Chapter Three
Friday, April 20, 1821
Early Afternoon
S itting with Lady Hazelton and Mrs. Dove-Lyon over tea yesterday had been very educational. She had only seen Lady Hazelton as a reserved marchioness.
“Did you hear the latest scandal?” Lady Hazelton whispered. “The Duchess of Croswell’s prized peacock escaped and terrorized her garden party.”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon put down her teacup. “I can just imagine the poor dowagers grasping their fans in dismay. But really, what did the peacock say to cause such a ruckus?”
Lady Hazelton leaned toward them. “Why, it squawked, which was a rather pleasant change from the usual conversations or gossip. I’m off to find a more educated crowd.”
“Bravo.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon and Christina both dissolved into laughter. Finally, Mrs. Dove-Lyon set herself right. “And did her peacock flutter away with its tail feathers held high?”
“Indeed! The magnificent animal flapped away.”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s chuckle was the spark that set them all off, and soon Christina found herself laughing along with Lady Hazelton, their amusement echoing through the room.
“The peacock certainly knew how to cause a stir, leaving a wake of flustered matrons and dukes in his path,” Lady Hazelton said when she recovered from laughing. “But really, he had the right of it—strutting about, tail feathers in the air, without a single concern for the gawking crowd.”
As Mrs. Dove-Lyon dabbed at her eyes, still shimmering with tears of laughter, she raised her teacup with a flourish. “Here’s to that bold bird. May we all embrace a bit of his flair and march to the beat of our own drum.”
Christina’s laughter rang out, clear and joyful. It had been too long since she’d felt this light, this free. “To the peacock,” she echoed, her smile as bright as the creature’s famed plumage. “May we all find the courage to show our true colors.”
Now, Christina stepped out of her house. The hired coachman handed her into the carriage, turned up the steps, and closed the door. She went over yesterday’s whirlwind events as the carriage started for Grafton Street in Mayfair.
It was good to see Madame Pembroke’s familiar face. Madame inquired after her sister. Louise had been Madame’s best seamstress before she married Marquess St. John with the help of Mrs. Dove-Lyon, but that was another story.
Settled, she thought about what she faced. The mantle of Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s responsibilities for the upcoming events now rested squarely on her shoulders. She hoped she was doing the right thing. The charity event loomed, and Christina vowed not to let Mrs. Dove-Lyon down.
She glanced out the window as the carriage slowed to No. 6 Grafton Street. The townhouse was grand. Everyone was aware of Lord and Lady Hazelton’s philanthropic generosity and patronage of the arts. The carriage stopped. The footman dressed in Hazelton’s livery approached the carriage, helped her down, and escorted her to the door.
Christina stepped through the double doors that led to the vestibule and vast entrance hall, the focal point of the townhouse. Soft light streamed through the oculus high above and bathed the hall in a springtime glow.
The walls were covered with intricately carved wood paneling, buffed to a high sheen. Polished marble tiles in a checkerboard pattern covered the floor.
A grand staircase stood to the left, its sweeping curves leading to the upper floors. The graceful balustrades continued up to the balconies on the upper two floors. Doorways flanked the staircase. Their open doors offered glimpses into the rooms, inviting guests to explore them.
Landscapes and portraits hung on the walls. Nestled against one wall stood a majestic floor clock with its intricate design.
Christina ran her hand nervously down her dress. For today’s event, Madame Pembroke chose a white muslin dress with a decollete neckline and back. The bodice was intricately embroidered. The body of the dress was full in the front and drawn up in the back with a series of pearl buttons. A jacket in the same muslin was fastened at the waist with similar pearl buttons. A scarf in a deep rose color was wrapped loosely around her shoulders.
Her hair was curled on both sides of her temple. Her gloves and shoes were a deep rose, and she wore a coral necklace and drop earrings in a rare shade of rose.
Christina found her way to Lady Hazelton.
“It is gracious of you to take Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s place.” Lady Hazelton took her hand. Her warm greeting put Christina at ease. “I sent a personal note inviting your sister.” The woman’s eyes sparkled. “I was disappointed when her secretary informed me that Lady St. John and her husband would be on the Continent for another four months.”
“I believe she is still in Italy,” Christina said. “She had a desire to go to Milan.”
“She will love Milan. I find it a special place.” Lady Hazelton’s expression softened, and her voice warmed. “Have you ever been?”
“Yes, once.” Christina chuckled.
“Did you give your sister any suggestions?”
“I gave her an Italian phrasebook to help her Italian.”
“From your journey?” Lady Hazelton asked.
“Actually, it was her gift to me when I returned.”
A hush fell over the guests. Their murmurs of conversation tapered off like ripples fading on a pond. Heads turned toward the door. The announcement of the new arrival echoed through the ballroom.
“The Honorable Viscount Wolfton.”
A tall, well-built, confident figure stood at the door, commanding attention. Even from where Christina stood, she could see his striking gray eyes. They were like silver lightning. His dark hair was swept back, and a faint smile played on his lips. He moved with the grace of a seasoned aristocrat.
Christina’s heart skipped a beat as she recognized him, the man at the marketplace. Memories of him navigating the marketplace flooded back to her—the moment when he winked at her in passing. The gesture left her both flustered and intrigued. Now, she had a name to go with the image.
Wolfton glanced over the room, lingering on no one in particular. Despite the grandeur of the setting, his expression suggested boredom. He appeared to see someone on her side of the room and started across the ballroom with a determined step.
Christina’s pulse quickened as she watched him. She blinked. Was he heading toward her?
“Lady Hazleton. Lord Hazleton. How good it is to see you.” The viscount smiled and was about to address his lordship.
“Miss Hartfield, allow me to introduce Viscount Wolfton. My lord, this is Miss Christina Hartfield, a dear friend of Mrs. Dove-Lyon.”
Wolfton turned and faced her with a charming smile. “Miss Hartfield, a pleasure to make your acquaintance. You are a lovely substitute for Mrs. Dove-Lyon.” He nodded, his eyes never leaving her face.
“Substitute?” Christina glanced at the viscount and then Lady Hazelton.
“Let me explain,” Lord Wolfton began before Lady Hazelton spoke. “I was to accompany Mrs. Dove-Lyon during the Society’s events. She has sent her regrets. I understand that you are to take her place. So, Miss Hartfield,” he bowed, “it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“Likewise, Lord Wolfton.” She was proud of herself. Her voice didn’t shake. Her insides certainly did. There was something about having this man’s full attention.
“Have we met before, Miss Hartfield? Ascot, perhaps? I have the distinct feeling that I’ve met you before.” His eyebrows knit together ever so pleasantly.
“No, my lord. We have never met. And definitely not at Ascot.”
“Oh, do you not enjoy watching horse races?” The expression of horror on his face was almost comical.
“I enjoy racing horses as long as I’m the rider, but I haven’t attended Ascot. And you, my lord. Do you enjoy watching horse races or participating in the races?”
“Interesting question. I rather enjoy watching, although I would give almost anything to race across the countryside bareback on a wild stallion.” Wolfton’s wistful tone was out of place for him. With a sigh, he recovered and turned his attention to Lady Hazelton.
“Madame, what game do you have in store for us.”
Christina’s head whipped around to face her ladyship. “Game?”
“Ah, Miss Hartfield, I can see you weren’t aware that we must pay to be invited to Hazelton House.” Wolfton made the payment sound indecent, to say the least. “After all, this is for a charity.”
“It is nothing, my dear,” her ladyship assured Christina. “Like you, there are others who do not know everyone. I’ve found that with fundraising and politics, it’s easier for someone to part with his money if they know you. To that end, at the luncheon on Tuesday, we will play a small game to make things less formal and more comfortable: Two Truths and a Lie . Today, you will have the opportunity to speak to one another and find out as much as possible in preparation for Tuesday’s game. Are you familiar with the game?”
“Yes, I am.” Relieved, she nodded and laughed.
“Oh, dear. What are you hiding?” Wolfton leaned close and whispered in her ear.
She took a deep breath to stop laughing and caught a whiff of his cologne, ginger, and mint, not the usual sandalwood. This man was nothing like other men. He was all about being noticed and, she thought, admired. He did have a way about him that drew you to him, and getting her attention was his goal. How did he accomplish that?
“You surprise me, Miss Hartfield. You don’t look strong enough to control a racehorse. I wonder what other secrets you keep hidden?”
“Not only can she ride like the wind but have her tell you about the time she attended a secret meeting of astronomers at the Royal Observatory.”
Wolfton and Christina both turned to see who spoke.
“Richard.” Christina faced Richard St. John, the son of Baron Ashbourne. “What a pleasant surprise.”
“You know each other?” Wolfton was a bit caustic.
“My sister is married to Richard’s cousin, Nathaniel, the Marquess of St. John.” A radiant smile lit Christina’s face.
“Christina and I escaped the evening wedding celebration at Nathaniel’s family estate in Sommer-by-the-Sea, Stirling Manor.”
“The new viscountess. Of course.” Wolfton turned to Christina. “I was certain we had met. You looked so familiar. But what is this about a secret astronomer’s meeting?”
“Stargazing is my hobby,” Christina admitted with pride.
“You do more than gaze at the stars,” Richard’s words struck a chord with her. “You study the stars.”
“How did you choose such a rare hobby?” Wolf appeared genuinely interested.
“I used to sneak away to Primrose Park and study the night sky. Observing stars, comets, and planets through a telescope allows you to better understand their movements and characteristics. Astronomy is a fascinating field that continues to unveil new discoveries.” Christina was aware Wolfton, who was all but tapping his foot, had no interest in astronomy, but Richard did.
“I must thank you for your recommended reading. I was able to borrow James Bradley’s 1760 edition of Astronomical Observations Made at the Royal Observatory at Greenwich, which I found at the Albemarle Street Bookshop.”
Christina smiled. No one told her that he had been to her parent’s bookshop.
“I found Bradley’s work quite illuminating, particularly his discussions on celestial mechanics,” Richard remarked with a knowing nod.
Christina’s smile lingered as Richard spoke of celestial mechanics, not just for its scientific intrigue but for the memories it evoked. As he continued, her mind drifted to the night of her sister’s wedding at the Stirling estate.
The night had unfolded like a dream, the air alive with the sound of laughter and the soft strumming of music. Yet, amidst the revelry, Christina’s thoughts drifted to the stars above, a glittering tapestry woven across the endless expanse, enticing her with their silent stories.
The wedding festivities continued past supper and the bride and groom’s departure. Her sister had told her all about the night sky at the Stirling estate. Christina found it difficult to contain herself. She started to leave but was quickly stopped.
“Where are you going?” It was Richard. He had been her guide at the estate.
“Stargazing,” Christina replied, her gaze lingering on him for a moment before an encouraging smile spread across his face. “Would you care to join me?” She was unable to hide her excitement.
Christina observed his reaction, noting the glimmer of interest that sparked in his eyes as he pondered her invitation, his gaze shifting to the starry expanse above them.
Richard took a deep breath, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Christina, I would be delighted to join you.”
They stepped out onto the terrace. Above, the night sky stretched out in all its majestic glory, a vast canvas adorned with twinkling stars and the moon’s silver glow.
Christina’s heart swelled as she gazed up at the stars above, her eyes tracing the familiar constellations with the practiced eye of a seasoned astronomer.
“Look at the way the stars shimmer,” she murmured, her voice filled with wonder. “It’s as if they’re whispering secrets of the universe to us. You should read Bradley if you want to learn more.”
Richard’s gaze followed hers, his own appreciation for the beauty of the night sky growing with each passing moment. “It’s breathtaking.”
The chime of the floor clock in the entrance hall marked the passing of the half hour.
Emerging from her daydream, she refocused on her task at hand. “If you will excuse me.” Christina took a step back.
“You’re leaving us?” She turned toward Wolfton and saw disappointment on his face.
“Forgive me. I shan’t be long. I need to speak to the butler about the dining room.” She turned and left without waiting for a response.
She entered a room of refined elegance. Its walls were adorned with intricate tapestries depicting pastoral scenes from the English countryside. Large windows framed in heavy drapes allowed sunlight to filter into the room, casting a glow on the polished mahogany furniture, which was tastefully arranged.
A long table was in the center of the room, draped in crisp damask cloth trimmed with meticulously pressed lace. Four tall centerpieces, each capped with a lovely floral basket filled with flaming magenta, golden yellow, and royal purple blossoms, paraded down the center of the table.
Each place setting was precisely arranged, with fine porcelain china and gleaming silver cutlery, some of which caught the sunlight that came through the large French doors. Crystal goblets sparkled beside each plate, ready to be filled.
As Mrs. Dove-Lyon instructed, she reviewed the seating chart with the housekeeper. All the expected guests had arrived. She expressed her gratitude to the housekeeper and headed toward the door.
“Lord Wolfton has a new companion. Do you know who she is? Her name wasn’t in the broadsheet.” Christina didn’t recognize the young woman’s voice. “Grace, surely you know who she is.”
“My dear sisters, of course I do. That is the Marchioness of St. John’s sister.”
Grace? Lady Grace Talbot? Christina was surprised the woman knew who she was.
“Should one of us warn her? I mean, he is lavishing a great deal of attention on her. No one else can get near him,” the first woman continued. “Poor thing. She has no idea what he can do. He’s attentive, and without any warning or reason, he cuts you out as if he doesn’t know you.”
“I will find an opportune time. It may not be here.” Lady Grace appeared to be the stronger of the three. “Come, he’s alone now. I’ll introduce you both.”
After waiting several minutes, Christina exited the dining room and approached Lady Hazelton, Richard, and Lord Wolfton. She noted the two women who had joined them and wondered which one was Grace.
“Miss Hartfield, I trust everything is in good order,” Wolfton stepped toward her.
“Perfectly.” She glanced at the three ladies and waited for an introduction. “Ladies.” She nodded, acknowledging them.
“Lady Fiona, Lady Grace, and Lady Beth Talbot.” Wolfton gestured to the women. “It’s my pleasure to introduce you to Miss Christina Hartfield.”
“Our pleasure,” the ladies said in unison.
“And mine.” Christina observed Lady Grace, the focus of the broadsheet, closely. She seemed resilient, not crumbling under the scrutiny.
“My lord, you will be entertaining us this afternoon, won’t you?” Lady Hazelton’s question was more a demand than an inquiry. “I fondly remember the small concert you gave us while we were in Italy.”
Christina and Richard turned their attention to Wolfton.
“Thank you, my lady. It is very kind of you to say so,” Wolfton replied with a gracious nod.
“I do enjoy it when you play Mr. Beethoven’s music,” Lady Hazelton continued. “I happen to have the music available.”
Wolfton smiled at his hostess. “Of course, for you, my lady, I will be happy to play Mr. Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No. 14.” He then turned to Christina. “Would you be so kind as to turn the pages for me?”
Ladies Grace, Lily, and Beth exchanged stiff smiles, their manner barely polite.
Despite his seemingly ordinary words, his eyes held a promise of excitement and something more profound, all shrouded in mystery. Christina could easily see why women were captivated by him.
“I’d be delighted to assist you, my lord,” Christina replied, surprised that her heart fluttered with anticipation.
He took her hand in his and gently guided it through his arm. “Call me Wolf. All my friends do.”
Christina perceived a subtle shift in Ladies Grace, Lily, and Beth’s expressions. Lady Grace’s eyes widened, a hint of surprise flickering across her features, while Ladies Lily and Beth’s lips uncurled their smiles into a flat, nondescript line.
Friend? The word echoed in her mind, sending a thrill through her. Christina couldn’t help but lick her lips, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth at the thought. His Lordship, Wolf, was flirting with her.
He hadn’t moved. He stared at Christina with that smile that made you feel like you were the center of his attention and waited for her to respond.
“I’m happy to assist you.” She paused, her gaze locked on him. “Wolf.” With a flutter of boldness.
Wolf chuckled softly at Christina’s response, clearly enjoying her playful banter.
“If you will excuse us.” Wolf turned and led her away without waiting for any acknowledgment.
They crossed the floor to the grand piano in a windowed alcove. Subtly, Christina glanced at him without turning her head.
Wolf gazed at Christina with a curious expression. “Forgive me for my curiosity, but when I think of an astronomer, I do not imagine a lovely woman like yourself. What drew you to such an unconventional interest?” Mrs. Dove-Lyon outdid herself. Miss Christina Hartfield was a beauty, and she also appeared to have brains. He was genuinely interested yet perplexed about her hobby.
“Astronomy, to me, is not solely about observing the stars and planets.” Wolf observed her eyes light up with a gentle spark of passion as she spoke. Enchanting. “Studying the heavens is about unlocking the mysteries of the universe, understanding our place in it, and marveling at the wonders beyond our reach.” Christina paused, and he wondered what she would say next. “Each celestial body tells a story, a tale of cosmic forces, birth and death, time and space. It’s a gateway to knowledge, where imagination and curiosity soar free. And amidst the vastness of the night sky, I find peace and a sense of connection to something greater than ourselves.” Christina glanced out the window at the clear sky. He found himself following her gaze. “It’s a reminder of the beauty and complexity of our world and the endless possibilities that lie beyond.” She paused for a moment. “Why do you play the piano?”
Wolf gazed at her with a hint of wariness. Few people showed genuine interest in his passions or motives. “Music,” he began, in an honest voice that surprised even him, “is a language of the soul, a medium through which I am a master of expression. Playing the piano allows me to convey my deepest emotions without uttering a word.” He observed her serious expression closely as she considered his words. Then, as if compelled by an unseen force, he continued, his words tumbling out. “The piano often serves as my stage, and I relish being the star performer. I confess to possessing an insatiable ego. With each stroke of the keys, I demand attention and reverence from all who listen.”
Had he said too much? Silently, he gave her a playful glance, although flirting was far from his mind. He let her see far more of him than he wanted.
“Your passion for music is truly captivating,” Was that a hint of admiration that he heard? “It’s fascinating to hear how deeply you connect with the piano as a means of expression. Music has a way of touching the soul like nothing else.” Pausing for a moment, she continued with a warm smile, “I can see how you command such attention and reverence as a performer.”
As her warm smile met his gaze, something stirred within him. Her genuine interest and thoughtful remarks sparked a flicker of something unfamiliar—a genuine connection. It was a sensation that he buried a long time ago, and he found its resurgence intriguing and unsettling.
At that moment, as he observed the spark of interest in her eyes, he found a sincerity and honesty that he hadn’t been prepared for. It was as though she could see beyond his carefully polished facade and into who he really was.
But as quickly as the thought crossed his mind, Wolf’s defenses snapped back into place. He couldn’t afford to be vulnerable, not with someone like Christina—a woman whose mere presence threatened to unravel the carefully constructed walls he built. The risks were too significant, the potential for disappointment too daunting to contemplate.
With a subtle shake of his head, Wolf pushed aside the idea of a connection and returned his focus to the conversation. He painted a charming smile on his lips, masking the turmoil churning beneath his facade of practiced indifference.
Wolf glanced at an anxious Lady Hazelton. Christina wondered what secrets lay hidden behind his worried eyes. Wolf’s strong hand guided her to the seat, and she sank into its plush cushion.
The piano bench creaked as he settled beside her. The room held its breath with anticipation. Christina’s eyes darted to the empty music stand. Where was the sheet music? She glanced at Wolf, panic beginning to bubble up.
“I can play the piece without the music,” he assured her, his tone confident.
“Then why—” Her panic subsided.
“For your company, of course.”
“For my company?” Christina’s curiosity warred with her nerves. Why would he go to such lengths?
His smile was mysterious. “Precisely.”
Lady Hazelton’s measured steps drew everyone’s attention. The room hushed, eyes fixed on her.
“Your attention, if you please,” Lady Hazelton announced, her voice carrying authority. The guests obeyed. Christina’s gaze shifted from Wolf to the center of the floor.
“We are most fortunate this afternoon, as I have persuaded Lord Wolfton to grace us with a performance of Mr. Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No. 14 for us.” Her gaze shifted to Wolf as she gestured to him, then stepped to the side.
Wolf gracefully raised his hands high over the keyboard and concentrated on the keys as he waited for silence. He belabored the silence for several heartbeats, taking advantage of the attention, and then slowly, he lowered his hands and placed them on the keys.
The music began softly. With the dreamy, hypnotic first movement, Wolf’s fingers glided over the piano keys, and the music flowed smoothly.
The graceful melody captured the audience’s attention. Some nodded along in quiet approval. Others closed their eyes, swept away by the music’s gentle enchantment. The lively second movement quickened the pulse. And a fiery third movement ignited the room, a tempest of passion and fingers flying.
At the end of the fifteen-minute performance, the room held its breath. Then, like a breaking storm, the audience erupted into applause. Wolf rose, acknowledging their appreciation with a bow. Then, extending a hand to Christina, inviting her to join him. The music still echoed in her veins.
He noticed her initial hesitation, a fleeting moment where uncertainty flickered across her features before she finally acquiesced and rose to her feet. As they made their way off the floor together, the applause gradually subsided, allowing for quiet conversation.
“Why did you hesitate?” he asked as they approached Lady Hazelton.
“You performed, not me. All I did was sit next to you. There will be another time for me to shine as brightly as you did.”
“Like your stars,” he leaned close to her.
Christina chuckled in agreement. “Yes, like my stars.”
They were steps away from Lady Hazelton when he halted and placed his hand over hers. “Will you be at the luncheon Tuesday afternoon?” He held her attention with his sincere gaze.
“I’m taking Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s place, so I will be there.”
“How fortunate. I am attending as well. If you like, I can collect you.” While he waited for her answer, he admitted to himself that entering the event with her had its advantages. It would certainly stop the other women from plotting and conniving to gain his attention. But another, quite different thought struck him. Christina hadn’t said yes.
As he waited for her response, an unfamiliar sense of discomfort gnawed at him, unsettling his confidence. The prospect of being denied, something entirely foreign to him, cast a shadow over his usual assurance.
“I would like that. Very much.” Christina’s answer was simple and direct.
“As would I. Very much.” With a genuine smile, he realized he was sincere. He did want to spend more time with her. Winning the wager with Mrs. Dove-Lyon would be easier than he first imagined.