Chapter 13
Christina walked beside Sophie through St James’ Park, seeing her way surprise wrote itself into the gentle lines of her sister’s expression. “The footman was with Lord Coventry’s household before ours?”
“Yes, indeed he was.”
“And he has subsequently run from the house?”
“On seeing Lord Coventry, I think,” Christina replied, thoughtfully. “Lord Coventry clearly recognized him, and that frightened George so greatly, he picked up his things and ran from the house. I believe he was gone in only a few minutes, much to the astonishment of the butler.”
Sophie shook her head. “This is highly confusing. It suggests that George was, in some way, aware of or perhaps involved in the separation of you from Lord Coventry, for why else would he have not only gone from one household to the next but then disappeared when Lord Coventry recognized him?”
“That is my thinking,” Christina agreed, as her sister frowned.
“It does mean that we now have some difficulty in knowing what to do next, however. How can we find a footman who has run away from us both? If he had stayed, then we might have been able to speak with him, to have learned something from him, but as it stands, we feel quite lost without any clear path to turn to.”
Her sister clicked her tongue and sighed, but did not come up with any answer that would have been of help to Christina. They walked on in silence for a few minutes, the warm summer wind brushing lightly across Christina’s cheeks and letting her curls dance gently.
As they rounded the Serpentine, they came upon Lady Denham, an acquaintance of their mother's, walking with her companion. Pleasantries were exchanged — the weather, the latest assembly, Sophie's own happiness in marriage — and then Lady Denham turned her attention to Christina.
"And you, Miss Oldham? Is there a gentleman who has caught your eye this Season? Your mother tells me you have been dancing a good deal."
Sophie opened her mouth. Christina saw it happen — the slight intake of breath, the beginning of a word that would have been Lord Coventry's name, spoken with the easy warmth of a sister who knew the full truth and had momentarily forgotten that the full truth was a secret.
Sophie's lips had formed the first syllable before she caught herself, converting the sound into a small cough and pressing one gloved hand to her mouth.
"Forgive me — a tickle in my throat." Sophie smiled at Lady Denham. "Christina dances with many gentlemen, as any young lady should. We are simply enjoying the Season."
Lady Denham accepted this without suspicion and moved on with her companion.
But Christina, walking beside Sophie in silence, felt something cold settle in her stomach.
It had been close — terrifyingly close. One name spoken aloud, one connection revealed to the wrong ears, and everything they were trying to protect could unravel.
"Sophie," she murmured, when Lady Denham was out of earshot.
"I know." Sophie's face was pale. Her fingers pleated the fabric of her skirt — the same habit Christina had noticed in their bedroom conversation weeks ago. "I know. I am sorry. It will not happen again."
But the damage, Christina thought, was not in what Sophie had said.
It was in what the moment revealed: every person who knew the truth was a point of vulnerability, and the circle of knowledge was growing wider with every conversation.
She thought of Isaac telling Wickton and Kinsley, of Emily's sharp questions, of their mother's enthusiasm in the carriage.
How many people now hold a thread that, if pulled, could bring everything down?
The thought sat like a stone behind her ribs for the rest of the walk.
“Good afternoon to you both.”
Lifting her head, Christina put a smile to her lips that she did not really feel, wishing that Lord Pennington had not thought to interrupt her and her sister. “Lord Pennington, good afternoon.”
“Good afternoon,” he replied, bowing to Sophie and then to her. “A fine afternoon for a walk, is it not?”
“Yes, it is.” Christina glanced at Sophie. “We were just speaking of – ”
“And are you to attend Lord and Lady Southport’s ball this evening?
” he asked, looking at Christina rather than Sophie now.
“I am very much looking forward to it, for I fully intend to dance every dance and each with a beautiful, elegant young lady.” His head tilted to the left, his eyes suddenly fixed on Christina’s and making her skin prickle.
“Will you be dancing this evening, Miss Oldham?”
She blinked. “We are attending the ball, I think,” she answered, seeing out of the corner of her eye how Sophie’s eyebrows had lifted. “I am sure I shall dance, yes.”
“Then we must certainly stand up together,” he responded, with a broad smile. “We are family, are we not? And family, I think, offers us such a firm, strong bond that it would be wrong for us each to turn our backs upon it.”
Christina did not know what to say to this.
Yes, they were related, but only distantly, and she did not think much of whatever bond he spoke of.
Was he trying to suggest that she was required to stand up with him simply because he was a relation of hers?
The only gentleman she had any interest in dancing with was Lord Coventry, although she could not very well say that to Lord Pennington!
“Do excuse my ill manners in coming to interrupt your conversation but I could not help but overhear talk of the ball this evening.”
As if he had been summoned to her by a thought, Lord Coventry came to stand beside Lord Pennington, his eyes warm and lips pulled into a smile.
“Not in the least, Lord Coventry.” Sophie was the one to welcome him, giving Christina time to make certain she remained outwardly composed. “Yes, we were speaking of Lord and Lady Southport’s ball this evening. Are you to be in attendance?”
“I am.” Lord Coventry’s eyes gleamed as they caught hers again, sending a ripple of heat through her. “I am looking forward to dancing, just as Lord Pennington has expressed.”
“Speaking of such a thing, I did wonder if – ”
“Lord Pennington was just speaking of family,” Christina heard Sophie say, her own attention still focused solely on Lord Coventry, her whole being thrumming with the desire to be nearer to him. “Did you know that he is a distant relation of ours?”
“I did not.” Lord Coventry barely glanced at Lord Pennington. “Returning to the conversation about the ball, however, I must ask if you, Miss Oldham, might be willing to save the waltz and put my name to it.”
Her heart stilled for a beat, only to roar back to life.
Lord Pennington’s eyebrows had thrown themselves upwards, his head turning towards Lord Coventry as if he could not believe the man’s audacity.
Her breath came in soft, uneven pulls as she smiled back at him, nodding her acceptance. “Of course. How kind of you to ask.”
His gaze softened, a gentle whisper of a smile across his lips, the secret of their connection held back from Lord Pennington, remaining unspoken but ever present.
“This evening will find you surrounded by gentlemen, I am sure,” he said, as Lord Pennington frowned. “I could not be certain to find you in time, Miss Oldham.”
There was a boldness to his request which did give Christina pause, even though she had already accepted.
The waltz was the dance that everyone watched, the one that the ton would be speaking of for the next few days, and given that they had already shared one waltz, would they not speak of this even more?
It might bring whispers of a formal connection to the lips of the ton, might have them expecting courtship soon to follow, but she was not quite prepared for that.
They were not prepared, for they still had so much mystery and confusion sweeping around them.
And yet, she did not care. It was not as though any part of her was in any way willing to refuse.
“You appear to be frowning at something, Lord Pennington.”
Another voice came from over Christina’s shoulder, and she took a step to her right, catching the delighted smile on Sophie’s face as she did so.
“I thought this conversation looked to be a very pleasant one indeed, so I came to join you all.” Lord Granton beamed at each of them in turn, his eyes alighting on Christina and lingering for a moment. “Tell me, what are you speaking of?”
Lord Pennington cleared his throat gruffly. “Lord Coventry has just asked Miss Oldham to save him her waltz this evening.”
Much to Christina’s surprise, Lord Granton’s expression darkened in a single second, making her breath catch lightly. His brow furrowed, lines pulled across his forehead, and his jaw set tightly.
“That is most unfair, Lord Coventry,” he stated, folding his arms over his chest and glaring now at Lord Coventry. “The gentlemen of London do not do such things, I am astonished to hear it.”
Lord Coventry chuckled, which, if anything, only made Lord Granton’s scowl grow. “I am sorry that you are upset by my determinations, Lord Granton, but I am afraid I am quite set upon what it is I desire. And I desire to stand up with Miss Oldham this evening.”
“As do I,” Lord Pennington snapped, making Christina’s eyebrows lift. “But you thought it best to take hold of this evening before it has even begun!”