Chapter Sixteen
Tuesday, May 1, 1821
Afternoon
T he Hazeltons’ drawing room buzzed with guests’ spirited chatter as everyone waited for luncheon. Christina and Richard navigated through the crowd, engaging in conversation as they made their way around the room.
“I understand the Society’s events this week have been very successful.” Christina glanced around the room, noting that all the invited guests were in attendance. “The Society has exceeded all expectations, raising a substantial sum for the children’s hospital.”
Richard nodded. “Indeed, it has been a remarkable attendance.”
Lady Teesdale, a seasoned patron of the arts and sciences, extended her hand. “Christina, my dear, I simply cannot wait for your astronomy program. It’s a marvelous initiative, and I’m thrilled to see the focus is on young minds. Your passion for the stars is truly inspiring.”
“Thank you, Lady Teesdale. I appreciate your support and kind words.”
“Indeed, Lady Teesdale speaks the truth.” Lord Teesdale, a respected scholar and advocate for education, was one of the board members who reviewed the proposal and plan. “Your dedication to this project is commendable. I have no doubt it will leave a lasting impact on the children.”
“There you are.” Lady Hanbury joined the group. “Your program has the potential to ignite a passion for learning in the hearts of the children, and I am eager for its success. I’ve spoken to Lord Hanbury about funding other projects such as this. And Mr. St. John, thank you for bringing this program to our attention. Your part in this has not gone unnoticed. You both are a couple to be reckoned with.”
“To Christina and Richard,” Lord Hanbury raised his glass. “I have no doubt that your efforts will be met with success. May your program shine as brightly as the stars themselves!”
A warm flush heated her cheeks. “Thank you all very much. I will do my best not to disappoint you.”
They went on, completed one turn of the room, and stood at the door as Wolf entered.
“You’re here just in time. I’ve kept Christina occupied until you arrived.” He placed Christina’s hand, which had been comfortably on his arm, on Wolf’s. Richard faced Christina. “Thank you for the turn around the room.”
“Richard.” Lord Hazelton hailed him a few steps away.
“Excuse me.” He hurried off to join his host.
“You look lovely as always.” Wolf couldn’t rid himself of the throbbing ache in his head from the cognac. His smile was strained. The remnants of last night’s cognac still lingered as a dull ache in his head. He forced himself to smile at her, but his gaze darted across the room, betraying his distraction.
He hadn’t expected Lady Grace and her sisters to attend the luncheon today. What had they spoken about? His face lit in a smile. He was going to teach her how to play the piano. He should make those arrangements. It would be a welcome distraction.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Christina said, her voice pulled him back to the present.
As she moved to leave, Wolf’s hand reached out instinctively, a gesture meant to bridge the distance that had formed between them overnight. Her reaction was subtle, a slight tenseness at his touch.
He let her go, his expression clouded with a fleeting remorse. “Where are you going?” The urgency in his voice betrayed his concern.
“You seem preoccupied,” she paused, carefully studying him. Finally, she released a breath and smiled. “If you’re searching for the piano, Lady Hazelton might have hidden it behind one of the drapes. I could locate it for you if that will ease your discomfort—unless you need the hair of the dog.” Christina’s response was measured, her composure intact despite the hint of amusement in her tone.
“Forgive me. I acted without thinking,” Wolf admitted. “I thought I glimpsed something, or someone, in the direction you were headed.” His gaze momentarily shot towards the far end of the room. Lady Grace and her sisters had moved on. “But I appear to be mistaken.” An apologetic smile tugged at his lips. “As for the piano, perhaps Lady Hazelton’s piano should remain hidden behind the drapes. We’ll all be spared another impromptu performance,” he added with a wry chuckle. He extended his arm. “Please, join me for a turn around the room.”
Christina’s brief hesitation was a silent dance of doubt and decision. Finally, she placed her hand on his arm, a gesture that eased his tension.
“The hair of the dog it is.” She gave him a gentle nudge toward the drink table, contradicting their recent interaction.
“I’ll lead the way, then.” Wolf covered her hand with his. He navigated them through the crowd. Christina’s enthusiasm for the children’s program grew as she discussed the initiatives with eager guests who stopped them as they passed by. Wolf was ever the charming companion.
“…remarkable plan for the children’s program…”
“…sponsorship from an anonymous benefactor…”
“…surprising generosity…”
Wolf’s mind couldn’t help but drift to the previous night’s events.
As the afternoon progressed, he listened to snippets of gossip. Other than the ambitious astronomy program, the recent embezzlement was a major topic of discussion. Wolf had been drawn into a conversation with the gentlemen about the scandal, but his attention kept drifting. He watched Richard join Christina, who was discussing the astronomy project with a small group. A flicker of jealousy sparked in Wolf’s chest, one he found difficult to tamp down. Unable to focus on the conversation, he forced a smile, but his eyes betrayed his true feelings as they lingered on Christina and Richard, wishing he could rescue her.
Meanwhile, Christina’s enthusiasm for the program continued with each interaction, highlighting the program’s importance and the impact it would have on the community. The excitement in the room was obvious, and anticipation mounted as the gala, now less than a week away, approached when the program would be announced.
The luncheon gave way to the terrace, where guests spilled out onto the patio for dessert, Wolf and the cohort of men debating the scandal. More gentlemen joined the discussion.
There was Sir Brandon Wadham, a prominent banker known for his astute financial acumen, Mr. Quaite, a respected philanthropist whose generosity was renowned throughout the ton , and the Duke of Newcombe, a distinguished member of the House of Lords, a politician of considerable influence. Together, they stood overlooking the garden below, where Richard and Christina held court about the children’s program.
Wolf’s attention was divided between the conversation at hand and the scene unfolding in the garden below. Christina and Richard’s enthusiastic exchange was a stark contrast to the calculated exchanges around him.
Suppressing a sigh, Wolf forced a congenial smile and turned his attention back to the conversation at hand. He listened politely as the banker shared insights into the economic climate, the philanthropist recounted tales of charitable endeavors, and the politician discussed matters of state.
“Have you heard about the recent scandal involving misappropriated funds? Dreadful business, really.” Baron Wadham broached the topic with a grave tone.
Wolf, who stared at Christina and Richard, caught Richard’s eye for a fleeting moment, a brief nod passing between them before each returned to their respective conversations. It was a subtle exchange, unnoticed by the others, as Wolf took a measured sip of his cognac.
“Yes, I have heard,” Quaite said. “Shocking,” Wolf agreed, his expression carefully neutral as Richard and Christina joined them on the patio.
Mr. Quaite, with a furrowed brow, added to the conversation. “I wonder who could be behind such an outright scheme to pilfer a well-known house like F&T Capital Management. It’s shameful.”
Wolf’s gaze lingered on Richard, who faced him a few steps away. The air was thick with unspoken thoughts, the tension evident.
“One can never be too careful,” Mr. Quaite continued, taking a sip of his drink. “Even those who appear to be pillars of the community may have secrets hidden well beneath the surface.”
The words hung in the air, a veiled warning that resonated with Wolf. He remained composed, his mind alert to the undercurrents of the conversation, aware of the delicate balance they all maintained. He observed Richard’s obliviousness and a smug satisfaction curled the corners of Wolf’s lips. This was easier than he thought. Wolf’s confidence surged.
In the midst of his satisfaction, a wave of unease washed over him. The gravity of what he was about to do settled like a heavy burden on his shoulders. This was venturing beyond the bounds of casual social interaction into the realm of calculated…revenge and ruination.
Sipping his cognac, Wolf swirled the amber liquid in the crystal glass and savored the moment. The taste of success was intoxicating, igniting a spark of determination within him. He glanced at his pocket watch. It wouldn’t take long to craft a note for the London Chronicle . Yes, this would work, he said the words to himself, half believing them. And I’ll console Christina. Revenge is, oh, so sweet.
As the last of the guests exchanged their goodbyes, the patio began to empty, the earlier buzz of conversation faded into a hushed stillness. Wolf watched from a distance as Richard and Christina departed, their figures receding into the crowd. A sense of foreboding settled over him, the calm before the storm he knew was coming.