Page 15 of Miss Devon’s Choice

“I hope we can use this time to get to know one another,” she finally said. She brought her hands together in front of her, pretending to straighten the fingers of her gloves.

“Do you?” he asked, that tone of disinterest lacing his words again.

Rebecca felt another blush rising in her cheeks. Why wouldn’t he at least try to be civil? If he was thus with her, someone who was actually important to his life, how must he be with others? After his intense stare of their first meeting, she never would’ve guessed him to be cold, and perhaps unfeeling. She bit her tongue against accusing him of being both.

He has had a difficult day of travel. Perhaps she ought to excuse his behavior. He might merely be overtired. Heavens, she could be rather grumpy herself after a full day in the carriage.

“Lord Easton,” she said, daring to lift her gaze to his face again. His expression remained as indifferent as it had been before. “I am pleased that you are here, but I understand the day’s travel has likely taken its toll on you. I hope we may speak more when you’ve recovered.” She curtsied and walked away before he could say a word or even bow to her.

She made it halfway across the room before Aunt Jacqueline came to her side.

“Your rudeness,” her aunt hissed, “will be noticed. Take yourself in hand, Rebecca, or I will. Do not turn your back on that man again.”

Rebecca’s spine stiffened. “Yes, Aunt.” She was rescued an instant later by Virginia.

“Mother, won’t you come here? Lady Francillon has been sharing some London news with me and I would like to know your opinion.” Virginia held her hand out, entreating her mother.

Aunt Jacqueline would never turn down an opportunity to share her views on anything. She gave one last frown of warning to Rebecca before going to join the married ladies at a collection of chairs near the fire.

The room had swiftly been divided by the different groups of the party. The titled gentlemen, with the exception of Christian, stood nearer the door, speaking of politics. The married women, and Aunt Jacqueline, were gossiping. This left the younger people sitting on sofas in the center of the room. Rebecca went that direction.

Lord Sharpeton, his sister Lady Felicity, and Miss Dunhill, and the other two young gentlemen present all chatted amiably amid plates of cake and cups of coffee. Mr. Harold Berwyn and Mr. Alfred Berwyn made up the rest of the party.

“Ah, Miss Devon. Excellent. Now we have even numbers to play a game,” Mr. Harold Berwyn said, clapping his hands together.

She glanced over her shoulder to where Lord Easton stood at the window, his back to the party as though he intended to spend the evening brooding.

Despite her forgiving words, Rebecca remained shaken from his coolness during their encounter, and she’d no wish to blush more in his presence.

“What sort of game?” she asked, then spent the remainder of the evening trying to pretend her betrothed didn’t stand silently in a corner like a character from a Gothic novel.

Chapter Six

Waking in a strange bed, no matter how comfortable it might be, always left Christian unsettled. It reminded him too much of the first time he woke to find himself in England. Everything had been foreign to him, from the cool mists curling at his windows to the liveried servants his grandfather employed. England didn’t even smell like home.

Rising with the sun, Christian longed for days spent in the Italian sunlight, the scent of the nearby sea wafting across gold-tinted hills. His mother’s homeland had its share of rain, of course, but it never felt as oppressive as the English mists.

Dowding made quick work of readying him for the day. Christian left the house by way of the front door and looped around it in search of the kennels. Ajax would be cared for by the earl’s staff, he had no doubt, but he missed the dog’s companionship. At home, Ajax was always at his side, but large animals were rarely tolerated indoors by others. Ladies could have their tiny lapdogs accompany them everywhere and no one batted an eye. Ajax wasn’t exactly small, however.

After he’d retrieved his dog, Christian made for the lake. Ajax trotted along beside him, ears alert and eyes darting about. Christian wished he could share his dog’s enthusiasm, but until he stood on the very shore of the lake he remained tense. The water, lapping gently at the edge of land, reached through his agitation and soothed him. The only other thing that spoke to his soul as water did was his music.

He had always loved water. Being near it, upon it, swimming through it, gave his soul more rest than hours spent in an English drawing room. He’d always been near flowing tributaries. As a child in London, before his father fled with him to Italy, he’d walked to the Thames nearly every day with his mother. It must’ve reminded her of her home.

In Italy, the river near his mother’s village was the Torrente Entella, which poured out into the Liguarian Sea.

Ajax went sniffing along the shore. Christian followed behind the dog, their path going toward a stand of trees. Beyond the trees, he could see a boathouse. Obtaining permission from the earl to use his equipment for rowing might become necessary if Christian had to endure many nights like the previous one.

Miss Devon’s dismissal of him when he had proven to be uninterested in her conversation had frustrated him, even if he found speaking to her awkward. The way she had stared unnerved him. Did she count each blemish, each pox-scar against him? She likely only saw the ugly imperfections society had dwelt upon for years.

He’d much prefer to keep her at a distance. His grandfather didn’t care if he befriended his bride-to-be, only that he appeared to be less than abhorrent to her. The real purpose behind his visit to Kettering was to quiet the rumors that Miss Devon had fled from him, and the secondary benefit was to get to know the peers present.

Christian paused beneath the trees and leaned back against one of the trunks, facing the lake. Ajax left the shoreline to examine the trees, his tail wagging all the while. New scents and places to explore after a long carriage ride doubtless revived the dog’s spirit, making him more energetic than he was at home.

Home. It was by sheer force of will Christian pictured his grandfather’s estate instead of the simple cottage where he’d lived for ten years with his father.

Ajax trotted over to his master and whined, then turned his head to look northward. An approaching rider, a gentleman by the looks of him, had noticed Christian and rode directly toward him.

Christian pushed away from the tree and straightened his jacket. The gentleman had a good seat, but otherwise Christian couldn’t make out his appearance until he came nearer. He was not a guest from the night before.