Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22

I t was glorious to see Sybella.

They had only been apart for three days, but with the myriad activities and adjustments Louise had experienced following her wedding, she was thrilled at the sight of a friendly face.

“Your Grace,” Sybella said humbly as she pulled her into her arms. “I do not believe I will ever get used to that title.”

“Please use it sparingly,” Louise insisted. “I am still just Louise to you.”

“You are a duchess ,” Sybella said proudly. “No matter the circumstances, that carries weight.” She ran her eyes over her friend. “You look well, despite everything. How is marriage treating you?”

Louise glanced behind her at Christian. “I am not sure on that point,” she said, turning back to Sybella. “But I am very lucky to have loyal friends. I am so pleased to see you.”

Sybella smiled. “And I you. I have thought of you often in the last few days and was hoping you would attend the ball.”

“My father has always wished to receive an invitation to this event—he would be green with envy that I am standing here.”

“As well he might be,” Sybella muttered bitterly. “You are here because of and in spite of him. Never forget that.” She stepped a little closer to Louise and lowered her voice. “Have you heard from your mother?”

Louise’s heart swelled at her friend’s concerned expression. Sybella was the only person she had confided in about what she had witnessed between her parents.

She glanced around furtively, ensuring that no one was eavesdropping.

“She is well, I think. She packed a great number of books on botany and the like in my trunk, for which I was very grateful. She always puts me ahead of her needs, and I intend to repay her for it. I have so much work to do on my encyclopedia; it feels rather overwhelming, at present.”

Sybella’s eyes lit up. “How far have you progressed?” she asked, a familiar intensity in her expression.

She was Louise’s greatest supporter in all of her endeavors, and Louise felt a thrill at their shared excitement.

“I think I have a good number of plants from our country estate that I have labeled and cataloged. I worked on those for much of last summer and did a great deal of research in the winter when we stayed with my aunt. All of my samples are dried and pressed, and I hope that some of my sketches may even be used in print.”

“It will be marvelous. Just think, you, a published author!” Sybella lowered her voice further. “Again,” she added with a conspiratorial smile.

Louise had published several poems that had seen some success in recent months. She had to use a man’s name for any publisher to consider her, and she knew she would have to use another for her encyclopedia. She longed to be recognized for her interest in plants, but she knew it would be impossible.

“My mother told me about a woman named Mary Delany. She was a great friend of the late Duchess of Portland,” Louise said. “Apparently, she studied plants all her life and created paper mosaics of them.”

“A woman?”

“A woman,” Louise confirmed triumphantly.

They shared a joyful smile at the progress their fellow women were making before Sybella’s eyes were drawn to something over Louise’s shoulder.

Louise turned around, and her smile widened when she saw Lady Charlotte Harding approaching her. She was one of the tallest ladies in the room and was rather flushed from dancing.

“I thought that was you, Your Grace,” Charlotte said enthusiastically. “I saw that Christian had arrived and was so hoping to see you again.”

As she stepped toward them, she tripped over the hem of her gown and fell forward with a startled cry, landing against both Sybella and Louise. Their arms shot out on instinct, and all three women righted themselves quickly while laughing.

“I do beg your pardon,” Charlotte muttered, coloring even further. “I declare that in any room, there would always be something for me to trip on.”

“Did you hurt yourself?” Louise asked.

“Only my pride.”

“Lady Charlotte Harding,” Louise said quickly as she caught Sybella’s eye. “May I present Lady Sybella Cecil. Lady Sybella is an old friend of mine, sister to the Duke of Arkley.”

“How do you do?” Charlotte offered with an easy smile.

“Who was it you were dancing with?” Louise asked curiously, recalling her brother’s irritated expression.

“Oh, his name is Lord Anthony Waldren. I have no designs on him, but my brother is rather against our supposed connection. They do not like each other, but it is entirely on Gabriel’s side—he does not get along with anyone . I like to irritate him by letting Waldren pen his name in my card now and then.”

There was a teasing light in Charlotte’s eyes, and Louise decided that she liked her immensely.

As Sybella and Charlotte began to speak about the ball and the opulence all around them, Louise took in the crowds around her and the hum of chatter in the air. Lady Barrington certainly knew how to organize an extravagant event. Her ears grew hot as she listened to the others talk, and somehow she knew that Christian was watching her. The knowledge warmed her blood in the strangest way.

Why do I like that he is so envious of other men? Does that not make me rather self-conceited?

And yet she could not help but feel proud that he wanted her so much. She had no illusions that it was anything more than lust, but it was a thrill, nonetheless, to have a man as handsome and sought-after as Christian so fixated on her.

As she turned back to Charlotte and Sybella, she caught some movement to her right and tensed as an older man came into view. His name was Lord Emming, and she had only met him twice before, but that had been twice too many. She groaned softly as she caught his eye and he approached her with a supercilious smile.

Lord Emming bowed, startling Sybella a little as he stopped before them.

“Your Grace,” he said with to Louise. “A pleasure.” His eyes ran over her figure lecherously, and she took a tiny step back from him as he licked his lips. “I wished to congratulate you on your marriage.”

He stepped closer still, ensuring that she had to take another step away from her friends.

Louise felt isolated despite being in a room filled with people. The man was a lecherous creature, and she had felt the same about him when they first met.

“Thank you, My Lord. I trust you have been well since we last saw each other. How is Lady Emming?”

He chuckled softly, the sound echoing through the air between them. “Oh, my wife is always in excellent health.” His eyes dipped down to rest on her bodice, and she attempted to keep the grimace from her face.

“I am glad to hear it,” she replied, glancing at Sybella, but her friend seemed too engrossed in her conversation with Charlotte to realize that she needed rescuing.

“Tell me,” Lord Emming asked smoothly, “how is marriage treating you? I imagine it is everything you have wished for.”

His tone could not have made his meaning any clearer. Louise was disgusted by the suggestive heat in his gaze and found herself considering the ramifications if she were to break two noses in one year.

“I would not wish to speak for my wife,” came a welcome voice from behind her, “but I would say it is treating us both very well, indeed.”

Louise felt the tension leave her shoulders as Christian’s imposing figure appeared behind her. He did not touch her, but his body was so close to hers that she could feel his warmth against her back. She turned to him with a relieved smile, only to find the same furious expression on his face as he glared at Lord Emming.

As for Lord Emming, he had backed away several steps, and his smile was far less warm, his eyes fixed on Christian.

“I would expect nothing less,” he commented casually, as though he were a completely different person.

“I am sorry to steal her away from you, Lord Emming,” Christian said in a tone that suggested he was not sorry at all. “But I have someone I wish to introduce her to.”

He gave a hint of a bow before gently resting a hand on Louise’s back. They turned away from Charlotte and Sybella and made their way back across the room and toward the terrace.

“Thank you,” Louise said genuinely. “I was trying to find an excuse to get away from him.”

“The man is famous for his lascivious ways. Did he touch you?” Christian’s voice was dark and ominous as he asked the question.

Louise could not help but giggle as she glanced up at him. “You cannot possibly be jealous of Lord Emming, Christian,” she scoffed. “He is impossibly old.”

Christian said nothing, but his eyes were still scanning the room.

“Who was it you wished to introduce me to?” she asked curiously.

Christian’s shoulders relaxed at the question. “Do you remember the botanist I mentioned? He is here, which rather surprised me. He must have friends in high places. You have the chance to meet him tonight. He is outside, spending time in the gardens as we speak.”

They made their way through the milling crowds as another lively set began behind them. Louise longed to dance but was touched by the attention Christian paid to her study of plants.

The large glass doors were wide open, letting in a cool breeze from the gardens. It was a long space flanked by small pillars along the edges. There weren’t many people outside due to the chill in the air, but one man was leaning against the balustrade, staring out at the dark trees beyond.

Christian made for him, and Louise was shocked by how young he looked. He could not have been thirty, with a beard cut close to his face, wide brown eyes, and very pale blonde hair that looked almost white in the moonlight.

“Lord Fiorelli?”

The man turned around, his eyes narrowing as he realized he was no longer alone. He looked between them as though coming back to himself and then straightened.

“Your Grace,” he greeted with a low bow. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”

“May I introduce my wife, the Duchess of Egerton? She was most desirous to meet you, and she shares your love of plants.”

The man’s expression shifted immediately from faint politeness to genuine interest, and he bowed to Louise, which she answered with a curtsy.

“Is that so?” he asked. He had a strong Italian accent and bronzed skin a shade or so darker than Christian’s. “I have met many ladies with refined tastes since I came to London. It is my pleasure to meet another.”

“My wife is writing an encyclopedia,” Christian cut in before Louise could speak. “It is something she has been working on for some time, and my dearest wish is that she can complete it as soon as possible.”

The inflection in his voice was not lost on her, and she fought back a blush, knowing full well why her finishing the book would be of benefit to him.

“Lord Fiorelli, it is wonderful to meet you,” she said swiftly. “My husband tells me you are a botanist?”

“Indeed, I am, Your Grace. I studied at the University of Bologna in Italy but traveled to England as soon as I was able. I have wanted to see your glorious English countryside since I was a boy. I study entomology also and am fascinated by the relationship between the Painted Lady butterfly and the common thistle.”

“Ah, how fascinating. The Asteraceaefamily and Painted Lady butterflies are mutually beneficial to one another, are they not? I read that the butterflies often use thistles and sunflowers to lay their eggs.”

“Exactly!”

“I have a section in my book dedicated to thistles, in fact. I adore them. I was hoping to procure a sunflower so that I might draw it.”

“I would be happy to send you a cutting of one of my own, Your Grace. I am staying with my cousin, and I have several growing in the hothouse at his estate. He has told me that they are quite taking over, but I have no interest in reducing their number. I am hoping that I might introduce some butterflies to the space and see how they fare.”

“Oh, that would be wonderful!” Louise exclaimed, glancing at Christian with excitement as he watched on with a rather bemused expression.

Christian stood back and watched Louise with fascination. He had witnessed her speak about plants before and did not think he would ever grow tired of seeing the spark in her eyes when she expanded on the subject.

He glanced at Lord Fiorelli, who was nodding his head enthusiastically and absorbing her every word. Christian frowned, noting for the first time how young the man was. Even as they spoke of something as innocent as butterflies, Christian wished he had not introduced them to each other.

Does she have to smile so much?

He listened to their conversation idly, aware that Louise’s knowledge of plants was far-reaching and broad. Even with a man as learned as Lord Fiorelli, she held her own, asking pertinent questions and even elaborating on whatever he spoke of, eliciting an expression of quiet awe from him that set Christian’s teeth on edge.

It was growing colder, and after almost thirty minutes of vigorous discussion, Christian was becoming restless. He glanced back at the swirl of the dancers in the main room. They had been at the ball for a few hours only, but he was already eager to leave.

Not so long ago, he would have gone to the card room or entertained himself with Gabriel or Isaac and spent many long hours drinking brandy. Now, looking at his exquisite wife, the swell of her breasts, and her narrow waist, he simply wanted to drag her into a room and quench the lust that was thrumming through his veins.

Am I truly considering leaving one of the most exclusive balls of the Season just to be with my wife? Apparently!

He allowed the conversation to continue for another ten minutes, interjecting at intervals with an agreement or a question but counting down the seconds until a pause would come and he could interrupt.

Finally, Lord Fiorelli was hailed by a man who came onto the terrace, and he excused himself with much regret, assuring Louise that he would write to her soon and send her a plethora of specimens and seeds for her collection.

Louise was flushed and vibrating with excitement by the end of their conversation, and Christian was itching to draw her attention back to him and him alone.

“Thank you!” she gushed as she watched Lord Fiorelli leave.

Does the man have to be so handsome? Surely, there is some flaw in his character that I do not see.

“I have never met a man like him before. He is so knowledgeable . And he spoke to me as though I were his equal.”

“And why should he not? Your knowledge rivaled his own in certain areas,” Christian replied firmly.

“I am no expert, Christian. All my knowledge comes from reading, not an education in entomology and botany.”

“That makes it all the more impressive. You have applied yourself in your own time, whereas Lord Fiorelli’s education—as grand as it may have been—must have been bought and paid for. You should not underestimate the effort and dedication you have shown in furthering your knowledge in such a way.”

Her eyes twinkled at that, and he could tell that she was pleased with what he had said. His posture relaxed just a little now that her eyes were back on him, and he intended to make them stay that way.

“Duchess, I believe it is time that we left.”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “So soon?”

He took her hand and lifted it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

Louise pulled in a long breath as he did it, never breaking eye contact, and she could not have missed his meaning as he straightened and said with determination, “Immediately.”