Chapter 2

Two

V ictor watched as Lord Hillsbury walked to a table and picked up a miniature portrait. He brought it to Victor, saying, "This is my daughter, Christina." The Earl's fingers lingered on the edge of the frame, a small smile playing on his lips.

Victor frowned as he looked at the miniature. The lady in the picture had fiery red hair that her bonnet could not seem to contain, and she was sitting in a meadow by a lake. The sunlight danced on her hair, making it look like it was ablaze. This might be a mere painting, but Victor thought there was something peculiar about her—and he did not like it.

Handing the miniature back to the Earl, he asked, "Is your daughter fond of the outdoors?" He eyed the portrait again, noting the wildflowers around her and the carefree tilt of her head. He wanted order in his home, and she did not appear as though she could enforce it.

The Earl laughed as he took his seat behind his desk. "Oh, no, she is too delicate and refined for that, Your Grace. My Christina prefers to spend her time playing the pianoforte or engaging in more productive pursuits." He waved a hand dismissively, as if the idea of Christina being outdoors was absurd.

Lord Hillsbury reached into his coat and retrieved a handkerchief with a lace border, showing it to Victor. "She is so sensible. Knowing how unkind spring is to me, she embroidered this handkerchief for my use." The delicate lace and intricate embroidery were evident, and Victor traced a finger along the edge, noting the craftsmanship.

Victor nodded, his earlier fear allayed. "How old is she?" He handed the handkerchief back, feeling the soft fabric between his fingers.

"She is two-and-twenty," Hillsbury responded.

Victor felt his brows rise. "And she has not found a suitable match in four seasons? Is something the matter with her?" He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he scrutinized the Earl's reaction.

Hillsbury laughed. "I shall not take offense at that question, for you are quite an extraordinary person, Your Grace. Christina is too good for most gentlemen, as you will come to find out should you marry her. She is noble, and very particular about whom she will share the remainder of her life with." The Earl's eyes gleamed with pride, and he leaned forward, his hands clasped together on the desk.

"Very well, My Lord. What of her education?" Victor's tone was inquisitive, though he already suspected the answer.

"She had an excellent early education from one of the best governesses in England," Hillsbury replied. "Then I sent her to Mrs. Darlington-Whit's Seminary, one of the finest schools for girls in the country, as you know." He sat back, a satisfied smile on his face as he listed her accomplishments.

Victor nodded, quietly satisfied that Lady Christina fulfilled his requirements: composure, education, and… "Is she graceful?"

Hillsbury rose and picked up another picture from the arrangement on a console. Victor accepted the picture and studied it. It was a painting of Lady Christina dancing with the Earl. Her dress flowed around her as she spun, her expression serene and poised. Her pose could be described as the epitome of grace, but then this was a painting and not reality.

Victor was aware that some aspects of human nature could not be falsified, and he would have to see her to truly determine her grace. He turned the picture slightly, catching the light to better see the details. He had no cause to doubt Hillsbury, however, for all he had ever heard about the Earl were honorable things.

"She dances very well," Hillsbury said.

Victor nodded again, setting the picture down on the desk. He leaned forward slightly. "You mentioned earlier that she sprained her ankle, but I do not believe you've made me aware of the cause."

The Earl shook his head slowly and pressed his lips for a moment. "My dear Christina went walking with her friends, the Duchess of Nettledown and the Duchess of Statton, in Hyde Park when a wayward horse charged toward them. Christina fell in an attempt to save a child from being trampled. Such strong maternal and protective instincts she has."

"That is very brave of her, My Lord. I wish her a swift recovery," Victor said, according her merit for her actions.

"Most certainly, Your Grace. Do you have any more questions to aid your deliberation?"

"Yes." Victor shifted slightly in his seat. "How willing is Lady Christina to marry me, having never seen me?"

"She has seen you at balls, Your Grace," Hillsbury corrected. "It is you who have not seen her. When I discovered you were searching for a wife, I asked Christina for her consent before writing to you."

"Very well," Victor said, deciding immediately. "I am willing to proceed with the engagement. How soon can I marry Lady Christina?"

Hillsbury smiled calmly. "As soon as her foot is fully healed, which should be in a sennight. She has diligently obeyed the physician's instructions, and I am most proud of her."

"It is arranged, then," Victor declared. "I shall obtain a license for the wedding."

Hillsbury leaned back in his seat, and Victor thought he looked relieved.

Christina reached for a sugar-covered biscuit, savoring the sweet treat as her friend Juliette, the Duchess of Statton, remarked, "I must steal your cook, Christina. He bakes the most wonderful treats."

Christina laughed. "You would need the Earl of Hillsbury's permission first."

"Then I shall never be able to steal him." Juliette shook her head and took a bite of lemon cake, closing her eyes and savoring the taste. The delicate aroma of lemon wafted through the air as she chewed slowly.

Joanna, the Duchess of Nettledown, smiled slyly. "Anything is possible with the right amount of persuasion, my dears." She leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Christina raised one eyebrow. "Have you ever tried to persuade my father?"

They all laughed, knowing well the stern and domineering nature of the Earl. Christina relished the moment; it was always delightful to have her dearest friends with her, especially when the threat of being married off loomed like a shadow over her.

Joanna and Juliette suddenly stopped laughing, and when Christina looked up, she found her father in the doorway. The air in the room grew tense, and the cheerful atmosphere vanished. He smiled when their eyes met, and Christina's stomach knotted. It was never a good thing when her father smiled. What is he looking so triumphant about? He acknowledged her friends with a nod before stepping further into the room.

"How is your foot, Christina?" he asked, sounding excessively pleasant. His tone was almost too sweet, an opposite of the stormy expression he often wore.

Christina glanced at her foot, stretched out in front of her on the sofa and propped on a small velvet pillow. "It is healing quite well, Father," she replied, her voice steady despite the anxiety tangling her nerves.

"I have been informed that you have not attempted to defy any of the physician's instructions," he continued.

"Well, it is not as if I have many opportunities to climb trees indoors." She punctuated that with an insouciant shrug.

Her father's smile faded, and she quickly schooled her features. "I am pleased with your progress," he said. "You will be able to stand tall and even dance on your wedding day, which is in a week."

Christina's heart plummeted. She blinked at her father, unable to speak. Beside her, she heard Juliette gasp. Her father's smile broadened as he asked, "Now, my dear, why do you look as though you've committed murder and been caught?"

Christina finally found her voice, though it trembled. "Did I hear you correctly? I am to be married next week?"

"Yes," he replied, his gray eyes gleaming. "To the Duke of Kilton."

"What?" Christina exclaimed, her voice shrilly with disbelief and panic. Her breath came in short gasps, and she felt as if the walls were closing in.

"Comport yourself, Christina!" her father admonished. "The Duke is very particular about the manner of woman he is seeking. He asked to see you when he arrived an hour ago. I told him you were resting because you sprained your ankle in a very brave effort to save a child from a wayward horse at Hyde Park." He "looked at Joanna and Juliette, "Your Graces, you" were both there with her. I am sure none of us in this room would wish to have Christina viewed as a liar."

How devious! Knowing they could not argue with him, they nodded and gave Christina apologetic looks.

"That is not what happened!" she protested. How could she not?

Her father silenced her with a withering look. "I will not have the Duke interact with you and see how prone to excitement you are. You will be his problem once he marries you, but until then, you will be the perfect lady. Am I understood?"

Christina gritted her teeth. "Why are you doing this to me?" she asked.

He shook "his head slowly, something akin" to pity in his gaze. "If you had listened to me, perhaps you would have had the chance to make the choice yourself."

Christina felt a rush of anger and despair. Her hands clenched the muslin of her frock as she struggled to contain her emotions. She glanced at Juliette and Joanna, who looked equally shocked and sympathetic. The warmth and laughter of moments before had been obliterated, replaced by a suffocating tension.

Her father turned to leave but then jumped suddenly, muttering something incoherent. At his feet sat Carrot, looking up at him as though expecting something. "Why have you not given away this cursed creature?"

Christina's heart clenched. "He is only a kitten, Father, and entirely harmless." She reached down to scoop Carrot up when he came to her, holding him protectively against her chest.

Her father clapped his hands together and grinned humorlessly. "Well, then I should thank the cat for making my decision to marry you off easier. Perhaps you will learn how a proper lady ought to behave when you have your own home to manage." With that, he left the room. His footsteps echoed down the hallway, leaving an oppressive silence in his wake.

Christina's breath caught, and the room seemed to spin as she tried to grapple with the consequences of his decree. Her vision wavered, and she clutched the edge of the sofa for support. Joanna moved to sit on the arm of her sofa and took Christina's trembling hand.

Fighting back tears, she stared at the door her father had just passed through. "I cannot marry the Duke," she whispered. Then louder, shaking her head emphatically, she repeated, "I cannot and will not marry the Duke!"

"He is not entirely disagreeable, Christina." Joanna's voice was gentle. She squeezed Christina's hand, offering a small measure of comfort.

Christina felt a surge of frustration and disbelief. "Not entirely disagreeable? I have seen him at balls. He is cold and brooding and harsh and…" Words failed her, and she hit the pillow on her lap in sheer exasperation.

Juliette added softly, "Christina, you might find he is different if you get to know him."

Christina turned to her friend, her eyes wide with desperation. "Were you happy when you first married your husband?"

Joanna interjected, "That is the point. Perhaps you will grow fond of him after you have married him."

Christina stared at her friends. "Who are you ladies? What has love done to you?" she asked.

They moved closer, wrapping their arms around her. "We are still your dearest friends," Juliette murmured. Christina felt their warmth, but the dread of her impending marriage loomed over her. The notion of being bound to a man she barely knew, one who seemed so unapproachable, was impossible to fathom.

She glanced around the room, her mind racing with plans of escape, imagining the freedom beyond these walls.

"Once my foot is healed, I will run away," she swore. Her future appeared to have been decided in a heartbeat, but Christina was not going to allow it to unfold thusly without her permission.