Chapter 1
Christina trembled violently as she stepped into the ballroom, wishing that she could sink into the floor or disappear into the shadows.
Her fingers tugged at the seam of her left glove — a nervous habit she had developed in the months after Lord Coventry’s letter, a compulsive smoothing that she was barely aware of until she noticed the right glove wearing thin at the wrist. She pressed one hand flat against her stomach, feeling the stays beneath the silk of her gown, and counted three slow breaths before removing it.
The ballroom doors stood open before her like the mouth of something vast and indifferent.
Beyond them, candlelight blazed from a hundred sconces, and the crystal chandelier threw small, sharp rainbows across the marble floor.
The orchestra was tuning — that particular chaos of strings and woodwind that always preceded the first dance — and the sound triggered something in Christina’s body before her mind could stop it.
Her shoulders pulled back, her chin lifted, her right hand rose slightly as if reaching for a partner’s arm.
The muscle memory of a hundred dances lived in her frame, and for one treacherous instant, she was twenty years old again, scanning the room for grey eyes and a gentle smile.
She caught herself. Forced her hand back to her side. Pressed her thumbnail hard into the pad of her index finger until the sharp, small pain anchored her to the present.
“Whatever is the matter, Christina?” Her mother, her tone gentle but her eyes assessing, came to stand directly in front of her, looking back steadily into Christina’s face. “You have been upset and sorrowful ever since we came to London over a week ago, and there is no explanation for it.”
Shaking her head, Christina looked away. “It is not the same without father here.”
That was not the entirety of the truth, of course, but it was enough for Christina to share.
The loss of her father nearly two years ago had been a distressing and painful time, made all the worse by the loss of Lord Coventry’s feelings.
It had been an overwhelming grief, breaking into Christina’s soul and shattering it into pieces, leaving her feeling as if she might never be able to free herself from the darkness that had become her daily companion.
It still lingered at the edges of her days, there when she woke and then returning to her in the evenings.
This ball and the laughter of society would do nothing to banish it from her, Christina was sure.
“I miss him dreadfully,” Lady Bedford replied, her tone soft with emotion. When Christina looked, tears had filled her mother’s eyes. “But we must do what we can for you, Christina. You must marry.”
Christina nodded, unable to offer more than that.
It had been nearly two years since they had last walked into a London ballroom.
The first of those years had been given entirely to mourning — black crepe, quiet rooms, the hush that fell over Bedford Park when visitors were turned away at the door.
By the end of the second, her mother had still not been ready for London; Sophie’s courtship with Lord Wickton, begun before their father’s death and resumed quietly once the worst of the grief had passed, had kept them comfortably settled in the country.
Letters had been the family’s only tether to society.
Some had been welcome — Sophie’s new husband wrote with easy warmth, and a few of her mother’s oldest friends had remembered them faithfully.
Others had been less so. Lord Pennington, a distant cousin on their father’s side, had been among the most assiduous of correspondents, his letters arriving with a regularity Christina had at first thought merely kind.
She had replied as politeness demanded, never warmly, and had been grateful when weeks passed between his notes rather than days.
“Is everything all right?”
The loud, almost boisterous tone of her elder brother, the new Lord Bedford, broke through the gentle understanding that had built between Christina and her mother.
“You are not afraid of the ton, are you?” he asked, his bright blue eyes wide with seeming astonishment. “Goodness me, Christina! You have already been in society once before, the year you made your debut. What could possibly be of concern to you now?”
Lady Bedford put a hand on her son’s arm, and immediately, a touch of red came into Bedford’s face.
“A trifle too loud, mayhap?” she asked, as Bedford nodded and then stepped to the side, so her hand fell from his arm.
“Let there also be understanding, my son, that your sister perhaps feels more than you might when it comes to the loss of her father. Her grief is different from your own, just as your responsibilities and duties differ from hers.”
Christina smiled quietly at this, knowing that her mother had spent many hours doing her best to keep her brother’s loud voice from echoing all around the room.
He had always had a loud tone, even as a child, but now, in these settings, discretion was required.
Whether Bedford would manage such a thing or not, Christina could not say.
“I did not mean to be in any way unsympathetic.” Bedford cleared his throat gruffly, then nodded to Christina.
“If you wish, I can escort you around the room? Look, there are many acquaintances here and many who would be delighted to dance with you, I am sure. I can see Lord Granton here, and he was a favorite of yours before, was he not?”
“It is a kind thought, I thank you, but I am not quite ready to think of dancing.” Christina gestured to their mother. “Mama and I will walk together. Please, do not let us prevent your enjoyment of the evening.”
At this, her brother’s face split with a grin, his eyes twinkling, and Christina smiled back at him, knowing full well that her refusal of his request had brought him a freedom he might not otherwise have enjoyed.
“I thank you, my dear sister,” he said, emphatically as Christina took her mother’s arm.
“I hope you find many excellent gentlemen to dance with. I will make sure to introduce you to a few of my friends. Lord Newfield might be an excellent consideration. I will bring him to meet you later.” He hesitated then — an unexpected pause in his usual flow — and his voice dropped a fraction below the room.
“If you do not wish to dance, Christina, you have only to say so. No one will press you. Not tonight.”
At the mention of gentlemen, Christina’s heart dropped to the floor and then shot back up to her chest, making her snatch in a breath as she fought a wave of queasiness.
Her anxiety leading up to this moment had been so great, she had feared she might either cast up her accounts or faint from the dread of it all, but as yet, neither such thing had happened.
That does not mean it cannot.
“I know that you will miss your father’s guidance,” her mother said, gently as the music began for the first dance.
“I think, however, that we must focus our attention on the future. You must find a suitable husband and become mistress of your own house and estate.” She smiled at Christina.
“If you can find a gentleman who adores you, then all the better. You must see how happy your sister is now!”
Christina nodded, pain breaking through her and sending hot tears to her eyes, tears that she quickly forced away. “I will always be glad that father was there to see her married.”
Lady Bedford said nothing, with mother and daughter sharing a look that spoke of both their pain at the loss of Lord Bedford and their happiness in the memory of him.
Christina did not speak of the additional agony that rang like a bell through her, the chime spreading a vibration out to the very tips of her fingers.
She had once believed that she too would be wed, shortly after her sister, and had things gone as she had hoped, her father would have seen her married.
Instead, she had been left with an emptiness so great, it had swallowed her whole and even now, had not fully released her.
There was no understanding as to why he had stepped back from her.
A letter, brief in its explanation, had told her they simply could not marry and that there was to be no further connection between them.
That had been an agony enough, but to lose her father shortly thereafter had been an even greater pain.
Fearful now of seeing him again, Christina dropped her gaze to the floor, fighting a sudden and overwhelming sense of panic that practically demanded that she flee.
“Perhaps we did return to society a little too quickly,” she heard her mother say, perhaps taking in Christina’s worried expression.
“It has been nearly two years now, however, and if we waited any longer, I worry that society would label you as a spinster and your chance of happiness would be very slim indeed.”
Steadying herself as best she could, Christina put her free hand against her stomach for a few moments, taking in a long breath and then forcing her gaze upwards again. “I will be quite all right, Mama. I assure you.”
“Christina? Mama?”
Hearing a familiar voice but having no explanation for it, Christina frowned and looked to her mother, who was twisting around, looking for where the voice came from.
“I am delighted to see you both so surprised!” Sophie, her eyes dancing, threw her arms around her mother and then laughed aloud at the shock Christina knew was written on her face.
“I did beg my darling husband not to tell you that we were coming to London also, for I wanted so very much to see the astonishment on your faces. I think I am quite satisfied now, however, for you both appear to be utterly overwhelmed!”
“Sophie.” Unbidden, tears returned to Christina’s eyes as she embraced her sister tightly. “I cannot quite believe you are here.”
“You were so very supportive when I was courting Lord Wickton,” her sister replied, grasping Christina’s shoulders and looking steadily into her eyes.
“I wanted to do the very same for you.” A sparkle of tears flashed in her eyes.
“Besides which, I was quite certain that our brother would be very distracted here in London and would not quite manage to provide the same support to you as our dear father did.” She looked to Lady Bedford, who had taken out a handkerchief and was pressing it to the corners of her eyes.
“My desire was to be here for the both of you.”
“I cannot tell you of the joy that is in my heart,” their mother whispered, evidently quite overcome at the arrival of her eldest daughter. “To see you again after we have all endured so much sorrow and grief is a balm to my heart.”
Christina watched them embrace and, for the first time that evening, let a genuine smile settle on her lips. With Sophie beside her, she could face this.
“Thank you for such a lovely surprise, Sophie.” Christina grasped her sister’s hand. “You and your husband are both very kind to think of me.”
Sophie pressed her hand. “But of course. You are my only sister, and I want you to find as much happiness as I.” Looking over Christina’s shoulder, her eyes brightened. “Look, now, there is Lord Wickton. You will be able to thank him yourself.”
Christina turned her head, the smile on her face freezing and fixing itself in place as she took in not only Lord Wickton but also the gentleman beside him.
Lord Coventry.
She could not move, could not speak. Her eyes were fastened to him even though she begged herself inwardly to pull her gaze away.
He is just as I remember him.
It had been so long since she had seen him, and yet, to her eyes, it was as if only a day had passed since their last conversation.
The easy way he smiled, the lightness of his grey eyes, the gentle curl of his brown hair that swept itself to one side…
all of it was so familiar and yet, despite it, he remained distant from her.
The moment his eyes settled on hers, Christina’s stomach lurched, and she turned sharply, trying to steady herself. The floor had become uneven under her feet, or so it felt. Her eyes closed as she fought not to descend into panic, as the voice of Lord Bedford drew closer.
“Christina, are you all right? You have gone very pale indeed.”
Swallowing thickly, Christina opened her mouth to speak but could not produce a single word. Her throat closed up, only permitting her to breathe shallowly as the two gentlemen came to join them.
“Good evening to you both,” Lord Wickton beamed, taking Lady Bedford’s hand and bowing over it. “Sister, I hope you fare well this evening?”
Christina, not able to lift her gaze anything above the gentleman’s knees for fear that she would catch Lord Coventry’s eyes, managed to nod but did nothing more. Her hands twisted together in front of her.
“Christina.” Sophie was whispering now, her eyes gently rounded as she looked into Christina’s face. “What is the matter? Tell me at once, for you look quite unwell.”
“If I might,” Lord Wickton said, his voice breaking through Sophie’s words and dragging Christina’s attention back towards himself, “then I should like to introduce you to this very fine gentleman, Christina.” He gestured to Lord Coventry, who, thus far, had not said a word.
“Viscount Coventry, this is my mother-in-law, the Viscountess Bedford, and her youngest daughter, Miss Oldham.” Sweeping an arm out towards Christina, he paused for a moment as Christina waited, her body trembling violently now.
“And Christina, this is the Viscount Coventry.”
Afraid that she would collapse if she tried to curtsy, Christina only dipped her head and prayed that her family would not think her rude. “Good evening.” The words were hoarse, coming from the tight edges of her throat as she forced her gaze towards Lord Coventry. “How very good to meet you.”