Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

Midnight in the library

L ucius waited, leaning against the hearth of the library, listening to the crackle of the fire. His toe tapped a light thump in the thick wool of the Axminster carpet. He studied the miniatures on the mantel. Christiana’s parents, her grandparents, saw the resemblance between the women. He yanked on the bottle-green waistcoat that matched his coat, tugged at his cravat, then brushed an imaginary speck off his white trousers. He paced before the floor-length windows, their heavy draperies like hulking guards, blocking the cold from the frosted panes, then perused the selection of old tomes on the bookshelves.

The score so far was tied between Lord Bentson, Christiana, and himself. He led the midnight challenge one to zero. Since today’s challenge had been one of wit, he would do the same. A challenge of their minds. He smiled, knowing this point would probably go to her.

“Good evening, Lord Page.”

Her sultry voice swirled around him, tugging at his heart, warming his soul. Lucius knew she was interested, tempted, but he didn’t know if she was ready to marry him. And that must be the end result. The only logical conclusion for the two of them. He understood her hesitation. Edward had lured her, laying his trap carefully.

Lucius hadn’t realized how malicious his friend truly was until then. Their confrontation before the wedding had been ugly, and the men had never spoken to each other again. It had broken Lucius’s heart to know Christiana would be held under the man’s thumb, never pampered and adored as she deserved, only used as a tool of vengeance. How had he not seen Edward’s hatred earlier? It had burned so brightly after university, smoldering during their friendship until the flames of opportunity set the torch on fire.

He rose and offered his arm, which she took. “You didn’t tell me how it went today? Are your tenants well? Did they enjoy the boxes you delivered?”

Christiana nodded. She was lovely in a simple muslin gown of pale blue, the same color as her eyes. Her honey-blonde hair was twisted in the back and fell in long curls to fall across her shoulders. He wanted to trace the cord on the side of her long, slender neck with a finger and follow that with his lips.

“Everyone is healthy and grateful for the gifts.” She beamed. “It’s one of my favorite days of the year. A few hours when I can join the villagers, sit with them, and talk of crops and babies and the coming spring. I often feel as if I have more in common with my tenants than I do those I left behind in London.”

“You probably do. Honesty, integrity… traits that the common man cherishes and many of the peers value only when it suits them.” He poured them both a glass of madeira, and they settled before the cheerful fire, its flickering light casting long shadows across the room. The wingback chairs were made of a buttery-soft leather, and he tipped his head back with a sigh.

“May I ask you a question?”

His heart pounded. What did she want to know? “Of course,” was all he said, silently ordering his pulse to stop racing.

“Did you think I cheated this afternoon?”

He shook his head. “You didn’t give any specific instructions. In fact, when Lord Frederick asked if you expected him to pull it by hand, your answer was whatever he thought best. That was clever.”

“Thank you.” Her smile could have lit the darkest corner of the library. “What impish game do you have planned for tonight?”

“Again, I shall follow your lead. A game of wits, challenging one another with riddles. The first to make five points wins.”

“I see. Who shall go first?”

“I will give you preference,” he said with a wink.

“Since I did not know the game in advance, you may go first.”

“Fine. Let me think.” He drummed his fingers on his thigh. “What is always in front of you but can never be seen?”

Christiana pursed her lips in thought, then laughed. “The future. Heaven knows, my life would be different if I could have seen it!”

“And mine, too, no doubt.” His heart twisted a little when her smile faded. He wanted happiness shining in her eyes again. “Your turn.”

She tapped her forefinger against her chin. “Hmm. I know. What has hands but cannot clap?”

“A clock. I’m expecting you to challenge me, not humor me.” Lucius drummed his fingers again on his leg. “What is at the end of a rainbow?”

Christiana rolled her blue eyes. “It’s a pot of—” She closed her mouth abruptly and shook her head. “Too easy… a W!”

He laughed and nodded. “I knew you would get it. Two-one.”

“I cannot talk, but I always reply when spoken to.”

He studied her profile while he ran through the possibilities, but his thoughts got caught up in her perfectly shaped earlobe, nibbling at it with his teeth…

“Have I stumped you?” she asked, one brow arched.

“Do you know how distracting your ear can be?” he countered.

“Mine in particular, or ears in general? This isn’t a riddle out of turn, is it?” One corner of her mouth quirked up in a half smile.

“No,” he said with a chuckle, “and just yours, my sweet bird.” Lucius loved how her blush began on her neck and climbed slowly to her cheeks. “My answer is one’s conscience.”

“A very good guess, and one which might work for you but not everyone.” She gave him a quick side-glance. “We both know too many people without one.”

Were they thinking of the same person?

“Cannot talk, but always replies when spoken to,” he murmured, racking his brain for another response. “May I have a hint?”

“You’ll forfeit your point,” she said with a smirk.

“Doesn’t matter, it’s driving me mad. And my pride won’t allow you to just give me the answer.” He crossed his arms over his chest, waiting.

“Think of being in a cave.” She grinned. “And calling for me.”

That definitely set his imagination in motion but didn’t help him with the riddle. His fingers began drumming again, and he turned his attention to the crackling flames. “An echo!” he shouted with glee.

Christiana clapped her hands. “Well done! But it’s still two-one in my favor.”

“Now, let’s see…” He snapped his fingers. “What has teeth but cannot bite?”

“Papa’s old hunting dog,” she said, giggling. “No, seriously, a comb?”

“You haven’t lost your sense of humor, I see.” He was glad of it. “Three-one. I’m not doing so well. I’ll have to think of something harder.”

She took a sip of wine, crossed her legs, and rested the glass on top of her knee. “What is always on its way but never arrives?”

“Ha! Tomorrow!” He hit the arm of the chair with his fist, grinning back when she gave a huff at his speedy retort. “Three-two. I’m catching up. Now I must stump you, so I have a chance to tie.”

Christiana placed her glass on the table between him, tucked her feet underneath her, and leaned on the side of the chair with her chin resting on her fist. It felt so right—the two of them sitting together before the fire, chatting the evening away as any married couple might do. It was what he wanted, needed, longed for. And she was within his grasp.

“There are four men on horseback stopped at a crossroads, each going in a different direction. When they all continue their journey, none of them cross paths. How is that possible?”

Christiana closed her eyes, one foot tapping against the arm of the chair as she thought. Once she shook her head, as if eliminating a possibility. “They all turned to the right.”

“Bravo!” He clapped. “Four-two.”

“Why do you still give me a token every November?” she asked, eyes drawn to her skirt as she smoothed the material over her knees.

“Because it’s the month you were born,” he answered cautiously, wondering what her point might be.

“Even after I treated you abhorrently, you can still send me tokens of affection?” Her gaze strayed to the curio cabinet near the hearth.

He could see a few larger objects—vases, he assumed by the shape—and a collection of smaller figures. Were his gifts in there? “Christiana, you weren’t alone in his duplicity. He fooled me too. I had no idea how much…” He needed to choose his words carefully.

“He hated you?” she supplied. Her blue eyes locked with his. “He did, you know. Hated that you had a wonderful family, siblings who watched out for one another. Parents who loved you.”

He nodded. “I know that now. He spat it out, like venom from a hissing snake, the night before your wedding. He considered you the ultimate triumph over me. But I never understood why.”

“Edward was the only surviving child, the heir to the earldom. The pressure on him just to survive was tremendous. His father oversaw every detail of his life once his older brothers had died.” She took a sip of wine, then continued, “There was no civility between his parents, let alone love. He was raised by servants. His father only attended him to give orders and reprimand him for doing something not up to expectations.”

“He told me once he hated his father, then laughed. I assumed they’d had an argument as all fathers and sons do.” Lucius knew he was fortunate growing up in a loving family. “But what does that have to do with me?”

“Everything came so easy for you. Your studies, your confidence. You were excellent in sporting and games, mastering anything you attempted.” She finished her madeira and set the glass down. “Edward, for all his bravado, wasn’t academically inclined. He was berated for subpar grades, was only passable at riding, marksmanship, fencing. He had to work hard to be mediocre at the things you excelled in with little effort. So, he won the item he thought you prized above all else.”

“You.” Lucius was stunned. He had thought Edward simply wanted what he couldn’t have, a spoiled boy who demanded everyone’s toys. But this had been personal. “He almost ruined our lives because he was jealous?”

Christiana nodded, then stood. She walked to the cabinet and opened the door on the right side, reaching in to touch an object with a fingertip. “Why do you say almost ruined our lives?”

“He’s dead and can’t hurt us anymore. We’re here together, and his treachery will never keep us apart again unless…”

“Unless I refuse?” She took out a small porcelain robin from the case. “You sent me this when Mama died. My grandmother used to tell me that when a robin appeared it was a messenger from someone beloved who had passed. To let those who still remained know they were at peace.”

Lucius rose and joined her, peering in the dark cabinet and recognizing several of the figurines he had sent her over the years. “My mother told me the same folktale. I thought of it when your mother died and hoped it would give you comfort, even though I could not.”

“It did—it does—more than you know. When she died, I was sitting in her bedroom, crying in a heap on the rug. I looked up to see a robin perched outside the window. I was sure it was Mama. I went back every morning for a week to watch the bird. And then it was gone. It seemed as if I had lost her all over again.” She looked up at him with glistening eyes. “Then your gift arrived. It brought me light in my darkest hours.”

“I’m glad.” A giant vise locked around Lucius’s heart and squeezed. To think of the pain she had gone through, alone, knowing she was truly without any family. He couldn’t imagine the emptiness.

“It was a very thoughtful gift, Lucius. Something a dear friend would give to another dear friend.”

“You are more than that to me,” he whispered in her ear. “I want you to be my world, to let my life revolve around you, loving you, protecting you, making you happy again.”

He gently took the robin from her and placed it back on the shelf. Cupping her neck with one hand, his thumb stroking her jaw, he pulled her close with his free arm. “We need to leave the past behind us and look to our future. For we have one, my sweet bird, if you’ll only let it be.”

Her lips were soft and warm and inviting. He accepted her offer and traced the seam of her mouth with his tongue, asking for entrance. Her lips parted, and he swept in, tasting the sweet red wine, feeling her hands move around his neck, her fingers threading through his hair. He groaned as she yielded and pressed against him, giving in, giving him hope. Giving him strength to never let her go.

When he ended the kiss, her head fell against his chest, her breath coming in pants. “Your parents would want you to be with a man who makes you happy and feel safe. I believe I’m that man.”

“You make me doubt everything I’ve known to be true for so many years: Most men are beasts. One of the few who isn’t, after I abused him and am no longer worthy of his attention, still wants me. So forgiveness—even of myself—is possible.” She blinked up at him, shook her head, as if dispelling a cloud surrounding it. “But it can’t be that simple, especially the latter.”

“Love is that simple. We are the complication.” He brushed a tear from her cheek with a thumb. “I can forgive you for being na?ve and listening to a skilled liar. I can forgive myself for being more boy than man, for not fighting for you as I should have. We’ve both made mistakes, but staying apart would only be a worse blunder.”

Christiana took in a shaky breath, her palms sliding down his chest. “I’m afraid you have turned me into some kind of martyr, set me high on an unsteady pedestal. A year from now, two years from now, you may wake up one morning and realize I’m not the woman you remember. I’m just a weak, foolish countess who doesn’t deserve such attention.”

He barked a laugh. He couldn’t help it. “Never. I’m not seeing you or the world through some magic lens, creating a fantasy which doesn’t exist. I love you with all your imperfections. And I pray you can look past mine.”

With a half sigh, half moan, Christina pushed away from him. “You give me much to think about.”

“That means I’m on your mind.” He waggled his brows.

When she reached the door, Christiana turned. “What can be touched but never seen?”

He looked at her and responded without hesitation, “My heart.”

“And mine.”

His expression sobered as she left the room, the hulking shadow of the butler following her. Had she just hinted that he’d touched her heart?

Christiana was a complex woman. She was dedicated to her tenants and the villagers and cared about their welfare. She had the courage to help other women find retribution. Yet, she wasn’t brave enough to forgive herself. For if she did, she’d be vulnerable to being hurt again. And like him, neither could survive another heartbreak.