. So he turned right back around and asked for your hand. In marriage, you goose!”
“Whatever did you tell him?” she asked, horrified. Edith thought this good news? Had she gone mad?
“Why, Jasper gave his approval, of course. As did Mother. Now’s he waiting to speak with you himself. I’ve asked him to stay on a day or two more while we settle this. His valet is upstairs unpacking his things now.”
“No,” Christobel cried out. “You must tell him to leave. I cannot…I have no intention of marrying him, Edith. You cannot make me!”
“Of course I can’t make you.” Again, Edith reached for her hand and urged her to sit back down. “I know it’s sudden,” she said soothingly, as if she were speaking to a child. “After all, you’ve only known him a matter of days. Still, it’s time enough to know that he’s just the sort for you, isn’t it? Tell him you require a long engagement to get better acquainted first, that’s all.”
Christobel’s stomach lurched uncomfortably. “I’m not marrying him, Edith.”
Edith’s brows drew together. “I don’t understand. Why, he’s everything you could want in a husband. He’s a baronet, after all, and he’s accepted you with no dowry. Have you any idea—”
“I shouldn’t care if he was the Prince of Wales,” Christobel interjected hotly.
“Don’t be foolish, Christobel. He’s a gentleman, handsome, kind—”
“You needn’t go on, Edith. You must go find Jasper at once and have him tell Sir Edmund that there’s been a mistake, that I will not consider him.”
Edith looked at her queerly. “I vow, Christobel, you sound almost as if…as if you’re in love with someone else.”
She was in love with someone else, she realized with a start—with John. She loved him, with all her heart. He was like nothing she’d imagined in a husband, and yet he was everything she wanted.
If only he wanted her, too. She thought he did, but she could not be sure. “I…I am in love with someone else,” she stammered, warmth flooding her veins, making her flush uncomfortably.
“But…but who? Mother didn’t mention—”
“Because Mother doesn’t know. I didn’t know myself, till now. Oh, Edith! I can barely believe it, but I’m in love with John Leyden.” Just saying the words aloud filled her with pleasure, made her heart sing a joyful song.
Edith snatched back her hand. “That’s not at all funny, Christobel. I realize you don’t care for him—”
“Oh, but I do care for him. Truly, Edith. I love him desperately. Haven’t you noticed, did you not see—”
“I’ve seen nothing but your usual quarreling,” Edith snapped. “Dashing off to avoid him, claiming headaches and what have you, just because you were paired with him yesterday.”
Christobel shook her head. “You’ve no idea how wrong you are. If I was dashing off anywhere, it was to avoid Sir Edmund, not John.”
For a moment, Edith simply stared at her, her mouth slightly agape. “Do you mean this?” she asked at last. “I don’t understand. You’ve always disliked him. Always, from the first moment you met.”
“I did not know him, Edith. I thought he disliked me, and I suppose that pricked my pride.”
“And now you know him? Come now, Christobel. It’s been, what? Seven days? Eight, perhaps? You expect me to believe that you’ve gone from loathing to loving in a week’s time?”
“I can barely credit it myself. But I know that I love him, Edith.”
“And…and what of his feelings for you?” Edith asked delicately. “Has he given you any reason to think he has formed an attachment, as well?”
Christobel swallowed hard. “I cannot speak for him, of course. But yes, I have reason to believe that he…he cares for me in return.”
Edith looked entirely perplexed, as if Christobel had just told her that the sky was red, the sun blue. “Even if it’s true, you must realize that you can’t possibly marry him. I mean, come now, Christobel. I know he’s Jasper’s cousin, but…but you must see the differences. Jasper’s father was a landed gentleman, while John’s owns a textile mill!”
“What difference does that make?” Christobel asked sharply.
“You know exactly what difference it makes! Besides, what will you do? Live in town, the wife of an industrialist, socializing with other…other people in trade? You hate the mill towns, you hate the northern provinces altogether. Whatever can you be thinking? Especially when you’ve got a gentleman like Sir Edmund—yes, a gentleman,” she repeated with added emphasis, “asking for your hand.”
Christobel folded her arms across her breasts. “Are you quite finished?”
Edith rose to face her, her hands planted firmly on her hips. “If you will not see reason, then I suppose I am. What an awkward position you’ve put us in!”
“If only someone had first asked my thoughts on the matter, there would be no awkward position at all.”
Tears gathered in Edith’s soft brown eyes. “Please don’t think I’m criticizing John. He’s a good man, and I am quite fond of him. It’s just that I want to see you happy, Christobel—as happy as I am with Jasper. I was so sure that Sir Edmund…well, I thought you two so perfectly matched.”
“Oh, Edith, please don’t cry.” This time, it was Christobel who reached for her sister’s hand. “I am happy, don’t you see? With John. I know you meant well, and in theory you were entirely correct. On paper, I suppose Sir Edmund and I are
well matched. Only it turns out my heart knew better, that’s all.”
Edith gave her hand a squeeze. “You’re certain?”
Christobel nodded. “Entirely so.”
“I’ll go speak with Jasper straightaway, then.”
“And please, do everything you can to spare Sir Edmund any embarrassment. Do you think it would be better if I spoke to him myself?”
“No, I think it better if Jasper tells him. They’re old chums, after all. Besides, you look like a tinker—look at you, covered in dust from head to toe. I think it best if you go have a bath.”
Christobel let out a sigh of relief. Cowardly of her, she realized. Sir Edmund was a kind man, a generous man. Truly, he did not deserve this. If only Edith hadn’t encouraged him so!
“Thank you, Edie,” she said, holding her tongue for once in her life. “I will go have a bath. I’m quite sure I smell of eau de corsage.”
“Some gentlemen find the scent intoxicating, I’m told,” Edith said, wrinkling her nose.
Some gentlemen don’t have the sense God gave a goat, Christobel thought rather uncharitably. But of course, she couldn’t say that. The last thing she wanted to do was vex her sister any more than she’d already done.
“Do they?” she said, instead. “How very interesting, indeed.”
She glanced at the clock—it was nearly noon. Wherever was John?
CHAPTER 9
Just as he expected, John found Christobel sitting on a mackintosh square beside the ornamental pond, a lacy parasol shading her from the sun’s rays.
She must have heard his approach, yet she gave no indication of it as she stared straight ahead, watching a frog hop from one lily pad to the next as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world.
She was as elegantly attired as always, her pale, rose-colored gown trimmed in lace, the high collar ending in a row of ruffles just beneath her chin. Wide, puffy sleeves tapered at her elbows, narrowing down to her delicate wrists.
A row of bows a shade darker than the rest of her gown adorned the front of her bodice, matching the sash that tied about her waist and ended in silver tassels that fluttered on the breeze. Several strands of pearls lay across her breasts, and a wide straw hat with enormous silk flowers sat at an angle upon her head.
As always, the sight of her took his breath away, making him feel awkward, oafish. How could he ever have thought himself her equal?
Without a word, he joined her there on the grassy knoll, lowering himself to the ground beside her. For a full minute they sat there in silence, till John could stand it no more.
“You were right,” he said. “It is lovely here this time of day.”
Still, she stared straight ahead. “I’ve been waiting for you for hours,” she said at last, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s nearly time for tea.”
“I apologize. I had to…had some business to attend to at home. It took the better part of the day.”
“I see,” was all she said in reply, her gaze still trained on the pond ahead.
He cleared his throat before continuing, thankful that she refused to meet his eyes. For if she had, he couldn’t have borne what he was about to say. “I heard about your marriage proposal. From Jasper’s groom, just as I drove up.”
Her head snapped toward him at once. “Oh? Good news travels fast, doesn’t it?”
So it was true, then. “As soon as I heard, I came looking for you. To offer my congratulations.”
“Congratulations? Surely you didn’t think—”
“I realize that I’ve acted coarse and common,” he interrupted, anxious to speak his piece. “What I’ve done to you…I’ve no excuse for it. I cannot claim to be a gentleman. Sir Edmund is a fine man, and I deeply regret that I have taken what was rightfully his—”
“You stupid, stupid man!” Christobel dropped her parasol and scrambled to her feet, her cheeks stained an angry red. “Do you honestly think that I accepted Sir Edmund’s offer?”
John rose to face her, jamming his hands into his pockets. His fingers closed around the ring he’d planned to give her, right up until he’d leaped out of his car, his heart near to bursting with joy, and heard about Sir Edmund’s proposal. Right then and there, all his happiness had evaporated, leaving him empty, bereft.
Thank God he’d had the fortitude to withdraw himself yesterday before he’d spilled his seed inside her. It was bad enough that he’d stolen her virginity so roughly, so impatiently. He’d taken her up against a wall, for God’s sake. But at least he hadn’t risked impregnating her. And after what he’d done to her last night…
“How could I expect otherwise? I’m not a fool, Christobel,” he said. “I know well enough that I’m not of your class, not of your world.”
Before he realized what was happening, her hand flew out and struck him across one cheek. “You are a fool, John Leyden. My only regret is that I was a worse one.”
He reached up to rub his smarting cheek, inadvertently dropping the ring to the grass below as he did so. It bounced off his shoe and landed mere inches from Christobel’s dainty slippers, the sun glinting off the gold setting.
“What’s this?” she asked, bending down to retrieve it. He saw her eyes widen a fraction as she clasped it between her finger and thumb and raised it to examine it more closely, her dark brows knitted in confusion.
“It was my grandmother’s,” he said, his voice suddenly thick as he stared at the jewel. It was exquisite, not a flashy bauble like his father’s friends’ wives favored, but a simple, understated piece—an heirloom that had been passed down through the generations on his late mother’s side. An enormous emerald, square cut and without a single flaw, flanked by two triangular diamonds, both of which were equally flawless.
“Why on earth are you carrying it around, then? A piece like this…well, it should be locked in a safe somewhere, John.” As she held it aloft, he saw that the gem perfectly matched her eyes, just as he supposed it would.
“I visited her just this morning. My grandmother,” he clarified. “A grand old woman, nearly ninety and still full of life. I had to go see her, to tell her about you and to ask for the ring—”
“This ring was meant for me?” she interjected, her voice rising a pitch. “Why? Why, John?”
What the bloody hell, he might as well tell her—might as well expose himself for what he was. “I meant to ask you to marry me, Christobel. I damn well know it was foolish of me, but I couldn’t help but—”
“Oh, John!” she cried out, launching herself into his arms. Her hands went round his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair as she buried her face in his coat. “I thought you didn’t…thought it was just me—”
“Never,” he said hoarsely. “By God, Christobel, I’ve loved you for so long. I never dared to hope you’d feel the same. But after yesterday—”
“Kiss me, John. Please!”
So he did—long and hard.
Christobel’s head began to swim as she clutched John more tightly, her legs growing strangely weak beneath her. Heavens, but his kisses always seemed to have that effect on her.
She pulled away, breathlessly. “You’ve gone and made my knees weak again, John. I really must sit.”
“What if I hold you, instead?” he offered, sweeping her up into his arms as if she were as light as a feather.
Oh, but it felt so right in his arms. So perfect! She couldn’t explain it, but he’d swept her away entirely—body and soul. Swept away everything she’d thought she’d known about him—every prejudice, every supposition—and replaced it with a wonderful truth, instead.
“Have you any idea how much I adore you?” she asked, laying her cheek against his heart.
“No, but marry me, and—wait, I’m not doing this properly. This, at least, I’ll do as a gentleman would,” he said, setting her back on her feet and reaching for one hand.
“You’re every inch a gentleman, John. The finest gentleman I’ve ever known,” she said, meaning every word of it.
He didn’t reply. Instead, he dropped to one knee, her hand still clasped in both of his. “Marry me, Christobel Smyth?”
She would have laughed, but he looked so earnest, so solemn. Solemn as a bishop, she thought, smiling inwardly. That was her John, the kindest, most honest man she knew.
“Of course I will,” she said softly, her heart near to bursting with happiness.
For perhaps the first time in all the years she’d known him, his entire face lit with a smile—the most glorious smile she’d ever seen. “It’s a perfect fit,” he said, slipping the heavy ring onto her finger.
She held up her hand and admired it, turning it this way and that so the waning sun reflected off the precious gems. “Truly, I’ve never owned such a lovely piece as this.”
His smile vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared. “You realize my home is in Cranford—a town house. I haven’t a country house like Jasper; nothing like this,” he said, gesturing toward the manicured gardens behind them. “And you so fond of the outdoors. It will never do.”
“Dear John, don’t you see? My home is wherever you are. I’m sure I’ll come to appreciate Cranford as time goes on. It’ll just take some getting used to, that’s all.”
“Milne Abbey,” he said, nodding to himself. “Of course. Why didn’t I think of it before?”
“Milne Abbey?” Christobel had never heard of the place.
“It’s not more than a half hour’s drive from here, by motorcar. It’s an old, rambling farmhouse in need of some work, but the grounds are immense. They’ve been looking for a buyer for quite some time, so I can get it for a fair price, no doubt.”
“No, John.” Christobel shook her head. “It’s not necessary. I’m sure your house in town is perfectly satisfactory, and—”
“It’ll be my wedding gift to you.” He reached for her hand and began leading her toward the path, abandoning her mackintosh square and parasol. “Let’s drive out there now, and I’ll show you.”
Christobel hurried to keep up with him, matching her gait to his slightly uneven one. “Goodness, don’t you think we should go back to the house and tell them our news first? I’m quite sure they’re all staring out the windows right now, wondering just what’s going on.”
Lords of Desire Page 35
